Five
Words: 2018
The last vignette and the last one I wrote! I'd just like to thank Sayuri,
Penny, Katsue, Anria, Tritorella, and Majinkarp for giving me lots of British
information, along with Erin French for being thanked five consecutive times in
these AUs...! She's like...a freak or something... ;) As for the Good Charlotte
title...well, if you've ever heard the song...think of this vignette as sort of
a "flip side" to it ^^
Enjoy the last one!!
Five: Lifestyles of the Rich and the Famous
Riff rather liked mornings, although it seemed the rest of the household
didn't. He had to admit that waking up and getting out of bed was a bit
difficult at times, but through powers of persuasion and persistence he had
refined it to a sort of art form. Riff could almost refine anything to a
form of art, although he never considered himself too creative; he tried his
hand at painting and playing the piano once, but it didn't quite work out. Rather
it was Cain who fulfilled artistic ventures within him. Riff always told
him that he should pursue something in that field of interest, but Cain was
content to let his talent squander away in a mere hobby.
Sometimes Riff really didn't understand him.
As he looked at his reflection in the mirror he noticed that the bottom portion
was smudged with what looked like a child's handprint. Unless there were
unknown children running loose in the house, it was most likely Merryweather's
doing, although he didn't for one second rule out Cain since he had exhibited
that sort of carelessness before. He reminded himself to ask about it later
that night when the three of them were together for dinner.
Picking his toothbrush up out of its holder, his mind began to wander as he
coated the bristles with a layer of toothpaste. Through the monotonous brushing
motions he laid his eyes on Merryweather's brightly colored toothbrush; she
loved bright things and it even had a little motor inside that spun the
bristles around when you turned it on. Throughout a portion of her childhood it
was what she considered one of her prized possessions, much to Riff's
encouragement, and he had even wished that something like that had been around
when he was a child.
Riff had to admit, although the world wasn't as safe as it used to be when he
grew up, modern children - even Cain's generation - had it easy; he was almost
envious.
The weekend was coming up and Riff looked forward to it, although it wasn't
free from work by any means. He had set aside time to tend to the lawn and
plant more flowers simply because Merryweather had told him one day that their
front yard needed to be happier; she had requested different kinds of exotic
and native flowers, but Riff limited the selection based on how the different
plants would interact along with the type of soil they required. And even
though Cain was allergic to most plants, he agreed to help Riff plant them
because it would make his little half-sister happy; she loved flowers
more than anything, but wasn't aware of Cain's allergies simply because he had
never told her. Through such considerations, Riff considered the three of them
a family, although he was only related to Cain and Merryweather by love.
Despite what the law said, though, that was enough in his eyes.
Riff had only to run his brush quickly through his damp hair to make it
presentable; a morning shower always left him feeling fresh and ready. He
supposed he was lucky enough to have short and kept hair, unlike the little
girl of the household. Riff felt she was forever preoccupied with her hair and
complexion when she should be preoccupied with making the most of her limited
childhood. She wouldn't remain a little girl forever, he always told Cain, but
that concept never quite seemed to reach him. Merryweather was growing up too
fast for Riff's comfort, entering her seventh year of school soon, and he knew
there would be a day when Cain would finally realize that.
Perhaps it couldn't be helped that he felt more like a father to her rather
than a family friend.
He had to admit that children preoccupied his thoughts most of the time - being
a pediatrician had that effect - but they were second to Cain. Riff figured in
the back of his mind as he washed his face that he felt like a father to Merry
because he felt like a husband to Cain.
And why shouldn't he, after all? They lived together as lovers, as a family
despite the fact that the outside world may have seen it differently. They took
care and provided for Merryweather, and although Riff doubted she knew the true
depth of his relationship to her brother, they were happy together.
The delicious scent of bacon drifting through the air coaxed Riff almost
hypnotically to the open kitchen where he found the object of his affections
diligently cooking bacon and eggs for breakfast. He never quite knew why Cain
suddenly decided he had to make breakfast for them every morning; it just
happened. It would have been easier and a lot tastier anyway to have been given
toast or a breakfast bar, but as of most things with his green eyed affection,
Riff found, it was just a force to be reckoned with. You simply did not
question his thought processes.
As Cain saw Riff out the corner of his eye, he gave a surreptitious smile as he
tried to turn an egg over, but most of it stuck to the pan. Looking over his
shoulder, Riff saw that most of the eggs were like that: accidentally scrambled
instead of intact.
A definite improvement from last week.
"G'morning," Riff muttered through Cain's hair as he pressed his lips
against him, his arms snaking around his waist in a light hug. Cain's dark hair
always smelled nice, like the herbal shampoo he'd always use; he could recall
Cain once saying that he only ever bought that kind because he knew that Riff
liked it. It had kind of a peachy, fruity smell.
Cain took pains in flipping over another egg, ensuring that the entire and intact
piece was on the spatula before turning it over; he returned the greeting
afterwards with a satisfied, "'Morning, love." Turning his back to
the stove, he faced Riff and included a kiss in their exchange.
Mornings were usually like that, only just recently it seemed to Riff that
Cain's cooking skills had gotten a bit better. Riff knew that prior to moving
in with him, Cain had done virtually no cooking whatsoever; maids had always
done the job instead. But since moving in together, there were no maids to
their household. It wasn't because of financial constraints that kept them from
having at least one since Riff's job paid quite well, but...a sense of comfort
and privacy. They both knew that although attitudes about their type of
arrangement were changing for the better, there were still minor
hostilities...which was something neither of them wanted to expose Merryweather
to.
Cain couldn't help being naturally protective of his half sister, but with Riff
it ran a little deeper, yet superficially. He knew what their relationship
looked on the outside, no matter how it felt on the inside; a thirty year old
doctor with a history involved intimately with a nineteen year old college
student, knowing him since the younger was twelve. Of course, add in the fact
that they're both male and a child is involved, and you get a conclusion that
Riff wasn't comfortable with being presented, if not for Merry's welfare then
for his career.
Like that looked good for a pediatrician.
"Breakfast looks very nice this morning," Riff muttered in Cain's
cheek as he nuzzled him a bit, giving a soft kiss as he added, "Almost
edible this time."
Wrapping his arms around his neck, Cain suggested, "Well, you can
always get up to make it for us..."
Riff nodded, answering, "I'd have to get up earlier, but I don't suppose
you'd appreciate that, would you?"
Cain yawned and wrapped his arms further, leaning into the affectionate
embrace, "...Not at all. You get up too early anyway. Mm'glad classes are
a little later..." He gave Riff's neck a brief hug before pressing his
lips against his cheek and slowly leaving a trail of soft kisses as he worked
his way over to Riff's lips, kissing them fully with a quiet fervor.
The pleasant and sated atmosphere quickly broke with the loud entrance of the
Hargreaves daughter, rushing into the kitchen with her schoolbag in hand and
muttering something Riff could only guess at. As they quickly withdrew their
embrace from one another, she set her bag on the table and opened her mouth in
a wide-eyed complaint, "I'm out of lip gloss."
Disregarding Cain's sudden irksome expression at the girl's announcement, Riff
lapsed into a smile and spoke with good humor in his voice, "I had almost
thought you were about to say you were out of something important."
Fueled by her obvious injustice, Merryweather stated loudly with her hands on
her hips, "It is important! If I don't keep up my appearances, the
girls at school will think I've lost it!"
"...But even better," Riff inputted as his thin fingers snatched a
piece of cooling bacon under Cain's watchful eye, "you used it all. Won't
that make a statement of your dedication to your appearance?"
Sighing in exasperation, she explained, "That's not what I mean."
"But won't it?" he offered hopefully as he bit firmly into the tip of
a bacon slice. He never knew quite why she tended to obsess over things like
that, but perhaps it was one of the few observations Riff managed to miss;
according to Cain it was because she constantly felt the need to prove to her
peers that she wasn't the street rat her background presented.
She simply looked at him incredulously, allowing a moment of absolutely silence
to permeate the atmosphere. Finally she nearly growled as Cain gathered a few
strips of bacon for her with an egg, handing it to her on a small plate,
"No, it won't."
"You just don't get it, Riff," Cain said as he gave a mock
sigh. "It's very important to schoolgirls nowadays to dress older than
they are and look as much a floozy as possible."
Following suit as Merryweather sat down at a small and compact kitchen table,
Riff stated gently in the girl's defense, as he was apt to do, "...I
hardly think lip gloss qualifies as being a floozy..."
Cain narrowed his eyes briefly and muttered before turning to ration out the
last few slices of bacon, "You know what I mean."
And from countless conversations in the past about the topic, Riff knew all too
well. It simply came down to Cain's unwillingness to let Merryweather grow up
and, within reason, make her own decisions; thus her feel for the need of
overdramatic outbursts.
With a quick glance of his watch Riff announced as he shifted the morning's
focus, "...We should leave in about a minute or two, Merry."
"Well here," Cain offered as he scooped Riff's portion of
breakfast into a sandwich bag. "You've barely eaten anything, Riff. Eat it
on the bus, will you? And finish up, Merry, so you're not late to school again."
Riff had to smile at the commanding air of authority Cain frequently drew about
in the morning; he found that particular quality of possessiveness and
interference quite endearing.
Perhaps the second Merry finished eating, the quiet kitchen was filled with the
sense of everyone moving at once. Cain moved to clean up the kitchen while the
Hargreaves daughter picked up her schoolbag and left to catch the city bus;
Riff lingered behind to gather his things and slowly kiss Cain goodbye.
As he left the house to catch the bus to work, Riff knew that Merry would be in
school shortly as he would be at the hospital working. Cain would be getting
ready for his classes over in Bloomsbury, and come evening Riff would come home
to find his two most important individuals finishing school work. They would
have dinner together along with a little social time afterwards, and perhaps
later if their energy levels and moods were right the two lovers would have an
understanding in bed.
And in the morning it was the same all over again.