winryweiss: (Default)
Fill for the prompt Dear father. And partially for Child abuse promt as well.
You know those fic you keep rewriting 'cause something feels ... odd? Yes. This. After like four versions in my mind and two written down I recreated it completely. So, it might feel slightly deus-ex-machina-ish but I am satisfied.
part one part two
Warnings : Friendship & Fluff.
Tintin’s POV

Not in Blood, but in Bond – part 3/3

I am always polite. Not just because I want to be treated with respect. I learnt that it is the easiest way how to communicate with people. And it is my decision, not to be like those who had to raise me.
But I can be a pretty uncooperative spoiled brat, when I want.
And right now, I feel like it.
So, the score is:
Broken leg, bruises, scratches, overall batter, gag (from Jerzy’s own silk tie) and state near unconsciousness on my side.
On theirs, well … knocked out teeth (more than ten), bruises, scratches, bite marks and one nearly bitten off pinkie, kicked ribs (some of them definitely broke), smashed pride. Aaand, I disheveled Jerzy. I’m proud of myself.
But nevertheless, they dragged me to main storage room.
“You little skurwysyn.” Jerzy is pale with anger. That is great, I managed to break his self-control. He will make a mistake.
I could hear the racket outside. It is still far away, but Thompson and Thomson must have called a lot of reinforcements. Jerzy sent his men away, giving them orders in their native language I’m not so fluent in. We were left alone.
“So, panie Tintin.” Jerzy pulls out his pistol. “What about we play a Russian roulette?”
“You are a Polish.”
“Then I shot you right between eyes.” He aims the gun at me.
Jerzy’s eyes widen with surprise, but he jerks me up, holding me as a shield. I cry out, because my broken leg protests.
“DON’T!” Jerzy shoves his pistol under my chin. “Proszę. Stay where you are. You don’t want anything happen to him, right?”
I’m barely standing, I must lean on that horrible man.
Captain locks his eyes with mine. “Yer fine?”
“So so.”
“Wołochowski has been arrested.” Captain cast his look behind me and then again looks firmly into my eyes.
“Bad for him. But he already did pay me.” Jerzy aims at him, the finger on trigger shivering.
“Bad for ya.” Dad looks at Jerzy for the first time. “Ya ain’t gonna finish this job. Let him go.”
Jerzy laughs. “You are ordering me? Without a gun?”
“Let him.”
“Chch. No.”
“Get him!”
Snowy barks, appearing from behind us and diving his teeth to Jerzy’s leg. Named one yelps, loosening his grip on me and I force my elbow to his stomach. He huffs, fires his gun blindly when I strike him down with my left hook, balancing on my unbroken leg.
I grin satisfied and turn to face dad … Captain. But that movement skew my balance and I fall down. Right into his waiting arms.
“That totterin’ troglodyte!" Dad hugs me tightly. "He fired! He really fired.”
“Does it hit you?" I hug him back, desiring the safety of his embrace. "Please, please, say you aren't injured.”
“I'm fine. Yer the one who need hospital.”
“Sure. But are you …?”
“Boy, my boy, my little Angel," he kisses my forehead, rocking me gently, "never, never again, make me so worried.”

Thompson and Thomson were fussing about me. I congratulated them for perfectly carried out action. Doctors in the hospital were fussing about me. But there was nothing to complain about, it is their job. Nestor was fussing about me. I asked for dinner. And I got a feast. Professor was fussing about me. I questioned him about his newest inventions. Snowy rescued me after hour. And Captain … Well, dad will be always fussing about me.
He is sleeping in an armchair close to my bed with Snowy snuggled on his lap. But I do not want to sleep. I’m just lying in the dark, listening to his calm breathing.
I would have never guessed, that he will mean so much for me. That he will be like father for me. That he will love me more than my own parents.
“Dad.” I whisper.
“Ya know, boy,” he says sleepily, “this is third time ya called me like that.”
“I … You … I thought … You weren’t sleeping?” I stammer, sensing the blush taking over my face.
“To miss you call me ‘dad’ again? No way.”
“You don’t mind?” I squeak, disgusted by how weak I must sound.
“It makes me happy.”
“Dad,” I whisper. “Daddy …” I stretch my hands toward him, sensing myself falling apart.
He carries Snowy to my bed and embraces me securely within heartbeat. “I’m here.”
He will catch me when I fall.
He will cover my back anytime.
He is my father, not in blood, but in bond.
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