Drabble:96
POV:Third Person

When Olena learned that Dimka would be returning home, she was ecstatic. When she learned that his charge, Ivan Zeklos, would also be visiting….not so much.
She went into panic-mode, cleaning the house and stocking up on groceries, buying linens, cutleries and exotic cookbooks, so she'd be able to serve the royal moroi four-course meals and he'd be able to sleep comfortably.
Despite his conveyed request to not make a fuss, she did. After all, Lord Zeklos was a Royal, and Dimitri's charge, and on top of that, he probably lived in 5-star accommodations all the time. No way was she going to subject him to their rustic abode in all its humbleness.
When the day arrived, Olena flew about the house, cleaning up microscopic dust-specks with a vengeance, vacating her room (the most spacious one in the house) and preparing it for Lord Zeklos' stay. She forced her daughters and grandson into their best clothes and even managed to get a grumbling Yeva to look presentable. They sat in the living room, not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe, as Olena paced, making last minute adjustments to the already squeaky-clean house.

Two things happened simultaneously. The doorbell rang and Olena's features contorted into a panicky-expression. But almost instantaneously, she composed her face into a warm smile and taking a deep breath, opened the door.
She didn't even get a chance to speak before a tall blonde walked in and announcing 'You must be Olena! Hi, I'm Ivan, Dimka's friend!', hugged her, dropping two duffel bags on her pristine floor. She could only gape as he brushed by her and hugged each of her daughters, complimenting them before ruffling little Paul's hair (commenting how he looked like Dimka) and bussing Yeva's cheek.
To everyone's surprise, instead of whacking his head or beating him with her staff, Yeva broke into a cackle, pinching the Moroi's cheek. By then, Dimitri had appeared in the doorway, lugging more duffel-bags, and was watching the scene with an amused smile.
Noticing Dimitri, they all busied themselves hugging him and shooting a million questions at him, forgetting the handsome blonde Moroi, except Yeva, who was standing with her arm looped through Ivan's, watching as the Moroi extracted a camera from his jacket and snapped a picture of Dimka and the girls.
Hearing the click of the camera, Olena remember her son's charge and began to apologize for the lack of hospitality. She only got through "Lord Zeklos, I'm-" before Ivan interrupted her with a charming smile, asking her (and everyone else) to please call him Ivan. He added, "Lord Zeklos makes me feel prehistoric. Do you mind if I run up to D's room for a shower? I feel grimy. And, could I have some of your black-bread afterwards? I've had some made by D, but he swears yours is better. After that, Sonya has to sit with me and tell me about her university courses. My dad insists I do something productive with my life. If you ask me, I think life's too short to waste my time learning useless stuffs. No offence, Sonya. Oh, and someone has to take me sightseeing later! You know what, nix everything. I'm ravenous now and airplane-food sucks. Babushka, lead the way. To the kitchen!"
And Yeva, with a spring in her step, lead to the kitchen, going past a still-gaping Olena and Ivan took the opportunity to loop his free arm through a giggling Viktoria's, pulling her along.
"So Mama, that's Ivan.", Dimitri announced when his mother looked at him, still dumbfounded. "Let's go to the kitchen before he comes out and drags us in. And trust me, he will."
"At least, let's carry his bags to my room, first. He'll stay there", she announced faintly.

"Oh no", Dimitri shook his head. "He insisted on staying in my room to catalogue which westerns I haven't yet read, so he knows what to buy me on my birthdays. And I promise you, if he comes and finds his bags gone, he'll throw a tantrum, forcing me to bring them back, so he can take them himself."
"But he's-", Olena began, confused.
"Moroi? Royal? A snobby Zeklos?", Ivan supplied cheerily, appearing in the doorway. "I'm also Dimka's friend. Now, come eat some of the chocolates I brought before Karo finishes them all. Come on!"
Olena smiled again, more easily, before following Ivan into the kitchen, her little boy rolling his eyes.
Olena had thought she'd be hosting a privileged royal, but the fortnight Ivan spent in her home, bantering with her kids and shamelessly flirting with every Belikova female (even Yeva), Olena realized she'd gotten more than she'd bargained for. She'd gained an almost-son. And Dimka a brother.

Thanks for reading. Review please!