FAKE Quadruple Drabble: Tangled
Title: Tangled
Fandom: FAKE
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Dee, Ryo.
Rating: PG
Setting: After Vol. 7.
Summary: Ryo is an independent sort of guy, but sometimes he needs a helping hand.
Written Using: The tw100 prompt ‘Curse’.
Disclaimer: I don’t own FAKE, or the characters. They belong to the wonderful Sanami Matoh.
A/N: Quadruple drabble.
Hearing a torrent of Japanese curses pouring out of Ryo’s bedroom, Dee was torn between concern and amusement. Ryo seldom resorted to swearing besides the occasional frustrated ‘Damnit!’. He was trying to set a good example for Bikky, although Dee privately considered that a waste of effort since the boy had no doubt already picked up every swearword worth knowing from his schoolfriends.
Still, hearing Ryo cursing loudly and steadily, even in another language, couldn’t be a good sign. Dee tapped on the bedroom door.
“Ryo? You okay, babe?”
If anything, the swearing got louder, and then there was an ominous thud from the other side of the door. That was enough for Dee to decide he wasn’t waiting for a reply.
“I’m comin’ in,” he said firmly, twisting the handle and shoving the door open, not giving his lover a chance to tell him no.
He bit back a laugh at what he saw. Fortunately, the thud seemed to have been nothing worse that Ryo knocking the book he was reading off the nightstand. The man in question was standing in the middle of the bedroom, flailing about ineffectually, with a sweater half on. It looked like he’d somehow got his head stuck in an armhole, and his broken right arm, complete with its cast, was sticking out of the neck. His other arm was trapped halfway down the second sleeve.
“I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to wear it.”
More muffled curses came from inside the sweater. “Don’t just stand there! Do something!”
“Okay, okay, just hold still.” Dee helped Ryo extract his head and one arm. It seemed the watch on his left wrist had snagged on the inside of the second sleeve. “Y’know, you could’a just asked me to help ya get dressed,” he said mildly as a red-faced Ryo slumped onto the edge of the bed, panting from exertion.
“I couldn’t get my cast through my shirtsleeve, thought it might be easier to wear a sweater instead.” Ryo gave Dee a bewildered look. “I don’t know what went wrong.”
“Last I checked, armholes were designed for arms, not heads.” Dee grinned at his lover. “I know ya hate havin’ to admit ya can’t manage somethin’, but sometimes ya need an extra pair of hands, ‘specially when one of yours is outta action.” He picked up the sweater. “C’mon, let’s get ya dressed.”
“Thanks, Dee.”
The End
Fandom: FAKE
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Dee, Ryo.
Rating: PG
Setting: After Vol. 7.
Summary: Ryo is an independent sort of guy, but sometimes he needs a helping hand.
Written Using: The tw100 prompt ‘Curse’.
Disclaimer: I don’t own FAKE, or the characters. They belong to the wonderful Sanami Matoh.
A/N: Quadruple drabble.
Hearing a torrent of Japanese curses pouring out of Ryo’s bedroom, Dee was torn between concern and amusement. Ryo seldom resorted to swearing besides the occasional frustrated ‘Damnit!’. He was trying to set a good example for Bikky, although Dee privately considered that a waste of effort since the boy had no doubt already picked up every swearword worth knowing from his schoolfriends.
Still, hearing Ryo cursing loudly and steadily, even in another language, couldn’t be a good sign. Dee tapped on the bedroom door.
“Ryo? You okay, babe?”
If anything, the swearing got louder, and then there was an ominous thud from the other side of the door. That was enough for Dee to decide he wasn’t waiting for a reply.
“I’m comin’ in,” he said firmly, twisting the handle and shoving the door open, not giving his lover a chance to tell him no.
He bit back a laugh at what he saw. Fortunately, the thud seemed to have been nothing worse that Ryo knocking the book he was reading off the nightstand. The man in question was standing in the middle of the bedroom, flailing about ineffectually, with a sweater half on. It looked like he’d somehow got his head stuck in an armhole, and his broken right arm, complete with its cast, was sticking out of the neck. His other arm was trapped halfway down the second sleeve.
“I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to wear it.”
More muffled curses came from inside the sweater. “Don’t just stand there! Do something!”
“Okay, okay, just hold still.” Dee helped Ryo extract his head and one arm. It seemed the watch on his left wrist had snagged on the inside of the second sleeve. “Y’know, you could’a just asked me to help ya get dressed,” he said mildly as a red-faced Ryo slumped onto the edge of the bed, panting from exertion.
“I couldn’t get my cast through my shirtsleeve, thought it might be easier to wear a sweater instead.” Ryo gave Dee a bewildered look. “I don’t know what went wrong.”
“Last I checked, armholes were designed for arms, not heads.” Dee grinned at his lover. “I know ya hate havin’ to admit ya can’t manage somethin’, but sometimes ya need an extra pair of hands, ‘specially when one of yours is outta action.” He picked up the sweater. “C’mon, let’s get ya dressed.”
“Thanks, Dee.”
The End