5. Art is in the eye of the beholder
Jean gasped in shock when her gaze landed on the few trickles of blood on Desmond's hoodie. She promptly dashed forward and took the boy's face in her hands and examined him.
"Oh god, Desmond! You are not hurt, are you?"
Altair rolled his eyes at the woman's antics. It's not even much blood…
The older male clearly saw the discomfort in his brother's eyes and decided to step in, "He helped me bandage a cut."
The social worker turned to Altair then, her eyes hard and searching for a possible lie. Altair held her gaze and folded his arms over his chest so that the sticking plaster was clearly visible. Her gaze lingered a moment longer on the taller male, but her focused soon turned back to Desmond, who got out of her grip while she was distracted.
"Well if that is the case… How are you Desmond? Do you like it here?"
Desmond changed a quick look with Altair, before he replied, "I am fine and it is definitely much better than the other homes I had to stay."
Altair huffed bemused. This was obviously Desmond's way of saying that he liked it here. At least I hope it is!
"Now don't exaggerate, dear. The Millers had been very nice, it was just bad luck that their son returned…" she let the sentence trail off, before she turned to Altair.
Desmond grimaced behind her back.
"What do you think about it, as the adult in the house?"
Altair was tempted to point that Desmond, with his fifteen years, was capable of answering such answers himself, but he stopped himself from saying it. He wasn't very keen on having such a conversation, so the golden eyed male replied, "As Desmond said, everything is fine. I think we understand each other pretty decent for such a short period of time."
Jean nodded and enthusiastically scribbled something down on her block. "Alright, that is good to hear. You know, I almost know nothing about you… what exactly are you doing in your free time?"
Desmond shook his head behind the slender woman's frame, but Altair – who didn't know what the boy wanted – ignored it, "Normally I do lots of sport, but I got hurt during a basketball game we played in college."
"That's interesting! You know, I prefer much calmer activities, like knitting or to make pottery."
Altair could have hit himself. That's what he meant… great, now I have fallen for her trap. Damn it! When Altair looked up, he saw how Desmond had his face buried in his hands and he took pity with the boy.
"Desmond!" he said before Jean could continue her rambling, "would you be so kind to clean the rest of the dishes?"
Confused Jean looked between the two brothers and Desmond gave him a mischievous yet thankful smile, before he nodded and went back into the kitchen. The social worker once more scribbled something on her little note book and simultaneously continued to tell the golden eyed man before her, everything about her hobbies.
They had moved on the couch at some point and Desmond had entered the scene with something to drink for both adults. He unobtrusively handed Altair an Aspirin against the headache that had formed during the woman's rambling. The older man gave his brother a pained smile, which Desmond returned with a shrug and a look that screamed 'I warned you'.
Brat! …I am never going to speak with that woman ever again! Altair thought bitterly.
It was a few hours later when Jean looked at her clock and exclaimed how late it was and that she had to return home. Altair would have thanked god and everybody who would listen, but decided it would look back on his part and so he remained silent. He friendly accompanied the woman to the door and once she had left, he moaned loudly and sagged against the wooden door. A few moments later Desmond made his appearance and expectantly gazed up at him.
"How could you have left me alone with her?" Altair exclaimed, feeling betrayed.
"I already heard that at least five times, besides what would you have me done? Was I supposed to hit her with a pan or something?" Desmond retorted sarcastically.
He is getting bolder! Altair thought delighted.
"Yes, for example!"
Desmond groaned and facepalmed, "You cannot be serious?!"
"It would have saved me from a lot of pain," Altair said seriously.
"Well, I did warn you…"
Altair groaned, "This woman… I swear to you, I am never going to talk to her again!"
"If it makes you happier, I think she was convinced that I am in good and capable hands here… we probably won't be seeing much of her in the future."
"Thank the gods!", Desmond silently chuckled at the theatrical gesture Altair made.
"She isn't that bad…" it did not sound convincing at all.
"I did meet worse people!" Altair agreed, which earned him a earnest smile from his little companion.
"Well, I am hungry! Let's go and make something!"
"You are always hungry…" Desmond mumbled, but Altair caught in nonetheless.
"I am a man in my best years, I deserve my meals, besides you should eat more too, otherwise you'll remain this short!"
"I am not short!" Desmond exclaimed.
Altair only hummed, clearly not believing it. Desmond pouted, but obediently followed the older male back into the kitchen. He almost ran into the other male, when Altair abruptly stopped in the doorframe.
"Altair?" Desmond asked worried.
"I wouldn't have thought you really would clean the rest of the dishes," the man eventually said while turning to look at the teen.
"Well, you said I should and it would have looked suspicious if Jean had taken a look in the kitchen and everything were still tidy!"
"Hopefully I still find everything!" Altair teased and would have laughed had he not seen the teen's troubled look. "Desmond?"
"Have I done something wrong?" the teen asked worried.
Why would he think that? He had been happy just now!
"No, of course not! I was merely teasing!" Altair tried to explain with a, what he hoped was, a reassuring smile.
Desmond fixed himself for a minute, searching his eyes before he visible relaxed. Altair mentally exhaled.
"Alright big boy, let's make something to eat!"
Desmond simply nodded in approval.