I'd Be Better Off
It was a sunny day, a few puffy clouds rolling by in glee as the wind struck up a cord and demanded all who heard dance to its whimsical tune. It was as though a god from a long dead civilization had a very good night last night and awoke in a very good mood. Everything was just perfect. and because it was such a wonderful perfect day of course there would be people outside, playing in the park with kids and pets and friends. Parents dragging their children away from their videogames by their bruised thumbs to sit out and enjoy some fresh air, insisting that it was good for them.
There was a crowd hanging around one particular spot of the park where several high school teenagers had decided to get together and form a game of British bulldog. Resulting in fun for everyone, even the passing spectators as they watched is amusement as a variety of students tried to avoid being caught by each other.
Dash watched from his spot in the grass as teens tried to get back to base only to be practically tackled by their peers. Jocks were being caught by geeks who were caught by other jocks and so on and so forth. It was almost funny; this was perhaps one of the only games where weak members of the pack in the last round became the predators in the next.
He had arrived just a few minutes ago but there was no point in him joining in. The game was on its last legs, the majority of the players having been tagged and now played as bulldogs. He had solemnly sat down on the grass to watch it all finish so he could join. He hated being left out of violent games like this. His spirits lifted just slightly though, when he noticed who was among the survivors.
Figures he'd last to the end. Dash sat back more comfortably and tried to keep the teen in sight. Fenton was good at avoiding people; years spent being chased by jocks no doubt, and when the last few players charged out into the onslaught of opponents, determined to get through the game even though they knew it was hopeless, the small teen easily slipped through grasping hands to make it to the one end of the designated area and pivoted to head back.
There were others behind him and in front if him, he wasn't the only one to reach the end and turn back, but Dash only saw him as he neared home base. It looked like something out of a zombie movie, not the shambling legions of the undead devouring human flesh part, but a mass of teens charging against a small group in an attempt to wipe them out.
In the very end, when Danny had been but a few short leaps from victory, he was roughly grabbed from behind.
Kwan had caught him.
The two didn't stop though, they had been running top speed so they couldn't just suddenly stop, instead they tumbled over, both sliding into the safe zone with Kwan's arms wrapped around Danny, dirt and grass and cheers and laughter. another teen sliding into home behind them, apparently the only one left safe.
Kwan let go of the smaller teen, a huge grin on his face as he rolled onto his back and stared up, breathless, at Sam who stood with her hands on her hips and a smirk on her lips.
She was the last one left it seemed, as Danny was so obviously tagged out, as proclaimed by the body he was still pressed up against and the one arm still wrapped around his waist.
Danny moaned in embarrassment and hid himself in the jock's shoulder mumbling, "Why'd you have to go and do that?"
"Because you were winning," Kwan choked out between gasps of laughter.
"No he wasn't I was." Sam said.
"You were behind me."
"Details, details." She said with a roll of her hand. "I won now." She flashed a grin at the cheering girls who, though they didn't like her, were overjoyed that she won. Feminism at its best.
"She didn't get tagged yet." Kwan said with a grin as he stood up, helping Danny. "Should we make her run through it again, test her victory?"
Sam looked out at the twenty something students who were now her opponents and cringed. "I'd rather not."
"Make her the first to run next round." Danny said, dusting himself off before the other kids got close enough to see how absolutely pwned he had just been.
"Yeah, I can live with that." She said and turned to face the other players who were milling around laughing and checking their cloths for rips and stains.
Kwan raised his hand and made a gesture that said come here, and those that saw it walked towards him.
An old one with me, just dug up from a floppy disk. Back when I was a Tucker/Dash fan (no, you're not supposed to remember. If you do, you suck. :p) Danny/Kwan was a big thing with me. So yes, this very short fic (maybe three chapters long depending on how much I revise.) is a Danny/Kwan with a bit of emo Dash in here because poor Dash crushed on Danny so long, but never made his move.
Title and some of the plot inspired by the wonderful song "I'd be better off (in a pine box)" by Doug Stone.
British Bulldog (or any of the other names its called by around the world) is a totally awesome violent game, kind of like football but better and lots more fun. Growing up we used belts with a flag on them and the bulldog had to take our flag off our belt (which was exceedingly simple as it sometimes fell off the clip when you were running.) but I've always loved the tackle or even tag version. Of course when you pick me up and throw me, or start dragging me I'm gonna pitch a fit.
For some people you might now it as American Eagle, if you do you suck. It's British Bulldog, and if you feel the need to patriotize everything you get from another country, you are a sad sad little person. (Same applies to those who call it French; I have no problem with "Tag Bullrush" but leave the "French" part out m'kay?)
Now if you know it by some other name, that doesn't have your own country's name inserted shamefully of a game that's clearly not yours, your fine.
I also enjoy a game of Sharks and Minnows (water version) which is far more difficult and frustrating. Oh the fun!