Toy Soldiers: Spoil Your Supper (PG)
Summary: Billy isn't hungry, and it's not because of the cookies he ate.
Notes: For prompt 58, "dinner."
SPOIL YOUR SUPPER
*
"Mom! I'm home!"
No answer. Maybe Mom wasn't back yet: she'd said the Hoest showing might run late. Billy let his backpack slide off his shoulder onto the floor, then remembered and picked it up again. Dad tripped over it yesterday and yelled at him for leaving his stuff everything and obviously not doing his homework. If he put the backpack over here in this corner, it'd save a lot of trouble.
Nobody in the living room. Then again, Dad was the one who came home and turned on the TV. Mom went to her office first, down the hall. The door was closed, and when Billy listened in front of it, he didn't hear anything. Definitely nobody else home. Score. Mom had actually baked cookies last night. He had time for a few of those and even some TV before she got home and he had to start his homework. Dad wouldn't be home until late: all he had to worry about was Mom.
Right. Cookies. Plate -- jeez, didn't Mom get paper plates last time at the grocery store? Screw it, then. Billy poured himself a glass of milk, then carried cookies and milk into the living room. If he got crumbs on the couch, Mom would yell, but if he sat on the floor, nobody would even notice. Mom vacuumed practically every day anyway.
Halfway through "Inspector Gadget," the back door slammed. Billy hit the mute button and leaned around the couch, listening hard. A second door opened -- okay, it was Mom home and she'd gone straight to her office, so he was safe for another ten minutes. Just in case, he got up and brought his empty milk glass back to the kitchen, still listening for anything from down the hall.
"--chelle? Michelle, it's Barbara. -- Furious, actually. You'll never guess what was waiting for me tonight when I got home."
"Mom?"
"Hold on a moment. -- Billy, could you start supper, please?"
Supper. Okay. Billy tried to ignore the conversation in the study while he opened the fridge and looked over the food there. Nothing. Nobody had brought down any chicken or anything to thaw, and if he got some out of the freezer now, it wouldn't be thawed until at least seven. Spaghetti? No, they had that yesterday. Sandwiches, maybe, or mac and cheese. Billy got a pan from the wall, filled it with water, and set it on the stove to boil, carefully turning the burner up to high. Even after the cookies, he was hungry.
He turned back to the fridge, then hesitated. Mom ate supper on her own sometimes: he should probably just make her a sandwich and save the mac and cheese until Dad came home. He turned down the burner -- if he had to wait until Dad came home, he didn't need it to boil immediately -- and headed back out into the hall.
"--need to talk with him as soon as possible, then. -- No, I'll be fine. He's the -- Yes."
Billy slowed down. He hadn't done anything! Not anything recent. He stopped outside the office door and listened.
"I'm fine, Michelle. -- Of course it'll be a mess, have you ever seen a divorce that wasn't? But I've got--"
He missed whatever Mom said next. Not shock, exactly, not with the way Mom and Dad yelled at each other, but just a weird total stillness for a second.
"Billy." Mom was standing right in the doorway, looking at him.
She must've heard him somehow. He swallowed, and said, "Yeah?"
"What have I told you about eavesdropping?"
Billy opened his mouth to say he hadn't meant to, honest, then shut it again. Didn't matter now. "I, uh, just came to see if you wanted a sandwich."
"No. Thank you." She closed the office door this time, and the lock clicked. After a second, Billy heard her voice again, muffled this time.
He trudged back to the kitchen. After a minute, he turned off the burner under the water. He wasn't that hungry after all.
-end-
Notes: For prompt 58, "dinner."
SPOIL YOUR SUPPER
*
"Mom! I'm home!"
No answer. Maybe Mom wasn't back yet: she'd said the Hoest showing might run late. Billy let his backpack slide off his shoulder onto the floor, then remembered and picked it up again. Dad tripped over it yesterday and yelled at him for leaving his stuff everything and obviously not doing his homework. If he put the backpack over here in this corner, it'd save a lot of trouble.
Nobody in the living room. Then again, Dad was the one who came home and turned on the TV. Mom went to her office first, down the hall. The door was closed, and when Billy listened in front of it, he didn't hear anything. Definitely nobody else home. Score. Mom had actually baked cookies last night. He had time for a few of those and even some TV before she got home and he had to start his homework. Dad wouldn't be home until late: all he had to worry about was Mom.
Right. Cookies. Plate -- jeez, didn't Mom get paper plates last time at the grocery store? Screw it, then. Billy poured himself a glass of milk, then carried cookies and milk into the living room. If he got crumbs on the couch, Mom would yell, but if he sat on the floor, nobody would even notice. Mom vacuumed practically every day anyway.
Halfway through "Inspector Gadget," the back door slammed. Billy hit the mute button and leaned around the couch, listening hard. A second door opened -- okay, it was Mom home and she'd gone straight to her office, so he was safe for another ten minutes. Just in case, he got up and brought his empty milk glass back to the kitchen, still listening for anything from down the hall.
"--chelle? Michelle, it's Barbara. -- Furious, actually. You'll never guess what was waiting for me tonight when I got home."
"Mom?"
"Hold on a moment. -- Billy, could you start supper, please?"
Supper. Okay. Billy tried to ignore the conversation in the study while he opened the fridge and looked over the food there. Nothing. Nobody had brought down any chicken or anything to thaw, and if he got some out of the freezer now, it wouldn't be thawed until at least seven. Spaghetti? No, they had that yesterday. Sandwiches, maybe, or mac and cheese. Billy got a pan from the wall, filled it with water, and set it on the stove to boil, carefully turning the burner up to high. Even after the cookies, he was hungry.
He turned back to the fridge, then hesitated. Mom ate supper on her own sometimes: he should probably just make her a sandwich and save the mac and cheese until Dad came home. He turned down the burner -- if he had to wait until Dad came home, he didn't need it to boil immediately -- and headed back out into the hall.
"--need to talk with him as soon as possible, then. -- No, I'll be fine. He's the -- Yes."
Billy slowed down. He hadn't done anything! Not anything recent. He stopped outside the office door and listened.
"I'm fine, Michelle. -- Of course it'll be a mess, have you ever seen a divorce that wasn't? But I've got--"
He missed whatever Mom said next. Not shock, exactly, not with the way Mom and Dad yelled at each other, but just a weird total stillness for a second.
"Billy." Mom was standing right in the doorway, looking at him.
She must've heard him somehow. He swallowed, and said, "Yeah?"
"What have I told you about eavesdropping?"
Billy opened his mouth to say he hadn't meant to, honest, then shut it again. Didn't matter now. "I, uh, just came to see if you wanted a sandwich."
"No. Thank you." She closed the office door this time, and the lock clicked. After a second, Billy heard her voice again, muffled this time.
He trudged back to the kitchen. After a minute, he turned off the burner under the water. He wasn't that hungry after all.
-end-