Bounds Of Love (BWWM) #Wattys2018

Chapter 7

"Thank the Moon I didn't bond with you for your singing." Mum jokes, poking Dad's abdominal muscles.

"I could say the same thing about your cooking." He replies.

Ouch. I glance at Mum. She has her mouth hanging open in disbelief, light brown eyes tinged with a mixture of anger and disbelief. I almost feel sorry for her; she's never been a good cook no matter how hard she's tried and it's become a bit of a sore spot for her. But...

I reach into the front, letting Dad give me a quick high-five. "Ohhhh, did you hear that Mum? What a burn!"

My dad mostly ignores my attempt to keep up with the trending phrases, letting me have my moment of banter. This is my goodbye drive after all - I want to have as much fun as possible with them whilst I can. Even if that is at their expense sometimes. In fact, Dad seems more than happy to use my comment to kindle the fire.

Looking fleetingly between me and Mum, Dad nods his head in false sadness. "Now she knows how the food feels."

Every fibre of my body freezes, shuts down and recalibrates... A joke... He made a joke. I snort. As I do so, I can practically see Dad's ego expand inch by inch. As much as I love him, his humour is generally as stale as a cracker (a side effect of playing the serious Beta no doubt) so getting anyone to laugh is an achievement worthy of a Grammy for him. He licks his lips.

"Stop. I'm not that bad." Mum defends before he can start to verbally attack her with his newfound wit. She raises her hand and puffs up her hair as she says it like a peacock opening its feathers at the sign of a rival.

But Dad is on a roll, "You use the smoke alarm as a timer."

Mum rolls her eyes, kissing her teeth in the process. "Haha." She says dryly.

I go to laugh again, until I notice flecks the colour of amber appearing in Mum's eyes. Oh, crap. Discreetly, I swipe my hand side to side across my neck in attempt to warn Dad to stop.

"I'm kidding. I wouldn't say your cooking was too bad. But let's note that loving the Moon isn't the only reason we pray after we eat."

Translation: poison is safer to digest than your food. Mum seems to have translated the same, because she twists to face Dad head on. In a fight between the towering, muscular Beta male and the petite Beta female I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Mum can and will annihilate. Dad's whole body tenses at her stare. I think I see sweat drip from his hairline, but to protect his credibility decide to put it down to the heat of the car.

Oh Moon, now he's done it.

Smoke is rising from Mums ears. Her eyes are giving some intense glares which are only made more terrifying by the ember colour flowing through them like molten lava. But the worst thing is her telltale sign of anger - the flaring nostrils. They expand noticeably with each puff. Her nostrils look like a small train could chug through them she's inhaling air so fiercely.

"I won't hesitate to put your arse on the sofa tonight, Clayton." Mum huffs. A little of her Beta female voice leaks through, though it has no actual effect on Dad other than to show him he's in the dog house. "Don't test me."

I almost wince at the deadly words. A dare. A threat. A warning. But I hold it in because I'm strong enough not to be too affected by possibly murderous, short-tempered mothers... And because she's not mad at me of course. Dad on the other hand...

It's kind if interesting watching Mum's wrath from the sidelines. Like watching the nature channel and happening across a lion making the final pounce to take down a gazelle. Horrifying, but riveting all the same. I'm almost tempted to suggest Dad continues to antagonise her. I want to prod him to continue, get a box of popcorn, a huge foam finger, and proceed to watch Mum rage like a gladiator from a front row view.

But Dad's apparently done being my entertainment, because he immediately shuts up and flattens his face into one smooth expression. "Of course not, my love. You know I was just joking. I love your food."

He's full of crap. He hates Mum's food and has since the moment they met. He just happens to hate the couch more. Marginally.

I lift my arm, twirl my wrist and strike downwards. "Whipped."

Mum turns to me with her frosty yet heated stare - how does she do that? - and I shrivel in my seat. "I mean, ummm... can we turn the music up please? I think I heard a really good song."

I almost feel ashamed. One look from Mum and I go from outspoken and assertive to a meek four year old trying to avoid a time out. My wolf let's loose a chortle that sounds akin to high pitched panting, sending forth images of me and my dad squished in a small outdoor kennel whilst my mum watches from the warmth of inside. I start to squirm at the unsettling imagery.

Does my wolf hate me or something? Who's side is she on?

The winning side. I stop my mind from wandering too far into my possible punishments by deciding to appease the beast that birthed me. Dad's not the only one full of crap.

"Actually Mum, that reminds me," I get prepared to lie through my teeth, "I loved the leaving meal you made me last week. I've been wondering if I could borrow some recipes to use this year."

Dad holds in a snort, but Mum's face immediately breaks into a smile. She bought it and will no doubt give me a million recipes for different types of modern-day gruel. Mission accomplished.

Beaming, she talks. "Of course. When you come down for the holidays I'll make sure to make you some meals to take back too."

She's... Going to cook? For me? Extendedly?

Moon, what have I done.

***

A/N

You know that awkward moment when you forget to update on the ONE day you said you would... Yeah. Whoops. So, here it is over three hours late. But luckily, still on Wednesday.

As such I have not edited this chapter or chapter six and they're unfortunately probably not to the best standard. Don't hate me! *hides under teddy*

If you see any typo's, tense changes or other mess-ups don't hesitate to tell me.

Likes? Dislikes? Suggestions?