Pistachio # 10, "Lost"
Title: The linen Closet
Word Count: 1,542
Toppings: Whipped Cream, Rainbow sprinkles
Ratings: PG-13 for sexual references.
Summary: Mikhail finds himself in a most awkward position when requested to help prepare for dinner.
Author's notes And introducing Michael's parents (Mikhail and Anika), in addition to Michael's adopted brother, Jason! This wasn't easy to write, but I had fun with it. Especially the first part. x3 Poor Mikhail.
Mikhail was a man with a mission. Slowly, he made his way up the carpeted stairs of his house, smiling cheerfully as he did so. His wife wished for him to fetch a clean tablecloth from the linen closet, and he was happy to do so if it meant he got out of emptying the dishwasher, or, heaven forbid, something worse. He may not know at the moment what that thing was, but Anika had a way of finding him the most annoying tasks. So he went with a smile to the linen closet.
But a nagging worry ate away at him as he walked, a worry that had been slowly growing over the past few weeks now. His son and Rhiannon were acting stranger then usual, and he suspected that something had happened between them yet again. Whenever he happened to come across the two of them when they were in a middle of an argument, their faces were always flushed like the room was too warm and their clothes would be rumpled as if they had been wrestling with one another.
Mikhail frowned, his cheer momentarily marred by worry. Gods, he hoped they weren’t fighting physically again. They hadn’t done that since they’d first met as children, and that one experience trying to separate them had been enough for him. Rhiannon was a vicious little bugger, with a nastier bite. And with her new experience as the General, she could only be nastier to deal with.
With a sigh, Mikhail reached for the doorknob of the closet. His hand froze halfway to the silver knob as a small sound from within the closet reached his ears.
Was that… a moan just now?
The Ukrainian man stood still as a statue, his chocolate brown eyes widening in shock as he stared at the closet door incredulously, hoping to whatever god that might hear him that he was just imagining the noise. When he heard a muffled gasp and a soft voice saying something that sounded like his son’s name, he reasoned that the gods were laughing at him.
Was that Rhiannon? In the closet?
Not just in the closet, but with his son. And it was very clear that they weren’t fighting. Feeling a blushing crawl up his neck and across his cheeks, the large man backed quietly away from the closet as if it might spontaneously burst into flame and walked back down the stairs without a word. His Michael and Rhiannon were currently occupying the linen closet. Occupying the linen closet and having sex.
He could barely comprehend it. Entering the kitchen, the Ukrainian man didn’t notice Jason’s greeting, or how his adopted son stopped cooking to stare at him as he casually pulled out Russian vodka he’d had imported and a shot glass. Casually filling the glass to the brim, Mikhail picked it up and downed it in one toss back of the head, enjoying the pleasant burn.
“Mikhail, love, why are you as red as a tomato?”
Mikhail turned guiltily around, vodka bottle in one hand and the shot glass in the other as he faced his wife. Jason raised an eyebrow as checked on his sauce with a small smile. “Anika. M-Michael… Rhiannon… clo-closet. Moans! Moans from the cl-closet.” The large man stammered incoherently, blushing more deeply as there was a soft thump from upstairs. Jason and Anika paused, raising their eyes to the ceiling. Anika frowned, puzzled as she put together her husband’s stammered words, the noise they’d just heard, and the look of amusement on their adopted son’s face.
Slowly, a faint pink coloured the Danish woman’s cheeks as she clued in. “I see. Well… this is unexpected,” she said after a long pause.
“Unexpected! That’s all you have to say?! Unexpected? I’d say! They’re siblings! Or… practically so. We’ve been raising them as siblings! How does that translate to… to… being lovers?!” Mikhail spluttered, throwing his arms outward widely. As he grew more agitated, the Ukrainian man’s thick accent became more prominent. Pouring himself another shot, he quickly downed that one two as he caught sight of the smirk on his adopted son’s face.
Turning the burners on the stove on low, Jason turned to fully face his adopted parents, licking the chocolate sauce that had splattered onto his thumb off as he did. His parents were brilliant, but really, they could be quite clueless at times. It was adorable for the Italian man to see. “This wasn’t unexpected at all. You two are the only ones who’ve ever thought of them as siblings, no? You never asked Michael or Rhiannon what they thought or felt. I’ve seen this coming for a long time.” Jason explained, brushing a black bang out of his face.
Mikhail scowled, pacing the kitchen with the vodka in hand, restless. “But why did they not tell us? Why all this secrecy?” he demanded.
“Perhaps… it’s because we’ve been raising them in the mindset that they are siblings. They’re afraid of our judgment. They’re afraid that we might think that their feelings are wrong. We haven’t been raising them as the two individuals that they are.” Anika said softly, finally lowering her eyes from the ceiling.
“Exactly. Michael and Rhiannon are not blood-related, nor do they think of themselves as brother and sister even in the spiritual sense that Michael and myself do.” Jason agreed, glad to see that Anika was at least staying calm and collected.
Flustered, Mikhail paused to pour himself another shot of vodka, worry lining his face now. “And Rhiannon. She is too young for such activities! She’s only fourteen years old. Shouldn’t we talk to them? Say something at least? Anika, go do something! Stop them somehow.” he insisted before downing his third shot.
Tilting her head at her husband, Anika smiled in amusement. “And why, Mikhail, must I be the one to interrupt them?” she asked sweetly, smiling as Mikhail opened his mouth before closing it, speechless. “Do you not remember what it’s like to be young and amorous? We have our moments too you know. There was that time on in the Captain’s cabin, before Michael was born.” Grinning as she heard Jason cough awkwardly, Anika gently stroked her embarrassed husband’s cheek. “And did you not have your first ‘roll in the hay’ when you were fifteen with a village girl in her parents dining room?”
“Shut up!” Mikhail hissed embarrassedly, glancing at Jason. Jason was pretending to busy himself in order to hide the smirk on his face. Now that he’d gotten passed the strange concept of his parents having sex, it was actually pretty funny to see how embarrassed his father was.
“You know… Michael has been sexually active since he was fourteen.” Jason put in casually, ignoring Mikhail’s wide-eyed stare.
Forget the glass. Might as well drink straight from the bottle. Before now he had thought he knew everything about his children, and if not, that they trusted him enough to come and talk to him. Putting the shot glass on the counter, Mikhail glared at Jason. “And you never once thought to tell us?”
Jason shrugged and sighed, turning around to busily stir the various pots and pans on the stove. “For god’s sake, don’t look at me like that. I figured it was Michael’s business. And if you’re worried about him knowing all the safety precautions to having sex, I sat him down and made sure he knew to use condoms and other things as well.” Jason replied, rolling his eyes a little. “It should be his right to come and tell you anyways. Not mine.”
“But I should have… I mean as his father I could have…” Mikhail faltered, and sighed feeling useless. “All right, I will admit that if Michael had come to ask me about sex, I probably would have bungled the whole thing. But what now? Do we just let them go one like this?”
Taking the vodka bottle gently from her husband’s grasp, Anika frowned thoughtfully as she capped it and put it away. “I, for one, would rather wait until they felt they could trust in us enough to come forward themselves.” She admitted. “Jason said he’s already talked to Michael about being safe. And what can we do to stop them? Let’s be honest Mikhail; locking them away from one another wouldn’t do anything but make them angry with us. Telling them that what they’re doing is inappropriate will only make them resort to using more secrecy. The two of them tend to be hot-headed, especially when it concerns the other.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what we should do. Leave them, I guess, and try to keep an eye on them.” Mikhail said, throwing his arms up in the air with a frustrated sigh.
There was only one thing he hated about being a parent, and that was how lost it made him feel at times. All he wanted was the best for his children.
“And by the way,” Anika began as she turned to leave the room, “Did you get that tablecloth?”
Jason roared with laughter as Mikhail spluttered helplessly and turned bright red while Anika swept out the kitchen with a wicked light in her eye.
I hope you all enjoyed!
Word Count: 1,542
Toppings: Whipped Cream, Rainbow sprinkles
Ratings: PG-13 for sexual references.
Summary: Mikhail finds himself in a most awkward position when requested to help prepare for dinner.
Author's notes And introducing Michael's parents (Mikhail and Anika), in addition to Michael's adopted brother, Jason! This wasn't easy to write, but I had fun with it. Especially the first part. x3 Poor Mikhail.
Mikhail was a man with a mission. Slowly, he made his way up the carpeted stairs of his house, smiling cheerfully as he did so. His wife wished for him to fetch a clean tablecloth from the linen closet, and he was happy to do so if it meant he got out of emptying the dishwasher, or, heaven forbid, something worse. He may not know at the moment what that thing was, but Anika had a way of finding him the most annoying tasks. So he went with a smile to the linen closet.
But a nagging worry ate away at him as he walked, a worry that had been slowly growing over the past few weeks now. His son and Rhiannon were acting stranger then usual, and he suspected that something had happened between them yet again. Whenever he happened to come across the two of them when they were in a middle of an argument, their faces were always flushed like the room was too warm and their clothes would be rumpled as if they had been wrestling with one another.
Mikhail frowned, his cheer momentarily marred by worry. Gods, he hoped they weren’t fighting physically again. They hadn’t done that since they’d first met as children, and that one experience trying to separate them had been enough for him. Rhiannon was a vicious little bugger, with a nastier bite. And with her new experience as the General, she could only be nastier to deal with.
With a sigh, Mikhail reached for the doorknob of the closet. His hand froze halfway to the silver knob as a small sound from within the closet reached his ears.
Was that… a moan just now?
The Ukrainian man stood still as a statue, his chocolate brown eyes widening in shock as he stared at the closet door incredulously, hoping to whatever god that might hear him that he was just imagining the noise. When he heard a muffled gasp and a soft voice saying something that sounded like his son’s name, he reasoned that the gods were laughing at him.
Was that Rhiannon? In the closet?
Not just in the closet, but with his son. And it was very clear that they weren’t fighting. Feeling a blushing crawl up his neck and across his cheeks, the large man backed quietly away from the closet as if it might spontaneously burst into flame and walked back down the stairs without a word. His Michael and Rhiannon were currently occupying the linen closet. Occupying the linen closet and having sex.
He could barely comprehend it. Entering the kitchen, the Ukrainian man didn’t notice Jason’s greeting, or how his adopted son stopped cooking to stare at him as he casually pulled out Russian vodka he’d had imported and a shot glass. Casually filling the glass to the brim, Mikhail picked it up and downed it in one toss back of the head, enjoying the pleasant burn.
“Mikhail, love, why are you as red as a tomato?”
Mikhail turned guiltily around, vodka bottle in one hand and the shot glass in the other as he faced his wife. Jason raised an eyebrow as checked on his sauce with a small smile. “Anika. M-Michael… Rhiannon… clo-closet. Moans! Moans from the cl-closet.” The large man stammered incoherently, blushing more deeply as there was a soft thump from upstairs. Jason and Anika paused, raising their eyes to the ceiling. Anika frowned, puzzled as she put together her husband’s stammered words, the noise they’d just heard, and the look of amusement on their adopted son’s face.
Slowly, a faint pink coloured the Danish woman’s cheeks as she clued in. “I see. Well… this is unexpected,” she said after a long pause.
“Unexpected! That’s all you have to say?! Unexpected? I’d say! They’re siblings! Or… practically so. We’ve been raising them as siblings! How does that translate to… to… being lovers?!” Mikhail spluttered, throwing his arms outward widely. As he grew more agitated, the Ukrainian man’s thick accent became more prominent. Pouring himself another shot, he quickly downed that one two as he caught sight of the smirk on his adopted son’s face.
Turning the burners on the stove on low, Jason turned to fully face his adopted parents, licking the chocolate sauce that had splattered onto his thumb off as he did. His parents were brilliant, but really, they could be quite clueless at times. It was adorable for the Italian man to see. “This wasn’t unexpected at all. You two are the only ones who’ve ever thought of them as siblings, no? You never asked Michael or Rhiannon what they thought or felt. I’ve seen this coming for a long time.” Jason explained, brushing a black bang out of his face.
Mikhail scowled, pacing the kitchen with the vodka in hand, restless. “But why did they not tell us? Why all this secrecy?” he demanded.
“Perhaps… it’s because we’ve been raising them in the mindset that they are siblings. They’re afraid of our judgment. They’re afraid that we might think that their feelings are wrong. We haven’t been raising them as the two individuals that they are.” Anika said softly, finally lowering her eyes from the ceiling.
“Exactly. Michael and Rhiannon are not blood-related, nor do they think of themselves as brother and sister even in the spiritual sense that Michael and myself do.” Jason agreed, glad to see that Anika was at least staying calm and collected.
Flustered, Mikhail paused to pour himself another shot of vodka, worry lining his face now. “And Rhiannon. She is too young for such activities! She’s only fourteen years old. Shouldn’t we talk to them? Say something at least? Anika, go do something! Stop them somehow.” he insisted before downing his third shot.
Tilting her head at her husband, Anika smiled in amusement. “And why, Mikhail, must I be the one to interrupt them?” she asked sweetly, smiling as Mikhail opened his mouth before closing it, speechless. “Do you not remember what it’s like to be young and amorous? We have our moments too you know. There was that time on in the Captain’s cabin, before Michael was born.” Grinning as she heard Jason cough awkwardly, Anika gently stroked her embarrassed husband’s cheek. “And did you not have your first ‘roll in the hay’ when you were fifteen with a village girl in her parents dining room?”
“Shut up!” Mikhail hissed embarrassedly, glancing at Jason. Jason was pretending to busy himself in order to hide the smirk on his face. Now that he’d gotten passed the strange concept of his parents having sex, it was actually pretty funny to see how embarrassed his father was.
“You know… Michael has been sexually active since he was fourteen.” Jason put in casually, ignoring Mikhail’s wide-eyed stare.
Forget the glass. Might as well drink straight from the bottle. Before now he had thought he knew everything about his children, and if not, that they trusted him enough to come and talk to him. Putting the shot glass on the counter, Mikhail glared at Jason. “And you never once thought to tell us?”
Jason shrugged and sighed, turning around to busily stir the various pots and pans on the stove. “For god’s sake, don’t look at me like that. I figured it was Michael’s business. And if you’re worried about him knowing all the safety precautions to having sex, I sat him down and made sure he knew to use condoms and other things as well.” Jason replied, rolling his eyes a little. “It should be his right to come and tell you anyways. Not mine.”
“But I should have… I mean as his father I could have…” Mikhail faltered, and sighed feeling useless. “All right, I will admit that if Michael had come to ask me about sex, I probably would have bungled the whole thing. But what now? Do we just let them go one like this?”
Taking the vodka bottle gently from her husband’s grasp, Anika frowned thoughtfully as she capped it and put it away. “I, for one, would rather wait until they felt they could trust in us enough to come forward themselves.” She admitted. “Jason said he’s already talked to Michael about being safe. And what can we do to stop them? Let’s be honest Mikhail; locking them away from one another wouldn’t do anything but make them angry with us. Telling them that what they’re doing is inappropriate will only make them resort to using more secrecy. The two of them tend to be hot-headed, especially when it concerns the other.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what we should do. Leave them, I guess, and try to keep an eye on them.” Mikhail said, throwing his arms up in the air with a frustrated sigh.
There was only one thing he hated about being a parent, and that was how lost it made him feel at times. All he wanted was the best for his children.
“And by the way,” Anika began as she turned to leave the room, “Did you get that tablecloth?”
Jason roared with laughter as Mikhail spluttered helplessly and turned bright red while Anika swept out the kitchen with a wicked light in her eye.
I hope you all enjoyed!