Songfic for [livejournal.com profile] humanmapquest: "Whenever, Wherever" by Shakira

Mar. 25th, 2010 04:44 pm
deep_red_bells: ([Expressive] Being a goof)
[personal profile] deep_red_bells
for [livejournal.com profile] humanmapquest who requested Baileigh embarrassing pre-teen Irina with bad music.

“Moooo-ooom! Aunt Mollywoggy, make her stop!!”

Baileigh heard Molly’s continued, raucous laughing over the sound of the mocking yodeling sounds she and Phoebe were making as they danced around the kitchen to an ancient Shakira song. She stooped down to scoop Irina off of her feet, making her adorably indignant little twelve year old screech and kick in protest at being slung over her supernaturally strong mother’s shoulder. “DAD!! DADDY!! MAKE MUM STOP, SHE‘S BEING LAME AGAIN!”

“A lesson you will soon learn, my young one, is that mummys have every right to be lame and mortify their wee ones,” Baileigh quipped, slinging her around and spinning around on socked feet. “Mummys, and aunties, and even dads. Wait til you bring a boy home.”

“Boys are stupid,” Irina huffed, folding her arms and glaring, the pout she was fighting to maintain quivering.

“There you go, keep that outlook. Til you’re at least thirty.”

“Yeah, keep dreaming, Beefrog,” Molly giggled. “That won’t happen.”

“I can hope.” Baileigh sighed and set Irina down on her feet as Molly and Phoebe engaged in an impromptu tango across the kitchen. “You’re so serious, Beanie-baby.”

Irina gave her a look so very reminiscent of her father, that looked so very out of place on her sweet little face, that Baileigh struggled not to laugh. “I’m too old for that stupid nickname.”

She was fairly sure Irina would be stuck with that nickname way past the age of thirty, but she didn’t mention it. “All right. You’re so serious, Miss Irina Nicole. My point is, I won’t have you this size forever. And I have to have all the fun with you that I can, because one day, you really will be all grown up. And I’ll have to stop. I’m being silly while I can.”

“Mom…” Big blue eyes, the shape of Baileigh’s, the color of Julian’s, rolled dramatically before she flung her arms around her mother’s neck. “You can be silly.” She paused, pulled back, and made another Sark-face. “But that’s a really ugly song.”

Baileigh grinned and planted a noisy kiss on her forehead. “If it was a good song it wouldn’t be that fun--okay, okay!” She laughed as the Sark-face became a Sark-scowl. “No more Shakira. I promise.”

“Thanks, mom.”

“For today.”

“…Mom!”
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Baileigh Solis

December 2010

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