Sweaty Celebrations (Rana family)

[Tarak Rana]

(this is totally set on the 4th)

Tarak wasn't altogether fond of the heat that had replaced the rain and clouds from earlier in the week. He had promised Michael that they would go to the lake for the Fourth, and so of course they had all trundled over there, ball in tow.

And bottles of water in tow. He had no intention of anyone in his family having a heatstroke; particularly not given how far along Yizel was.

He had found a relatively shady spot under an oak tree and the Rana family had set up there.

"If you feel like you're getting too hot we'll leave," He had promised Yizel before Michael had dragged him out to the grassy lawn to kick around their soccer ball.

Only ten minutes in and he was drenched in sweat; he could feel there was a giant sweat stain on the back of his t-shirt, and sweat ran down his face in rivulets. He pushed sweat-soaked hair out of his face, panting heavily.

"Sorry, Mike, your dad needs a water break."

[Michael Rana]

Michael wasn’t exactly fond of heat either. But some things trumped getting a little hot and sweaty. And playing soccer with his dad was the top on that list. Besides it was the Fourth of July and it would be a sin to miss the fireworks show. He had only reminded his father about it once or twice…or everyday since he’d seen the flyer about it.

His face was getting red from the heat and his bangs were stuck to his forehead with sweat. Still when his dad voiced the need to take a break, Michael wasn’t quite as willing. “Awh…okay dad,” he said, following his father towards the shady spot where his mother was sitting. “But just a little break, okay? You said you’d show me a new move to fake out the defender…remember?” While his voice had yet to reach a whining quality there was defiantly some puppy-like pleading going on in his eyes.

Plopping down in the shade, he pulled out a water bottle for himself and tossed one to his father. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was, but he drained half the bottle before dumping the other half on his head. “So when’s the show gonna start?” he asked. “The kids at school said it was awesome last year.”

[Tarak Rana]

Tarak caught the bottle his son tossed to him, unscrewing the cap and gulping down water gratefully, allowing some of the cool liquid to splash out of his mouth and down his neck and chest.

"I know, I know! I haven't forgotten!" He promised; he certainly had no intention of letting down his son, of all people; his family came before everything and everyone else, including his coworkers. And given how seriously he took his job that was saying something.

"Yiz, do you remember what time the show was gonna start?" He shot the question towards his wife as he wracked his brain for the schedule. "I think it was eight or nine, is that right? Have to wait for it to get dark so that you can see the colors better."

Last year this time they had been in the process of moving, otherwise he would have taken Michael.

"I heard the same thing. Someone said there was a light manipulator helping things along. I wonder if that's true..."

[Michael Rana]

“Nice catch,” Michael said grinning. He had a habit of pointing out a majority of the little things his father did. After all, how could anything his idol did not be nice, awesome, or amazing?

“Good,” Michael said. “Cuz next game, I wanna try it out. Did ya see me, Mom? I’m getting good, right?” Because doing well in soccer was one of the main ways Michael did something to make his dad proud, or so he thought. Besides it always felt great when he made a defender look stupid as he zoomed past them with the ball. Although it was different with his mom, he still liked it when she pointed out that he was improving.

“We can play a little more then, right?” Michael asked, leaning over to look at his father’s watch. Although now that he was sitting down, he realized how tired he was from running around in the heat. “After our break.”

Michael had been a little bummed when he’d missed the show last year, but he wasn’t the type of kid that got into a pouting mood about things that he couldn’t change. When his parents were being reasonable and took the time to explain things, he saw no reason to.

“Really?” Michael said, looking around as if something like firework-assisting metas would be advertised. “That’s so awesome! Maybe when I get older I’ll have a cool power to help too? Right, Dad?”