two dwtd drabbles

[maderr]

Sable's Doll

Chris opened his wardrobe.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

"SABLE."

Sable looked up from the paper he was reading and set down his cup of coffee. "Yes, beloved?"

"Do not 'beloved' me, you bastard demon. Where the fuck are my clothes?"

"In the incinerator where they belong," Sable replied.

Chris slammed his wardrobe shut. "You burned my clothes?"

Sable rolled his eyes. "It was a jest, beloved. You do know what those are, right?"

"Give them back right now Sable," Chris said icily. "I ignored my mother's demands to get rid of my choice in clothing for thirty years, I am most certainly not giving in to your demands. I swear to god if you did somethng to my jacket..." So it was ugly. God awful. Damn it, the jacket had belonged to the man who'd put him on the path to being a detective.

"Beloved, I would never do anything to your jacket, for all that it is most certainly deserving of the incinerator." Sable folded his paper and set it aside, then stood and crossed the room to bundle Chris close and kiss him until his anger had cooled significantly. "I sent all your stuff downstairs to be cleaned, patched, all of that sort of thing you never bother to do."

Chris glowered. "Now they're going to be all stiff and not fit right. I wash my clothes so they don't get that way! Damn it, Sable."

"I have stuff for you to wear."

"I am not your damn dress up doll, Sable. You're going -- don't you even!" Chris covered Sable's face with his hand, preventing the demon from kissing him again. "Give me back my clothes. Now."

Sable chuckled and pulled the hand from his face. "But I have the most splendid silk for you, beautiful. To match your eyes." His gray eyes flashed silver as he spoke. "Softer than my sheets, and I know how much you like when I--"

"Why do you think I don't wear silk!" Chris snapped, jerking his hand free and struggling to break free. "You're a bastard. I'm not wearing anything but my clothes! In fact, now that you're being such an ass about it, I'm going to go out and find the ugliest--"

He was cut off in his turn, this time by a heated, thorough kiss. He broke it after a moment, glaring. "You're not distracting me you stupid demon. Give them back."

"Now you're just being petulant, Christian."

"I am not being petulant."

Sable grabbed his arms and yanked Chris close again, bending his head to nip and suck at Chris's bare throat. "What if I make it worth your while, beautiful?"

"You're still a bastard."




Father's Day

Chris sniffled and hiccuped, wiping at his grubby face with equally filthy hands, angry tears springing up to mingle with those of pain as he realized he was only making matters worse. It wasn't fair, now mommy and daddy would be upset too and it was supposed to be a good day and now his gift was ruined and it was stupid anyway but he'd worked hard and why did everyone have to be so mean and not believe him just because his daddy couldn't come.

Now he was crying again and that just made him madder. He was six now. Big. Daddy had said so. Big boys shouldn't cry, right?

He stopped at the corner of his block, not wanting to go home and upset mommy. She didn't like it when school made him cry.

But if he got home late they'd stop letting him walk to the bus stop by himself like big boys did. Sniffling, trying hard to stop crying, Chris finally picked his bookbag up and put it on, then slowly began to trudge home.

Mommy was waiting on the porch, and her pretty smile immediately turned into a Someone Is In Trouble Frown. He cried harder, unable to help it. "M-mommy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cry b-b-but"

"Oh, baby. Shh...of course you can cry. Chrissie, what's wrong?" She hugged him tight and petted his hair and Chris immediately began to feel all better. Mommy always made things better, even stupid school and stupid other kids who ruined his dumb gift. "You're a mess, baby. Did you get into another fight?" She kissed his dirty cheek and then took his hand and led him inside.

In the hallway, Daddy appeared with a frown on his face. "Chrissie, are you alright?"

Chris burst into tears all over again. "Daddy!" He tried to say more, but couldn't get the words out even though Mommy kept trying to calm him down. "T-t-they said I was lying. That I don't have a Daddy! Because you couldn't c-c-come t-to s-s-school today."

Mommy frowned. "Why...oh, baby, was today something special for Daddys? Why didn't you tell us?"

"Uh-huh. Cause I knew Daddy couldn't come," Chris said miserably. He held out his bookbag. "Made you a gift, but they ruined it after they picked on me." They'd shoved him in the dirt again, all three of the Stupid Heads. His arm had gotten scratched on a rock, but Mommy would make it better.

He watched anxiously, shoulders hunched, as Mommy openned up his bookbag and took out his gift for Daddy. It had taken him two whole days to make it during Art Time. He'd painted the house, the fence, and then drawn him and Daddy as ghosts in front of it. It had been hard because Daddy was a ghost and you could see through ghosts. Everyone had laughed at him. His teacher had patted hsi head and not believed him when he said Daddy really was a ghost. Chris sniffled, waiting.

Daddy knelt low and hugged him, feeling hot and cold and tingly and Chris started crying again. "You're real, right Daddy?"

"Very real, Chrissie, and your Daddy loves you very much. Thank you for the present. It's perfect."

"Love you too," Chris said, sniffling but starting to feel better.

Mommy had Happy Tears now, which was better than Sad Tears. "Come on, Chrissie. I'll hang up your picture and then make you a snack."