A/N—I don't own Children of the Lamp. It belongs to P.B. Kerr.
This story is a friendship story, written about Rudyard and Dybbuk, for Blackdalia666. It's my first request, so please be gentle with me. I'm not used to writing requested fics, though I would love to do more. If you have a request, please contact me. There's a list of fandoms I write for on my profile.
Please read and review!
Had it been anyone else, Rudyard would have been jealous.
Never, in all his years, had he received such love and affection from his father. No matter what he had done, no matter how hard he had tried. And here was Dybbuk, a miracle among djinn, if his father's attitude was anything to go by.
Had it been anyone—anyone—else, Rudyard would have been jealous. But he wasn't, though he knew he ought to, though he knew that he had every right in the world to be jealous. But he wasn't. He couldn't be.
Dybbuk was everything Rudyard wanted to be. He was cool. He had attitude, and managed not to get in trouble for it. He was a trouble maker. He was...he was Dybbuk, and for Rudyard, that meant everything.
The boy was a misfit. Rudyard Teer was absolutely hopeless—more so than John Gaunt, which was saying something. Because in Dybbuk's opinion, John Gaunt, up till now at least, had been the most awkward, out of place kid that Dybbuk had ever seen.
Yet he couldn't bring himself to dislike Rudyard. Acutally, he really enjoyed the kid's company. He was everything Buck had ever looked for in a fan: adoring, like a puppy that hasn't yet learned not to wet itself every time you walk in the door. Rudyard followed him around, wide-eyed, and whenever Buck did a magic trick, he would ooh and aah like a fangirl. It would have been irritating, except that Rudyard was so sincere. He honestly thought that Buck was the coolest thing to ever walk the earth, which, of course, made everything alright.
"Hey, Dybbuk, do you mind if I sit by you?" Rudyard hated how he sounded like an unpopular kid asking for a seat at the cafeteria table, but he couldn't help it.
"Yeah, if you do one thing for me," Dybbuk said, and then he sighed, with a sound like an instrument—a bassoon, his dad called it. "Call me Buck. 'K? I hate the name Dybbuk."
"So I can sit by you?"
Buck grinned. "Why not? Hey, do you like video games?"
Rudyard nodded, plopping down next to Buck. "I love them! Especially the first person ones."
Buck high-fived him. "Totally! Anything else is lame."
"I think so too."
With a swiftness that Rudyard found amazing, Buck suddenly asked, "Why don't you try some magic, Rudyard? You can't be terrible at it."
"My dad wouldn't care," Rudyard said sadly. " He doesn't care what I do."
"My dad doesn't either," Buck said. "Either of them. My fake dad thinks I'm a boor, and my real dad probably doesn't even know my name, most likely."
"Wow. Sounds like both of us sort of bummed out."
Buck nodded. "Yeah. That's why kids like us have to stick together." He smiled at Rudyard. "So why don't I teach you how to do some tricks, and we'll do a double show tonight?"
Iblis heard every word.
And for just an instant, he wished that he'd been a better father. To both of them. He had ignored his boys, leaving them to fend on their own while he busied himself with destroying the homeostatis.
Just for an instant, he wished that he had the courage to go and to tell them that they were both his sons, his boys.
Just for an instant, he wished he wasn't Iblis, but just a father.
And then all that mattered was defeating Nimrod. Who cared if a couple kids were a little lonely? The way it looked, they had each other, which was more than they'd had before.
Here you go Blackdalia666! I hope you enjoy!