Adding Booze to Injury;
Drabble for Lorlor, even though I'm the one that likes the father & son dynamic more. Apparently she's having a bad day. It's un-beta'd too, sorry.
"Stop crying and tell me, waddya do?" The man grumbled, leaning down to examine his dough-headed son's ankle. It was puffy and bruised – sprained for sure, possibly broken. "You banged yourself up! Did something stupid you wanna tell me, boy?"
"I'm not crying," the blonde grounded out between clenched teeth, recoiling as his father's rough hands grabbed his ankle. "…And you should know, or is the blinding hangover fogging your memory, old man!?"
Jecht blinked, releasing his son as the words bit onto his mind. "Don't use that tone boy – I know exactly what happened… you, uh…"
"You got drunk off your ass last night and decided you wanted to give me a Blitz ball lesson before bed," Tidus hissed, shaking his head angrily, "You can go away now. I'm fine, you self-centered old bastard." His blonde locks fell over his eyes, messy and untamed from a restless night's bed head, effectively blocking his father from his line of vision.
"…" He rocked on his heels before standing up, a blank look suddenly flooding the Blitzball star's face. "… I see," he ventured after a moment, watching as his son stumbled to his feet, using the wall for support to limp past his father and for the doorway. Jecht rolled his shoulders, taking a step in the direction of the door. "… I'm already further out of the room then you are."
"Shut up!" the blonde growled, flailing slightly as he tried to increase his hopping rate. Jecht took another step and Tidus just about lost it. "WILL YOU GET OUT ALREADY, OLD MAN?"
He shook his head. "This is amusing, why should I?"
"Gahhh!" Tidus swung an arm out to the side, lashing a fist at his father. The man didn't move and it connected with his upper arm. He didn't move at all, suppressing a flinch, even when his son stumbled and tumbled to the ground, howling as he landed on his injured side.
He ignored his sons cursing as he leaned back down, and softly placed a hand on his shoulder. "Man, stop being a whimp, you little brat," he murmured and Tidus opened his mouth to shoot another long line of profanity, "… would normally fit this position but you need to see a doctor." His son blinked, stopped in his tracks as his father placed an arm around his waist and hoisted him to his feet. Teetering a little bit from his hang-over Jecht smiled softly, tugging Tidus for the door. "Shut your mouth before the flies stroll in, and let's go!"
"… I hate you," he managed after a moment, resting his head against his fathers shoulder as he limped along, lip out in a minute pout.
"You need to stop crying already, baby!"
"I'M NOT CRYING, DAMMIT!"