[fic] MK: Daddy's Girl
Dec. 27th, 2003 05:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ickaimpBecause Dad's and Granpa's old shirts are the best.
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There was just something about Daddy's old shirts, Aoko mused as she lounged on the couch in one of her father's old shirts and a pair of socks.
It never mattered how much she grew, or how old she got, Dad was always bigger. The shirts, which had once dragged on the ground when she was little and wore them as night shirts, were still large enough to swallow her up, even if they only came a bit above her knee now.
It was like wearing a big warm hug. Daddy's old shirts were worn, and comfortable and best of all, no matter how many washings they went through, they always felt like Dad. Like they had been worn so much a part of him had been left in it, a part that always made her feel warm and safe.
And it was the perfect thing to wear when no one was home, no one was planned to come over and she could just relax with a carton of chocolate-chocolate chip ice cream, something that Kaito had gotten her addicted to, and cheer on her favourite sports team.
For that was something else that she had picked up from Dad, sports. And mysteries. It was one of those guilty pleasures, her small stack of modern mystery novels and the occasional mystery series on TV. But no police dramas. It was annoying to be constantly spotting the mistakes in them.
But Sports was one of those things that she had picked up over the years. It was a choice of either liking it or hating it, and after so many years of Dad cheering his teams on, she had picked up enough of the game to enjoy it as well, and have her own favourite teams.
Which occasionally resulted in heated debates between the two of them, as they both thought each other teams stunk, but it was all in good fun. A bit of Father/Daughter bonding outside of meals.
Aoko smiled to herself. She was unquestionably a Daddy's girl. Her father probably hadn't meant to raise her like a boy, and while she did miss her mother and the occasional female bonding that some of her classmates had, she wouldn't trade it for the world.
She'd gotten so much from her father too, and in many ways, they were so very alike. She'd definitely gotten her sense of justice from him, her analytical brain, some of her fighting skills and her interest in weaponry.
A noise outside a window made her look up, spotting Kaito peering in, looking at her lounging around in the long shirt with wide eyes.
She blinked.
He blinked.
With a roar and the muffled thump as the ice cream container was slammed down on the table, she stood up and began to shout at him, causing him to back-pedal into the bushes while she tried not to turn red at the intrusion.
... She'd also gain her temper and a bit of vocabulary from her Father as well...
-fin-
+++
There was just something about Daddy's old shirts, Aoko mused as she lounged on the couch in one of her father's old shirts and a pair of socks.
It never mattered how much she grew, or how old she got, Dad was always bigger. The shirts, which had once dragged on the ground when she was little and wore them as night shirts, were still large enough to swallow her up, even if they only came a bit above her knee now.
It was like wearing a big warm hug. Daddy's old shirts were worn, and comfortable and best of all, no matter how many washings they went through, they always felt like Dad. Like they had been worn so much a part of him had been left in it, a part that always made her feel warm and safe.
And it was the perfect thing to wear when no one was home, no one was planned to come over and she could just relax with a carton of chocolate-chocolate chip ice cream, something that Kaito had gotten her addicted to, and cheer on her favourite sports team.
For that was something else that she had picked up from Dad, sports. And mysteries. It was one of those guilty pleasures, her small stack of modern mystery novels and the occasional mystery series on TV. But no police dramas. It was annoying to be constantly spotting the mistakes in them.
But Sports was one of those things that she had picked up over the years. It was a choice of either liking it or hating it, and after so many years of Dad cheering his teams on, she had picked up enough of the game to enjoy it as well, and have her own favourite teams.
Which occasionally resulted in heated debates between the two of them, as they both thought each other teams stunk, but it was all in good fun. A bit of Father/Daughter bonding outside of meals.
Aoko smiled to herself. She was unquestionably a Daddy's girl. Her father probably hadn't meant to raise her like a boy, and while she did miss her mother and the occasional female bonding that some of her classmates had, she wouldn't trade it for the world.
She'd gotten so much from her father too, and in many ways, they were so very alike. She'd definitely gotten her sense of justice from him, her analytical brain, some of her fighting skills and her interest in weaponry.
A noise outside a window made her look up, spotting Kaito peering in, looking at her lounging around in the long shirt with wide eyes.
She blinked.
He blinked.
With a roar and the muffled thump as the ice cream container was slammed down on the table, she stood up and began to shout at him, causing him to back-pedal into the bushes while she tried not to turn red at the intrusion.
... She'd also gain her temper and a bit of vocabulary from her Father as well...
-fin-
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no subject
Date: 2003-12-28 11:49 am (UTC)Tho I've a sneaky feeling the image of Kaito staring in at Aoko wearing a long shirt that reaches just above her knees is going to find it's way onto paper... Hopefully. :p
Happy New Year!