Work Text:
Splash!
A bucket of cold water spills onto Cole‘s bed, Cole‘s pillow, Cole‘s hair, and Cole himself. Blearily, he sits up. The bucket rolls to the floor with a clang. Observation revealed that somebody affixed a water-filled bucket to a piece of rope, and tied it to Cole‘s bunk in such a way that it would fall and drench him as soon as he shifted in his sleep.
Kai, Jay, and Zane snore to various degrees. The sky outside is dark and stormy.
“Lloyd.“ Cole groans. Ever since they took in that brat, his life has not known peace. It‘s a good thing to do! But. The kid could maybe not wake Cole up at ass o‘clock at night by drenching him. Either he heads to the bathroom and dries this whole mess off, which he needs to do anyway if he wants any sleep whatsoever, or he heads to the kid‘s room, demanding an explanation.
Option two it is. Cole wants to throw a bucket at the kid.
Cole likes to think he’s not Lloyd’s least favorite. That’s probably Jay. Or maybe Jay is Lloyd’s favorite, because he screams the loudest. All he wonders is why he, specifically, deserves this.
Using his super duper ninja skills (which never work on actual enemies), Cole sneaks out of the ninjas’ shared bedroom without waking up any of them. The Bounty is pitch dark at night, but Cole has no trouble navigating the familiar corridors.
He barges into Lloyd’s room without knocking, already channeling the most disappointed expression his father ever looked at him with. Only, the room’s empty.
Great, now Wu would employ his most disappointed dad expression, because Cole lost his nephew. And then Garmadon would escape his seal to be disappointed with Cole, too.
But maybe the little guy is just getting a midnight snack. Cole’s done that plenty of times, and given Kai a heart attack at least twice.
Inside the kitchen, Cole spots a flash of red. He prepares for a confrontation, but all he finds is the fridge’s red temperature display. Four degrees. In working order. He cracks the fridge open, half expecting Zane to hand him a block of cheese. Nope, no one in the fridge. No one in the kitchen. No Lloyd! And now Cole’s hair is freezing cold in addition to wet.
Clack, clack, clack, goes the scrape of claws on hardwood. Cole whirls around. The only flash of red is the fridge. It’s the fridge, Cole. Ghosts aren’t real.
He’s not scared. Cole’s a big guy! Even without weapons, he‘s skilled in martial arts, and has a size advantage on most people. He is not scared.
Cole closes the fridge, and darkness washes over him yet again. Lloyd wanted a snack, and Cole just missed him, and now Lloyd will be in bed.
Nobody is in Lloyd’s room, again. Dangit.
Next stop for rowdy kids up past their bedtimes, the bathroom. Totally common. He tiptoes through the corridors. In front of him, around the corner, something crunches. He hears rustling, plastic or something, and what is undeniably teeth biting down. A racoon! Yeah!
He doesn’t need to wake up the others over this, not until he figures out whether this is a a threat or not. It would be embarassing to wake everybody over a stray cat.
Steeling himself, Cole turns the corner in direction of the bathroom. Another glint of red freezes him in his tracks. That can’t be the fridge this time. The red glint freezes in return, and vanishes into the bathroom.
He holds his breath. His hair drips onto the floor. He shivers from the cold and nothing else. After pushing the hair out of his eyes, he flicks the bathroom light on.
Cole blinks the stars out of them until they readjust. To his left, toilet and sink, deserted. To his right, the bathtub, empty. Further to his right, the laundry hamper, shifting.
“Whoever you are,” he channels every inch of ‘Why aren’t you at dance practice,’ “come out now if you know what’s good for you.”
The laundry hamper giggles at him. A distinct light muhaha, like a tryhard pretending to be totally evil.
“Lloyd.” The pile of laundry falls silent. “It’s past your bedtime. Go to sleep or I’m telling Wu.”
“You tattletale!” The eight year old boy hisses menacingly.
Cole grabs the towel by the sink to finally reach an acceptable state of dampness. Then, he throws the wet towel into the laundry hamper, sticks his arm inside, and pulls out the kid by the back of his hoodie.
“Nooooo!” wails the pile of laundry, candy wrappers falling out of his hoodie pocket. That’s a midnight snack, alright. And not healthy nutrition for a growing boy.
“Time for bed.” With Lloyd weighing as much as a couple of grapes, Cole heads out of the bathroom, and flicks the light off.
He immediately drops Lloyd. Lloyd screams.
“WHY ARE YOUR EYES GLOWING?!“
Both of them point an accusing finger at the other. Lloyd‘s eyes flash red in the dim light. Cole spots his own reflecting yellow in the bathroom mirror.
He calms his beating heart. It‘s Lloyd. Not a racoon, or a dragon. He clears his throat. “My eyes do that sometimes. Night vision, you know.“
“So do mine,“ Lloyd replies, eyes still aglow. “I thought only I did that.”
“You were wrong.” Both their pupils being open wide from the dark and the shock certainly doesn’t help their stand-off. Neither of them stops reflecting light.
Cole slings Lloyd over his shouler, who wiggles away from the dark wet mass of his hair. Lloyd hisses at him the entire treck back to his room. Cole will accept this as suitable revenge.
Once finally there, Cole drops Lloyd onto his futon and tucks him in. Or rather, wrestles him under the blanket until Lloyd gives up and stops fighting.
Defeated, Lloyd snuggles into the blanket with a frown and a red death glare.
“Not a word of this to anyone, okay?” Cole says.
“What, because humans don‘t have night vision? My dad has night vision, and he‘s the coolest!“
“So I‘m cool too?“
“No way!“