[Fanfic]Daily Things
Title: Daily Things
Characters/Pairings: Luciano (Brazil)/Martin (Argentina), Manuel (Chile), Pedro (N. Mexico), Vina and Álvaro (OC), and Alfred (USA).
Rating/Warning: G, hopefully. lol
Summary: Life with the child and things surrounding by it.
The mix of drabbles for ilye_aru , zulenha , and b_what . <3
-Part I: there are so much of things that one would prefer not to face-
They didn’t go to bed until later of the night, all exhausted from dealing with the energized child. They are young, at least young in the eyes of other older nations, but they feel nothing like that when facing a child whose physical age is about six.
Oh, but she was so cute, even it was just a usual battle of tucking the bouncing child into her comfortable bed full with stuffed animals. Her black hair fell into beautiful curls and they made her eyes looked greener than usual, even when she puffed her cheeks out of dissatisfaction of being hurled back to bed this early.
Cute just like her Mamá, Luciano thought sleepily as his head hit the pillow and felt Martin’s arm wrapped onto his. Maybe I should get her a stuffed frog next time, tan one with green eyes, just like her. And she would be the very, very loud one, because she is just like her dear Mamãe, never understand when will be the good time to quiet down.
So he slept. In the dream that he saw his daughter grew into a teenager, too wild to even listen to them or to look around and to feel how others felt. But God, she is still so stunningly beautiful.
And Luciano woke up from the dream because of that. Covering by cold sweat and feeling somehow mixed of disgust and annoyance, he cursed lightly before laid back to the bed, held Martin in his arms and tried to catch up more sleep. Tomorrow was another long day, and it usually began at six thirty in the morning, as their little daughter took jumping onto their bed as the first step of a morning call.
-Part II: good kitchenware ≠ culinary skill points, not normally anyway-
Bread, ham, sauerkraut, slices of tomato, avocado, maybe in addition, few pieces of cheese.
Álvaro stares at the countertop, which is out of his sight due to the height, with seriousness in those dark brown eyes, which actually makes Manuel feeling a bit uneasy.
“Mamá,”
Manuel stops the hand motion as he feels the little hand pulling the end of his pants and looks down, his toddler-age son, full of solemnness that’s definitely out of age in the eyes.
“Yes, Álvarito?”
“You don’t have to make the sandwich for me, really. Papá taught me how to cook last time he was here.”
Suddenly all Manuel could feel is the weakness in his legs.
It is bad to know that your child’s culinary skill is better than yours, but to have your child, physical age no more than 4, telling you that he is fully able to fix his own meal, is another story.
-Part III: sometimes life only requires few things, me and you (plural)-
The telenovela that’s currently on the screen apparently ran out of all the ideas it could attract the viewer’s attention at the moment and made Luciano yawning helplessly while Martin, already gave up on understanding the plotline, falling asleep with his head rests on Luciano’s shoulder after he failed to convince Luciano to switch the channel to something that’s not Brazilian.
Sorry, but the plots in my telenovelas are simply better, and for this one, hopefully the producer would end it soon with excuse of limited budget.
Luciano thinks as he yawns again and switches to other channel before looks at the clock and realizes that their little daughter will be home soon since Sebastian, for once, volunteered to be the babysitter for the day and took Vina out.
Maybe they should have take Vina out, having a picnic or something, that little girl loves to be out, running on the grass barefooted and calling their names with full-bloom smile on her little, pretty face.
They can bring salgadinhos, that or bolo de cenoura, and he is definitely going to teach Vina how to bake this time without causing any fire or explosion or turn the food into something with the appearance of British culinary.
God knows why is his daughter not blessed with culinary skill.
The Brazilian wonders as he picks up a can of Guaraná Antarctica and let the mild taste of apples fills his taste buds. He better finishes this before Martin wakes up or Vina returns, because the ideas of boiling hot water for maté or surrendering the drink to the child just seem so unbearable at the moment.
-Part IV: why, he has to love children to be addressed as their paradise -
If life permits, Pedro would rather not to run into Alfred at all, especially when his only intention is to take his only son to the toy store.
It doesn’t.
“Hahaha! Hey Pedro, what a surprise to see you here!”
“Why should you be surprised since you’re having your vacation in my house?” Pedro replies annoyingly as he picks Álvaro up. God knows why is his neighbor decided to come over for vacation or bothered to troll around the streets instead of staying in the hotel or by the beach.
“Haha, sorry! I forgot that this is your area again!” The American laughs without sounding apologetic before he notices the young child in Pedro’s arms, “Oh, whose child are you holding?”
“I do not pick kids up randomly like Arthur, if that’s what you’re concerning about.” Pedro says with a sigh that’s light enough to be only noticed by Álvaro, whom in respond, clings on him tighter, “Álvaro, say hi to Papá’s neighbor Alfred, the Great United State of America, whose life cannot proceeds without eating hamburgers, drinking Coca Cola and harassing his neighbors daily.”
The child pauses for a moment, and Alfred, despite his usual claim of unable to read atmosphere, can actually feel that the child is studying at him.
“Who else is Señor Alfred’s neighbor, Papá?”
“Your godfather Matthew.” Pedro feels the child’s hand reaches his cheek and feels the smile growing on his face.
“That explains,” the child says solemnly as he turns toward Alfred, “hello Señor Alfred. My name is Álvaro and it is nice to meet you.”
And that childish seriousness just melts Alfred’s heart right at the spot.
::Afterward::
Álvaro would never understand what has activated the intense argument between his Papá and Señor Alfred the Neighbor until Papá finally gives up and allows Señor Alfred to take him around, with the threats like returning glasses and other things if Señor Alfred fails to bring him back on time.
All he remembers are random things like Veracruz and Remember the Alamo, and Papá almost punches Señor Alfred because of it.
Maybe he should dig around Papá’s library and see if there’s anything interesting to read, really, Papá shouldn’t mind about it after all.
Characters/Pairings: Luciano (Brazil)/Martin (Argentina), Manuel (Chile), Pedro (N. Mexico), Vina and Álvaro (OC), and Alfred (USA).
Rating/Warning: G, hopefully. lol
Summary: Life with the child and things surrounding by it.
The mix of drabbles for ilye_aru , zulenha , and b_what . <3
-Part I: there are so much of things that one would prefer not to face-
They didn’t go to bed until later of the night, all exhausted from dealing with the energized child. They are young, at least young in the eyes of other older nations, but they feel nothing like that when facing a child whose physical age is about six.
Oh, but she was so cute, even it was just a usual battle of tucking the bouncing child into her comfortable bed full with stuffed animals. Her black hair fell into beautiful curls and they made her eyes looked greener than usual, even when she puffed her cheeks out of dissatisfaction of being hurled back to bed this early.
Cute just like her Mamá, Luciano thought sleepily as his head hit the pillow and felt Martin’s arm wrapped onto his. Maybe I should get her a stuffed frog next time, tan one with green eyes, just like her. And she would be the very, very loud one, because she is just like her dear Mamãe, never understand when will be the good time to quiet down.
So he slept. In the dream that he saw his daughter grew into a teenager, too wild to even listen to them or to look around and to feel how others felt. But God, she is still so stunningly beautiful.
And Luciano woke up from the dream because of that. Covering by cold sweat and feeling somehow mixed of disgust and annoyance, he cursed lightly before laid back to the bed, held Martin in his arms and tried to catch up more sleep. Tomorrow was another long day, and it usually began at six thirty in the morning, as their little daughter took jumping onto their bed as the first step of a morning call.
-Part II: good kitchenware ≠ culinary skill points, not normally anyway-
Bread, ham, sauerkraut, slices of tomato, avocado, maybe in addition, few pieces of cheese.
Álvaro stares at the countertop, which is out of his sight due to the height, with seriousness in those dark brown eyes, which actually makes Manuel feeling a bit uneasy.
“Mamá,”
Manuel stops the hand motion as he feels the little hand pulling the end of his pants and looks down, his toddler-age son, full of solemnness that’s definitely out of age in the eyes.
“Yes, Álvarito?”
“You don’t have to make the sandwich for me, really. Papá taught me how to cook last time he was here.”
Suddenly all Manuel could feel is the weakness in his legs.
It is bad to know that your child’s culinary skill is better than yours, but to have your child, physical age no more than 4, telling you that he is fully able to fix his own meal, is another story.
-Part III: sometimes life only requires few things, me and you (plural)-
The telenovela that’s currently on the screen apparently ran out of all the ideas it could attract the viewer’s attention at the moment and made Luciano yawning helplessly while Martin, already gave up on understanding the plotline, falling asleep with his head rests on Luciano’s shoulder after he failed to convince Luciano to switch the channel to something that’s not Brazilian.
Sorry, but the plots in my telenovelas are simply better, and for this one, hopefully the producer would end it soon with excuse of limited budget.
Luciano thinks as he yawns again and switches to other channel before looks at the clock and realizes that their little daughter will be home soon since Sebastian, for once, volunteered to be the babysitter for the day and took Vina out.
Maybe they should have take Vina out, having a picnic or something, that little girl loves to be out, running on the grass barefooted and calling their names with full-bloom smile on her little, pretty face.
They can bring salgadinhos, that or bolo de cenoura, and he is definitely going to teach Vina how to bake this time without causing any fire or explosion or turn the food into something with the appearance of British culinary.
God knows why is his daughter not blessed with culinary skill.
The Brazilian wonders as he picks up a can of Guaraná Antarctica and let the mild taste of apples fills his taste buds. He better finishes this before Martin wakes up or Vina returns, because the ideas of boiling hot water for maté or surrendering the drink to the child just seem so unbearable at the moment.
-Part IV: why, he has to love children to be addressed as their paradise -
If life permits, Pedro would rather not to run into Alfred at all, especially when his only intention is to take his only son to the toy store.
It doesn’t.
“Hahaha! Hey Pedro, what a surprise to see you here!”
“Why should you be surprised since you’re having your vacation in my house?” Pedro replies annoyingly as he picks Álvaro up. God knows why is his neighbor decided to come over for vacation or bothered to troll around the streets instead of staying in the hotel or by the beach.
“Haha, sorry! I forgot that this is your area again!” The American laughs without sounding apologetic before he notices the young child in Pedro’s arms, “Oh, whose child are you holding?”
“I do not pick kids up randomly like Arthur, if that’s what you’re concerning about.” Pedro says with a sigh that’s light enough to be only noticed by Álvaro, whom in respond, clings on him tighter, “Álvaro, say hi to Papá’s neighbor Alfred, the Great United State of America, whose life cannot proceeds without eating hamburgers, drinking Coca Cola and harassing his neighbors daily.”
The child pauses for a moment, and Alfred, despite his usual claim of unable to read atmosphere, can actually feel that the child is studying at him.
“Who else is Señor Alfred’s neighbor, Papá?”
“Your godfather Matthew.” Pedro feels the child’s hand reaches his cheek and feels the smile growing on his face.
“That explains,” the child says solemnly as he turns toward Alfred, “hello Señor Alfred. My name is Álvaro and it is nice to meet you.”
And that childish seriousness just melts Alfred’s heart right at the spot.
::Afterward::
Álvaro would never understand what has activated the intense argument between his Papá and Señor Alfred the Neighbor until Papá finally gives up and allows Señor Alfred to take him around, with the threats like returning glasses and other things if Señor Alfred fails to bring him back on time.
All he remembers are random things like Veracruz and Remember the Alamo, and Papá almost punches Señor Alfred because of it.
Maybe he should dig around Papá’s library and see if there’s anything interesting to read, really, Papá shouldn’t mind about it after all.