I was bored, stuck on idea of a new fic, so i wrote this One-shot/ drabbley thing. I hope you like it! It's Yassen... well, you'll find out if you read it... R&R please!
Yassen glanced up from the book he had been reading as Natalya raced into the room, screaming with delight as her brother, Aleksei and their husky puppy in hot pursuit. He smiled slightly, reaching up to brush back the strands of fair hair that fell over his eyes. The yells and excited barks receded as the small, lightning fast procession ran into the garden. Yassen heard a sigh and looked back to the door.
Kira stood in the doorway, watching him with a slight smile on her face. He returned it, standing and walking over to her. She reached up and kissed him gently on the cheek.
"You shouldn't have bought that dog." She said slowly, a gentle rebuke. Yassen shrugged guiltily, his hands meeting at his stomach and his slender fingers twisting and tugging at the gold band on his left hand.
"It's fine, it'll do them good. Nat loves it to death, and Alek…he treats it like his pet monster, to scare his sister with." Kira smiled despite herself and then leapt hastily aside as Nat ran into the room again, treading snow and mud into the rug. Kira let out a yell but it was lost in the high, loud barks of the puppy as it trailed enthusiastically after Aleksei.
Yassen laughed at the expression on her face and she playfully slapped his arm.
"Don't you have work to do?" She asked pointedly, eyeing the open book on the desk.
"Yes, but I needed a break." Yassen said defensively. Kira rolled her eyes and retreated to the kitchen. Yassen watched her go, smiling. He had been lucky to find her, her father and mother had both been killed on the same day as his father, they had become friends, bonded by grief. When Yassen's mother died, it was only Kira who kept him from leaving. That had been over twenty years ago, he had been fourteen, he was nearing thirty-six now.
He sighed and followed her into the kitchen where she was doling out portions of stew into bowls. Yassen raised his voice and three mud-stained, dripping, shame-faced figures appeared. He moved to the door and held it so that his son and daughter could get through, but closing it quickly before the silver-brown puppy could follow them.
Ten minutes later they sat down around the table, Yassen at the head. He looked around and smiled, feeling suddenly sentimental. He shook off the feeling. He was happy.