The Trials of a Sixteen-Year-Old (Does it count as adult supervision when he's mentally a child?)
~()~
"Dad. Dad, no. Stop. Dad!"
Iemochi slapped his forehead as he watched his dad try to bake a cake. Try. Dad, who had just woken up from a fainting spell ten minutes ago and had been told that he was supposed to bake a cake for his wife's birthday (and to babysit his two kids who absolutely did not need babysitting). Dad, who was pouring adding cups of sugar and teaspoons of milk to the batter mix. Dad, who was just Dad.
Watching Dad was like watching a trainwreck.
"Daddy just spilled milk all over the floor," Akira pointed out, sipping orange juice and standing by the microwave. Which was currently making popcorn. Not because he was going to watch a movie or anything. Who needed the home theater and Netflix when you could watch your dad bake a cake instead of helping him?
Iemochi hated his brother. Just saying.
"Dad, could you just...stand in the corner and not move? I'm sure Mom will understand."
And hopefully she won't kill them for making a mess in the kitchen. It looked worse than the time Aunt Bianchi used it.
"Sorry about this...Akira?"
Iemochi, cleaning the honey off a whisk, turned around. "I'm Iemochi."
"Oh, right," said Dad, looking down and ashamed of himself.
Iemochi had to remind himself that Dad was currently seven. Seven. As in, less than half of his age. Seven.
When Akira was seven, he was the perfect definition of a little shit. When Dad was seven? He was some kind of timid mouse or something, and Iemochi could not see the resemblance. At all.
Whoever said that seven was a lucky number needed to be shot.
"Akira, could you call Mom and tell her that Dad's seven?"
"That's a horrible birthday present, Mochi," Akira replied, now in the living room, chomping on popcorn and getting crumbs and grease on the sofa that Iemochi just cleaned.
(Anyone who said Akira wasn't a little shit clearly never had to live with him.)
Speaking of birthday presents, Dad hid his birthday present somewhere and now no one knew where it was. Mom had to have the patience of a saint for not divorcing him after the other six times this happened.
"Hello? No, nothing's wrong…I think. Except, well, uh, I've been kicked out of the kitchen?" There was a pause while Iemochi and Akira looked at their dad. He was on the phone, probably talking to Mom. "I'm only seven! You remember when I was six and tried to bake a cake? Okay, so that was twenty years ago for you, but still! I can't bake when my only teacher's been Bianchi!"
Oh dear Lord, that explained so much. Iemochi, while beating the egg whites, opened a drawer with his foot. There was a cookbook in there, Baking for Kids.
Dad had a funny face on when Mom bought it for Iemochi. A really funny face.
Which probably meant that Iemochi was going to teach his dad how to bake. Wow.
~()~
AN: FYI, Iemochi's 16 and Akira's 13 and I love writing siblings who call each other little shits
Man, Tsuna's family has to deal with the weirdest things. Besides the whole Reborn popping out of nowhere, flames on their dad's head and hands, the various screams and yells when the Varia's nearby, illusionists...
Is a seven-year-old dad really the weirdest thing in their life? Hmm