vanilla with caramel and malt
Story: Timeless { backstory | index }
Title: Manchild
Rating: G
Challenge: Vanilla #2: the sniffles
Toppings/Extras: caramel, malt
Wordcount: 498
Summary: Trevor Ashdown’s first illness away from home. Piper helps out.
Notes: Distant future! The Ashdown offspring are now adults-supposedly. Fear for them. Malt trick or treat prompt from micaxren: Bubbles of laughter alighting on an otherwise bland scene.
The entire flat looked like it had been hit by some sort of atomic clothing bomb. Piper could only hope that most of it was washed, although of course her hopes weren’t high. The bins were full and every available surface filled with debris. Entering the nuclear fallout zone, she thought as she picked her way across the room. Warning: do not inhale. Do not inhale.
“Trev?” she called out dramatically, peering through the half-darkness. The curtains were drawn. “Are you in there? Answer me, Trev!”
“Piss off, Piper,” came a croak from the general direction of the bedroom.
After searching for a place to put down the grocery shopping she had bought for her younger brother, she eventually cushioned it on a pile of clothing and then crept through the flat until she arrived at the door to his bedroom.
The aroma was not pleasant to say the least. Swaddled like a baby in a pile of duvets, Trevor Ashdown peered at her and sniffed, red-nosed.
“Do you want to know something?” Piper asked sweetly. “Your flat is fucking disgusting.”
Trevor groaned and curled up.
“I’m not well,” he said, his voice squeaky and strangely pitched due to his constricted throat. “Can you make me a cup of tea?”
Piper laughed.
“I will if I can find any cups or teabags or kettles... or taps.”
“What am I doing here?” Trevor groaned. “I’m not ready to live on my own!”
With a grin, Piper moved further into the room and put her hands on her hips, looking down at her little brother lovingly. Oh, she remembered being his age. An adult by name but a hopelessly confused child at heart.
“Happens to everyone, Trev,” she said confidently.
“Not everyone!” He shuffled slightly around on his futon bed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I’m incapable of looking after myself. I should check myself into a retirement home.” Following this, he sneezed loudly.
“Aw, Trev.” Piper would have ruffled his hair had it not looked so greasy. “You’re just ill.”
First major illness away from home. That was always a tough one. Especially because Trevor was especially susceptible to the ever-mystifying Man Flu. He was usually not so bad with personal hygiene no matter how disgusting his flat was, but she supposed that she would forgive him this one time.
“It’s not just that,” Trevor said, voice whining out of the realm of hearing for a moment before abruptly flickering back. “I can’t cook. I spilled bleach on the carpet. And the light bulb in my kitchen went out three weeks ago and I still haven’t changed it...” He sniffed loudly. “I’ve been finding my way around using the light in the fridge!”
“I think I shall rename you Manchild,” Piper said, trying not to giggle too much. “I’ll go see about the cup of tea. OK? And maybe I’ll even change that lightbulb for you.”
“I wish I was dead,” he whispered.
Piper just laughed again.