My real attempt at gen
Title: He Made My Bed
Fandom: Alias
Disclaimer: I don't own Alias, it belongs to JJ Abrams.
Spoilers: 3.16
Pairings: None
Summary: The Dixon family celebrates Fathers' Day.
Rating: PG
He made my bed.
Or she did, or maybe they both did it together. It doesn't change the fact that someone made my bed, and I'm the luckiest dad in the world.
I wouldn't blame them for hating me, really. I lied to them about my job, got their mother murdered, and just a few short months ago, they were kidnapped by an international terrorist and used as bargaining chips in order to force my compliance.
So much for a normal life.
But they're handling the changes in their lives incredibly well. My Robin and Steven are nothing if not resilient, and incredibly strong. They're what's kept me alive since Diane was so cruelly stolen from us two years ago. And they remind me every day, with the smallest things, why it is that I do this job. Robin's pride at winning the school's oratorical competition, Steven scoring a goal at his soccer game . . . I'm really fighting to make sure parents in the future can allow their children the same triumphs that mine have.
I finish tying my tie and look at the freshly-made bed again, feeling an odd kind of sadness. My children are growing up, and I'm not sure if I'm ready to let them go out into this dangerous world on their own.
I head into the kitchen to grab a piece of toast before heading off to work, but when I enter the room, I am greeted by the sight of Robin and Steven huddled around the stove, in batter up to their eyebrows. Are there actual pancakes in there somewhere?
Robin wipes her messy hands on her jeans, and reaches into the morass again, pulling out a plate of pancakes, which she hands to Steven. She smiles brightly at me.
"Oh! Hi dad! We're almost done. Sorry about the mess, we'll clean it up," she wrinkles her nose. "I didn't realize cooking was so hard."
I laugh at this. "It's fine, Robin. I can't believe you two went through all this trouble for me."
Steven turns from where he's been digging through the pantry for syrup. "We wanted to thank you, dad. For protecting us."
I feel a lump forming in my throat. "Steven - "
Finding the syrup, he smiles triumphantly and places the bottle down on the table next to the plate of pancakes.
"Happy fathers' day, Dad."
I gather both of my children into a warm embrace. I really am the luckiest dad in the world.
Fandom: Alias
Disclaimer: I don't own Alias, it belongs to JJ Abrams.
Spoilers: 3.16
Pairings: None
Summary: The Dixon family celebrates Fathers' Day.
Rating: PG
He made my bed.
Or she did, or maybe they both did it together. It doesn't change the fact that someone made my bed, and I'm the luckiest dad in the world.
I wouldn't blame them for hating me, really. I lied to them about my job, got their mother murdered, and just a few short months ago, they were kidnapped by an international terrorist and used as bargaining chips in order to force my compliance.
So much for a normal life.
But they're handling the changes in their lives incredibly well. My Robin and Steven are nothing if not resilient, and incredibly strong. They're what's kept me alive since Diane was so cruelly stolen from us two years ago. And they remind me every day, with the smallest things, why it is that I do this job. Robin's pride at winning the school's oratorical competition, Steven scoring a goal at his soccer game . . . I'm really fighting to make sure parents in the future can allow their children the same triumphs that mine have.
I finish tying my tie and look at the freshly-made bed again, feeling an odd kind of sadness. My children are growing up, and I'm not sure if I'm ready to let them go out into this dangerous world on their own.
I head into the kitchen to grab a piece of toast before heading off to work, but when I enter the room, I am greeted by the sight of Robin and Steven huddled around the stove, in batter up to their eyebrows. Are there actual pancakes in there somewhere?
Robin wipes her messy hands on her jeans, and reaches into the morass again, pulling out a plate of pancakes, which she hands to Steven. She smiles brightly at me.
"Oh! Hi dad! We're almost done. Sorry about the mess, we'll clean it up," she wrinkles her nose. "I didn't realize cooking was so hard."
I laugh at this. "It's fine, Robin. I can't believe you two went through all this trouble for me."
Steven turns from where he's been digging through the pantry for syrup. "We wanted to thank you, dad. For protecting us."
I feel a lump forming in my throat. "Steven - "
Finding the syrup, he smiles triumphantly and places the bottle down on the table next to the plate of pancakes.
"Happy fathers' day, Dad."
I gather both of my children into a warm embrace. I really am the luckiest dad in the world.