How to Be a Kid
"Tell me a story," Daichi demanded, flopping across Tyson's bed, and incidentally across one of his babysitter's long legs. He yawned, opening an expectant green eye as said leg and the attached body stiffened uncomfortably at such casual contact.
The pale face he stared into wore an aloof expression, the intricate nuances of which flew straight over the little red-haired boy's head. Eyebrows slightly raised, mouth a little open, poised to voice some degree of incredulity, the older boy, a sort of family friend, considered his reply.
"I don't know any," he stated, unapologetic. The harsh-eyed Russian pushed himself further against the bed's headboard, unsettling Daichi's resting place atop his limb.
The wild-child sat up, turning to him with a face of awe and suspicion. "You kiddin'? Nobody told you bedtime stories?" He snorted. "That's pretty weird, Tala."
His momentary guardian looked away with a curt nod. "You'll have to tell me one then, so this can't happen again."
Daichi grinned and resumed his earlier position, more comfortably sprawled with his bushy skull again on Tala's outstretched leg. "Okay," he said, looking ceiling-ward for inspiration. "I got one you'll like…"
Tala leaned his head back against the wall, smiling wanly.