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038. Excited
The night is retiring, dawn light a dusty, bare hint of blue behind the city; Marianne holds her arms close to her, shivering from the cold of an early May morning, hops from one foot to the other as she waits for Alba to sail up and whisk her away from the glaring dullness of the city's sleep.
She moves one trembling arm, slips her hand into her pocket, produces a lighter and a pack of cigarettes that she can barely light without looking like a fool. She promised to quit completely, but that was months ago, and it helps her breathe so much better; she rides on that temporary high deep breathing sets her brain on, and smiles a content smile at the car that idles up to where she stands.
It's obviously something built for a family, but Romano wouldn't stand for driving something cheesy or anything less than stylish- it looks like some sort of bulky silver road shark, if anything, is impressive to a girl with an eye for the fine things in life. Alba pushes the door open and shouts something to her, in her rough sounding Sicilian, if Marianne isn't too hazy-headed to hear correctly.
She climbs in, wrinkles her nose against the smell of takeaway food and pot and something like sour milk; it's not unfamiliar, just so -domestic-, compared to the rough alcohol-and-sweat of the bars, sweet bodyspray of the men, perfume of the women, the heavy smell of the cigarette she tosses out of the window just as Alba guns it. The weight of the night they've all had presses in on her, makes her yawn and want to just sleep until the sun sets the next day.
A protest and a cheer from the back seat causes Marianne to turn around, and there the three boys are, Nico and Enzo sitting on either side of Haruto, all of them bent over a game held in the Greek's lap. Enzo glances up, grinning, waves at his cousin, before looking down again and saying something degrading to his brother in their accent of Catalan; she doesn't feel like translating.
"Where's Ana?"
Alba glances towards the back for a moment, smirks.
"Passed out an hour ago. Doesn't want to go to the hospital, apparantly, but we'll just see once her mama gets a look at her. She's ******** up. Won't tell me what happened, though."
Alba glances over at the packet of cigarettes Marianne still holds in her hand, raises an eyebrow; before Marianne can defend herself Alba asks for one, a light along with it. Recieving them, she glances back again before rolling down the window and letting out the worst of the smell that way; mama would kill her if he found out she was smoking in the new car.
"Are we in for a good day, tomorrow?" Marianne's blue eyes flash with curiosity, before flattening again; it would be against her style, her way, to get overly excited about anything.
"No, en absoluto." She snorts to herself. "A day of damage control over there," she jerks her thumb in the general direction of the back, which Marianne takes to mean Ana.
"Probably keeping mama at bay, he really didn't want me to take the car in the first place. He'll kill me for smoking in here, but, sea lo que sea. And hanging out with everyone; you promised to go walking with Amaranta, remember?"
So boring, nothing to get worked up over, yet. That little curl in her gut; Marianne grins to herself and settles in, lets her eyes drift closed as Bocelli's voice (like the stars that have melted from the sky, like warm butter, a voice she wants to wrap herself in) croons from the speakers, as Haruto and Enzo and Nico murmur and occasionally make loud boy noises.
Tomorrow will be mediocre at best; sleep in until siesta is over, wake up to a pounding headache and a girl who will pester pester pester her until she agrees to trace those sunsweet flower meadows with her, will return with arms filled with flowers. She will eat the warm Italian food and look at Nico who is looking away and will never see her like he sees Yasu but that's okay, and she'll return home to France where it seems cold without the warmth of a cigarette and the memory of warm, familar bodies pressed up to hers. It's her life, she thinks as she drifts off to a land of lotus blossoms on water; despite her style, despite her ways, she's [i]more[/i] than happy to live it.
[b]082. Romantic[/b]
[size=8]( A/N: I .. am sorry about this one. ;;;; )[/size]
Greece smiled, eyes lidded, dark with mystery, over at Japan; his love looked back cautiously. He knew that look and at the particular moment, didn't like it.
"Agapi .. you're so gneiss, I'll never take you for granite."
Greece's eyebrows were raised, that heartmelting smile. Vaguely Japan registered the fact that he was humming 'One Last Hope' and that rock puns were quite possibly the worst man could make. It didn't matter, in any case; already Japan was red but leaning in, accepting it. He'd always been a sucker for Greece's horrible, heartmeltingly nerdy, pick-up lines.[/list][/list][/size]
 men getting pregnant · Sun Jan 24, 2010 @ 08:57am · 1 Comments |
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