![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
danko_kaji) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
fandomweekly2022-02-04 01:45 am
[#124] Treasure Sphere (Final Fantasy X-2)
Title: Treasure Sphere
Fandom: Final Fantasy X-2
Rating/Warnings: PG
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 970
Summary: Parents do what they do best; embarrass their child in front of all his best friends – regardless of the fact he’s a grown man and the current leader of the world. Gippal, Baralai, Paine, Nooj. Post-FFX-2.
“Guys, you’re never going to guess what happened today.”
“What?” Paine suspects she knows where Gippal will lead with this, but she decides to humor him anyway. Damn, this miso soup tastes good. What the hell did he put in this–?
“Baralai invited us over to his house. Not some smoozy fancy-shmancy condo, but his family’s house–.”
“Gippal. We were there– Actually, we still are.” Nooj corrects himself, almost as if he can’t believe it himself, and lifts his rice bowl in appreciation. “Who knew you could cook, Baralai? I hope the food’s not poisoned.” Struggling to hold the chopsticks in his mechanical hand, though, he swears– too stubborn to give up. He must have done it on purpose, the bastard. He knows they have metal utensils, but Baralai chose to make his life difficult.
“You wish.” He throws a humorless smile over his shoulder, stirring the honey-garlic sauce over low heat.
They share the spacious countertop while cooking three things at once– His father at the masonry oven, rotating the Behemoth chops. His mother at the rice cooker, tossing the Cardinal salad. And his Guado godfather at the stove, frying the Kilikan salmon. They left the garden door wide open to air out the stifling heat, allowing for the Bevellian autumn night to chill their feet as they struggle to comprehend this most unbelievable sight, this borderline miracle–
“Baralai has parents. Living parents. Parents he gets along with. Parents who love him–.”
“What are you, a harbinger of ill omen? Out with you.” Baralai waves his wooden ladle at him, hissing when hot oil spatters his exposed forearm. “Blast! Sigh. Never on my apron. Of course...” Gippal always liked making fun of him for looking like a girl, but damn does he make one helluva housewife– and why is his mom a smoking hot bombshell–
“My love, are you okay? Where does it hurt?” His mother rushes to his side, leaving the rice to lose its steam in the half-filled ohitsu as she nuzzles his arm to her face. Gippal chokes, sputtering mid-gulp to laugh out loud, Bevellian Breakfast tea staining his shirt. Paine stifles her chuckle in vain, mirth dancing in her crimson eyes, and Nooj smirks, disguising his envy behind wry mirth.
“Mother. The rice–.”
“It can wait. Let me kiss it better~” She sings, smothering him with incessant kisses first at the aforementioned spot of concern, before ambushing his face, delighting in his scowl and complaint.
“Mother, please. My friends are watching–.”
“Exactly! You never bring friends over. Your age, I mean. Chuami and Kurgum are darlings, but they're like babies compared to you. What was the name of that girl you brought home that one time? You know, from the military academy. Linda? Shae? Anyway! I got so excited that I had to run out and buy more groceries. They deserve nothing less than a feast!” Ilyria giggles, switching to embrace him from behind after he manages to rip away. Now Baralai can’t hope to escape her grasp despite his every grudging effort to remove her.
“Mother, you are embarrassing me. Please desist–.”
“Why? There’s nothing to be embarrassed about when your mommy loves you~."
Baralai groans, prying her clingy hands in vain. “Father–.”
“Well, look who’s the big baby.”
“Nooj, I will end you.”
“But you are my big baby~.”
“Oh, for the love of– FATHER!” Everyone at the dinner table jumps, spilling their food or drink, startled by the sheer projection of his vocals. Normally the softspoken one, even Baralai can reach his limit sometimes, his patience regressing to that of a child’s. “Do something about Mother! She at least listens to you half of the time–”
“Can’t you see I’m busy?”
Gippal assesses the brusque man, unimpressed by his short stature. Even though Baralai credited his father for teaching him martial arts, how strong can he really be? The student always ends up surpassing the master, and he’s a whole head shorter than he is! Does he want to challenge fate today and flirt with the missus? Hmm. If she starts fluttering her eyelashes at him again, he can probably take him on– Wait, did he just pull out that tray of Behemoth chops with his bare hands? He deposits it on a bamboo mat, clapping his hands, and then he dips his finger – not a spoon, his finger – into the bubbling sauce, humming in satisfaction. He knew Kilikan men were hot-blooded, but holy hell, is he even human? “Mm. Good. It’s done.”
Baralai stares, scandalized. Mori then proceeds to swipe the pan without waiting for permission, brushing off his expression of oh, lord, Gippal knows that look.
Baralai killed a man once. Gippal’s pretty sure he's killed several men. This man must be God, for he chose to risk invoking his legendary wrath.
“You didn’t even wash your hands, you uncivilized imp! Don’t give me that look. I saw you. Who knows where those hands have been– Okay, Mother, that’s enough, I need to move– Scisero.”
And just like that, both Guado and godson communicate everything in a single breath, because the elder demihuman responsible for instilling Baralai his insufferable sense of self-entitlement inclines his spiky root-like head in their direction, narrowing his sharp lavender eyes in severe reproach. “Ilyria. You neglected to cover the rice. Now it must have grown regrettably cold. I suggest you reheat it before serving it to our guests. They must still be famished.”
“Oh, boo.” She sulks, slinking away, the true child in the family.
Paine clicks the video sphere off, satisfied. Oh, yeah. This is gold. The perfect blackmail. They’re never going to let him live this one.
“Make me a copy.” Nooj nudges her, squeezing the green beans out of an edamame pod. “I need diplomatic immunity.”
“You got it, Captain.”
no subject
no subject
Baralai's mom is based on my own mom. It's not an exaggeration. My mom still treats me "like her baby" to this day, and I'm almost 30. XD
That's also my favorite part, so I'm glad you love it! 💕
no subject
no subject
Throwing in his parents, too, was quite a challenge on the word count, but it was super fun!
"Brevity is the soul of wit," as they say.