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fandomweekly2019-02-24 02:51 pm
badly_knitted) wrote in fandomweekly2019-02-24 02:51 pm
Entry tags:
[#008] Famous Last Words (Original Fic)
Theme Prompt: [#008] – Schadenfreude
Title: Famous Last Words
Fandom: Original Fic
Rating/Warnings: G / None.
Bonus: Yes.
Word Count: 1000
Summary: Helen did her best raising her son, but he still seems to think some jobs should be left to a man. Maybe this will teach him how wrong he is.
Helen watched her son haul the heavy box into the living room of his new flat. “Are you sure you don’t need a hand?”
“Positive, I’ve got this; it’s only a bookcase, how hard can it be?” Tim flashed her a confident grin. “Flat pack furniture’s a piece of cake anyway; these things are so easy to put together I don’t know why they bother including instruction booklets. They’re a waste of paper; nobody ever needs to use ‘em.” Ripping the packing tape off the box, he started unpacking the parts, scattering them about the floor and tossing the polystyrene protectors to the side, along with the empty box. “Why don’t you go make us a cup of tea or something while I put this together?”
“Fine, if you’re sure I can’t help.” Helen rolled her eyes behind Tim’s back; she loved her son dearly, but there were times when he could be a bit of a male chauvinist, just like his dad had been. Tim had never struck her as the handyman type, but in his head constructing furniture was clearly a man’s job, while women did the cooking. It no doubt accounted for Tim’s reliance on restaurants and takeaway since he’d left home. He could toast bread, or make himself a sandwich, but despite all her attempts at teaching him basic cooking skills that was about the limit of his culinary ability; he simply hadn’t thought it necessary to learn. Heaven help his wife if he ever married; Helen had done her best with him, but with three older sisters he’d grown used to always having a woman around to look after him. Now he was out on his own, maybe he’d start realising how much he’d depended on his family.
Deciding to leave him to it, she turned to leave the room, collecting the discarded packaging on her way out. She might as well deal with it now because otherwise it would be left shoved into a corner for weeks, until Tim finally decided it was getting in the way. He’d never been tidy; just getting him to straighten up his room had been a constant battle of wills. As much as she missed her youngest now he’d left home, there was no doubt the house was a lot tidier now.
Rubbish dealt with, she popped the kettle on to make tea. She might not have bothered with that, Tim was perfectly capable of boiling a kettle himself, but she fancied a cuppa and it would give her an excuse to see how the bookcase was coming along without Tim thinking she was checking up on him.
When the tea was poured, she carried two mugs into the living room. “Here you go, I’ll put yours on the windowsill. Don’t let it go cold.”
“Thanks, mum. Where’d I put the screwdriver?”
“It’s behind your foot.”
“Oh, right, thanks.” Tim grabbed it and got back to work, laboriously inserting another screw.
Helen frowned; something didn’t look right, and she opened her mouth to tell Tim so, but then closed it again; this would be a good lesson for him. Maybe she shouldn’t feel such satisfaction in seeing her boy making a pig’s ear out of something he’d claimed was simple, but her late husband had been just the same, always assuming that as a man he knew better than she did when it came to putting things together or fixing them. Let Tim learn from his mistakes; he was nineteen, and anyway, he’d made it clear he didn’t need her help. If he changed his mind he only had to ask.
“There, almost finished!” Tim said triumphantly half an hour later, picking up his cup, taking a swig, and pulling a face; the tea had long since gone cold despite Helen reminding him about it several times. He set the cup down again. “All I need to do now is put the shelves in.” He picked up the first one, made to set it in place, and frowned. “Oh.”
“Something wrong, dear?” Helen asked mildly.
“Um, no, I just want to check the instructions…” Tim looked around the floor and started moving the shelves one at a time, but the usual booklet was nowhere to be seen.
“Didn’t you didn’t need instructions?”
“Well, you know, usually I wouldn’t but I think I got a faulty kit, there’s no way of fixing the shelves in place, shouldn’t there be screw holes or something? I’ve got all these little peg thingies. Do I have to make the holes myself? I don’t own a drill! Where’s the receipt? I’m going to call and complain.”
“Do you want the advice of your old mum?”
Tim looked at his mother dubiously. “Advice?”
“If I were you, I’d take your bookcase apart and put it back together with the sides the right way round. The holes for the shelf pegs are there, you’ve just got them on the outside.”
Tim checked and groaned. “Fuck it! All that work!”
“Tim! Language!” Helen scolded.
“Sorry, mum.”
“Maybe you should have read the instruction booklet first.”
“There wasn’t one!”
“Of course there was.” Helen held it up.
“Wait a minute, you had it all along?”
“You left it in the box; I found it when I was putting everything in the bin, but you’d already said you didn’t need it, so…” Helen shrugged. “I just let you get on with it.” She smiled gently. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson; it doesn’t pay to be overconfident. Now, why don’t we take your bookcase apart and put it back together properly?”
“We? But…”
“Timothy, I’ve put more of these things together by myself than you’ve had hot dinners. Who do you think built all your bedroom furniture when you were growing up? It’s time you realised there’s nothing a man can do that a woman can’t handle just as well, if not better.”
“Thanks, mum. I’ll bear that in mind.”
Helen picked up the screwdriver. “You do that.”
The End
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I was putting together a bookcase myself which was what gave me the idea. Some guys think they're the only ones who can handle such things, but I've been putting flat packs together for years.
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I put mine together on Sunday before writing this; it gave me the inspiration I needed.
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Thank you!
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