odd jobs
To say Mrs T is a slave driver would be an understatement, she puts whips and chains to shame with the way she wheedles me into performing her weekend tasks. It starts with me offering to carry a box when she complains about an ache in her hip; it soon escalates to me washing her cat when she mentions how she can no longer bend to do it herself. I thought my fear of dogs was justified, it seems misplaced now. I'm riddled in claw marks and blood oozes from my face, neck and arms in fantastic crimson. I redirect my hatred – cats are certainly the henchmen of Satan.
The fat tabby smugly munches on the tuna Mr T set out for it, while Mrs T roughly patches up the holes in my skin – all the while complaining that Nyan is a gentle creature and Kagami-kun must have hurt her during the bath to have been scratched in such a manner. Needless to say that I spent the next five minutes glaring at the fur ball with enough venom to make Kuroko's friend with the heterochromatic eyes proud.
Injury holds no meaning in Mrs T's eyes, despite my bloody state she insists on putting me back to work – fit, young men like Kagami-san shouldn't let little, old ladies suffer in such heat. So for the first time in my soon to be 20 years I learn how to dig up weeds and trim hedges. The thorns and shrubbery are no kinder than Nyan and I find myself aching in places that even basketball managed to miss.
By midday I'm soaked with sweat, I lost my shirt somewhere along the way and now I'm fighting with a particularly stubborn weed. Mrs T offered to head inside to collect some chilled water almost ten minutes ago and I have the sneaking suspicion that she stole that damn shirt and had no plan of bringing me water anytime soon. I also belatedly think this might have something to do with that 'single, pretty granddaughter' that was supposed to be visiting at two o'clock.
Oh, if she only knew. I chuckle lightly and wipe sweat from my forehead with the back of a gloved hand.
The minutes tick by slowly and by the time Mrs T brings me the water she is wearing a Cheshire grin, which I ignore in favour of gulping down the glass's cooled contents.
Suddenly: "Satsuki! You came," I turn my head slightly and freeze when my eyes fall on an, indeed pretty, pink haired girl. "And you brought friends," the second part hardly seems as excited and I can honestly say I agree with her disappointment when I spot the baka Ace-sama from SM. "Aomine-san," Mrs T greets crisply and sticks her nose in the air, "I did not know you were coming,"
The blue buffoon shrugs lazily, not bother to greet Mrs T. I feel a new kind of heat rise in my chest – the kind that dictates that my fist would look good in his face.
"I'm sorry for intruding," a voice utters demurely, I nearly jump from my skin and notice Mrs T is just as surprised when she places a hand over her chest. "Momoi-san invited me,"
"Oh," the lady's face breaks into a syrupy beam, "Kuroko-kun, you came as well, I'm so glad. It's been a while since Satsuki's brought you over."
My eyes are glued to the artist and I spot the answering smile, small as it may be, "Yes it has," blue eyes flicker to me and quickly lower away from my exposed body. If I wasn't embarrassed before, I certainly am now.