Prompt Night Drabble 2: Grumpy Kids
Mar. 19th, 2013 10:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snooThis one is alright. Writing kids is one of my true weaknesses, so I wish I'd have spent a bit more time on it. Still, it's pretty darn cute if I can toot my own horn a bit.
Word Count: 1000
Prompt: Dirty Knees
“Jon, are you okay?”
Jon coughed to cover up a pained groan and he looked up frantically to see Arin sprinting across the playground towards where he had fallen off the monkey bars. He glanced back down at the long, red gashes covering his knee and bit into his lip hard, trying to fight back the hot tears that wanted to spill from his eyes.
Jon really didn’t want to cry in front of Arin. He was way older and thus way cooler than Jon could ever be. Jon felt like he was lucky that Arin wanted to hang out with him in first place, so he couldn’t even imagine Arin sticking around if he cried like a baby over a few scratches.
Jon swallowed the lump in his throat stalwartly and gave him a thumbs up, not trusting in the steadiness of his voice.
Arin’s face was still contorted in worry, and he knelt down next to Jon and examined the wound with his mouth set in a frown.
“It looks like it hurts. And there’s dirt all in it!” Arin huffed, giving Jon a stern look.
He stood up and offered Jon his hand.
“Come on, let’s go back to my house and get the first aid kit. My mom taught me how to disinfect cuts,” he said with a smile.
Jon stared at his proffered hand blankly for a few minutes, unsure of what to think. It took Arin waving his hand around a bit for Jon to snap out of it, and he grabbed on and let Arin yank him up.
Jon realized a bit too late that sudden of a movement was probably a bad idea, and a white-hot stab of pain shot through his injured knee. Jon keened and nearly fell to the ground again, but Arin quickly caught him and wrapped an arm around his middle, hauling him up.
Jon couldn’t stop the tears leaking out this time, and he furiously scrubbed at his eyes and looked away, praying that Arin didn’t notice. He hated himself for acting like a stupid little crybaby, and his frustration only served to make him cry harder. This wasn’t fair. Eleven year olds don’t run home crying after they scrape their knee—especially not when they’re hanging out with their thirteen year old friend.
Jon let himself be led to one of the picnic tables and he hopped up to sit on the table, resting his legs on the bench. Mortified was an understatement to describe what Jon was feeling, and it only got worse when Arin noticed his wet face and puffy red eyes. Jon sniffed and waited for the snide laughter he expected from Arin. He wished he would just get it over with already and leave, so that he could just sit there and hopefully rot away.
Arin didn’t leave, though, or even say anything really. He just frowned at Jon and took his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it and looking torn.
“Hey man, you know I’ve got some sweet Transformers band aids in the kit,” he said quietly.
Arin looked down at his hands and giggled before continuing.
“Sometimes I put them on even when I don’t have a cut. My dad doesn’t like when I do that, though. He says it’s wasteful.”
Arin cut his rambling short with a laugh and grinned at Jon, and Jon just stared at him in utter confusion. Surely this was some kind of trick, because there was no way that Arin was just trying to cheer him up. Jon knew better than that; he had all of elementary school to teach him that lesson.
“If you’re gonna play a joke on me you might as well get it over with and go home,” Jon said flatly.
Now Arin was the one staring, mimicking Jon’s confusion. He opened his mouth and then closed it again looking thoughtful for a minute before his face cleared and he laughed and shook his head. Jon braced himself for the mirth that was sure to come.
“You know what my mom always did when I was little and I hurt myself? She’d let me cry for a few minutes and then she would lean down—” Arin followed his own words and moved closer to Jon, “—and give whatever was hurt a kiss.”
Jon was speechless as he watched Arin bend down to his injured knee and plant his lips just above the gashes, lingering there for a few pointed seconds before pulling away.
“Then she would tell me that was a healing kiss and that I was already getting better, it would just take a few days,” he finished.
Jon didn’t know what to say. He stared open mouthed at the spot that Arin had kissed, and then flicked his eyes up to Arin himself who grinned back at him and shrugged.
“Did that make you feel better?”
Jon blinked owlishly. Come to think of it, his knee did sting a lot less than before. He nodded in reply and Arin beamed.
“Good, now stop being weird and lets go back to my house so I can play nurse and fix you up,” Arin said, giggling at his own words.
Later, after they made it back to Arin’s house, got Jon cleaned up, and sat down to play some Super Nintendo together, Jon stared down at the five different Transformers band aids it took to cover the entirety of his injury. He laughed and looked over to Arin, who looked back with a questioning grin.
Jon started to answer him, but then he was suddenly struck with an idea. He stared at Arin for a moment and then reached over and flicked him hard on the cheek. Arin yelped and jumped back, slapping a hand over his face.
“That hurt! What did you do that for?” Arin grumbled.
He rubbed at his cheek a bit and then dropped his hand, and Jon took that moment to close in and pressed a kiss against the red spot. He pulled back with a little smacking sound and smiled at Arin, who stared back wide-eyed at him with a light pink blush smeared across his face.
“There, all better,” Jon said playfully.
Immensely pleased with himself, Jon turned his attention back to their game. He knocked Arin’s character out with ease and cheered triumphantly.
If kissing was all he had to do to fluster Arin, the cool thirteen year old who was allowed to go to movies all by himself, Jon figured he would be okay with doing it some more. He thought back to the knee incident and smiled. It was actually pretty nice, anyway.
Maybe Arin would even give him some more kisses back.
Word Count: 1000
Prompt: Dirty Knees
“Jon, are you okay?”
Jon coughed to cover up a pained groan and he looked up frantically to see Arin sprinting across the playground towards where he had fallen off the monkey bars. He glanced back down at the long, red gashes covering his knee and bit into his lip hard, trying to fight back the hot tears that wanted to spill from his eyes.
Jon really didn’t want to cry in front of Arin. He was way older and thus way cooler than Jon could ever be. Jon felt like he was lucky that Arin wanted to hang out with him in first place, so he couldn’t even imagine Arin sticking around if he cried like a baby over a few scratches.
Jon swallowed the lump in his throat stalwartly and gave him a thumbs up, not trusting in the steadiness of his voice.
Arin’s face was still contorted in worry, and he knelt down next to Jon and examined the wound with his mouth set in a frown.
“It looks like it hurts. And there’s dirt all in it!” Arin huffed, giving Jon a stern look.
He stood up and offered Jon his hand.
“Come on, let’s go back to my house and get the first aid kit. My mom taught me how to disinfect cuts,” he said with a smile.
Jon stared at his proffered hand blankly for a few minutes, unsure of what to think. It took Arin waving his hand around a bit for Jon to snap out of it, and he grabbed on and let Arin yank him up.
Jon realized a bit too late that sudden of a movement was probably a bad idea, and a white-hot stab of pain shot through his injured knee. Jon keened and nearly fell to the ground again, but Arin quickly caught him and wrapped an arm around his middle, hauling him up.
Jon couldn’t stop the tears leaking out this time, and he furiously scrubbed at his eyes and looked away, praying that Arin didn’t notice. He hated himself for acting like a stupid little crybaby, and his frustration only served to make him cry harder. This wasn’t fair. Eleven year olds don’t run home crying after they scrape their knee—especially not when they’re hanging out with their thirteen year old friend.
Jon let himself be led to one of the picnic tables and he hopped up to sit on the table, resting his legs on the bench. Mortified was an understatement to describe what Jon was feeling, and it only got worse when Arin noticed his wet face and puffy red eyes. Jon sniffed and waited for the snide laughter he expected from Arin. He wished he would just get it over with already and leave, so that he could just sit there and hopefully rot away.
Arin didn’t leave, though, or even say anything really. He just frowned at Jon and took his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it and looking torn.
“Hey man, you know I’ve got some sweet Transformers band aids in the kit,” he said quietly.
Arin looked down at his hands and giggled before continuing.
“Sometimes I put them on even when I don’t have a cut. My dad doesn’t like when I do that, though. He says it’s wasteful.”
Arin cut his rambling short with a laugh and grinned at Jon, and Jon just stared at him in utter confusion. Surely this was some kind of trick, because there was no way that Arin was just trying to cheer him up. Jon knew better than that; he had all of elementary school to teach him that lesson.
“If you’re gonna play a joke on me you might as well get it over with and go home,” Jon said flatly.
Now Arin was the one staring, mimicking Jon’s confusion. He opened his mouth and then closed it again looking thoughtful for a minute before his face cleared and he laughed and shook his head. Jon braced himself for the mirth that was sure to come.
“You know what my mom always did when I was little and I hurt myself? She’d let me cry for a few minutes and then she would lean down—” Arin followed his own words and moved closer to Jon, “—and give whatever was hurt a kiss.”
Jon was speechless as he watched Arin bend down to his injured knee and plant his lips just above the gashes, lingering there for a few pointed seconds before pulling away.
“Then she would tell me that was a healing kiss and that I was already getting better, it would just take a few days,” he finished.
Jon didn’t know what to say. He stared open mouthed at the spot that Arin had kissed, and then flicked his eyes up to Arin himself who grinned back at him and shrugged.
“Did that make you feel better?”
Jon blinked owlishly. Come to think of it, his knee did sting a lot less than before. He nodded in reply and Arin beamed.
“Good, now stop being weird and lets go back to my house so I can play nurse and fix you up,” Arin said, giggling at his own words.
Later, after they made it back to Arin’s house, got Jon cleaned up, and sat down to play some Super Nintendo together, Jon stared down at the five different Transformers band aids it took to cover the entirety of his injury. He laughed and looked over to Arin, who looked back with a questioning grin.
Jon started to answer him, but then he was suddenly struck with an idea. He stared at Arin for a moment and then reached over and flicked him hard on the cheek. Arin yelped and jumped back, slapping a hand over his face.
“That hurt! What did you do that for?” Arin grumbled.
He rubbed at his cheek a bit and then dropped his hand, and Jon took that moment to close in and pressed a kiss against the red spot. He pulled back with a little smacking sound and smiled at Arin, who stared back wide-eyed at him with a light pink blush smeared across his face.
“There, all better,” Jon said playfully.
Immensely pleased with himself, Jon turned his attention back to their game. He knocked Arin’s character out with ease and cheered triumphantly.
If kissing was all he had to do to fluster Arin, the cool thirteen year old who was allowed to go to movies all by himself, Jon figured he would be okay with doing it some more. He thought back to the knee incident and smiled. It was actually pretty nice, anyway.
Maybe Arin would even give him some more kisses back.