schmoop_bingo: A cone of sand
title: A cone of sand
characters: bb!Pete&Patrick
pov: 3rd
rating: G
prompt: kid!fic - vacation
summary: This sandcastle was turning into a masterpiece
disclaimer:they're not my kids and i don't own them
This sandcastle was turning into a masterpiece: Patrick was sure that with a bit more practice, next year he’d be able to make a more realistic castle with a drawbridge and water all around, even.
He was carefully putting a pinkish shell on top of the wet sand of the highest tower when a foot stomped forcefully on the structure, a cackle following each destructive action.
Patrick looked stupidly at the shapeless mass of wet sand, shells and broken little flags before looking up at the terrorist who smashed his hard work: a dark haired kid a bit older than him was smirking evilly at his victim. Patrick blinked twice before shrieking, “You meanie!”
It only made the Devil reincarnated laugh even more and look down at his work, satisfied.
“Your castle was ugly,” he said smugly.
“’Twas not,” Patrick sniffled, fighting the tears away.
“And you’re so white,” the other commented.
“I just arrived,” Patrick blushed, looking from the corner of the eye at the honey tan of the other kid.
The tanner boy shrugged and glanced one last time at his ‘work’, sniggering while stalking away. Patrick looked at him leaving, then focused his attention on his poor castle that didn’t survive the attack of the ogre. Brushing the sand off his knees and his turquoise mini trunks, Patrick walked back under the parasol where his parents were chatting with the umbrella-neighbor couple, unaware of their son’s misadventure.
As soon as he glanced up from the fridge-bag from where he fished a bottle of water, Patrick spotted the same kid of before doing faces at him two umbrellas away, but the kid’s smugness was interrupted by a sonorous and well deserved smack from his mother. The mother spotted Patrick and dragged his kid along with her, stomping in front of the Stumps’ umbrella.
“Excuse me? I’m pretty sure my son bothered your child and I’m here to apologize.”
Patrick’s parents moved their attention to the woman and then looked at Patrick.
“What happened, Patrick?”
The kid looked down but didn’t said a word, nibbling instead at the bottle. His father looked up and noticed the pile of sand where once was Patrick’s castle.
“Oh, the castle…” the man winced.
“Pete! I’m fed up of your behavior! Apologize!” the woman pulled the kid’s thin arm.
A bright red blush was visible under the tan, Pete was flustered for the shame of being caught and forced to apologize for what he thought was an innocent prank.
“Sorry,” he murmured, arrogance gone. Patrick looked briefly at him and nodded.
“Do you…do you want to rebuild the castle? Maybe it’ll turn better if there’re two people working on it…” Pete suggested, looking at his toes digging in the soft sand.
The smaller kid looked up at that, surprised to hear this Pete kid’s peace offering.
“Sure…” Patrick affirmed, and the kids hesitantly walked to the castle’s ruins side by side.
Neither spoke for a while, concentrated on their tasks of getting water from the sea, wetting the sand, using moulds and spades, too shy and awkward to build a friendship from a destroyed sandcastle, but maybe working together on it was a good chance.
“…Would you like to eat an ice cream, later?”
Patrick stopped shoveling sand in one of the spare buckets and stared at Pete for a long time, to be sure he wasn’t being pranked again, but Pete looked sincere.
“Of course,” Patrick grinned, and the kids resumed their grand architectural project more enthusiastically.
characters: bb!Pete&Patrick
pov: 3rd
rating: G
prompt: kid!fic - vacation
summary: This sandcastle was turning into a masterpiece
disclaimer:they're not my kids and i don't own them
This sandcastle was turning into a masterpiece: Patrick was sure that with a bit more practice, next year he’d be able to make a more realistic castle with a drawbridge and water all around, even.
He was carefully putting a pinkish shell on top of the wet sand of the highest tower when a foot stomped forcefully on the structure, a cackle following each destructive action.
Patrick looked stupidly at the shapeless mass of wet sand, shells and broken little flags before looking up at the terrorist who smashed his hard work: a dark haired kid a bit older than him was smirking evilly at his victim. Patrick blinked twice before shrieking, “You meanie!”
It only made the Devil reincarnated laugh even more and look down at his work, satisfied.
“Your castle was ugly,” he said smugly.
“’Twas not,” Patrick sniffled, fighting the tears away.
“And you’re so white,” the other commented.
“I just arrived,” Patrick blushed, looking from the corner of the eye at the honey tan of the other kid.
The tanner boy shrugged and glanced one last time at his ‘work’, sniggering while stalking away. Patrick looked at him leaving, then focused his attention on his poor castle that didn’t survive the attack of the ogre. Brushing the sand off his knees and his turquoise mini trunks, Patrick walked back under the parasol where his parents were chatting with the umbrella-neighbor couple, unaware of their son’s misadventure.
As soon as he glanced up from the fridge-bag from where he fished a bottle of water, Patrick spotted the same kid of before doing faces at him two umbrellas away, but the kid’s smugness was interrupted by a sonorous and well deserved smack from his mother. The mother spotted Patrick and dragged his kid along with her, stomping in front of the Stumps’ umbrella.
“Excuse me? I’m pretty sure my son bothered your child and I’m here to apologize.”
Patrick’s parents moved their attention to the woman and then looked at Patrick.
“What happened, Patrick?”
The kid looked down but didn’t said a word, nibbling instead at the bottle. His father looked up and noticed the pile of sand where once was Patrick’s castle.
“Oh, the castle…” the man winced.
“Pete! I’m fed up of your behavior! Apologize!” the woman pulled the kid’s thin arm.
A bright red blush was visible under the tan, Pete was flustered for the shame of being caught and forced to apologize for what he thought was an innocent prank.
“Sorry,” he murmured, arrogance gone. Patrick looked briefly at him and nodded.
“Do you…do you want to rebuild the castle? Maybe it’ll turn better if there’re two people working on it…” Pete suggested, looking at his toes digging in the soft sand.
The smaller kid looked up at that, surprised to hear this Pete kid’s peace offering.
“Sure…” Patrick affirmed, and the kids hesitantly walked to the castle’s ruins side by side.
Neither spoke for a while, concentrated on their tasks of getting water from the sea, wetting the sand, using moulds and spades, too shy and awkward to build a friendship from a destroyed sandcastle, but maybe working together on it was a good chance.
“…Would you like to eat an ice cream, later?”
Patrick stopped shoveling sand in one of the spare buckets and stared at Pete for a long time, to be sure he wasn’t being pranked again, but Pete looked sincere.
“Of course,” Patrick grinned, and the kids resumed their grand architectural project more enthusiastically.