Title: Fly Away
Author: AnnieVH
Summary: "I wanted to be an aeroplane."
Rating: PG
Genre: fluff, family, kid!fic
Characters or Pairing: Martin Crieff, Mr. Crieff
Prompts: from cabinpres-fic meme: .?thread=56024#t56024.
Warning: none.
Spoilers: for the character in general, but nothing majorly spoilery.
Disclaimer: don't own, just burrow.
"Daddy, look!"
"Not now, Martin."
"But it's just a second!"
"Martin, daddy is cleaning his tools right now and he had a very stressful day-"
"Look! It's me!" Squeaked the little boy, taking advantage of the glance his father gave him to shove a colorful piece of paper on his face.
"What the-"
"Look daddy! It's me when I get my wings!"
Father took the drawing from his hands and stared at it. A skinny little boy with very large feet and a big, green smile was staring at him, floating among blue clouds and a sunset orange sky. There were things coming out of his back, something Crieff believed were the wings Martin was so excited about. There were no feathers in them and they didn't have the fluffy feeling kids usually give their wings. Instead, they were stiff and round and long.
"Martin, what on earth is this?"
His excitement didn't wear down. "My wings! It's my wings!"
"Ah. Well. Very pretty. Do you wanna become a little sparrow?"
"No, dad!" He said, with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I wanna be an aeroplane!"
Father chuckled, "An aeroplane?"
"When I grow up! That's when I get my wings!"
Now Father couldn't help but laugh. "Marty, you can't become an aeroplane. That's absurd. Men make aeroplanes, you can't become one."
"What?" He asked, with a sad face.
"They are made of metal. We-"
"But they could make me metal wings. I'll glue them on me and I'll fly-"
"Martin, that is not how it works." He explained, very patiently. "We make aeroplanes out of metal, using tools like daddy's. And then we put people in them and they fly the planes all over the world."
"But people can't become planes?"
Father stared down at his youngest son. Martin seemed ready to start crying at any moment. "Well, darling, no. We can only fly in planes and other things like that. They take people in their bellies and fly them." He ran a hand over Martin's hair, but the truth didn't seem to make him feel better. If anything, he was rubbing his eyes roughly, like he always did whenever he was about to cry, so Simon wouldn't see and tease him about it. "No, no, buddy, don't be like that. You're a little man, and little brave man don't cry, do they?"
Martin sniffed. "No..."
"There you go. And it's a pretty drawing you made."
"It's stupid." Martin said, taking the paper form his father and looking down at it with sorrow.
"It's not Marty. No need to be sad. You can still fly whenever you want, you just need to buy a ticket."
"But how does a plane fly if he's not a person?" Martin demanded, desperately hanging on that very last question to convince him his dream was not in vain.
"Well, people fly it. Like dad drives his van, some people drive planes."
"People can't drive planes. Nothing can. They're huge!" Martin said, exasperated.
"No, no, you see, some people can. We call them pilots."
"Are they big people?"
"I beg you pardon?"
"So they can fly the big plane. They can't be tiny people. And everybody is tiny close to planes."
"Yes, well, no. Normal men fly planes. They just have to become pilots. Remember that nice man with the funny hat you and Simon laughed at when we got out of the plane to visit Granny? He was flying the plane."
"He?"
The surprise in his son's voice made Crieff laugh again. Surely the boy could believe he'd one day turn into a big piece of metal, but that a skinny old man would tame such beast was out of question.
"Yes. Isn't is more impressive?"
"Daddy, that is amazing!" Martin was actually bouncing up and down with excitement. "I wanna pilot a plane too!"
"That's only for grown ups, Marty."
"But when I grow up I'll be a pilot, dad! I'll fly them all around the world!"
"Will you?" Father smiled, glad to see his little boy cheerful again.
"I'll fly the biggest plane ever!"
"Yes, we'll see." He said, turning to his tools now that the situation was under control.
"I will dad!" Martin insisted, pulling his arm with both his tiny hands. "I'll fly a bigger than the plane we took to visit Granny! It's gonna be huuuge!"
"We'll see, Marty." Crieff repeated, kindly. "But, you know, you'll probably think differently once you grow up."
"I won't! I won't! I won't!" He said, as if making father a promise.
"Your brother wants to be a doctor, you know. Isn't that more exciting? And what about what daddy does? Don't you think this is fun? I fixed everything that was broken around the house, that's pretty cool."
Martin stared at his father with disappointment. Not so much because he wasn't getting the support he'd expect, but because Father didn't seem to understand what, in Martin's head, was clear as day. "But, dad", he tried to explain once more, "you can't fly. Why would anyone want to be something that is always grounded?" He gasped. "I'll make you another draw! Then you'll get it!"
"No, buddy-" He tried calling, but Martin disappeared in a second.
Crieff shook his head. That idea would surely wear off his child's head eventually, he knew that. Martin would grow up to be a lawyer. Or an accountant, and maybe he'd work for some big airport somewhere. Yet, there was something in Martin's eyes that kept him worried, something that wasn't there even when he still believed metal wings would grow from his back: passion. And Crieff wasn't sure if it had been wise to encourage it.
*Fim*