Yay, time to have fun with the little ones. I myself have a large family with plenty of little annoying kids, so it's fun to sorta incorporate things that happen at home with these little devils. Also Clay and Dessy are freakin adorable.
On to more important things, thank you all for the favs, follows, and reviews. I'm glad that (so far) this story is well received and I hope you will all continue to enjoy the fun shenanigans I have in store.
After having lunch with Maria, Altaïr went back to work for several more hours before it was time to pick up the younger boys from school. Altaïr headed over to the preschool and, once inside, found the two waiting in the classroom like always with the other kids, only this time Desmond was sitting grumpily in the corner. The preschool teacher motioned for Altaïr to come over to her desk and he did so.
"What did the little shit do now?" he asked, casting Desmond an accusing look. The little boy caught the look and tried to shrink smaller into his corner.
"That, Mr. Ibn-La'Ahad, is exactly the problem." the teacher replied with a slight frown. "Desmond was caught swearing."
"Swearing? What did he say?" Altaïr asked, his lips twisting slightly in amusement.
"He said," She glanced around before lowering her voice and whispering. "The F word."
Altaïr struggled to hold back a laugh at the middle aged woman's behavior. "Oh?" was all he could manage without cracking an all out smile.
She nodded mournfully. "I'm afraid so. Now, sir, since we don't use that kind of language around here, I can only think that he must have picked it up on TV...or at home perhaps." She gave him an almost accusatory look. "I suggest you monitor a little more closely the things he hears."
Altaïr had to fight back violent urges that rose up at her words. Was this woman trying to tell him how to act around his brothers?!
"How about you take your suggestion and shove it up your ass." he snapped.
Without waiting for the teacher's reaction, Altaïr stalked over, picked up Desmond and Clay, then hauled them outside to the car. He angrily strapped them into their seats and took off for home, since the older boys wouldn't be out for another hour. They had been driving along for several quiet minutes before Desmond's wavering voice broke the silence.
"Are you angry because I said a bad word?" Desmond asked quietly.
"Yes!" Clay told him with a vigorous nod. "He's soooo mad! He's going to lock you in your room for ever and ever and ever!" He wiggled his fingers at Desmond and made a scary face.
"Waaaah! I'm sorry Alty, I won't do it again!" he wailed, covering his face.
"I'm not angry at you!" Altaïr snapped. He sighed and worked to clear his expression of the frown that had settled on his face since the school. "I'm not, promise. I'm angry at your stupid teacher."
"Mrs. Britsby?" Desmond inquired softly.
"Yeah, she's a bitch." Altair confirmed.
"What's a bitch?" Clay asked rather loudly.
"Um...a bitch is a...female dog." Altaïr quickly covered up.
"But, Mrs. Britsby isn't a dog." Desmond said with a slight frown.
"Yes, she is." Altaïr argued reasonably. "She's a werewolf."
Clay and Desmond gave a collective gasp, their eyes widening at the revelation.
"No!" Desmond swore.
"Yes." Altaïr insisted with a nod. "That's why she's so mean."
"I knew it." Clay muttered quietly, making Altaïr smile in satisfaction.
When they finally arrived home, the little boys burst forth into the house and immediately ran off to their room. Fine by Altair. He needed some time to relax anyway. He closed the door behind him and gave a sigh. Only a few more hours before he'd be back to work. It seemed he was in a vicious cycle. Get up, get the boys off to school, work, get home, take care of the boys, work, get home, sleep, wake up, and on and on and on. An endless rollercoaster that Altair desperately wanted a break from. He wondered if things would ever be easy again, like Rauf had suggested.
Altair sluggishly toed off his shoes and flicked them off his feet, not caring where they might land. He peeled off his jacket and left it on the back of the couch, it's not like he wouldn't be using it again in a few hours so why bother putting it away? He plopped heavily down on the couch and sighed, letting his body relax into the once soft cushions. A stray spring poked uncomfortably into his back and made him squirm away from the discomfort. Looks like its about time to get a new couch. Altair wondered when he could spare the money.
Suddenly the piercing cry of Altair's phone sounded from his coat pocket. What now? Couldn't he rest for five minutes?
The young adult forced himself to roll over to the coat and fish the vibrating cell phone from its pocket.
"What?" he answered irritably.
"It's Mr. Sofian." a voice answered, sounding displeased by Altair's attitude.
"Mr. Sofian? What are you calling for?" Altair straightened on the couch and replied with audible surprise.
"I was just reminding you of the home visit for later this week. I will be coming by to see how things are going." the social worker answered in a smooth, even tone.
Altair's gut twisted. He glanced around the living room in its current state. It was a complete mess with clothes strewn about, toys practically coating the ground, dishes cluttered the coffee table, and various electronics occupied the one computer table with its few remaining chairs. If Sofian saw the house like this, he would take away the boys in a heartbeat.
"Two o'clock sharp on Friday, if you do recall." Mr. Sofian's sharp voice brought Altair's mind back to the conversation.
"Sure, see you then." Altair responded quickly, and then hung up.
He groaned and covered his face with his hands. He had completely forgotten that the home visit was this week, and in three days no less. Altair would have to spend all of his free time cleaning the house and preparing and-oh the boys, to keep them under control for the whole visit would be a nightmare! How was he going to get through this week?
"Alty." Desmond called, appearing at his side.
Altair pulled out of himself enough to see his youngest brother beside him, a full cup of water clutched in his hands.
"What's up, little guy?" Altair asked, trying to keep the crushing stress out of his voice.
"I brought you a drink." He proudly held up the plastic cup of water.
"Oh, thanks, Des."
Altaïr took the cup and downed the water. Desmond grinned broadly, satisfied that he'd done good, and took the cup back, quickly scurrying off back to his room.
The newly appointed guardian imagined if something went wrong with the home visit. What if Sofian decided Altair wasn't good enough? What if he took the boys away? The four might annoy the shit out of Altair only all the time, but that didn't change the fact that they were his brothers and he loved them dearly. If they were gone...he didn't know what he'd do.
Desmond returned bearing another water filled cup a minute later.
"I got you more."
Altaïr drank once more, his mind on more important matters.
If the four brothers went to Foster Care, they'd most likely be split up and that would be even worse than if they just lost Altair. The golden eyed boy took a minute to think about it and came to the conclusion that the boys probably wouldn't miss him all too much. After all, before the death of their parents, Altair had pretty much treated the younger boys like shit, being a man of his own and no longer tied to home. The boys certainly hadn't taken well to their older brother suddenly being in charge of everything and Altair was almost sure they wouldn't mind him losing that power.
Desmond was back again with, of course, another cup of water. Altair frowned as he slowly took the cup. Where was Desmond getting all this water? The kitchen was in the opposite direction of the boys' room where Desmond had been returning to.
"Hey, Desmond, where are you getting the water?" he asked suspiciously.
"The toilet." Desmond replied happily.
Altaïr spewed his drink.
"Nasty!" he exclaimed.
He ran into the kitchen, quickly getting fresh water to wash away the toilet water. After he had thoroughly rinsed his mouth he turned back to the confused little boy.
"Why were you getting water from the toilet?!" he spat.
Desmond just looked bewildered at Altaïr's reaction. "Clay says you like the water from there." he answered innocently, shaking the now empty cup.
"CLAY!" Altaïr growled, his head snapping in the direction of the bedroom.
A squeal came from the other room along with a crash, most likely the sounds of a certain five year old trying to escape the monster he was sure would come after him. Nothing would save him from Altair's wrath.
