(no subject)
Some Days --> An Odd Number of Stars
Grape 17. holy crap
Butterscotch
Malt [Back in my Day]
Hot Fudge [Michael]
Gummy Bunny: 500themes: 199. Childhood's end.
rating: PG words: 620 summary: a day in the life of Thomas, Gemma's father, who we saw in Bursting Bubbles and Mysterious Stranger
Thomas wasn’t running fast enough; he wasn’t doing enough; he was a lazy boy. Michael looked down on his son, conceit clear as the boy hobbled up the street, pushing a wheelbarrow with a pig’s carcass spread over it. He was useless. “Hurry up, boy!” He snarled. “Do you think I have all day?” Thomas whimpered (pathetic child) as he tried to run faster with the heavy load.
“Sorry, sir.” He muttered, putting the wheelbarrow down at the crest of the hill, next to his father. Michael watched the beaded sweat on his son’s brow and scoffed at him.
“You’re sweating like a pig.” He snarled. “What kind of boy are you?” He demanded, slapping his son with a powerful palm. The boy didn’t flinch, though he did topple to the ground. He quickly got up; he was used this behaviour and almost resilient to his father’s blows, but Michael still noted the tears that formed in the corner of his son’s eyes. They gave him a perverted satisfaction. Despite the regularity of the blows, they still hurt him. “What are you waiting for?” Michael demanded as his son stood, still as a soldier, in front of him.
“What should I do?” Thomas asked his pain and weakness audible in his shaking voice.
“What kind of question is that?” Michael bellowed, pleased to see the flinch as he hit his son again. He didn’t fall: swaying he grabbed hold of the wheelbarrow for support.
“Sorry, sir.” The boy whimpered again.
“Go and sweep the workshop while I deal with this pig. Then you can help me clean this room before I open the shop for the day.” Michael snapped, pointing towards the door of the shop. His son disappeared in there, silent.
Siobhan stepped out of the house, staring at the door through which her son had appeared. Her eye was blue and swollen: a stab of guilt made Michael bit his lip. He hadn’t meant to hit his wife. “Good morning, beautiful.” He smiled at her, relieved when she returned his smile.
“Good morning.” She replied. “What’s Thomas doing?” She asked, glancing at the shop again.
“Cleaning the shop.” Michael replied, shrugging.
“Why? He cleaned it last night.” Siobhan pointed out.
“It wasn’t good enough.” Michael explained, confused as to why his wife was so curious. She usually let him run the shop on his own while she kept the household intact.
“Oh.” She looked at the door as Thomas emerged. She gasped. “Why is his ear bleeding?” She demanded, running up to her son and staring a Michael in shock.
Michael couldn’t believe she was chastising him. His wife, telling him what to do? “He wasn’t doing his work properly. Are you telling me what to do, Siobhan? Because God help you if you are…”
“He will help me.” His wife snarled, letting go of her son. “Thomas, forget about the shop. Go and prepare yourself for school.” Thomas ran off dutifully, glancing back at his parents. Once he disappeared into the house, Michael advanced on his wife.
“He needed to clean the shop.” He growled. “Who are you to absolve my son from the work I, his father have set him?”
“I am his mother.” She replied, meeting his eyes in an action of unusual defiance.
“That means nothing in the eyes of the good Lord.” Michael snapped, raising his hand as if to strike her. A thin cry came from the house. Both parents looked towards the house, recognising the sound of their infant daughter.
“Save your energy;” she snarled, “I’m going to take care of your other child now.”
Grape 17. holy crap
Butterscotch
Malt [Back in my Day]
Hot Fudge [Michael]
Gummy Bunny: 500themes: 199. Childhood's end.
rating: PG words: 620 summary: a day in the life of Thomas, Gemma's father, who we saw in Bursting Bubbles and Mysterious Stranger
Thomas wasn’t running fast enough; he wasn’t doing enough; he was a lazy boy. Michael looked down on his son, conceit clear as the boy hobbled up the street, pushing a wheelbarrow with a pig’s carcass spread over it. He was useless. “Hurry up, boy!” He snarled. “Do you think I have all day?” Thomas whimpered (pathetic child) as he tried to run faster with the heavy load.
“Sorry, sir.” He muttered, putting the wheelbarrow down at the crest of the hill, next to his father. Michael watched the beaded sweat on his son’s brow and scoffed at him.
“You’re sweating like a pig.” He snarled. “What kind of boy are you?” He demanded, slapping his son with a powerful palm. The boy didn’t flinch, though he did topple to the ground. He quickly got up; he was used this behaviour and almost resilient to his father’s blows, but Michael still noted the tears that formed in the corner of his son’s eyes. They gave him a perverted satisfaction. Despite the regularity of the blows, they still hurt him. “What are you waiting for?” Michael demanded as his son stood, still as a soldier, in front of him.
“What should I do?” Thomas asked his pain and weakness audible in his shaking voice.
“What kind of question is that?” Michael bellowed, pleased to see the flinch as he hit his son again. He didn’t fall: swaying he grabbed hold of the wheelbarrow for support.
“Sorry, sir.” The boy whimpered again.
“Go and sweep the workshop while I deal with this pig. Then you can help me clean this room before I open the shop for the day.” Michael snapped, pointing towards the door of the shop. His son disappeared in there, silent.
Siobhan stepped out of the house, staring at the door through which her son had appeared. Her eye was blue and swollen: a stab of guilt made Michael bit his lip. He hadn’t meant to hit his wife. “Good morning, beautiful.” He smiled at her, relieved when she returned his smile.
“Good morning.” She replied. “What’s Thomas doing?” She asked, glancing at the shop again.
“Cleaning the shop.” Michael replied, shrugging.
“Why? He cleaned it last night.” Siobhan pointed out.
“It wasn’t good enough.” Michael explained, confused as to why his wife was so curious. She usually let him run the shop on his own while she kept the household intact.
“Oh.” She looked at the door as Thomas emerged. She gasped. “Why is his ear bleeding?” She demanded, running up to her son and staring a Michael in shock.
Michael couldn’t believe she was chastising him. His wife, telling him what to do? “He wasn’t doing his work properly. Are you telling me what to do, Siobhan? Because God help you if you are…”
“He will help me.” His wife snarled, letting go of her son. “Thomas, forget about the shop. Go and prepare yourself for school.” Thomas ran off dutifully, glancing back at his parents. Once he disappeared into the house, Michael advanced on his wife.
“He needed to clean the shop.” He growled. “Who are you to absolve my son from the work I, his father have set him?”
“I am his mother.” She replied, meeting his eyes in an action of unusual defiance.
“That means nothing in the eyes of the good Lord.” Michael snapped, raising his hand as if to strike her. A thin cry came from the house. Both parents looked towards the house, recognising the sound of their infant daughter.
“Save your energy;” she snarled, “I’m going to take care of your other child now.”