Carrot Cake 20, Coffee 21: Sibling Rivalry
Title: Sibling Rivalry
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Carrot cake 20 (stretch), coffee 21 (wagon), caramel (the twins are five years old, main story's long over).
Word Count: 1553
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Aaron encounters sibling rivalry.
A shriek cut across the air.
In the few seconds between hearing the shriek and arriving in the living room, Aaron Kendall had determined the following: 1) it was one of his children, 2) probably his daughter, 3) it was not a scared shriek, or a hurt shriek, 4) it was an angry shriek, so she probably wasn't injured or dying. The scene in the living room bore all of these conclusions out.
Molly sat on top of her twin, her legs pinning his arms against his sides, fingers fisted in his hair and making a truly spirited effort to bash his brains out against the floor. Billy wasn't having any of that, and was making his own spirited effort to bite Molly's fingers. A couple of toys lay scattered across the floor, and the couch was denuded of cushions, but apart from that, there was no clue as to what could have started the fight.
Aaron knew what was going to end it, though.
"Marianne Lynne Kendall!" he bellowed, striding forward.
Molly jerked and let go of Billy's hair, then shrieked again when he took advantage of her distraction to bite her forefinger. Aaron reached down, grabbed the back of Molly's shirt and hoisted her off her brother, then caught hold of Billy's arm before he could scramble off to parts unknown.
"Sit down," he said, in his best do-it-or-detentions-for-all voice. Molly sat. "William, don't you even think you're not in trouble too. On the couch, boyo."
"Molly started it!" Billy objected, at the top of his lungs. To his credit, he didn't try to escape again.
"I did not!" Molly shrieked, and wriggled in place.
"I don't care who started it," Aaron said, heading that particular argument off at the pass. "You two are old enough to know that you don't hit other people. What started this? And inside voices, please," he added, when Molly opened her mouth.
Molly scowled, looking remarkably like Ivy for someone who wasn't technically related to her. "He took my wagon," she said, and pointed at the toy in question. "He took it and he wouldn't give it back and it's mine, Andy gave it to me!"
"He did not! Dad, he did not, he gave it to both of us to share!" Billy yelled. Aaron gave him a sharp look. "He gave it to both of us," he repeated, more quietly. "He said it was to share, and Molly wouldn't share."
As far as Aaron could remember, his nephew hadn't in fact given them the wagon at all, but it hardly mattered, because Andy wasn't the one raising loud objections. "That's no reason to hit somebody," he told Billy, sternly. "You too, Molly. You don't hit people. Especially not people you love."
"That's easy then," Molly said, snappishly. "I hate Billy."
Aaron blinked, rather taken aback. She didn't mean that. Did she?
Billy straightened up, looking furious. "And I hate Molly! I hate you!"
Oh God, she meant it, and so did Billy.
"I hate you too!" Molly screamed at him. "I hate..."
"Quiet!" Aaron hollered. Both of them shut up and looked at him in astonishment. "First of all," he said, "no shouting. Inside voices. Second of all, you don't hate each other."
"Yes I do!" Molly said, voice rising again. Aaron reached over and put his hand gently over her mouth.
"I said quiet," he said, gently. "Listen. Billy, Molly's the only sister you've got, and Molly, you're never getting another brother." Because there was just no way Clara would go through the syringe business again. "You pretty much have to love each other. That's what family is."
"I don't care about any stupid family," Billy snarled. "I hate Molly and I'm never speaking to her again." He folded his arms and turned away from both of them, lower lip sticking out in a pout.
Molly's eyebrows dived down into a fierce scowl, but Aaron still had his hand over her mouth and he didn't intend to move it any time soon. "Billy, I don't want to hear that out of you," he said, firmly.
"I mean it," Billy said sullenly, but he didn't repeat it.
Aaron sighed, and uncorked Molly. "All right, time-outs for both of you, and you have to give the wagon back to Andy next time we see him."
"Oh, Dad!" they chorused, united briefly in annoyance. "He gave it to us!" Billy added.
"And now you're going to give it back," Aaron said, unmoved. "Go on. Billy in here, Molly in your bedroom. Five minutes time-out and if you start fighting again it'll be ten. Got it?"
"Got it," Billy mumbled, shooting his sister a vicious look.
Molly shot him an equally vicious look in return, and muttered, "Fine." She slid off the couch and trotted towards her room, then turned around at the last second and announced, "But I still hate Billy!"
"Ten minutes!" Aaron called after her, and heard the door to her bedroom slam in return.
--
By the time Clara got home, all had been forgiven. But Aaron was still chewing over that scene in the living room, and the sheer anger in his children's voices. It scared him a little. He'd never done anything like this in his own childhood; in fact, he couldn't remember anything even close.
"That's because you were an only child," Clara said, and leaned back against the counter as she sorted through the mail.
"I am not," he said. "I have two sisters."
Clara looked up and arched an eyebrow. "Summer is sixteen years younger than you. Studies show that children five years apart or more might as well be in different families as far as family dynamics go. And you still can't say a harsh word to her anyway."
Fair point. "Yeah, but my other sister."
She paused. "Okay, yeah, I suppose that's fair."
"Ivy and I used to fight a lot when we were kids, but we never said we hated each other." He shifted uncomfortably, remembering the sheer rage in Molly's face, and the hatred in Billy's voice.
"Really?" Clara tilted her head. "I'd have guessed she said it all the time. Ivy doesn't seem one to hide what she feels."
Aaron stared at her; the pit of his stomach abruptly went cold. "You think Ivy used to hate me?"
"I'm sure she did sometimes," Clara said absently, concentration back on the mail. "All little sisters hate their older brothers at least once, however briefly. Did you ever thwart her?"
That threw him for another loop, and for a moment he could only blink. "Uh. Well, yeah, I'm sure I did." Not that he could remember anything specific at the moment.
"Thwarting usually causes hatred," she said. "Oh, hey, my dad wrote."
"Your father is the only person I have ever met who still writes personal letters," Aaron said, temporarily sidetracked.
"He is not," Clara said, "because here is a letter from your stepfather." She brandished it at him.
Aaron took it, and sure enough, there was Ben's chickenscratch scrawl on the envelope. "Huh. He doesn't usually." People couldn't read them, for starters.
"I know," she said. "I hope it's nothing bad."
He shrugged, and put the envelope on the counter. "It's not. It would be perfectly legible if it was. I'll read it in a moment. Seriously, Clara, I'm worried about the kids. They said they hated each other."
She looked up at him, sympathy in her eyes. "Honey, not everyone's like you and Ivy. Most people aren't. You've seen me with Ethan, and we're not like that."
Aaron sighed, and leaned all his weight on his hands. "You think I'm overreacting."
"I think you're overreacting." Clara crossed to him and put her hand on his arm. "But not unreasonably, given your relationship with your sisters. Just... let it go. Billy and Molly will sort it out between themselves."
He put a hand over hers and squeezed, comforted. "I believe you. It just feels so odd. I mean, they're twins, for God's sake. Shouldn't they be..."
"That's a stereotype and it's totally untrue," Clara said. "Trust me. I've interacted with three separate sets of twins, and they do not always get along."
Aaron arched an eyebrow at her. "Your father and his sister get along pretty well."
"Yes, but Dad and Aunt Gwen are adults. They've had a lot of time to get used to each other." She grinned, abruptly. "If you think Billy and Molly are bad, you should've seen my cousins when they were kids. They nearly killed each other a bunch of times, and they're identical. If anyone was going to fit the twin stereotype it'd be Jon and Jamie."
"I suppose," he said.
Clara smiled at him. "Look at it this way. Billy and Molly don't share anything more than parents and womb-space."
"And the occasional toy," he interjected.
"Very occasional," Clara said. "But yes. They're siblings. They're going to hate each other sometimes. It happens. And as long as we keep them from slitting each other's throats in the night, they'll turn out okay. I promise."
"Hope you're right, darling," Aaron said, and leaned over to press his forehead to hers. "By the way, they're giving that damn wagon toy back."
"Sounds good to me," Clara said. "What's for dinner?"
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Carrot cake 20 (stretch), coffee 21 (wagon), caramel (the twins are five years old, main story's long over).
Word Count: 1553
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Aaron encounters sibling rivalry.
A shriek cut across the air.
In the few seconds between hearing the shriek and arriving in the living room, Aaron Kendall had determined the following: 1) it was one of his children, 2) probably his daughter, 3) it was not a scared shriek, or a hurt shriek, 4) it was an angry shriek, so she probably wasn't injured or dying. The scene in the living room bore all of these conclusions out.
Molly sat on top of her twin, her legs pinning his arms against his sides, fingers fisted in his hair and making a truly spirited effort to bash his brains out against the floor. Billy wasn't having any of that, and was making his own spirited effort to bite Molly's fingers. A couple of toys lay scattered across the floor, and the couch was denuded of cushions, but apart from that, there was no clue as to what could have started the fight.
Aaron knew what was going to end it, though.
"Marianne Lynne Kendall!" he bellowed, striding forward.
Molly jerked and let go of Billy's hair, then shrieked again when he took advantage of her distraction to bite her forefinger. Aaron reached down, grabbed the back of Molly's shirt and hoisted her off her brother, then caught hold of Billy's arm before he could scramble off to parts unknown.
"Sit down," he said, in his best do-it-or-detentions-for-all voice. Molly sat. "William, don't you even think you're not in trouble too. On the couch, boyo."
"Molly started it!" Billy objected, at the top of his lungs. To his credit, he didn't try to escape again.
"I did not!" Molly shrieked, and wriggled in place.
"I don't care who started it," Aaron said, heading that particular argument off at the pass. "You two are old enough to know that you don't hit other people. What started this? And inside voices, please," he added, when Molly opened her mouth.
Molly scowled, looking remarkably like Ivy for someone who wasn't technically related to her. "He took my wagon," she said, and pointed at the toy in question. "He took it and he wouldn't give it back and it's mine, Andy gave it to me!"
"He did not! Dad, he did not, he gave it to both of us to share!" Billy yelled. Aaron gave him a sharp look. "He gave it to both of us," he repeated, more quietly. "He said it was to share, and Molly wouldn't share."
As far as Aaron could remember, his nephew hadn't in fact given them the wagon at all, but it hardly mattered, because Andy wasn't the one raising loud objections. "That's no reason to hit somebody," he told Billy, sternly. "You too, Molly. You don't hit people. Especially not people you love."
"That's easy then," Molly said, snappishly. "I hate Billy."
Aaron blinked, rather taken aback. She didn't mean that. Did she?
Billy straightened up, looking furious. "And I hate Molly! I hate you!"
Oh God, she meant it, and so did Billy.
"I hate you too!" Molly screamed at him. "I hate..."
"Quiet!" Aaron hollered. Both of them shut up and looked at him in astonishment. "First of all," he said, "no shouting. Inside voices. Second of all, you don't hate each other."
"Yes I do!" Molly said, voice rising again. Aaron reached over and put his hand gently over her mouth.
"I said quiet," he said, gently. "Listen. Billy, Molly's the only sister you've got, and Molly, you're never getting another brother." Because there was just no way Clara would go through the syringe business again. "You pretty much have to love each other. That's what family is."
"I don't care about any stupid family," Billy snarled. "I hate Molly and I'm never speaking to her again." He folded his arms and turned away from both of them, lower lip sticking out in a pout.
Molly's eyebrows dived down into a fierce scowl, but Aaron still had his hand over her mouth and he didn't intend to move it any time soon. "Billy, I don't want to hear that out of you," he said, firmly.
"I mean it," Billy said sullenly, but he didn't repeat it.
Aaron sighed, and uncorked Molly. "All right, time-outs for both of you, and you have to give the wagon back to Andy next time we see him."
"Oh, Dad!" they chorused, united briefly in annoyance. "He gave it to us!" Billy added.
"And now you're going to give it back," Aaron said, unmoved. "Go on. Billy in here, Molly in your bedroom. Five minutes time-out and if you start fighting again it'll be ten. Got it?"
"Got it," Billy mumbled, shooting his sister a vicious look.
Molly shot him an equally vicious look in return, and muttered, "Fine." She slid off the couch and trotted towards her room, then turned around at the last second and announced, "But I still hate Billy!"
"Ten minutes!" Aaron called after her, and heard the door to her bedroom slam in return.
--
By the time Clara got home, all had been forgiven. But Aaron was still chewing over that scene in the living room, and the sheer anger in his children's voices. It scared him a little. He'd never done anything like this in his own childhood; in fact, he couldn't remember anything even close.
"That's because you were an only child," Clara said, and leaned back against the counter as she sorted through the mail.
"I am not," he said. "I have two sisters."
Clara looked up and arched an eyebrow. "Summer is sixteen years younger than you. Studies show that children five years apart or more might as well be in different families as far as family dynamics go. And you still can't say a harsh word to her anyway."
Fair point. "Yeah, but my other sister."
She paused. "Okay, yeah, I suppose that's fair."
"Ivy and I used to fight a lot when we were kids, but we never said we hated each other." He shifted uncomfortably, remembering the sheer rage in Molly's face, and the hatred in Billy's voice.
"Really?" Clara tilted her head. "I'd have guessed she said it all the time. Ivy doesn't seem one to hide what she feels."
Aaron stared at her; the pit of his stomach abruptly went cold. "You think Ivy used to hate me?"
"I'm sure she did sometimes," Clara said absently, concentration back on the mail. "All little sisters hate their older brothers at least once, however briefly. Did you ever thwart her?"
That threw him for another loop, and for a moment he could only blink. "Uh. Well, yeah, I'm sure I did." Not that he could remember anything specific at the moment.
"Thwarting usually causes hatred," she said. "Oh, hey, my dad wrote."
"Your father is the only person I have ever met who still writes personal letters," Aaron said, temporarily sidetracked.
"He is not," Clara said, "because here is a letter from your stepfather." She brandished it at him.
Aaron took it, and sure enough, there was Ben's chickenscratch scrawl on the envelope. "Huh. He doesn't usually." People couldn't read them, for starters.
"I know," she said. "I hope it's nothing bad."
He shrugged, and put the envelope on the counter. "It's not. It would be perfectly legible if it was. I'll read it in a moment. Seriously, Clara, I'm worried about the kids. They said they hated each other."
She looked up at him, sympathy in her eyes. "Honey, not everyone's like you and Ivy. Most people aren't. You've seen me with Ethan, and we're not like that."
Aaron sighed, and leaned all his weight on his hands. "You think I'm overreacting."
"I think you're overreacting." Clara crossed to him and put her hand on his arm. "But not unreasonably, given your relationship with your sisters. Just... let it go. Billy and Molly will sort it out between themselves."
He put a hand over hers and squeezed, comforted. "I believe you. It just feels so odd. I mean, they're twins, for God's sake. Shouldn't they be..."
"That's a stereotype and it's totally untrue," Clara said. "Trust me. I've interacted with three separate sets of twins, and they do not always get along."
Aaron arched an eyebrow at her. "Your father and his sister get along pretty well."
"Yes, but Dad and Aunt Gwen are adults. They've had a lot of time to get used to each other." She grinned, abruptly. "If you think Billy and Molly are bad, you should've seen my cousins when they were kids. They nearly killed each other a bunch of times, and they're identical. If anyone was going to fit the twin stereotype it'd be Jon and Jamie."
"I suppose," he said.
Clara smiled at him. "Look at it this way. Billy and Molly don't share anything more than parents and womb-space."
"And the occasional toy," he interjected.
"Very occasional," Clara said. "But yes. They're siblings. They're going to hate each other sometimes. It happens. And as long as we keep them from slitting each other's throats in the night, they'll turn out okay. I promise."
"Hope you're right, darling," Aaron said, and leaned over to press his forehead to hers. "By the way, they're giving that damn wagon toy back."
"Sounds good to me," Clara said. "What's for dinner?"