Sports Metaphors
Appearing from the realm of the 35482135461354682546236 projects my teachers have assigned that are all due veryvery soon to post this.
Title: Sports Metaphors
Pairing: Mitchell/Kyle
Rating: PG
Warnings: MPREG, football (the American kind)
Summary: Mitchell walked over to Kyle, murmuring in his husband's ear, "What're we gonna do? Fables are supposed to be easy to understand! They teach you morals, and if he doesn't get that, then..." He worriedly peered at their son through his thick black rims.
Author's Notes: Written for Kyle's 21st birthday today. :D Oh, and this probably won't make that much sense if you don't pay attention to American sports news. Sorry.
"Dad! Daddy!" shouted a small voice, accompanied by an even louder slam of the front door. Claws scrabbled on the hardwood, and three different pairs of miniature feet pounded to meet each other.
Muting the Cornhuskers v. Oklahoma State game, Kyle grinned as his son bounded over and bounced onto the couch, hugging his father tightly. "Hey, buddy! How was pre-school today?"
"Good!" replied Jason, beaming.
"What did you guys do?" Mitchell asked from across the room where he was folding laundry.
"Hmmm..." Jason tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Oh!" His brown eyes brightened at the recollection. "Mrs. Smith read us this story!"
"And what story was that?" Mitchell asked, smiling at the boy's eagerness. Kyle helped him pull off his backpack as he answered.
"It was, um, the Boy Who Cried Wolf, I think." He frowned. "I dunno. I didn't get it."
Kyle furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean you didn't get it, Jase?"
The boy shrugged as he played with Remix's ears. "I dunno. She said there was a moron of the story and I didn't get it."
Both parents smiled. "It's called a moral, honey," Mitchell corrected gently. "It means it's supposed to teach you something."
"Ohhhh," Jason exhaled. He wrinkled his nose. "Well, I still don't get it."
Kyle deposited Jason's bag on one of the chairs around the kitchen island on his way to the refridgerator. He pulled out the plate of cheese and apple slices he'd made earlier and set it on the table. Jason clambered up the chair to eat, the ever-loving, ever-present Remix waiting patiently at his feet for a bite.
Mitchell walked over to Kyle, murmuring in his husband's ear, "What're we gonna do? Fables are supposed to be easy to understand! They teach you morals, and if he doesn't get that, then..." He worriedly peered at their son through his thick black rims.
"I think I've got an idea," Kyle said, squeezing Mitchell's hand. "Hey, Jase?" he said, louder.
"Hmmm?" he said, apple slice in hand.
"Do you remember that Green Bay quarterback I was telling you about? Brett Favre?"
"Yeah! The old guy!" Jason chirped.
"Yeah, the old guy," Kyle repeated, smiling. "Do you remember what I told you about him?"
"You said..." Jason paused, taking a bite of the fruit he held and chewing as he thought. "You said he told everybody he was retiring, but then he un-retired, and then he retired again, but he un-retired again."
"Right!" Kyle said, proud he remembered so well. "So that story Mrs. Smith read you today-- what did the boy do?"
"He... he told everybody there was a wolf, but then there wasn't. And then he said there was a wolf again, but there still wasn't."
"Do you see how the boy in the story is like Brett Favre?"
Realization sparkled in the boy's eyes, and he nodded eagerly. "Yeah! Brett Favre kept retiring and un-retiring, and then nobody believed him any more! And the boy kept yelling about the wolf, and there wasn't one and nobody believed him either!"
"Do you get it now?"
"Yeah!" The boy pushed back from the table and ran over to hug his father's legs. "Thanks, Dad!" He sped off down the hall to his room.
Mitchell shook his head. "You've converted him. There's no getting him back from the dark side." Mitchell put his hand on his steadily swelling stomach and said, "Just don't ruin the next one. I get to over-indulge her with photography."
Kyle grinned, placing his own hand on top of Mitchell's and kissing him slowly.
"No promises," he smirked.
Title: Sports Metaphors
Pairing: Mitchell/Kyle
Rating: PG
Warnings: MPREG, football (the American kind)
Summary: Mitchell walked over to Kyle, murmuring in his husband's ear, "What're we gonna do? Fables are supposed to be easy to understand! They teach you morals, and if he doesn't get that, then..." He worriedly peered at their son through his thick black rims.
Author's Notes: Written for Kyle's 21st birthday today. :D Oh, and this probably won't make that much sense if you don't pay attention to American sports news. Sorry.
"Dad! Daddy!" shouted a small voice, accompanied by an even louder slam of the front door. Claws scrabbled on the hardwood, and three different pairs of miniature feet pounded to meet each other.
Muting the Cornhuskers v. Oklahoma State game, Kyle grinned as his son bounded over and bounced onto the couch, hugging his father tightly. "Hey, buddy! How was pre-school today?"
"Good!" replied Jason, beaming.
"What did you guys do?" Mitchell asked from across the room where he was folding laundry.
"Hmmm..." Jason tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Oh!" His brown eyes brightened at the recollection. "Mrs. Smith read us this story!"
"And what story was that?" Mitchell asked, smiling at the boy's eagerness. Kyle helped him pull off his backpack as he answered.
"It was, um, the Boy Who Cried Wolf, I think." He frowned. "I dunno. I didn't get it."
Kyle furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean you didn't get it, Jase?"
The boy shrugged as he played with Remix's ears. "I dunno. She said there was a moron of the story and I didn't get it."
Both parents smiled. "It's called a moral, honey," Mitchell corrected gently. "It means it's supposed to teach you something."
"Ohhhh," Jason exhaled. He wrinkled his nose. "Well, I still don't get it."
Kyle deposited Jason's bag on one of the chairs around the kitchen island on his way to the refridgerator. He pulled out the plate of cheese and apple slices he'd made earlier and set it on the table. Jason clambered up the chair to eat, the ever-loving, ever-present Remix waiting patiently at his feet for a bite.
Mitchell walked over to Kyle, murmuring in his husband's ear, "What're we gonna do? Fables are supposed to be easy to understand! They teach you morals, and if he doesn't get that, then..." He worriedly peered at their son through his thick black rims.
"I think I've got an idea," Kyle said, squeezing Mitchell's hand. "Hey, Jase?" he said, louder.
"Hmmm?" he said, apple slice in hand.
"Do you remember that Green Bay quarterback I was telling you about? Brett Favre?"
"Yeah! The old guy!" Jason chirped.
"Yeah, the old guy," Kyle repeated, smiling. "Do you remember what I told you about him?"
"You said..." Jason paused, taking a bite of the fruit he held and chewing as he thought. "You said he told everybody he was retiring, but then he un-retired, and then he retired again, but he un-retired again."
"Right!" Kyle said, proud he remembered so well. "So that story Mrs. Smith read you today-- what did the boy do?"
"He... he told everybody there was a wolf, but then there wasn't. And then he said there was a wolf again, but there still wasn't."
"Do you see how the boy in the story is like Brett Favre?"
Realization sparkled in the boy's eyes, and he nodded eagerly. "Yeah! Brett Favre kept retiring and un-retiring, and then nobody believed him any more! And the boy kept yelling about the wolf, and there wasn't one and nobody believed him either!"
"Do you get it now?"
"Yeah!" The boy pushed back from the table and ran over to hug his father's legs. "Thanks, Dad!" He sped off down the hall to his room.
Mitchell shook his head. "You've converted him. There's no getting him back from the dark side." Mitchell put his hand on his steadily swelling stomach and said, "Just don't ruin the next one. I get to over-indulge her with photography."
Kyle grinned, placing his own hand on top of Mitchell's and kissing him slowly.
"No promises," he smirked.