scribblemyname | Fluffy Promptables

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We're prompting fluffy, lighthearted stuff of any variety, no canon/pairing/character information required, though permitted.

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From:

thecatisacritic.livejournal.com

A/N: I wasn't thinking that I'd use this prompt, but since I'm in the middle of working on the saga of Dillon and Larina for the "Where I stood" story and needed some more to fill in the time between their early years as friends and when they were older, so I took this and used it for a bit to fill in that gap.

It is kind of hard to say if it should be skipped out of context because I didn't really write it with a particular order framed in, but it might be better in it all the same.

"All right,” Larina said, finishing her calculation and looking over at Dillon, who had her book open to the page with the answers. “Is it... fifty-six?”

“No,” he said, frowning as he checked the answer and then looked over at her math. “How could you get fifty-six from that?”

“I hate math.” Larina set down the pencil and considered throwing her calculator across the room. This was supposed to make the work easier, but she had yet to understand how to use the dumb thing. She couldn't get it to work any more than she could understand whatever this stupid theorem was. Why did math need theorems, anyway?

“You only hate it because you don't understand it. Things you understand, you like,” Dillon reminded her, reaching across the table for his glass. She caught his hand before he could grab her milk on accident. That was an experience neither of them wanted to repeat.

He frowned, taking his own glass back. The orange and pink shouldn't be that easy to mix up, but he always seemed to do it when they were studying together. She dunked a cookie in her milk, watching again for his reaction. He swore this didn't bother him, and he didn't object to anyone else drinking milk, but he didn't do it himself.

“Are you sure you wouldn't like some cocoa? You could dip your own cookies then. Or maybe tea, though I don't think I like tea much. It tastes too much like water.”

“Depends on the tea and who's making it,” he said. “Sorina makes good tea.”

“Oh, that's why you don't mind math,” she said, tempted to kick him under the table though she never would, could not hurt him. “You have a good teacher. One who doesn't smell and explains the problems to you.”

“You're jealous.” He reached down to hold a cookie out for Moxie, and then he pulled his hand back up with a wince. She bit her lip. None of them had really adjusted to the fact that Moxie was gone, least of all him. He still expected her to be by his side as she used to always be. “You could have had Sorina for your teacher, too.”

“Don't do that,” she told him. “You know I know when you're lying, and everyone knows how much Moxie meant to you. You can't pretend it doesn't hurt that she's gone.”

He looked at the cookie and put it down on the table. “Morely thinks I should get another dog and it won't hurt as much.”

“Some people do,” Larina agreed. She didn't think Dillon's grandfather understood him at all, even after spending years with him. If this was how he'd been with Dillon's mother, then she wasn't that surprised that Nan ran off. “You wouldn't, though. You know one animal doesn't just replace another. No dog will ever be to you what Moxie was, and no horse what Hope was, either. I do think you should have another dog, but not right now.”

“You want me to have another dog because you worry about me if I'm alone,” he muttered. “I'm not helpless, you know. And the answer is eighty-three.”

She frowned. “How is that even possible?”

He leaned over and pointed to the work she'd done. “There. You missed carrying the two here, which changes the whole equation and—”

“Why do you smell like fresh rain?”

“I was out in the paddock when the storm started, and you know how Sunshine is when there's rain. She wouldn't go in, and I got soaked, but if you start lecturing me about catching a cold—”

From:

thecatisacritic.livejournal.com

“I'm not complaining. It's just different from your usual scent which is horse and barn and—”

“Stinky?”

She laughed. “I don't ever think so. I used to think that this place had to stink because it's a farm and there's the barn and the cows and the horses, but now I find that this is... it's the smell of home, and it's the smell of you and Burditt and Sorina and everyone I love.”

He looked at her. “You're crazy.”

“I must be,” she said, looking down at her homework. “I'm actually trying to understand math. That has to be the craziest thing ever.”

He shrugged. “Math isn't that bad.”

She grimaced. She sometimes found it so unfair that someone without any real schooling before he was eight had an easier time with this stuff than she did. She didn't know if it was because he got to learn at his own pace here or if he was just naturally talented in that respect, too. She kind of hated him for it. She tried, made a guess, and hoped, but she was almost always wrong. “Did I do any of this right?”

Dillon took her pencil, but instead of helping her with the problem, he tapped her on the nose with it, and she tried to get it back, but he held it out of her reach with a bit of a smile. She thought that was the first real one since Moxie died, and that was more than worth putting up with math for—though forgetting about math all together would be fine with her.

From:

scribblemyname

I like this and all the details and the cute way they talk to each other and her abiding dislike of math.

From:

thecatisacritic.livejournal.com

I like the two of them because they know each other so well, and it adds a lot to their interactions that the're so familiar and comfortable with each other.

She still leaves the math to him, though, even though she went to college to become a vet.