# Dealing With Family

Title: Dealing With Family
Status: Complete
Characters: Anon, Fang, Naser, Samantha, Ripley
Rating: SFW
Classification: One Shot
Author: Anonymous
​
>be Fang
>come home from school
>can't bring human boyfriend over because he's still afraid of your dad
>'Did he really kill all those animals with his bare hands?'
>technically, he used his claws, but that's nitpicking
>the white lie that Ripley was just trying to scare him and used a gun didn't make Anon any less afraid
>you try to sneak past the kitchen without being seen by your mom
>"Lucy dear, do you have a moment?"
>objective failed
>"Actually, I have a ton of homework to do, so..."
>"It will only take a second."
>you spend the next hour helping your mom find recipes on her phone
>could have used your laptop to get the actual recipe and skip the autobiography that every recipe seems to have
>you're gonna have to print them out later anyway
>but mom likes the stories that are somehow even more boring than what Mr. Tsuki makes you read in English class
>and the ads
>so many ads
>"Oh, but the people worked so hard making those ads. The least I could do is look at them."
>your back is starting to ache from slightly hunched over so mom can see the phone's screen
>it's supposed to be mother/daughter bonding
>to be fair, some of the stuff does look delicious
>if only mom didn't constantly ask when you're going to marry Anon and give her grandkids
>it's like she enjoys making you feel embarrassed
>a few dozen bookmarks later, your mom is finally satisfied
>for now
>"You can stop by and watch me cook after you've finished with your schoolwork, dear. After all, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."
>for a moment, you imagine a scenario where Anon compliments your cooking
>you groan and rush up the stairs before you die from embarrassment
>you barely make it to the top of the flight of stairs before a booming voice addresses you
"Lucy! In my study! Now!"
>you roll your eyes and go to the room's threshold
>"Dad! I told you a thousand times I'm-"
>"Don't give me no lip, missy. Now, come over here and help me with this."
>accepting you lost this battle, you drop your bag and make your way towards the study rooms desk
>the computer screen is cluttered with screens from a dozen different programs, making it impossible to discern from a glance what the old man is trying to achieve
>ten minutes later, your dad finally managed to explain what he wanted to do
>you attach the file to the email
>you'd think dad would make you sign some sort of NDA from all the sensitive cop documents you've seen
>"The kind of affinity you kids have with technology is incredible."
>distracted by the rare compliment from your dad you don't even notice that he sat you in front of the computer and is already leaving the room
>"Thanks, pumpkin."
>of course, the monthly 'fix dad's computer' chore
>how could you forget
>once again, you regret bragging about installing Linux on your laptop
>you remove the adware, hundreds of browser extensions, a snootcoin miner, and clear the browser history
>you do the last part with your eyes closed
>not to show off, but rather to avoid getting another mental scar
>at least the old man also bought soundproofing for their bedroom
>you shudder once again before leaving dads study
>you only get to Naser's room before you are intercepted by its occupant
>"Fang, please! I need your help!"
>"It's gonna have to wait fucked wing retard. I have things to do."
>he gives you the most pleading look he can muster
>you try to resist, but remember all the times you've been unnecessarily mean to him
>"Ugh, Fine. It better be good."
>you follow him into his room
>Naser starts and stops himself several times, unable to spit out whatever it is he wants
>your annoyance meter is already dangerously full
>"You have five seconds to spit it out, dipshit."
>"I need your credit card."
>"Why the fuck do you need my credit card?"
>"Promise you won't laugh?"
>you pretend to consider for a moment
>"No."
>desperation beats out the fear of being mocked
>"I need to buy something in a video game."
>"You're going to have to be more specific if you want me to even consider it."
>Naser boots up the console
>the title 'Rock Ring: Very Many' lingers for what feels is way too long before the game finishes loading
>he navigates through some menus, stopping when he gets to a tab labeled 'cosmetics'
>you don't know whether to mock him or be extremely disappointed
>"This is what you want my credit card for? To dress up your video game dude in a pretty skirt?"
>"It's not a skirt. It's mammoth armor and-"
>"And why is it pink? Are you trying to make it match that thing you keep hidden in your closet?"
>you didn't know he could get so red in the face
>"I-it's not pink. It's light red."
>"Sure it is... You know, if you're that into dressing up dolls, I'm sure mom saved my old toys. It would be cheaper, and there's enough to share with your friends."
>"Please, Fang, all the other guys are getting it. You can't have me being the squad's poorfag."
>satisfied with how much you've embarrassed your brother in a few short minutes, you relent
>"Fine, but you owe me several favors. Big favors, got it?"
>Naser eagerly nods, too happy to realize he's gonna have to cover for you several times when you inevitably decide to sneak out
>you enter your info and buy the stupid cosmetic, unable to comprehend why anyone would pay money for this
>"There, happy?"
>"You have no idea, thanks si-"
>you raize an eyebrow, letting Naser know he better chooses his next word carefully
>"-bbbbbbbb-"
>you frown and raise a fist
>"-ssssssss-"
>you punch him in the shoulder
>"Aw, come on! What did you want?"
>"To punch you."
>you flip him off as you exit the room and finally make it to your room
>exhausted from school and dealing with your family, you toss yourself onto your bed
>a few minutes later, you've pulled out your phone and are texting Anon
>'you want to do something tomorrow dweeb?'
>only a minute passes before he replies, guess he's bored too
>'sure i just don't have any cash atm'
>'you spent it all on dresses for that game didn't you?'
>the notification that Anon is typing lasts for several minutes
>you zone out, and your phone slips out of your hands, smacking you right in the face
>a reply finally comes
>'i did you're not mad right?'
>'you can make it up to me by coming over for dinner'
>again with the long Anon is typing notification
>'but your dad'
>'don't be a wuss besides you can probably outrun him'
>'fine can i have meatloaf for my last meal before he sends me to an early grave?'
>'sure'
>with the matter settled, you make your way downstairs to tell mom what to make for dinner tomorrow
>and to ensure she reigns in dad
>maybe you'll even take her up on the offer of helping her make the thing