“To marry Dimitra? I...think you’re a bit too you for marriage, son.” Mityr tried to laugh it off, though the little boy seem hauntingly serious. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
“How do you know you’ll love her that long? Marriage means loving someone forever and ever.” Mityr explained. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
But you’re four... Mityr forced a little chuckle and shrugged.
“I guess if you remember to love her and cherish her, sure. You can have my blessing when you grow up.” He said. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Dimitra Nikitin has always been regarded as the princess of Hoppy Days Preschool and perhaps this was a testament to all the grooming her parents did. What with her mother being a former mob queen and her father the face of an affluent modeling company, it was no wonder that she confidently flourished on the busy playground. She made friends easily as most of the boys found her brave and all the girls thought she was pretty. And while she was always eager to play with her friends, as the day winded down and kids were beginning to be picked up by parents, Dimitra giddily bounced by her cubby, shoes and coat already on, as she waited for Uncle Ace and Dewey to come for her.
Her mother had more or less left the mob business to her elder siblings, but that didn’t mean she still wasn’t a busy woman, the same for her father. It wasn’t too often, but sometimes they asked Ace to pick Dimitra up and watch her until they got home. Mityr had told Dimitra that he and Riley had errands to run in the afternoon and they’d pick her up and take her out to dinner wherever she pleased, but she didn’t care about that. She was just excited to play with Dewey and have Uncle Ace take out the dreadfully right braids Mityr had pinned up for her. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
At the age of six, Dewey had changed some too. He went to a different school, he wasn’t particularly well liked. Mostly because of his name followed by his attitude. Ace offered to have his surname changed but Dewey refused. His hair was still fluffy in style and texture, a sandy blond. His as wasn’t nearly as round, shedding some of that baby fat from previous years. Him and Ace got along well enough, Ace was perceived as a chummy boss or partner and Ace was okay with that as long as his son was comfortable. Dewey being well aware of his Dads job, often fancied himself a bodyguard too; decidedly the personal bodyguard of his ‘fiance’ Dimitra who he very much regarded as an actual princess.
He was always excited to see her, nice and gentlemanly though a little bashful at first still. As the car pulled up for Dimitra, Dewey bounded our vefore it stopped. His cheeks were pink as he pulled a couple poppies from behind his back, no doubt pulled from someone’s yard.
“Good afternoon, Dimitra!” He greeted as he presented the flowers to her, thrusting then our in front of her.
“Dewey! Flowers! Hello!” Dimitra beamed, eyes lit up as she reached out for the flowers. “I like them!” _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
”They’re almost as pretty as you!” Dewey exclaimed sheepishly before offering his arm to her. “May I carry your bag?” He asked as he guided them to the car.
“I can carry it! I have a present inside for you and don’t want you to peek!” Dimitra chirped, though she did take Dewey’s arm. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
Ever since Dewey came to Ace, he had been...A somewhat bad kid. A real handful with no regard for authority or rules, or just what was normal and expected for a child. Although he was a remarkable shot for just being a child. As years passed little changed, he was still a mouthy punk, still baby faced and still totally head over heels with little Dimitra. He was a completely different kid around her, he perked up and straightened out. But it was hard to be a brat when he was waiting on his fiance’s every whim.
So with those constants in mind, Dewey was in detention (of course) for talking back. But he wasn’t worried about it, he would be seeing Dimitra afterwards. With his long legs propped on his desk, he stared out the open window. It was pretty overcast, he hoped Dimitra was wearing a jacket. He looked more or less the same, he hit a growth spurt; he was an actual string bean now. His hair was kind of long, big and fluffy, he didn’t know portion control with his shampoo. Even though he had been hit with the puberty stick in the height department, his face bore no stubble or signs of. Lashes still long and curly, skin clear and fair. He was... a little bit pretty.
Dimitra had just finished up with her after school orchestra practice and was waiting on the steps of school for Dewey to come and get her so they could walk home together as they usually did. It was a bit strange for him not to be there already, after all, he usually sat in on practice (as was permitted with some hassling from Riley and Adrik's people respectively) and even helped pack up the room with everyone once all was said and done. Dimitra tried not to worry too much about it, always trusting that Dewey was going to do right by her as he hadn't done otherwise yet.
Dimitra had grown up quite a bit herself, much like Dewey. She didn't get the same height all of her siblings had, in fact, she was on the shorter side. While her sisters and even mother were lacking in the curves department, it was looking more and more that she was not. Her hair had grown out, long and curled like her mother's, but a ridiculous red like her father's. She hadn't cut it yet so it was often pinned up in high, intricate styles to keep it out of her face. Just as Dewey had grown up pretty, so did she. _________________ Butts n' butts n' butts n' butts.
It wasn’t too much longer before the bad kids were released and spilled out the side exit of the building as it was closest to the detention room. Dewey lagged behind, he paused at his locker, he had treats for his beloved of course (a book she had been wanting and some sweets). He jogged out and almost skipped down the alley and round the front of the building to meet Dimitra but paused. He skid to a haul to upon seeing some commotion under the stairs.
He watched cautiously until he heard a whimper. Dropping his treats he rushed over.
“Hey! What’s going on?” He exclaimed as he dropped behind the stairs. He was surprised but unafraid when he saw four boys huddled around a girl. She looked petrified, frozen with fear as her tears eyes locked with Dewey’s.
“Not your business!”
“Move along!”
The boys yelled. Trying to scare off Dewey who didn’t flinch. He quickly moved to put himself right in the middle of them, the other boys seemed confused at first, just until Dewey wedged the girl out. Fighting and scuffles were normal but Dewey had never seen a frightened girl in the center of it.
“Go! Go on, run!” Dewey yelled.
The girl hesitated only a second, still frightened before bolting away.
“I said, this had nothing to do with you!” One boy exclaimed, shoving Dewey into another. It seemed to escalate quickly, from shoving to punching, to choking to kicking until they wrestled Dewey to the ground.
It had finally started to rain, because of course it would. Dewey was better with a weapon and given his stringy state, he didn’t have much going for him. He managed to get back on his feet but one guy was blocking his way from under the stairs. Dewey staggered, panting as he struggled to stabilize while figuring out what to do. In all his infinite wisdom, he flung himself at the boy, wrapping around his neck and under his arm. Some kind of choke Ace tried to show him once upon a time ago. The choke was feeling less effective but he was clinging on tight nonetheless.
The other boys tried to pull him off, grabbing at arms, his waist, even his face before yanking him off and discarding him back to the ground before continuing to wail on him. Eventually there was a crack of thunder which caught the other boys attention.
“Come on, let’s go, go!” One yelled, the troupe spilling out the alley and rushing through traffic.
Dewey was a mess, which was an understatement. He was bloody and unrecognizable, his left eye gone; maybe still stuck on one of the rival boys finger. Ever his dirty blond hair was stained red; wet and clumpy as it clung to his face. He let out some ragged breathes, he couldn’t find the energy to get up. Maybe he just needed to rest a little bit, but Dimitra was waiting..
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