My friends say I should act my age

[talks_to_nisse]

Who: Sindre and Søren (and maybe babysitter!Feliks)
When: Wednesday morning to Thursday morning.
Where: Søren's apartment
What: Søren comes to believe in magic.

Comments

Way to make me look like a pedophile, you little asshole.

[axkingforit]

For whatever reason, today had been special. Real special. He'd 'woken' up at 6 AM to find a kid in his bed where Sindre Myhre had been the night before. Rationally, logically, he could come up with a few reasons for why there was a child in his bed. Rationally, and even more logically, he could come up with a thousand more reasons for why there shouldn't be a child in his bed, occupying someone else's place

Way to make it sound like we fucked the night before. AND TO WATCH ME SLEEP FOR HOURS.

[talks_to_nisse]

He knew his name.
Heknewhisnameheknewhisnameheknewhisnameheknewhisnameheknewhisnameheknewhisnameheknewhisnameheknewhisnameheknewhisnamewhydidheknowhisname how could he know unless he heard sometimes kidnappers who did Bad Things to kids knew their names and now the Scary Man was angry. Sindre jerked back from the crack; he didn't want the Scary Man to look over and see him too.

Burrowing back even further into the pots and pans, headless of the noise, he couldn't help it. Boys weren't supposed to, but he was scared and mamma wasn't there and pappa wasn't there and the scary man was looking for him. He started crying.

Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, and he bit down harder on the shirt as his sobs increased. He just wanted his mamma...

YOU MEAN WE DIDN--oh that's right, we didn't.

[axkingforit]

The clattering of pots and pans in the cabinetry alerted him that he'd found at least one of the two people he was looking for.
Pissed as he might've been at Sindre, he couldn't really blame the kid for getting caught up in the Norwegian's weird sense of humour and felt a deep stab of guilt when he heard the quiet wailing of an upset child.

Aaaaaaand...running around yelling...probably a bad idea.

He crouched gingerly by the not-quite-shut cabinet door and rapped on it lightly with his knuckles.

"Oy kid," he said softly, "If yer gonna hang out in there anyhow, mind passin' me a fryin' pan so I can at least start breakfast?"

please. as if we would have.

[talks_to_nisse]

The knock on the door startled Sindre, and as he flinched at the sudden appearance of the scary man, he knocked over a few more pans. The sound of the pans falling distracted him enough to forget to cry, and he calmed enough to take an actual look at the scary man.

He didn't look like a bad man. He was younger than pappa, and even though he was mad before, he was smiling now. And he was even going to make him breakfast!

He grabbed the nearest handle, wanting to be helpful now, and awkwardly tried to maneuver the dish to...well, he didn't seem so scary anymore. The stranger man?

His face fell at that thought. "Mamma said I'm not allowed to take food from strangers. Ever," he said solemnly. An idea struck him. If mamma and the stranger had met before, then the stranger couldn't be a bad man and, since mamma knew him, he couldn't be a stranger.

Sindre didn't want him to be a stranger. He was hungry.

"Do you know mamma?" he asked cautiously.

My maiden heart shatters~

[axkingforit]

Well.
That was an awkward question. He refrained from answering with 'Well, that depends. Does she frequent the Winchester between the hours of...'

It also made him feel a little awkward that there was perhaps the slightest chance that he did indeed know the kid's mother.

...in the Biblical sense.

It would've made more sense, anyway. Or less. Either way, it was a little weird (even for Sindre) to dump a kid off in Søren's apartment, regardless of the social commentary the Norwegian might've been trying to make--
(The thought made him flush heavily, for several reasons.)Still, you didn't say shit like that to a kid, no matter what kind of bullshit circumstances your jackass of a neighbor threw you into. So he decided to take the diplomatic route as he eased the cabinet door open slightly to take the pan and still avoid spooking the child

Didn't we agree that at this point it's a bad idea?

[talks_to_nisse]

Sindre scrunched his face up as he considered that. Mamma was always very careful, and sometimes she got people other than Mrs. Karlsen when Mrs. Karlsen was busy. And she never left him with bad people.

"Nei," he decided. "If mamma left me with a babysitter, then the babysitter must be a good person. So you must be a good person!"

Slowly climbing out of the cupboard, Sindre stared up at the man. "You're really tall," he blurted. "What's you're name?"

Then he remembered the important question. His face taking on a pleading expression, he said, "Ice cream for breakfast!"

I just like to keep you on your kne--I mean, toes.

[axkingforit]

His first thought that occurred at the sound of the child's high-pitched shriek was "I'm never having children, so help me God".

The sight that greeted his eyes when he turned around made a second thought occur to him.

Child Abuse Lawsuit.

With a smothered curse, he lifted the (still as of yet unnamed) child up and off the appliance's handle and settled the boy in one arm as he pulled the freezer open to retrieve the requested ice cream. He set both the boy and ice cream down on the counter (keeping a MUCH closer eye on him now) and produced a set of spoons from the drawer.

"...so," Søren said once the child (seriously, what the hell was a kid doing in here?!) had begun happily digging into the ice cream as though the previous 60 seconds had never happened, "You got a name or do I keep callin' ya kiddo until inspiration strikes me?"

Oh like you've ever had me there.

[talks_to_nisse]

Sindre clutched at Søren as he was rescued and carried to the counter. He let go of Søren only when shown the ice cream, cheering as it was opened. He began eating quickly, focused solely on the sugary goodness in front of him.

Søren's question, however, served to distract him momentarily from his breakfast. "You already know my name, silly! It's Sindre." He stared curiously at Søren. "Didja forget already?"

Starting back in on his ice cream, Sindre belated remembered his manners. "Thanks for the ice cream, Mr. Søren. Mamma never lets me have any for breakfast! You're really nice."

Is that a challenge, kære? ♥

[axkingforit]

...oh, cute. His friendly neighbor had the kid trained well. Or at least well enough to spout of names that the actual Sindre would know to piss Søren off royally.

He tried to keep his smile from looking too strained as he did some quick calculations. It was half-past nine now, meaning Sindre probably hadn't left his apartment yet. While the child (so aliased 'Sindre', honestly, what a sick joke) was occupied by frozen cow by-product, Søren pulled out his phone to send a message.

'What the hell is going on, where the fuck are you, and why is there a goddamned child in my apartment?'

Perhaps. But I wouldn't want your ego to be too crushed when you fail.

[talks_to_nisse]

Sindre just stared at Mr. Søren as he played with his phone. Sindre didn't know phones came so small! Mamma's and Pappa's non cord phones were really big. But Mr. Søren seemed kinda worried. Maybe small phones don't work as well as big phones?

A bad thought occurred to him. Maybe Mr. Søren was trying to ask Mamma if he was allowed to eat ice cream in the morning! He'd probably take it away is she said no. Sindre began shoveling it into his mouth, determined to have as much as he could before it was taken away.

He suddenly paused in his really really fast ice cream eating. "Ow ow ow owowOWOW!" he whimpered. His brain was really cold and it was hurting a whole lot. Clutching at his head, he paid the carton of ice cream no head as it tumbled from his lap to plop on the floor.

But failing is also one of my trademarks!

[axkingforit]

He snapped his phone shut with an irritated sigh. That sigh was punctuated with a wet-sounding plop and quiet whining.

...fantastic.

He peered down at the carton slowly dribbling ice cream out on the linoleum like some weird bleed-out and then at the whimpering child atop the counter.

He sighed again and reached out to turn on the hot tap. He let it run for a few moments before running a paper towel underneath the warm stream and then clamping it over the child's nose with a patient expression.

"Just start breathin' in slow, okej?" he instructed the boy.

An unfortunate one.

[talks_to_nisse]

As Mr. Søren came near, Sindre's hand shot out and gripped Mr. Søren's shirt tight. It hurt it hurt ithurt ithurtithurtithurt-!

Warmth spread out from his nose and towards the cold, and Sindre let out a small, relieved noise. He stared up at Mr. Søren with wide eyes as he sucked in a shuddery breath. He didn't know anything could help when his head got really cold!

He kept breathing as slowly as he could, clutching to Mr. Søren's shirt all the while. As the pain went away and he calmed down, Sindre quickly noticed a new problem.

"Mr. Søren? I hafta go to the bathroom."

You find it cute, shut up.

[axkingforit]

"The...the bathroom." Søren echoed, unwillingly to admit to himself the fear that quaked inside him at those two harmless words.

Child Abuse Lawsuit.

"You can't go by yourse--no, probably not." The kid (so-called Sindre, whatever the hell that was all about) already had a track record from the past...half hour. He sighed in abject misery, taking "Sindre" by the (grubby and sticky and covered in ice cream, ugh) hand and leading him towards the bathroom.

...lovely day to get completely fucked over.

He stared at the porcelain throne and then at the child, gaze switching between the two every few seconds and reluctance in every movement.

He did not know how to...to children.

"S-so, uh..." he began intelligently, eyes darting over every surface in the bathroom anxiously, "You can just, uh...get to it, ja?"

I do no such thing.

[talks_to_nisse]

Gazing up at the toilet, Sindre almost decided to try and climb it. Pappa didn't like it after last time he fell, but that was only 'cause a nisse startled him, and 'sides, he could show the big kids that he could use a grown-up potty.

But.

But if he got hurt...Mr. Søren might get in trouble. He had one babysitter that he cut his chin with, and mamma and pappa had been so mad. Sindre had thought it cool--the doctor's had to sew his face! But he never saw her again.

And he liked Mr. Søren. He didn't wanta get him in trouble.

Sindre lifted his arms and bounced on his toes. When Mr. Søren just looked at him, he added, "Up! Up! U--"

He paused as his hand went up to his head. Something was hitting him, and he didn't like it. Almost pouting, he reached up and pulled a thing out of his hair. He turned it around, looking at it. He had a cross in his hair! That was weird. But it looked kinda like Auntie's cross, so that was alright.

Cross in hand, he resumed his demand to be lifted. Hands up, bouncing, he said, "Up!"