Title: When You Were Young Part II: Veronika’s closet
Characters: Veronika, Deniz
Rating: G
Summary: Veronika finds 4 year old Deniz playing dress-ups in her bedroom.
Warnings: little!Deniz in drag, fluffiness.
Author's Notes: This fic could just as easily have been about any of the AWZ gang, but the lame fic name (does anyone else remember that awful show?!?!) came to me and I was enslaved. As a result, I’m probably kinder to Veronika here than she deserves.
Word count: 451 words
Disclaimer: RTL owns AWZ, and the characters. The shenanigans in this story are based on the antics of my little cousin (exasperating bundle of joy that he is).



Veronika finished scrubbing down the bathroom and stored the various bottles of Frosch spray-and-wipe in the bathroom cupboard, rinsing and wringing the towels and sponges and leaving them to dry on the windowsill of the third story apartment. As she stretched her aching back, she realised she hadn't heard a peep from Deniz for the entire time that she had been cleaning.

Sighing, she wandered to the living room to look for him. Deniz had always been handful, getting up to all sorts of mischief the moment he was left alone, and Veronika braced herself for what she might find. The house was silent, and it was this silence that was dangerous - silence meant he was up to something.

Not finding him in the living room or the kitchen, Veronika felt a frisson of fear, a thousand horrible thoughts running through her mind. In their two bedroom flat there were not many places he could be, and she felt a tightness building in her chest as she hurried to his bedroom. When she didn't find him there, she ran to her own, and upon opening the door she stopped dead in her tracks.

There were clothes, shoes and cosmetics scattered all over the floor, and in the eye of the storm stood Deniz teetering in a pair of her high heels, her favourite lacy black negligee hanging down to his ankles, fake pearls around his neck, and lipstick and rouge smeared garishly on his lips and cheeks.

Seeing her through the dresser mirror, he turned and grinned at her cheerfully, his small white teeth showing from between his red, red lips. Gobsmacked, she stared at him and slowly the smile slipped from his face, to be replaced with an anxious frown. He looked down at his feet then peeked back up at her through his thick eyelashes, looking fearful, ashamed and much prettier than any boy had the right to be.

Unable to help herself, Veronika laughed and knelt down, pulling him into a hug. His body melded into hers, his arms wrapping tightly around her, and she kissed the crown of his head. Letting him go, she sat back on her haunches and surveyed him, noticing the faint residue of talcum powder dusting his face, his hair, his clothes (or rather her clothes), and the carpet around him. She sighed, but his smile was irresistible, as wide and genuine and innocent as his father’s, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

Standing up she retrieved the camera from her small bureau and took a photo of him, then lifted him up in her arms. "Let’s get you cleaned up, Mister," she said and carried him back to the bathroom.