Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Note: I want to blame this on Mal, but to be honest I don't really remember WHO sent me the list first because one of y'all found it then I was getting tagged in like five different places. xD oc-growth-and-development has this #oc-tober prompt list, and I guess I'm paying attention to Dingo (and probably Bri, since they're kinda a package deal) for the month. I can't say I'm going to "flesh him out" without getting weirded out I'm so sorry. xD I'm setting it for one twenty minute sprint a day and praying I don't end up with another "…ooooh I need to dig deeper into this one" ficlet. There are already 24 Dingo Files in the works we don't need any more...

01 October 2020

Prompt: Sunrise

Character/Pairing: Dingo King (OC), Luka Couffaine

Rating: K Plus / PG / Most Ages

Notes: I don't even know what this is. xD I had this idea of Dingo sneaking into Luka's room at sunrise, then it became this…thought piece. Idek. xD

Dingo King is not a morning person. The only time he sees the sunrise is when midnight rolls into six AM and he's still stalking the Parisian streets, or hunched up in a deck chair on the Liberty tapping out a drumbeat while his best mate noodles away on his guitar.

Luka isn't necessarily made for mornings, either. (That will come in handy down the road, when things like purple butterflies make people run for cover and the need for second chances becomes greater.)

It's not a bad thing. Not really. Dingo likes the night. He likes skulking around – not that he skulks. Not really. He likes to think he does, because he's punk and badass and likes to think he's intimidating enough to skulk. Luka once told him he's just an overgrown puppy: a lot of bark but too eager to roll over for a belly rub when the right person offers. Luka maybe ended up shoved into a trashcan for that one.

Paris after dark is a cool place, anyway. Not as cool as Wagga Wagga, or his cousin's place in Melbourne, but cool enough. Plus the Sunrise Crowd could be pretty cool. There are certain cafes that open early enough, and fourteen-year-old Dingo is already grossly addicted to coffee. Plus there's that bakery, the one on the corner across from their collège. The baker and his wife rise with the sun, too, and there have been a few mornings that have caught Dingo skulking around with the morning deliveries.

"You should be sleeping, son," the man laughs, handing him a croissant warm from the oven. Dingo grins that manic grin of his and raises the croissant in cheers.

"Best part of the day," he says. "Plus, can't be late to school if you're at the gates before they open."

The baker just laughs, tosses him another croissant, and heads back inside. His wife smiles as she signs the delivery slip, and then the truck is on its way.

"My daughter could take a lesson from you," she laughs. "She's starting there next year. I hope she learns to stop silencing her alarm by then."

(Later, years later, Dingo might remember this and laugh. Sabine definitely will, and the first time the mohawked menace walks through the front door as a friend she'll have Regrets.)

Dingo takes his croissants and finds his usual perch on the wall along the steps. He sits cross-legged as the sun continues to climb in the sky. He's not a morning person, but he likes this time. When the world is still waking up, and his classmates are slowly ambling onto the campus. When M. Damocles shoots him a stern glare and a nod as he makes his way to his office. When Mlle. Mendeleiev reminds him the homework was from chapter seven, not nine, and write legibly this time, M. King. There's a hum in the air, a nervous energy that thrums beneath the stone and his skin and sets his hands to jitters against bouncing knees.

Luka and Brielle will be there soon. Luka later, as he has to drop Jules off at her school first. She'll be starting here next year, too. There's a commotion from across the street, and the baker's girl runs out the side door in a flurry of pigtails and limbs she's still growing into. He doesn't know what school she goes to, but she usually runs off in the direction Luka comes from. He wonders if she knows Juleka. If they're already friends, or if they will be come next year.

The world gets louder as the sky gets brighter. More students flow in. Bri snatches his coffee and takes a sip before grimacing and dumping it on the steps. He's too young for that stuff, anyway. It'll stunt his growth.

"I'll make up for it with my hair," he jokes with a grin. She asks if he slept. He brushes it off like it's not important. They both know he doesn't sleep. Three hours and a handful of naps isn't unusual for him, anyway.

Luka arrives with another coffee (two, because the shadows under his own eyes are dark enough) and a box of pastries from across the street. The bell won't ring for another ten minutes or so, but they head into Mendeleiev's homeroom anyway. She gets more unbearable than usual if you're tardy.