Post by Bun on Apr 26, 2006 11:53:56 GMT -5
Deo-centric ficlet! Hurray!! *huggles Deo* Ew, you stink.
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Deo loved pancakes.
He loved it almost as much as he loved his nickname, Deo, which was the nickname his younger sister had given to him when she was a baby. He was "Deo" and not "Diego" because Blaze was only around two or three, and she hadn't gotten around to being able to say her Gs for some reason.
So she called him "Deo".
And he loved it.
Pancakes reminded him of Blaze. He didn't know why. When his parents separated and his dad had taken Blaze away, Deo didn't talk to his mother for a month. And then, when he found out the only reason she kept him was because she wanted to profit from his intelligence, he left the day he found out. His first night alone, without parents, and he had stopped at a diner.
The cheapest thing on the menu, besides the crappy coffee, was pancakes. So that's what Deo ordered.
That diner may have had crappy coffee and a mean waitress, but it definitely had some good pancakes. His mouth watered as the waitress set down his order, a tall stack of fluffy, buttermilk pancakes made from scratch, slathered in strawberry jam and not honey, because honey made the pancakes too soggy. And as Deo put the first forkful in his mouth and his tongue had tasted those pancakes, he thought about his baby sister Blaze.
He didn't know why. But it felt nice, eating pancakes and imagining that he had a happy family with actual loving parents, and a little baby sister sitting on the chair right next to him, copying him by trying to eat her pancakes, and instead getting jam all over her face.
It was a great daydream. In it, Blaze somehow managed to poke herself in the eye with a piece of pancake and started crying. And Deo, in full big brother mode, had laughed and cleaned her up and fed her, and Blaze was laughing, smiling and laughing because she only laughed and smiled like THAT around him.
And she would say, "Deeeoooowwww..." in her little kid voice. Even if she was probably...what, a teen? But it didn't matter because Deo could only remember her as a kid.
And then his fork scraped the plate, and the daydream vanished in a puff of smoke.
Deo loved pancakes.
When he joined the Opposition of Oppression, he became great friends with Jaime, who happened to be a chef extraordinaire. And one day, he woke up and went to the kitchen to find a plate of pancakes waiting for him. And they were the homemade kind made with real milk and butter. And this time, he ate the stack slowly, and the daydream lasted, just a little longer.
This time, after Blaze said "Deoooowwww," she threw a pancake at him and clapped. And Deo had chased her around the house pretending to be angry.
And then it ended, as usual, when his fork scraped the plate and not a pancake.
Deo absolutely adored pancakes. He ate them slowly, carefully, savoring each bite, because with each bite came a little piece of a happy dream, of a happy family, and a happy life, that ended when his plate was empty.
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Deo loved pancakes.
He loved it almost as much as he loved his nickname, Deo, which was the nickname his younger sister had given to him when she was a baby. He was "Deo" and not "Diego" because Blaze was only around two or three, and she hadn't gotten around to being able to say her Gs for some reason.
So she called him "Deo".
And he loved it.
Pancakes reminded him of Blaze. He didn't know why. When his parents separated and his dad had taken Blaze away, Deo didn't talk to his mother for a month. And then, when he found out the only reason she kept him was because she wanted to profit from his intelligence, he left the day he found out. His first night alone, without parents, and he had stopped at a diner.
The cheapest thing on the menu, besides the crappy coffee, was pancakes. So that's what Deo ordered.
That diner may have had crappy coffee and a mean waitress, but it definitely had some good pancakes. His mouth watered as the waitress set down his order, a tall stack of fluffy, buttermilk pancakes made from scratch, slathered in strawberry jam and not honey, because honey made the pancakes too soggy. And as Deo put the first forkful in his mouth and his tongue had tasted those pancakes, he thought about his baby sister Blaze.
He didn't know why. But it felt nice, eating pancakes and imagining that he had a happy family with actual loving parents, and a little baby sister sitting on the chair right next to him, copying him by trying to eat her pancakes, and instead getting jam all over her face.
It was a great daydream. In it, Blaze somehow managed to poke herself in the eye with a piece of pancake and started crying. And Deo, in full big brother mode, had laughed and cleaned her up and fed her, and Blaze was laughing, smiling and laughing because she only laughed and smiled like THAT around him.
And she would say, "Deeeoooowwww..." in her little kid voice. Even if she was probably...what, a teen? But it didn't matter because Deo could only remember her as a kid.
And then his fork scraped the plate, and the daydream vanished in a puff of smoke.
Deo loved pancakes.
When he joined the Opposition of Oppression, he became great friends with Jaime, who happened to be a chef extraordinaire. And one day, he woke up and went to the kitchen to find a plate of pancakes waiting for him. And they were the homemade kind made with real milk and butter. And this time, he ate the stack slowly, and the daydream lasted, just a little longer.
This time, after Blaze said "Deoooowwww," she threw a pancake at him and clapped. And Deo had chased her around the house pretending to be angry.
And then it ended, as usual, when his fork scraped the plate and not a pancake.
Deo absolutely adored pancakes. He ate them slowly, carefully, savoring each bite, because with each bite came a little piece of a happy dream, of a happy family, and a happy life, that ended when his plate was empty.
!!!!!!! *SEES BUNNY'S TITLE* ALL HAIL THE QUEEN!! 