fandomtownies | Pixie Dust, Monday [3/31]

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Pixie Dust, Monday [3/31]

Romeo came into work and promptly put his head on the counter and closed his eyes. Being eight was exhausting.

He was roused from his rest by a ringing cell phone. HIS ringing cell phone. Checking the number, he winced before answering. He knew it would be worse if he didn't.

"Good morrow, Father." He tried to keep a note of cheer in his voice, but rapidly lost it over the rest of the exchange.

"No, it was not a prank call, precisely. I was ... did I sound like a young child? How bizarre. I was half-dreaming when I called, perhaps that explains why my voice sounded so."

"The other on the line? Well, Yurika is a girl." Way to state the obvious. "... no, Father, I am not spending every night with her." Only some nights.

"Dojima. She's Japanese ... D-o-with-a-line-over-it-j-i-m-a." A heavy sigh. "Yes, her family is good."

"I do treat her like a lady. She was dreaming as well, perhaps we shared the same dream and that lead us to call you over the pillow. It was all most odd."

A gape at the phone and, "By St. Francis, I have no plans to wed again!"

That seemed to satisfy his father's curiosity, and after some chat about lighter matters, Romeo was permitted to hang up the phone.

He brought his head close to the counter again, but this time, it was to bang it and mutter "Stupid, stupid, stupid." He had hoped to keep his father far from his romantic life. Possibly forever.

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There are some new spring fashions to find.

He could use the distraction.

Edited 2008-03-31 13:50 (UTC)

Sometime that afternoon, there was a properly-aged Yurika stopping by the shop with two bento boxes tucked under her arm. "Ohaiyo! You want lunch, or do I still have cooties?"

Romeo groaned before even trying to smile. "Ohaiyo. I will take lunch from you, and hang any fear of cooties."

Hopping out from behind the counter, he went to get a second chair. "Princess."

"I can't help being special," she teased, setting down the lunches. "I think I prefer this type of Fandom oddness to the aliens, I thought it was fun."

"I suppose it was fun," Romeo had to allow, cracking open his bento box to look inside. "I'd have a hard time convincing Master Skywalker to help me fly at this height, for one. And it's been too long since I played with Legos."

He smiled. "At least we were both, er, strong-willed." He didn't want to say spoiled.

"That's a sweet way to put it," Yurika grinned as she tossed some chopsticks at him and opened her own bento. Mmm...tempura! "I believe Franco classified my younger years as 'an absolute unholy terror with a superiority complex bigger than the Mongol empire.' He should know, since he had to ride herd on me until I was about nine."

"I try to be sweet!" Romeo laughed, stabbing a piece of edamame and dipping it in sauce. "Really, the Mongol Empire? But if asked, I doubt my nurse would tell a tale far different, and she might add a story or two about the tantrums I threw when denied things I wanted."

Ah, things that don't change.

"Who is your Franco?"

"Head of my father's security detail. Once upon a time, he was a junior staff member who lost a bet and got stuck on 'Dōjima-hime Duty'." Yurika grinned evilly and waved a takoyaki at him. "He was only supposed to be my bodyguard, but I kept driving away tutors and nurses, so he sort of ended up taking care of me until I was old enough to go to boarding school. He's the one that gave me my gun."

Romeo raised an eyebrow at this over a mouthful of seaweed salad. "Lucky you, to at least have someone steadfast, and unlucky Franco," he decided. "What kind of mischief did they think you'd find, giving you a bodyguard? My father didn't even have that."

Ruefully, he added, "I suppose always being armed, and around a lot of men with guns, serves much the same purpose."

"Good girls don't carry guns. If my father finds out Franco gave me one, there will be much yelling," she mused. "It's not that they didn't trust me, it's that they don't trust other people. My father would never dirty his own hands by carrying a gun or resorting to violence for protection, that's what he hires men like Franco for." And Reno, but that was none of Romeo's business unless Reno chose to make it so.

"It's odd, but I never thought of guns as a good girl/bad girl thing at home," Romeo mused. "I've no idea if women carried them. I know they used them." And he managed not to flinch, saying that. "Perhaps Franco could convince your father it was only for your own good, going to a school swarming with us Americans."

He shrugged and ate a bit of rice. "I suppose my father, if in an honest mood, would say his hands were dirty enough, and who wielded the weapon made little difference. Which reminds me, he called me this morning."

There was a pause, and Yurika stared at Romeo with her takoyaki half-way to her mouth.

Then she thumped her head down onto the counter. "We're dead, aren't we?"

"I don't know," Romeo admitted, sliding a hand over to rest on her back. "He sounded more confused than angry. I think he mostly wanted to see why I sounded so young Saturday, and be sure I wasn't on the verge of a second hasty marriage."

A pause, and then: "He did ask about your family, which is unsettling."

"I wonder if there's a version of my family running around in your world," she mused, still not lifting her head from the nice resting place on the counter. "Who knows what sort of Yurika he'll find there."

He scooted closer. The counter did look comfy. "And who knows what sort of Romeo your father would find, if he went to look," Romeo shrugged. "I don't like the idea there is another me and another you. I know it's probably so, but ..." his voice trailed off; he couldn't explain why the alternate realities thing still disturbed him more than anything else Fandom had thrown at him.

Possibly it was because he suspected he was dead in so many of them.

"Who knows?" Yurika finally looked up at him, smiling slightly. "Besides, our small selves only saw fit to call your father. Mine doesn't know anything about Romeos, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"I've no plans to call him," Romeo said, shaking his head. "It sounds like I may not be what he has in mind for his hime."

In a lighter tone, he added, "But perhaps I should send your Franco a gift and angle for embarrassing stories."

"My father has lots of plans for me," Yurika joked, "I'm just very very good at ruining all of them so far."

"Do that, and I may have to give your nurse a ring," she replied sweetly. "Or better yet, you already called your father from my phone. I'm sure he'd love the chance to talk to me in person."

Romeo decided to stay far away from the whole topic of ruined parental hopes, though he privately thought himself the all-time world champion in that department.

He made a face at Yurika instead. "My father would probably like you," he declared. (Which was true; her last name wasn't Capulet, after all.) "Though I'd rather we not find out for sure."

Yurika made a face back at him. "That would be terrifying," she said, "I agree that we never ever find out. Your nurse, however, is still fair game should I need blackmail material."

"Definitely fair game if you can find her, she's long since retired," Romeo laughed. "Which was not entirely my fault."

"But please don't get it into that head to give my cousin a call. He's already barely talking to me, I'm sure he'd tell you all sorts of things."

Edited 2008-03-31 23:38 (UTC)

"Cousin?" No, she's not giving her best innocent look, not at all. "Don't be silly, how would I go about finding him?"

If Romeo's smart, he's going to keep an eye on his phone.

He gave her a steady look. "Dost thou want instructions? I thought you were good at the spying class."

Yeah, the phone wasn't leaving Romeo's sight.

Not that it would be hard to figure out there was only one Montague vaguely Romeo's age left in Verona, really.

"Should I want dry and proper instruction, I'll turn to a teacher. For guidance, perhaps your Friar," she shot back, eyes dancing. "From you, I'll take neither, unless you've got something you think I'd be interested in learning."

"I doubt you want the friar's guidance," Romeo returned. "He spent enough time being horrified by me."

But if she intended to distract him, it worked. He unconsciously licked his lips before speaking again. "I might be able to teach you something, though I cannot work with an unwilling pupil."

Dōjima was very good at distractions. It was a specialty. "Not unwilling, merely skeptical," was her reply as she smirked slowly, leaning back in her chair. "What would you have me learn?"

He stepped to her side, mischief in his eyes as he leaned over her, hands just grazing her shoulders. "We've much to study," he whispered. "The store's dressing rooms, for example, present a rich field for exploration."

"Oh, really?" she asked, tilting her head to watch his face. She liked watching him. "What sort of education do you think I'll find there, then?"

He tilted his head slightly, following hers, so he could lock onto her eyes.

He liked her eyes.

"One about hands and possibly, if we are advanced, mouths as well," he answered, very seriously.

"I think I might be able to apply myself to the work," she mused. "I am behind in my studies, since we lost two whole days."

"And thank God for that," Romeo momentarily broke the flirtation to say. "It would have been disturbing if we had continued as we were."

"But we're back now," he added, leaning in to try for a kiss.

That doesn't really require a verbal answer, now does it? Instead, she'll let her lips speak with his in a different way, one that they'll both enjoy much, much more.

Nonverbal communication is a specialty of Romeo's, as much as distraction is one of Yurika's; he lets the kiss deepen, burying one hand in her hair.

His hands on her as she returns the kiss, and Yurika knows this dance. She's good at it, she enjoys it, and she knows both of them well-enough to eventually pull away from the kiss, casting a sidelong glance at the entrance.

"Let's play a game," she giggled, resting her head against his cheek. "You go lock the door, then you have to come find me. Then we'll see what you can teach me today."

He laughed, delighted, as he pulled away, reaching a long arm over the counter to snag the keyring. "That sounds like the best possible lesson," he informed her, and went to lock the door and register.

Not that they'd be learning much, really, but sometimes even a good teacher and willing pupil need a review session.

It is safe to say Pixie Dust was closed for the rest of the afternoon.

Edited 2008-04-01 03:44 (UTC)

OOC threads: Preventing apocalypses since 2005.

*giggles*

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