Half Seas Over

Writers: Iluva, Sia
Date Posted: 23rd May 2024

Characters: M'thos, T'mhas, Varethos, Tamerel
Description: M'thos and T'mhas have different parenting styles
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 8, day 12 of Turn 11
Notes: Mentioned: Kelthiros, Merhaskel

M'thos

T'mhas

Varethos

M'thos tried to keep the rest of the weyr mostly quiet as they went
about their morning routines. Not an easy task when his weyrmate was
practically a walking skybroom, and his youngest was five and hated
everything about mornings. But he was able to get a bit of breakfast
and klah ready before he knocked gently on the door to the kids' room.

"Vare, buddy?" He said just loudly enough for his voice to carry
through the door. "If you get up now, you'll have time to eat before
classes."

Then, stepping back and looking at T'mhas over his mug of klah. "I
didn't hallucinate last night, right? That really happened?"

“WHAT?” Even from across the weyr the volume of T’mhas’ baritone was
slightly deafening. He smirked on his way over to where Ghraisath’s
huge wing made a round-ish arc with the floor, crouching down to pass
juice to the little boy camped in his ‘tent’. His knee however
protested the motion of getting back up, causing confusion and
annoyance to erupt in a curse. A firestone sack’s handiwork.

“You sweared,” Tamerel whispered into his cup.

“Shh. Drink juice,” Straightening, he grabbed his own klah. “Ain’t no
chance of hallucinatin’ somethin’ like that. Or forgettin’ it.” T’mhas
absently rubbed the stubble on his chin. “That ain’t who I expected to
be half seas over. Kid still surprises me.”

"Ssh." M'thos scolded back in a low murmur. "That's another 64th in
the jar." The rustling of life and low groan of a teen going through
what was probably the worst hangover in the other room was muffled,
but at least existed.

No, Varethos was not the kid he had expected to show up so utterly and
completely pickled. Merhaskel, definitely. Kelthiros, probably. Not
his eldest.

The door swung open, and M'thos startled _just_ a little, not enough
to try and feign nonchalance as he did. Varethos stumbled out with all
the grace of a kid whose body protested every little inconvenience and
slumped into a chair, hands gently cradling his forehead.

M'thos watched from over his klah mug. Then looked over at his
weyrmate, gesturing vaguely at the kid. _What do we do._

One of the longest and most awkward silences to have ever filled the
weyr stretched between the inhabitants. T’mhas’ eyes also followed
Varethos as he sank into his chair, then slid to M’thos with a shrug.
_Kill him?_

T’mhas wasn’t quite smirking when he wandered into the kitchen to
refill his mug, fetching another, setting the steaming klah down in
front of the blond head with a thump. The suffering was likely even
worse than it looked. Usually was. A heavy hand gently smoothed over
that flaxen hair, then clapped his shoulder a little lighter than it
normally would. “Mornin’, sunshine.” He went to stand near his
weyrmate, gaze on Varethos. “All out of apologies this mornin’? We’re
still waitin’ for one after what y’did to the bathing room sink.”

Varethos' head dipped a little under the weight of the bronzerider's
hand. The groan came out louder this time. "Nooo." He did, however,
grab the mug and slid it closer to him.

M'thos shot his weyrmate a look that plainly said _not like that_,
though he took his turn by sliding a plate with a bit of eggs and
bacon in front of the boy, and then sat in the chair next to him.
"Greasy hangover food. Hopefully enough to power through listening to
me talk about the benefits of different wing formations for the next
couple candlemarks."

Varethos slid back in his chair, staring blearily between one dad and
the other. Whatever thoughts he was supposed to be thinking in his
head just weren't happening this morning. "Wait, what did I do to the
sink?"

_What?_ Another shrug rose and fell in response to M’thos’ look, not
really knowing what the reproach was for at first. Perhaps his touch
had been coarse, rough, when the intention had been affectionate,
comforting. Obviously that hadn’t been the case.

Then T'mhas realized he was approaching this the way his own father
would - and had - and the planes of his stomach tightened over the
sudden gnawing behind them.

“Nothin’.” He said gruffly, his smile trying to shine opposite. He
could count on one hand how many times this particular child had done
something inappropriate or irresponsible. There were far worse things,
just as there were worse things to clean out of a sink than the kid’s
vomit.

“Vare, you made a smelly rainbow.” Tamerel called from behind the
bronze curtain. “It _stinks_ in there.”

“That it does. I might need some help, later, if you’re offerin’.”
T’mhas snorted at the dramatic gagging sound that answered and gave
Varethos a dismissive shake of his head. “Ain't important. What about
the rest of ya? Gonna make it?”

"I'd rather not, but I'll endure." Varethos groaned. He did take the
mug and sip at it. He looked, both pained and bewildered, as he looked
around the room. He didn't remember much about how he'd even managed
to stumble up to his parents' weyr, though he must have done it.

}: You asked me to come get you. :{ Fianwyth gently supplied. He groaned again.

M'thos looked up at T'mhas again, at a loss. He didn't prepare to have
this kind of conversation with this kid, out of all of them. Varethos
was an old man before his time. "You doing all right, bud? I don't
mean right now. We've never seen you quite like this before."

"Yeah, yeah." Varethos answered quickly. He crumbled under his
father's steady gaze. "I snuck some wine out for some friends.
I'm…probably not the only one looking awful in class today."

At the other end of the table T'mhas set down his own plate and eased
back in his chair. Skirting the boundaries of personal space, his long
legs still half bent, a flicker of attention circled the boy across
from him, even as another boy - Tamerel - appeared at his elbow eyeing
his father’s toast with the same intense focus Ghraisath stalked a fat
herdbeast.

The bronzerider caught his mate’s meaningful look that time, absently
pulling the kid onto his knee and arching a brow back - not concerned,
because this was an inevitability and in some way it was good to know
their oldest was indeed still a kid, still like the others, still
chasing experiences that always promised fun yet almost always ended
up like this: feelin’ and lookin’ like shit. But he was definitely
curious what had prompted this _now_ - this morning and that night.

He decided easing off might be better - Varethos didn't need the firm
hand just to be reached. Not like a couple of the others. Varethos was
the sweet, reasonable, responsible one who now, apparently, showed up
to confess his many sins over supper and threw up in the sink. Sat
across from them looking that same unfortunate herdbeast clamped in
bronze jaws.

“Good.” Getting plastered all by yourself was another problem
entirely, though T’mhas glanced at M’thos and wondered if Varethos had
offered or felt obligated to do that for friends.

“Dad is Vare in trouble?”

Tam chewed the crusts he’d just been forcibly fed and it almost
muffled his curse. “Just look at him. Looks like trouble, hm? Wine is
one of the worst hangovers, kid. Stick to beer when you’re older, hm?”

“Ew. Gross.” Tamerel wrinkled his nose and started in on the other
piece of toast, looking at M’thos with big blue eyes asking **is that
true?** mixed with **he sweared again!**.

T’mhas extended his free leg further. “Man, there was one time in Opal
Cove I drank some fancy red shit and got absolutely shit-faced. There
were two Fianwyths.” He held up the appropriate number of fingers.
“Made it through the whole Gather. Absolutely perfect. And then threw
up on Ghraisath right when we landed on the ledge. Remember that,
Merry?” It was an attempt at levity, at connecting, not necessarily an
invitation for the other man to remember any other incriminating
details: the torn blue tunic, the threat of punching someone, the fact
that one of them came home with only one boot. And no shirt.

M'thos grinned and casually raised three fingers at Tamerel (three
sixty-fourths in the swear jar!). "Fianwyth had to send Ghraisath the
image to get home." He added knowingly, "And Ghraisath was extra
displeased with needing a bath right after. That wasn't the first or
last time one of us stumbled back here after a Gather."

"Yeah, yeah." Varethos thought briefly about reminding them that he
had some of those vague memories himself, of his fathers partying too
hard at one occasion or the other. "I'd rather just suffer through the
aches and tell you that I learned my lesson, if that's all the same
with you. Thank you for being so calm about it, though."

M'thos glanced back at T'mhas again, looking more for encouragement
than he was for anything else. It was easy to forget that his eldest
considered himself an adult now, even if he _was_ technically almost
there. He nodded and nudged Varethos again, gently. "Finish your
breakfast. We'll head out when you're ready."

Tamerel beamed at M’thos and held up the same number of fingers. A
look up at T'mhas, whose self-satisfied grin hinted total unawareness
of the accumulating toll.

Downing another gulp of klah, T’mhas assured Vare, “Yeah, y'know, it
ain't a big deal.” The sink had technically survived. “Bound to happen
some time. Plus y’look ready to hurl again, so you kinda did our jobs
for us.” He winked at M’thos. They were some sharding good parents,
weren't they?

“And youuu,” his breath tickled the back of Tamerel's neck, those
little shoulders rising up. “You’re never gonna do all the real bad
and irresponsible things that Vare did, areya? Hm?”

“Nope!” Tamerel beamed brighter.

**Nah, kid. You're never gonna do anythin’ wrong in your life.**

}: You only think that because you haven’t seen the stickiness all
over the floor here. :{ Despite his aggrieved tone, the bronze shook
the juice off his wing with the same nonchalance as the rain.

This hadn't gone so bad.

No one had yelled or vomited, again. No one had said a whole lot of
anything, which was frankly kinda odd for around here, but nice to
know it could happen once in a while.

Reaching into his pocket and tossing two 64th pieces into Tamerel’s
waiting hands, it took planting the third for the kid to back off.

Under the table, a foot tapped (smacked) Varethos’. T’mhas raised a
thumbs up behind the shield of the five Turn old’s back. “Nah, I'll
take ya. You can't show up with a Weyrlingmaster the day after that.”

Varethos caught the thumbs up and grinned weakly back. "No no, that's
okay." He said quickly. "I don't need both dads escorting me back to
the barracks, thank you." He knew he'd get even worse shit than he'd
get arriving with just M'thos. "I'm ready Dad, let's get this over
with."

Last updated on the May 24th 2024

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Half Seas Over