{ whenever you are feeling blue }

[ongroundedwings]

Who: Shera (ongroundedwings), Zack (neverwinged)
When: Shortly after Cloud picks her up.
Location: Sion's house.
Rating: G, probably.
Summary: Mommy has arrived, baby. ; ~ ;

Comments

[neverwinged]

Clearly that was the wrong way to go about it.

It was a lot simpler telling his mother back home not to worry. She would smile like that, but she'd always say something like "I know, Zacky dear," - even at fourteen, she'd still use that nickname for him - "but a mother's job is to worry about her son. Even though I know you'll be alright in the end." And it would be left at that. Often there was a hug and a few cookies involved. Followed by being promptly shooed back outside to finish climbing trees or whatever he had done to bruise himself in the first place before dinner.

Shera didn't seem to be the type to be reassured with his smile and let things be at that. No hugs, no you'll always be alright, no shoving back outside to do what needed to be done. No one ever called him 'baby' before, either. Babe, sure. Baby? Not even his mother called him that. She liked to call him Cookie a lot.

. . . . . . huh.

Anyway. The smile was apparently not working, so Zack used his other secret weapon - his pout. He would frequently deny any claims of his puppy-like antics, this was different. He had a darn good pout. Maybe that would get Shera to stop berating her efforts and worth - ooh. Serious look. Zack shrunk back a little ways on the bed, not unlike the way he would when he'd get an equally serious lecture from Angeal about why one does not charge an army of monsters by oneself - usually while bandaging a wound. But he kept the pout up, just in case he would win a little sympathy.

If it was anyone else he'd be talking to, he'd argue that it is too a big word. Zack was a country boy, went to school long enough for the basics before joining the army. So anafa- . . . ana- . . . that word was a big word. As was the epine- . . . other one. But at least now he knew what they were. That was good, right?

". . . oh, right, yeah. List o'stuff," he answered shortly after being prompted. He sat up straight then, taking a moment to ponder on just what were all the things a mother needed to know about a guest. "Let's see . . . allergies. Not allergic to any animals, food, drugs, or dusts, but I get crazy sneezy 'round hayfever season, an' I'll complain about it a lot. Phobias, I like to boast that m'not afraid of anythin', but truth is, I'm afraid of spiders, clowns, an' raisins. Don't ask.

"I got a real bad sweet tooth, cookies are my fave snacks, an' I'm a total pasta freak for actual meals - some of 'em I can actually cook m'self, but I've destroyed more'n one kitchen in the past. I like Chocobos, I do not like Tonberries. I like makin' things with my hands, like wagons an' junk, even origami stuff." Another pause while he thought about what else he was supposed to include. ". . . an' I like three sugars an' honey in my tea."