Specs: Babylon 5, John/Delenn, 500 words, post-S5
"Bastard!" David bounced up and down, pureed tyr running down his chin. "Bastard bastard bastard!"
"That is enough, David," Delenn said for at least the fifth time that evening. But as long as his father laughed every time David said that word, he would continue to do so. "This is your fault," she said to the father in question.
"I'm not sure how. You're the one who said it in the first place." John turned to smile at their son, and their son turned to smile right back at him, and their faces looked exactly the same, for all that one was almost fifty years older. What is the word when two people are allied against another? Delenn thought, contemplating her own roast tyr. Cahoots. They are in cahoots.
"Only because Adronato does not have a word adequate to express my frustration at trying to deal with the two of you."
"So I was the one who made you drop that dish?"
Delenn put down her utensil and stared at the two of them. Both grinning at her, those big toothy grins. She would have to keep an eye on David; girls would fall prey to that grin, as sure as the suns rose and set. Hadn't she once felt the most delightful shivers at seeing that grin, feeling its weight and majesty directed at her and only her? (Didn't it still affect her so?)
"It is your fault because you laugh every time he says it. He thinks he is doing a wonderful trick."
"And so he is."
Delenn let herself feel two whole seconds' worth of nostalgia for dinners in years gone by. She used to eat in a still room and go over her work, or listen to music, or even just sit and let her mind drift. Now... David picked up his bowl and tried to lick it clean; he just spilled his food over his hair and face and shirt. "In Valen's name...David, you have utensils."
"It's a lost cause, Delenn."
"All right." She would simply have to surrender. One of them, she might have been able to fight; she was no match for two. "Who would like to take a shower with ama?"
"Me me me!" She picked him up, trying not to get the orange goo on her robes. Back to the bedrooms, to the nice big shower.
"And what about me?" John called out from the kitchen.
"What about you?" She missed when David was an infant, and stripping him out of his clothes was a moment's work. He was doing something with his arms that made it nearly impossible to get the shirt over his head. John could complain all he wanted; she was going to start dressing David in the child's robe again. Then she could just unfasten it down the front.
"I love to take showers with ama," John said, leaning against the door. Delenn picked David up, to give to John; let him get the wriggling creature out of his clothes. Instead of taking him, John kissed her, David trapped between them. Oh well. She supposed the tyr would wash out.