fanfic50: Bruise
Title: The Blame Game
Prompt: #04 (Bruise)
Word Count: 876
Rating: PG
Summary: Sometimes, James and Ken's mother would look to the heavens and wonder why in the world she decided to have so many children. This was one of those times.
Notes: Ken is mean. How rude. I need to get back into the swing of writing fic.
“Mummy!” The cry echoed through the small house, as clear as the smack that had proceeded it. The pitter patter of feet were then heard as someone raced down the stairs. “Mummy!” A little boy threw himself into his mother’s arms, his face tear-streaked and a big red mark on his cheek that would probably leave a bruise. “Mummy, Kenny threw something at me and it hit me and it hurt!”
As if summoned, ten-year-old Ken came down the stairs after his younger brother. “I didn’t do it!” he immediately yelled! “Whatever James says, I didn’t do it!”
James quickly began to wail again, fearful that his mother would believe Ken over him. “He threw a book at me!” he sobbed, sniffling.
“I didn’t!” Ken protested, louder this time, if that was possible. Their mother idly wondered if the neighbors could hear them by this point, and why in the world they had chosen to have so many children. “I didn’t do nothin’!” Their mother raised an eyebrow at him and James quieted down a little, burrowing his face into his mother’s side. She believed him. Things would be okay. “Fine, okay, maybe I threw something at him,” Ken relented. “But it wasn’t even a heavy book! It was a children’s chapter book! It’s not my fault the spine hit him! Anyone else would have dodged!”
James’s eyes filled with more tears at the injustice of it all. This family was more than any five-year-old should be expected to handle! “Well, it was mean! I didn’t even do anything to you!”
“You spilled your apple juice all over Stephen’s history project!” Ken roared, his eyes flashing in anger. “I’ve been helping him with that project and it’s taken me five bloody hours and you ruined it! You and your bloody apple juice!”
“My apple juice ain’t bloody!” James retorted, his chin tilted up defiantly. “Stephen’s project is just dumb.”
Ken took a step towards James, apparently forgetting that James was still clinging to their mother, who was definitely not amused by the events unfolding before her. “You know what, you bloody arsehole-”
“Kennith David Ryker!” she snapped as Ken was about to reply. “You watch your language while you’re under my roof, young man. Don’t you go teaching James to start spouting that rubbish.”
James allowed himself a little smile as Ken was being rebuked, but his mother looked down at him sternly. “And don’t think you’re getting away, James. Think of how hard your brother worked on that project. I’ve told you time and time again not to take your snacks into your room, haven’t I? Especially not when your brothers are working.”
It was Ken’s turn to smirk now, and their mother secretly wished that she had had two more daughters instead of two sons. Sarah and Rain were always so well behaved. None of this nonsense with them. “You wipe that look off your face right now. James is five years old. What if the book had managed to blind him? If it had hit him at the right angle, it may have managed to do that. Then what?”
“I didn’t…it wasn’t going to blind him! It was just a bloody children’s book!” Ken argued, glaring at James even as James hid behind their mother.
Their mother shook her head. “How many times have I told you not to get physical with your brothers, Ken?”
“But the project-”
“I’m sure it’s nothing a hair-dryer can’t fix,” their mother said patiently. “And if not, then James can help fix it. He’s old enough to help glue things, and he should help fix what he damaged. You and Stephen can do the cutting - don’t you dare let James near the scissors - and he can glue.”
Ken struggled to find an answer for a moment before deciding that the best course of action to take was to storm back upstairs to inform Stephen that James was going to help with the project now. His mother called up after him, “By the way, you’re grounded for a week for throwing things. And I expect you to be down here to help me set the table later.”
“Mum!” Ken whined from upstairs. “That’s not fair! James didn’t get in trouble!”
“Well, James didn’t purposely try and spill juice on Stephen’s project. Or throw things at his brothers.” She turned to look at James. “You’d better be more careful in the future, though. No more snacks in your room, do you hear?”
James ducked his head. “Yes mummy,” he said, relieved that he hadn’t gotten punishment. Ken stormed off, his footsteps loud above them, obviously angry that his younger brother wasn’t being grounded as well.
Their mother took James by the arm and led him to the fridge. “Now let’s go about icing that bruise before it swells, yes?”
He nodded, but his mind wasn’t on the bruise on his face anymore. In fact, that had almost entirely slipped his mind now that he knew Ken would be getting his due punishment for it. It only throbbed a little anyway, and there were more pressing matters at hand. He tugged at his mother’s dress again and waited until she looked down at him. “Mummy, can I have some more apple juice?”
Prompt: #04 (Bruise)
Word Count: 876
Rating: PG
Summary: Sometimes, James and Ken's mother would look to the heavens and wonder why in the world she decided to have so many children. This was one of those times.
Notes: Ken is mean. How rude. I need to get back into the swing of writing fic.
“Mummy!” The cry echoed through the small house, as clear as the smack that had proceeded it. The pitter patter of feet were then heard as someone raced down the stairs. “Mummy!” A little boy threw himself into his mother’s arms, his face tear-streaked and a big red mark on his cheek that would probably leave a bruise. “Mummy, Kenny threw something at me and it hit me and it hurt!”
As if summoned, ten-year-old Ken came down the stairs after his younger brother. “I didn’t do it!” he immediately yelled! “Whatever James says, I didn’t do it!”
James quickly began to wail again, fearful that his mother would believe Ken over him. “He threw a book at me!” he sobbed, sniffling.
“I didn’t!” Ken protested, louder this time, if that was possible. Their mother idly wondered if the neighbors could hear them by this point, and why in the world they had chosen to have so many children. “I didn’t do nothin’!” Their mother raised an eyebrow at him and James quieted down a little, burrowing his face into his mother’s side. She believed him. Things would be okay. “Fine, okay, maybe I threw something at him,” Ken relented. “But it wasn’t even a heavy book! It was a children’s chapter book! It’s not my fault the spine hit him! Anyone else would have dodged!”
James’s eyes filled with more tears at the injustice of it all. This family was more than any five-year-old should be expected to handle! “Well, it was mean! I didn’t even do anything to you!”
“You spilled your apple juice all over Stephen’s history project!” Ken roared, his eyes flashing in anger. “I’ve been helping him with that project and it’s taken me five bloody hours and you ruined it! You and your bloody apple juice!”
“My apple juice ain’t bloody!” James retorted, his chin tilted up defiantly. “Stephen’s project is just dumb.”
Ken took a step towards James, apparently forgetting that James was still clinging to their mother, who was definitely not amused by the events unfolding before her. “You know what, you bloody arsehole-”
“Kennith David Ryker!” she snapped as Ken was about to reply. “You watch your language while you’re under my roof, young man. Don’t you go teaching James to start spouting that rubbish.”
James allowed himself a little smile as Ken was being rebuked, but his mother looked down at him sternly. “And don’t think you’re getting away, James. Think of how hard your brother worked on that project. I’ve told you time and time again not to take your snacks into your room, haven’t I? Especially not when your brothers are working.”
It was Ken’s turn to smirk now, and their mother secretly wished that she had had two more daughters instead of two sons. Sarah and Rain were always so well behaved. None of this nonsense with them. “You wipe that look off your face right now. James is five years old. What if the book had managed to blind him? If it had hit him at the right angle, it may have managed to do that. Then what?”
“I didn’t…it wasn’t going to blind him! It was just a bloody children’s book!” Ken argued, glaring at James even as James hid behind their mother.
Their mother shook her head. “How many times have I told you not to get physical with your brothers, Ken?”
“But the project-”
“I’m sure it’s nothing a hair-dryer can’t fix,” their mother said patiently. “And if not, then James can help fix it. He’s old enough to help glue things, and he should help fix what he damaged. You and Stephen can do the cutting - don’t you dare let James near the scissors - and he can glue.”
Ken struggled to find an answer for a moment before deciding that the best course of action to take was to storm back upstairs to inform Stephen that James was going to help with the project now. His mother called up after him, “By the way, you’re grounded for a week for throwing things. And I expect you to be down here to help me set the table later.”
“Mum!” Ken whined from upstairs. “That’s not fair! James didn’t get in trouble!”
“Well, James didn’t purposely try and spill juice on Stephen’s project. Or throw things at his brothers.” She turned to look at James. “You’d better be more careful in the future, though. No more snacks in your room, do you hear?”
James ducked his head. “Yes mummy,” he said, relieved that he hadn’t gotten punishment. Ken stormed off, his footsteps loud above them, obviously angry that his younger brother wasn’t being grounded as well.
Their mother took James by the arm and led him to the fridge. “Now let’s go about icing that bruise before it swells, yes?”
He nodded, but his mind wasn’t on the bruise on his face anymore. In fact, that had almost entirely slipped his mind now that he knew Ken would be getting his due punishment for it. It only throbbed a little anyway, and there were more pressing matters at hand. He tugged at his mother’s dress again and waited until she looked down at him. “Mummy, can I have some more apple juice?”