a/n: So Mintwafflez gives me the prompt "no pants".
I've been playing FFXIII for.. a while. Wrote this last week, I think? Nice and short. Plus I wanted to use the word 'saccharine'.
In this case, 2+2=insinuated yaoi. (Possibly. Does this count as Hope/Snow?) I think Matsu-Rainbows will be pleased with me.
And now I have the prompt "that risky nude dash from the bathroom to your bedroom". For EDEN'S SAKE.
/random bolding
- Babysitter -
"... what are you doing." And so came the inevitable inquiry, arcing across the empty yet homely hallway like a Fire spell homing in on its target. The lights were dim as the twilight slowly faded into quiet dark, and the spoken words were as the blaze of a flame in contrast to the wood and carpet of silence.
The hand holding the glass of water had cast many such spells, true, and the experience of this could almost be heard in the directness of the not-quite-aged voice.
Snow jumped visibly, having been thoroughly concentrating on how to slide his feet without aggravating his wounded chest. "...wha?"
"Snow," Hope began, saccharine and fake-patient, "what are you doing?"
"... Ehmn," and this was where the taller, older, broader male began to feel inferior, to rack his half-asleep brains for a credible answer, as the younger stared at him as if he had grown another head.
Which, in hindsight, was not quite an unfeasible feat, seeing as they had already defied all previously-defined expectations and laws. They were already running from magically-transforming tattoos. He wouldn't put it past fal'Cie to experiment on their l'Cie slaves by making them grow another skull.
So he ended up doing a kind of wave-pat motion above his right shoulder.
And Hope continued to stare at him blankly. At which point, he realized, he had not answered the silverette's question.
Oh.
"...water?" he finished lamely, evidently drawing a legitimate answer from said object in Hope's hand.
The teenager blinked. "Water."
"Yyyyy-eah."
"You're walking around the Estheim residence - my father's home - in nothing but boxers and bandages just so you could get a glass of water."
"Pretty much." Hope's sarcasm was not duly noted, as his bright tone evidenced, more than likely flying entirely over Snow's asleep head.
The Estheim boy shook his head, sighing. "Go back to sleep. We don't have long to stay here, remember?"
"Wha?"
"PSICOM." And that one word would have shut any Pulse l'Cie up, but Snow was incredibly dense when nearly-sleepwalking.
"Buuuttt.. waaater?" he pleaded feebly.
This wasn't going anywhere, clearly.
"Here," Hope gestured to the glass he was holding - his fingers screamed a 'thank-you!' as he readjusted them on the condensing glass, having long since been chilled through - feeling remarkably like a babysitter in a terribly ironic turn of events.
But really, who didn't see that coming?
Anyway, Snow extended his hand, bearing a look that would have shamed puppies on his mildly-stubbled face.
"Not 'till you go back to bed. You'll drop it."
"Buuuutttt," he whined. He seemed to be quite good at that, lately.
"Bed. Now. Or no water." For Eden's sake, it was like chocobo training.
"Buuuuuuuu... fiiiiine." Snow stumbled vaguely in the direction that he'd come, searching for the room he'd been given - really, the only spare room in the house - with mentality reminescent of a Cie'th.
"Put a blanket or something on next time," the silver-haired boy added. "Please."
On the bright side, he realized, as he lured Snow to bed with a glass of water - at least his father had not seen.
Coupled with a certain conversation father and son had had about orientation prior to the Bodhum vacation that Bartholomew had irrevocably missed due to Sanctum official work, the vacation that had led to the entirety of this wonderful mess, the sight... would not have gone over well.
fin.