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justprompts: I don't need a friend who changes...
May. 19th, 2008 11:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hecalledmeivyI don't need a friend who changes when I change and who nods when I nod; my shadow does that much better. -Plutarch
He'd be surprised, of course. Oh, probably he even wouldn't want her to have done it.
But probably all eight-year-old kids loved surprise parties, and Ivy wasn't an exception. Well, she was an exception, but she also wasn't. Taken summarily, she'd organised hundreds upon hundreds of surprise parties. None of them for Kincaid. Also, taken summarily, she had access to somewhat more varied resources than most eight-year-olds. And a lot more knowledge. Including that, as far as recorded information goes, NOBODY has ever actually thrown a good surprise party for him.
The result was... eclectic.
Oh, it's important to say. That day, besides the date currently figuring as his birth date on his IDs, it was also the day when he was coming back to her from something else he'd had to do. Double reason for celebration, you see!
There were balloons. And a cake. And altogether more food than the two of them could eat in a month (not that much of a problem; wherever they were, she knew where the extra food could be donated without going to waste. Neutral didn't mean useless, you see). And presents. Ranging from things that had caught her eyes and it was dubious that he'd enjoy (it's easy, the Archive says, to get distracted by 'shiny' at the mature age of eight!), to minor, but useful stuff (that ranged from clothes to weapon maintenance kit to new fitness/practice mill... thing), to actually new things that she was privy to knowing about because of what she was.
New and improved weaponry didn't happen quite all the time, but she was lucky. The commercial release, of course, wouldn't be for months yet. The making of it legal would probably not be for a long time after that.
Didn't mean Kincaid wasn't getting it - tonight.
She was good at things like that. She had everything set up and ready, waiting only for the candles and such to be lit, for the time he was supposed to be home. It worked perfectly.
Except that his flight got delayed. And again. And again.
... when he finally did make it home, in the small hours of the morning, he came to the house still lit up and festively decked. His little employer (charge?) was, however, sound asleep, curled on the sofa where she had been waiting for him.
It did take him a few moment to realize exactly what he was seeing, of course. The surprise party was definitely - surprising.
He didn't look at the presents. All right, he did glimpse at them, just getting a hint of what was on the pile. He did check through all the wards (she had been careful, he noticed with approval), and then moved to scoop her up and get her to bed.
She stirred and smiled at him, mumbling something about happy birthday-welcome home, and he scowled. "That really wasn't necessary."
Through the familiar, childish half-asleep smile, the facial expression shifted slightly, and the voice came in other familiar, older cadences that he recalled from long ago. "Friends aren't there to just do what YOU think necessary, Kincaid. We do what we think needed as well."
He blinked, but before he could react to that more-than-memory, Ivy woke up a little more, and her eyes brightened. "Was the waiting too horrible? How late is it? I hope you like your presents..."
"Tomorrow, Ivy. It's late enough to be way past your bedtime."
She pouted, but didn't argue.
Just because he left her to sleep, so he could go to his bed, she spoke up again. "Good night, Kincaid. And..." the voice went a little deeper, a little richer, as much as the body would allow. "Happy Birthday to you."
He'd be surprised, of course. Oh, probably he even wouldn't want her to have done it.
But probably all eight-year-old kids loved surprise parties, and Ivy wasn't an exception. Well, she was an exception, but she also wasn't. Taken summarily, she'd organised hundreds upon hundreds of surprise parties. None of them for Kincaid. Also, taken summarily, she had access to somewhat more varied resources than most eight-year-olds. And a lot more knowledge. Including that, as far as recorded information goes, NOBODY has ever actually thrown a good surprise party for him.
The result was... eclectic.
Oh, it's important to say. That day, besides the date currently figuring as his birth date on his IDs, it was also the day when he was coming back to her from something else he'd had to do. Double reason for celebration, you see!
There were balloons. And a cake. And altogether more food than the two of them could eat in a month (not that much of a problem; wherever they were, she knew where the extra food could be donated without going to waste. Neutral didn't mean useless, you see). And presents. Ranging from things that had caught her eyes and it was dubious that he'd enjoy (it's easy, the Archive says, to get distracted by 'shiny' at the mature age of eight!), to minor, but useful stuff (that ranged from clothes to weapon maintenance kit to new fitness/practice mill... thing), to actually new things that she was privy to knowing about because of what she was.
New and improved weaponry didn't happen quite all the time, but she was lucky. The commercial release, of course, wouldn't be for months yet. The making of it legal would probably not be for a long time after that.
Didn't mean Kincaid wasn't getting it - tonight.
She was good at things like that. She had everything set up and ready, waiting only for the candles and such to be lit, for the time he was supposed to be home. It worked perfectly.
Except that his flight got delayed. And again. And again.
... when he finally did make it home, in the small hours of the morning, he came to the house still lit up and festively decked. His little employer (charge?) was, however, sound asleep, curled on the sofa where she had been waiting for him.
It did take him a few moment to realize exactly what he was seeing, of course. The surprise party was definitely - surprising.
He didn't look at the presents. All right, he did glimpse at them, just getting a hint of what was on the pile. He did check through all the wards (she had been careful, he noticed with approval), and then moved to scoop her up and get her to bed.
She stirred and smiled at him, mumbling something about happy birthday-welcome home, and he scowled. "That really wasn't necessary."
Through the familiar, childish half-asleep smile, the facial expression shifted slightly, and the voice came in other familiar, older cadences that he recalled from long ago. "Friends aren't there to just do what YOU think necessary, Kincaid. We do what we think needed as well."
He blinked, but before he could react to that more-than-memory, Ivy woke up a little more, and her eyes brightened. "Was the waiting too horrible? How late is it? I hope you like your presents..."
"Tomorrow, Ivy. It's late enough to be way past your bedtime."
She pouted, but didn't argue.
Just because he left her to sleep, so he could go to his bed, she spoke up again. "Good night, Kincaid. And..." the voice went a little deeper, a little richer, as much as the body would allow. "Happy Birthday to you."
