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rainbowfic2013-01-21 04:04 am
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2013-01-21 04:04 am
Zing 7: Young and Stupid
Author: Kat
Title: Young and Stupid
Story: In the Heart
Colors: Zing 7 (You remind me of when I was young and stupid) with shadowsong's paint-by-numbers (Ivy as an old lady)
Supplies and Materials: Frame, modeling clay (impulsive), feathers (Someone your character loves comes back.),
Word Count: 1204.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Ivy's proud of her kid anyway, or, his heart was in the right place.
Warnings: brief mention of rape jokes, mild violence
Notes: two more zing to goooo. Also, regarding the prompt: Ivy can't talk.
Andy came home on a winter day so cold it made Ivy's bones crackle. She indulged in several blasphemous thoughts on her way to Newark, dodging traffic and wishing that she was back home in her heated condo, under her warm covers, snuggled up against her nice warm wife. Instead she was out here, driving into New Jersey, to pick up a kid who was well into his twenties and shouldn't be doing such silly things as quitting his (excellent) job and moving back in with his parents.
Although, to be fair to Andy, he apparently had no intention of moving back in with his parents. When Ivy had spoken to him last night, he'd said that he only needed a place to crash for a week or so until he could move into—he'd called it 'alternate arrangements,' which probably meant either his old college roommate or one of his cousins.
He'd also sounded—and this was what had made Ivy agree without a lecture—tight and unhappy, and he'd refused to explain anything beyond "I quit my job and I'm moving back to the city, can I sleep on your floor for a week."
They were his parents. Of course they'd said yes. But now Ivy was worried.
He was waiting outside the airport, barely visible between a thick knitted cap pulled down almost to his nose and the popped collar of a puffy coat. A duffel bag, entirely too small to hold all of his worldly possessions, sat at his feet. He looked very unhappy, and Ivy's heart went out to him, cancelling out the lecture entirely.
Of course, she did say, "Get in the car, it's fucking freezing out," so that might have given him an incorrect impression as to her current state of temper.
Neither of them said anything as she pulled away from the airport and headed towards the city. Ivy was just thinking that it was going to be a long, cold drive back home, when Andy spoke up, very suddenly.
"I had to do it," he said. "I know you're angry with me, but I had to do it."
"I'm not angry with you," Ivy said, surprised. "You're an adult, you can do what you want. I'm confused, a little—" and worried about you, she didn't say—"but I'm not angry with you."
Andy looked at her then, scrunching his cap back up his head. "You're not?"
"No," Ivy said. "I'm not the boss of you anymore. It's your life to fuck up or not fuck up as you choose."
He cracked a smile then, slow and broad. Christ, she'd raised a handsome kid. "Hopefully it wasn't too much of a fuckup. I'm... pretty sure I didn't want to work for those people."
Tricky conversational ground here. What would Gina say? "Can I ask—" she began, and stopped. No, Gina would not say that. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"
"No," Andy said, and then, "Yes. I might have punched somebody."
Well. He was her son. Ivy thought a few blasphemies and said, "You might have punched somebody."
"I did punch somebody," he amended. "A guy. A coworker. Er. A boss."
Jesus fucking Christ on a pogo stick. "What... were these three different people?"
"No, Mom," and if he could still achieve that particular level of sarcasm, he was probably okay. "I punched my boss in the face, okay?"
"Okay," Ivy said, and wondered what she could possibly say to that. "Why?"
It would not be inaccurate to say that Andy exploded.
"He kept making rape jokes!" he said, nearly snarled. Ivy jumped, but he was not angry at her, wasn't even looking at her, was instead glaring out the window as if it had personally offended him. "And I called him on that shit, Mom, I promise. I called him on it every time and every time he'd tell me to take the stick out of my ass. No women on our team, Jesus, I wonder why! So finally I had my three-month review and he told me I needed to lighten up and I just... lost it."
The car was silent for a moment before Ivy ventured, "Uh. Wow."
Andy sighed. "I was just so mad, Mom. Anyway, HR told me they wouldn't press charges if I'd resign, so I did. I mean, I get it, I shouldn't have punched him, but..."
"Hitting is not the way to solve problems," Ivy said primly, and made him laugh. She smiled, and said, "Actually, I think up until the punching you were doing exactly the right thing. Are you looking for advice?"
He shook his head. "No, not really. I figure... I should've gone to HR over the review, but. You know. In the moment."
"I really do," she said. "When I was your age I probably would've done the same thing. There's something my mom told me, though—can I tell it to you?"
"Sure," Andy said, and braced his arm against the window.
"My mom told me," she said, "that people are assholes, although since I was five at the time she used the word 'stupid.' She told me that if you go around hitting everyone who's an asshole, you'll get arrested, and hurt your hand." Ivy shot a quick smile at her son. "You don't want to hurt your hand."
"Heh," he said, and lifted a gloved hand. "I did bruise my knuckles."
"I'll kiss them better when we get home," she said. "The point is, you can't punch all the assholes in the universe, but by god you made a good run at this one. And it may not have been the right thing to do, but it was a good thing to do, and for whatever it's worth, I'm proud of you." She reached over blind, caught his shoulder, and squeezed.
Andy was quiet for a moment, then said, in a quiet voice, "I think Mama would say you're encouraging violent behavior."
She shrugged. "It took your mama ten years to train me out of threatening people who pissed me off. It's only natural that it'll take longer to train me out of advising it."
He laughed again, and shook his head. "So you're saying I'm... repeating your mistakes?"
"No," Ivy said. "I'm saying you're my kid, and you've got my temper, and it's going to get the better of you. I probably should be disapproving that you got violent, but... whatever, I'm not, I'll leave that to your mom. I'm proud that you called him on his shit. I'm a little proud that you gave the fucker what he deserved. And I'm sorry you lost your job over it."
"I'm not," he said. "If anything, I'm glad I don't work there anymore. All my coworkers laughed. I don't know if it was butt-kissing or genuine agreement, but I don't want to be somewhere where people let rape jokes slide. I don't want to be somewhere where I'm causing drama for objecting to nasty shit like that."
"That's my boy," she said, and made him laugh again.
He'd be fine. Her son would be fine. And as for his former boss—well.
She knew a few reporters.
Title: Young and Stupid
Story: In the Heart
Colors: Zing 7 (You remind me of when I was young and stupid) with shadowsong's paint-by-numbers (Ivy as an old lady)
Supplies and Materials: Frame, modeling clay (impulsive), feathers (Someone your character loves comes back.),
Word Count: 1204.
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Ivy's proud of her kid anyway, or, his heart was in the right place.
Warnings: brief mention of rape jokes, mild violence
Notes: two more zing to goooo. Also, regarding the prompt: Ivy can't talk.
Andy came home on a winter day so cold it made Ivy's bones crackle. She indulged in several blasphemous thoughts on her way to Newark, dodging traffic and wishing that she was back home in her heated condo, under her warm covers, snuggled up against her nice warm wife. Instead she was out here, driving into New Jersey, to pick up a kid who was well into his twenties and shouldn't be doing such silly things as quitting his (excellent) job and moving back in with his parents.
Although, to be fair to Andy, he apparently had no intention of moving back in with his parents. When Ivy had spoken to him last night, he'd said that he only needed a place to crash for a week or so until he could move into—he'd called it 'alternate arrangements,' which probably meant either his old college roommate or one of his cousins.
He'd also sounded—and this was what had made Ivy agree without a lecture—tight and unhappy, and he'd refused to explain anything beyond "I quit my job and I'm moving back to the city, can I sleep on your floor for a week."
They were his parents. Of course they'd said yes. But now Ivy was worried.
He was waiting outside the airport, barely visible between a thick knitted cap pulled down almost to his nose and the popped collar of a puffy coat. A duffel bag, entirely too small to hold all of his worldly possessions, sat at his feet. He looked very unhappy, and Ivy's heart went out to him, cancelling out the lecture entirely.
Of course, she did say, "Get in the car, it's fucking freezing out," so that might have given him an incorrect impression as to her current state of temper.
Neither of them said anything as she pulled away from the airport and headed towards the city. Ivy was just thinking that it was going to be a long, cold drive back home, when Andy spoke up, very suddenly.
"I had to do it," he said. "I know you're angry with me, but I had to do it."
"I'm not angry with you," Ivy said, surprised. "You're an adult, you can do what you want. I'm confused, a little—" and worried about you, she didn't say—"but I'm not angry with you."
Andy looked at her then, scrunching his cap back up his head. "You're not?"
"No," Ivy said. "I'm not the boss of you anymore. It's your life to fuck up or not fuck up as you choose."
He cracked a smile then, slow and broad. Christ, she'd raised a handsome kid. "Hopefully it wasn't too much of a fuckup. I'm... pretty sure I didn't want to work for those people."
Tricky conversational ground here. What would Gina say? "Can I ask—" she began, and stopped. No, Gina would not say that. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"
"No," Andy said, and then, "Yes. I might have punched somebody."
Well. He was her son. Ivy thought a few blasphemies and said, "You might have punched somebody."
"I did punch somebody," he amended. "A guy. A coworker. Er. A boss."
Jesus fucking Christ on a pogo stick. "What... were these three different people?"
"No, Mom," and if he could still achieve that particular level of sarcasm, he was probably okay. "I punched my boss in the face, okay?"
"Okay," Ivy said, and wondered what she could possibly say to that. "Why?"
It would not be inaccurate to say that Andy exploded.
"He kept making rape jokes!" he said, nearly snarled. Ivy jumped, but he was not angry at her, wasn't even looking at her, was instead glaring out the window as if it had personally offended him. "And I called him on that shit, Mom, I promise. I called him on it every time and every time he'd tell me to take the stick out of my ass. No women on our team, Jesus, I wonder why! So finally I had my three-month review and he told me I needed to lighten up and I just... lost it."
The car was silent for a moment before Ivy ventured, "Uh. Wow."
Andy sighed. "I was just so mad, Mom. Anyway, HR told me they wouldn't press charges if I'd resign, so I did. I mean, I get it, I shouldn't have punched him, but..."
"Hitting is not the way to solve problems," Ivy said primly, and made him laugh. She smiled, and said, "Actually, I think up until the punching you were doing exactly the right thing. Are you looking for advice?"
He shook his head. "No, not really. I figure... I should've gone to HR over the review, but. You know. In the moment."
"I really do," she said. "When I was your age I probably would've done the same thing. There's something my mom told me, though—can I tell it to you?"
"Sure," Andy said, and braced his arm against the window.
"My mom told me," she said, "that people are assholes, although since I was five at the time she used the word 'stupid.' She told me that if you go around hitting everyone who's an asshole, you'll get arrested, and hurt your hand." Ivy shot a quick smile at her son. "You don't want to hurt your hand."
"Heh," he said, and lifted a gloved hand. "I did bruise my knuckles."
"I'll kiss them better when we get home," she said. "The point is, you can't punch all the assholes in the universe, but by god you made a good run at this one. And it may not have been the right thing to do, but it was a good thing to do, and for whatever it's worth, I'm proud of you." She reached over blind, caught his shoulder, and squeezed.
Andy was quiet for a moment, then said, in a quiet voice, "I think Mama would say you're encouraging violent behavior."
She shrugged. "It took your mama ten years to train me out of threatening people who pissed me off. It's only natural that it'll take longer to train me out of advising it."
He laughed again, and shook his head. "So you're saying I'm... repeating your mistakes?"
"No," Ivy said. "I'm saying you're my kid, and you've got my temper, and it's going to get the better of you. I probably should be disapproving that you got violent, but... whatever, I'm not, I'll leave that to your mom. I'm proud that you called him on his shit. I'm a little proud that you gave the fucker what he deserved. And I'm sorry you lost your job over it."
"I'm not," he said. "If anything, I'm glad I don't work there anymore. All my coworkers laughed. I don't know if it was butt-kissing or genuine agreement, but I don't want to be somewhere where people let rape jokes slide. I don't want to be somewhere where I'm causing drama for objecting to nasty shit like that."
"That's my boy," she said, and made him laugh again.
He'd be fine. Her son would be fine. And as for his former boss—well.
She knew a few reporters.