He woke to the smell of coffee, and opened his eyes to find a cup being held just a centimeter away from his nose.
“Don’t get any ideas, Gil, Felicia sent me,” said Lovina, in a voice too loud for his aching head. She was still frowning.
“Can’t you speak lower?,” he groaned as he grabbed the cup.
“No. It was your stupid decision to get drunk, deal with the consequences and be thankful that it’s not decaf,” she said, in a slightly more high-pitched voice. God, she’s evil, he thought as he cringed, and he could swear that she smiled in satisfaction.
“What does decaf have to do with facing the consequences of my actions?”
“If you were in Ancient Rome, you wouldn’t have coffee.”
“We’re in the twenty first century; that makes no fucking sense,” replied Gilbert, putting a hand to his head.
“Even if it did, I wouldn’t give you decaf. No one deserves decaf. Now drink the damn coffee before it gets cold.”
Lovina turned and walked towards the kitchen. Even with a horrible hangover that barely allowed him to keep his eyes open (Why does light have to be so damn bright?), Gilbert was able to appreciate the view. She was wearing jeans and a long sleeved green t-shirt, tight enough to show she had curves and was thin, but not tight enough to give a perfect idea of how thin or curvy she was. Anyway, the nice thing of watching her walk away (aside from the fact that that meant he’d have a few minutes of peace) wasn’t her body (which he had to admit he liked, too bad about the personality and the frown), it was the way she walked.
The older Vargas had a nice walk, not too fast, not to slow, moving the hips in the right way to get attention but not appear exaggerated, without dragging her feet or rising them to high, head high, straight back; proud woman seeking attention without making it obvious. Definitely a beautiful walk, it probably took her some practice to get it right, he thought, and chuckled softly as he imagined a young Lovina walking in front of a mirror, trying to copy the walk of a model or an actress.
Gilbert took a sip of coffee and noticed that, aside from having the ability to walk nicely, Lovina also had the ability to prepare a good cup of coffee.
Correction: an excellent cup of coffee. It was strong, very bitter and very sweet, both flavors competing to overcome each other, which ended up in balance, so he didn’t want to gag because of the sweetness or cringe because of the bitterness. He made a mental note to never let her know this, in case she decided to refuse him more coffee just to piss him off.
As Gilbert drank his coffee, he looked around and noticed that everything was mostly in order. The beer cans were the nowhere to be seen, Antonio’s laptop had been picked from the floor and was now on the table, the chairs were back in their place and even his shoes had been left in a corner, in a place where no one had the risk of tripping over them.
“How long ago did you get here?,” he asked Lovina when she entered the room again.
“Half an hour? I don’t know. Why?,” she asked, staring at him as if doing so would make him disappear.
“Everything’s in order.” She’s so loud, why is she so loud?, thought Gilbert as he covered his eyes with his hand.
“You made a mess, I hate messes. Are you ready to go? I can’t wait all day, I have things to do.”
“I still don’t get why you’re here.”
“I already told you,” she said, in a voice that made it very clear that her impression of his mental capacity wasn’t improving, “Felicia asked me to come here”.
“I got that,” he replied in the most annoyed tone he could. “What you didn’t say is why she sent you.” For dramatic effect, Gilbert decided to suffer the horribly bright light for a few minutes and glare at her. It must be said that Gilbert was very proud of his glare, since he knew that, while almost every single person in the world had the ability to glare, only a small percentage of those people had red eyes, and he was sure that being stared at with a mix of challenge and disdain from someone with red eyes is very different from being stared at by someone with brown eyes. He also suspected that people with blue eyes were pretty good “glarers” too, but that didn’t really affect his point, so he didn’t care.
“She says she’s taking you out this afternoon.” She glared back. A good glare, despite the brown eyes, but it was the small, slightly malicious smile she added what made it have a better effect. “You’ll go… shopping.” The smile became mocking, and he hated her a bit.
Don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait…
“I need things for the room. Do you have any suggestions?,” he decided to say, trying to sound casual.
“Yes, I do: don’t change anything,” said Lovina almost threateningly.
“I don’t like that suggestion, sorry. I’ve been thinking about painting the walls red. Or you’d prefer orange, perhaps? With some blue thrown in to make it less boring.” He smiled condescendingly and had the pleasure of seeing Lovina’s eyes widen in horror. He was convinced the result would be horrible too, but he was willing to buy unicorn-shaped pillows and write the lyrics of Barney’s ending song on the walls if it guaranteed that the terrified expression would remain on her face.
“So you crash at my house, I let you use a room instead of making you sleep in the couch, and now you want to paint the walls? What kind of guest are you?” Gilbert was absolutely sure that she’d hit him if she could, but it was kind of funny looking at her face, with the ever-present frown now being accompanied by a tense jaw.
“If I remember correctly, it was Felicia who invited me and let me stay at that room. She also said I could do whatever I wanted with it while I live there and, since I’m her guest, I think I’ll listen to what she says. Your sister is very nice, don’t you think? I bet everybody likes her,” he said with the most sickeningly sweet smile he could, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken: I wonder if they feel the same about you.
Lovina turned around and walked towards the door.
Lovina: 1
Gilbert: 1
“I’m not driving you to my house if you don’t hurry.”
“And why would I want you to drive me?,” he asked warily. Driving with Felicia was one of the things he’d talk about if he ever went to a shrink, and she actually liked him; considering Lovina’s personality, he believed her capable of crashing the car just to see if she managed to break one of his bones.
“Because you were stupid enough to leave your wallet at my house. Do you have money for a cab?”
“Couldn’t you just bring me my wallet? Or call to ask me if I had money?”
“I was going to do that, but Felicia said calling two hung over men at 9 in the morning was cruel and sent me to get you, to make sure you came back safely. She wanted to come, but she had class. And I’m stuck with you. Again.”
“Do you do everything Felicia asks?”
Lovina gave him a quick look he couldn’t decipher, and rolled her eyes.
“She’s happy to have you around. When she’s happy, she helps in the house and I have more time for myself.” She opened the door and stepped outside. “Toño won’t be up for a few hours, leave him a note or something or he’ll think you were kidnapped.” For a moment, Gilbert thought he could see the corners of her mouth twitching upwards in an amused grin, but then she was as serious as always and he dismissed it as an illusion.
Lovina left the apartment and Gilbert wrote a quick note on a napkin, which he left on Antonio’s nightstand.
Antonio was in pretty much the same position he’d left him last night, still fully dressed, badly tucked into the bed, with the bedclothes covering only half of his body, arms spread and a big grin on his face. If optimism ever needed a poster man, Antonio would get the part without even trying, he’d just walk in and everyone would feel happy just by looking at him and hearing him talk about his youth taking care of the Vargas sisters. Even when he was asleep he gave that aura of complete happiness, especially in that moment, because he was mumbling something about waffles and oranges, and buying lots and lots of chocolates.
Gilbert made a mental note to ask him about that later, when his head stopped aching. And he should ask him about the Vargas sisters’ childhood; he needed more information if he didn’t want to lose the war against Lovina.
“So fucking bright and shiny and sunny and day-ish…,” grunted the albino when he left the bar. After a few seconds, he finally managed to look around and saw Lovina waiting next to what he assumed was her car. It was a sad thing to look at, small, old (No less than 20 years), with a few dents (but not as many as he feared), and covered in dust. At least the wheels looked new and in perfect condition, and, aside from a scratch or two, the white paint had survived, but the vehicle still deserved to be labeled as a potential death trap.
I’m gonna die, right? What’s with these two and safe driving?
“Can you stop staring like an idiot and get into the car? I’m already late.”
“Shut up or I’ll just take my time.”
“What makes you think I won’t leave you here?”
“Felicia wouldn’t forgive you.” He entered the car anyway, eager to escape the light. Lovina got in after him. “Is this your car?”
“Yes, why do you ask?,” she said, sounding defensive.
“Just curious. I expected something… different.”
“You expected an exaggeration, like Felicia’s, right? Money shouldn’t be wasted like that. It should be used in necessary things, like food, fixing the house, health… or saved for times of need. If you never use it, your kids can have it.”
“She told me the money was from an inheritance.” Another glare from her. Thank goodness she hadn’t started the car yet, she'd probably have crashed.
“Yes, it was. It still isn’t a good reason to waste it.”
“What did you do with your part?” He was curious about whether or not she’d tell him.”
“I invested most of it. The rest is for times of need; considering the crisis, I’m not touching it.” She seemed to relax a bit, but Gilbert wasn’t taking that as any kind of sign.
“Why didn’t you save everything?”
“It seemed safer to keep it in different places.”
“Safer?” He couldn’t help to sound a bit sarcastic at that. Sadly, she noticed.
“Why do you ask about my inheritance? It has nothing to do with you, mind your own business so you can leave soon.” Back to defense mode, well done Gilbert!, he thought bitterly. I was so close to getting her to tell me the truth. But he had to admit she was right, it didn’t have anything to do with him, and he didn’t really understand why he wanted her to tell him what she’d really done with her money. He’d just felt terribly curious as to why this girl would drive God knows how many miles just to make sure an irresponsible Spaniard could open a bar.
Okay, that wasn’t normal. Who spends their money on a business that’s not theirs?
Gilbert looked at Lovina (who seemed lost in her mind) through the corner of his eye. Now there was another thought he’d have to follow when his head stopped aching.
Lovina noticed him staring.
“What?”
“Just wondering when you’ll finally start this car. Weren’t you in a hurry? What were you thinking about?”
“Shut up, it doesn’t matter to you,” she replied brusquely, blushing. Yep, definitely lost in thought.
Lovina started the car and Gilbert closed his eyes, preparing himself for what was coming. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that the car worked perfectly and didn’t make any weird sounds, and to find out that red lights and speed limits were respected, and the only problem was Lovina’s tendency to increase and lower the speed all the time instead of maintaining a constant one. It could be worse, really, so Gilbert kept his eyes half-closed, laid back and studied the woman next to him. The eternal frown was there, but this time it seemed less angry and more concentrated (Gilbert realized how tired he was when he started thinking that maybe it wasn’t that Lovina wore a frown on her face, maybe it was the frown that wore Lovina, and, when it left her, she was an empty shell without any emotions; if that was the case, maybe the frown should have a name, how about “Bucky”?), and if she kept that kind of frown, she would be almost pretty (and that was the thought that proved to him that he should get into bed as soon as he arrived to the house).
He fell asleep in some moment, which he didn’t expect to achieve in a 20 minute-drive, but he woke when the car stopped abruptly and he felt a hand on his shoulder shaking him softly. It was almost nice of her.
“Wake up, Gil, we’re here,” and the illusion of peace was gone, because, aside from the insult, her voice was as mean as always.
“Five more minutes, mom,” he muttered, trying to suppress his laughter.
“Mom?! I am not your mom, you idiot, now get out of my car!,” she said as she pushed him against the door.
Gilbert got out laughing and waved goodbye. Again, he thought he saw her smirk in amusement, but she started the car immediately and left before he could see if he was right. Then he saw the car stop and come back, and he stared in puzzlement at the very embarrassed Lovina that got out of it.
“Llaves,” she said as she handed him a key, looking down to hide her blush. “You can’t get in without a key, idiot,” she muttered before going back into her car.
“Wait,” said Gilbert before she could leave. He didn’t know why he was going to say this, but he did it anyway: “Will you come shopping with us? It is your house too, after all.”
This time, the one who stared in puzzlement was Lovina. He shouldn’t have said that, right? But he was really curious about the inheritance thing, and maybe he’d get an opportunity to get her to talk about that if she went shopping with them. And when she finally admitted the truth, he’d tease her endlessly about it. Yeah, he’d do that, he’d never let her live that little fact down. It was a miracle that he managed to keep his triumphant smile to himself now that he finally knew why he’d felt the impulse to invite her.
“If you’re still here when I get home, and I have nothing better to do, I might go with you. Don’t get any expectations, though.” And with that, she got into her car and left.
That was easier than I thought.
Gilbert entered the house and went straight to his room. It was as plain as the day before and he made some mental notes about what needed to be changed. He took off his shoes and got into the bed, not bothering to change, and fell asleep immediately. When he woke up, it was two in the afternoon and his head was fine.
For lunch, he found a mysterious yellow thing in a plate in the refrigerator with a note from Felicia next to it:
It’s polenta. Sorry we didn’t leave anything to accompany it, it’ll be plain like this. It won’t kill you, warm it in the microwave. Felicia
The yellow thing turned to be better than he expected, so he ate it without complaining (what’s the point in complaining when no one will hear you, anyway?).
Felicia arrived at five, looking apologetic.
“I’m sorry I sent Lovina to get you, but I figured it’d be better if you could come here immediately instead of having to come back later to change your clothes and everything. I’m sorry, was it a bad idea? I’m so, so sorry, I-”
“It’s okay,” interrupted Gilbert. “It’s okay, it was good to sleep here, at least I know that the bed doesn’t need to be changed,” he added, smiling.
“Still… sorry.”
“That’s enough. Where are we going?”
“My sister called, said she wanted to make sure you didn’t paint the walls orange and blue, and told me she’s coming with us. We have to meet with her at the academy, she’ll drive.”
“Academy?”
“She works at one of those art academies. She gives guitar lessons, and dance lessons.”
“Your sister dances?” Gilbert looked incredulous. He had a few ideas about what you need to dance, and he was sure that anger wasn’t one the requisites.
“I expected you to be more shocked by the fact that she teaches, or by her age,” replied Felicia, clearly amused by his expression.
“I was getting to that. But, seriously, she dances?”
“Yeah, she does. She teaches theory and history, though, and gives tarantella classes sometimes.”
“And how does she avoid killing her students?”
“You really think she’s that terrible?” Felicia seemed about to start laughing.
“…yes.”
“She’s strict, that’s true, but dead students mean no money, so…”
Gilbert laughed, picturing a bunch of kids and middle aged men trying to learn to play guitar just to avoid the look of complete despise Lovina would probably give them if they couldn’t.
Flamenco, Tango y Tarantella (4e/?) + Author's notes
“It’s worse when she teaches Italian. She has a couple of students who come here once a week for two-hours lessons. She used to have more, but they were terrified and left. The two who stayed are speaking almost fluently, so now she’s convinced that terror is the most effective teaching tool.”
“Your sister is scary.”
“Not really, you just need to get to know her,” said Felicia with a soft smile Gilbert was beginning to recognize as the “family smile”.
“She traumatized a bunch of people,” Gilbert pointed out in his most matter-of-fact voice.
“She just looked at them like she thought they were stupid. I grew up with that look and I’m fine.”
Gilbert shook his head, incredulous.
“Social services, now. You need them.” Felicia laughed and patted his shoulder.
“It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think? Anyway, you weren’t here, you wouldn’t know. Now let’s go, she’ll kill us if we don’t get there soon.”
“Great way to convince me she’s not that bad.”
“Don’t forget your wallet, we’re not paying for your things,” she said as she went to her room to get a purse. “Wait a minute, okay? I can’t go shopping with a backpack, where’s the style in that?”
Gilbert grabbed his wallet, looked at himself in the mirror and made sure he looked good. He was satisfied with what he saw: young man in dark jeans, wearing a grey t-shirt and a black jacket. He grinned before heading for the door, looking completely determined. He’d get the truth from Lovina, and the score would be 2-1 in his favor.
Clearly, he never learnt that the point of competitions is to have fun, not winning.
---------------------
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Sorry for the fail of a chapter, but I'll be very busy this week and I just wanted to leave you something, so you'd know I'm still here. Also, the shopping trip turned out longer than I expected. Especial thanks to the fourth anon who left a comment in the previous chapter for letting me use their description of coffee from South Italy. I tried to get an idea of how it was and spent a few hours making coffee. My friends didn't appreciate the hyperactive result XD As always, thanks for your comments. Any suggestions are welcome. Also, if you have some grammar/spelling corrections, please point them out, this will be de-anoned when it's over so I can fix my mistakes. My mom thanks the third anon who left a comment in the previous chapter for calling her awesome. Don't worry, she hasn't found the kink meme, I just told her about the comment because I thought it'd make her smile. It did.
Re: Flamenco, Tango y Tarantella (4e/?) + Author's notes
A!A, this isn't by any means a failure of a chapter. Quite the contrary. This chapter included everything that I loved about the previous ones, namely great atmosphere, plenty of details that fleshen out the premise and characters and superb characterization.
It was tons of fun to finally see some more interaction between Gilbert and Lovina. The dialogue between them was delightfully snappy, and I just can't get enough of the way you write Lovina. I can't really explain it, but even though she has a lot of Romano's personality, she somehow feels like a character of her own. Maybe it's just the female touch, but I really, really like the way you're writing her.
I can't wait to see what will happen during the shopping trip. I have a feeling that this competition Gilbert has going on won't end well, but I guess things will have to get bad before they can get good. Thank you for writing this wonderful fill, anon, and I hope your week won't completely exhaust you!
Re: Flamenco, Tango y Tarantella (4e/?) + Author's notes
hehe, third anon here (again, too!). i thank your mom for spawning the brainchild of such an amazing fill! i honestly smile every time i come across an update of this. perfect, again, a!a. just perfect. <3
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Flamenco, Tango y Tarantella (4a/?)
(Anonymous) 2012-04-09 04:00 am (UTC)(link)“Don’t get any ideas, Gil, Felicia sent me,” said Lovina, in a voice too loud for his aching head. She was still frowning.
“Can’t you speak lower?,” he groaned as he grabbed the cup.
“No. It was your stupid decision to get drunk, deal with the consequences and be thankful that it’s not decaf,” she said, in a slightly more high-pitched voice. God, she’s evil, he thought as he cringed, and he could swear that she smiled in satisfaction.
“What does decaf have to do with facing the consequences of my actions?”
“If you were in Ancient Rome, you wouldn’t have coffee.”
“We’re in the twenty first century; that makes no fucking sense,” replied Gilbert, putting a hand to his head.
“Even if it did, I wouldn’t give you decaf. No one deserves decaf. Now drink the damn coffee before it gets cold.”
Lovina turned and walked towards the kitchen. Even with a horrible hangover that barely allowed him to keep his eyes open (Why does light have to be so damn bright?), Gilbert was able to appreciate the view. She was wearing jeans and a long sleeved green t-shirt, tight enough to show she had curves and was thin, but not tight enough to give a perfect idea of how thin or curvy she was. Anyway, the nice thing of watching her walk away (aside from the fact that that meant he’d have a few minutes of peace) wasn’t her body (which he had to admit he liked, too bad about the personality and the frown), it was the way she walked.
The older Vargas had a nice walk, not too fast, not to slow, moving the hips in the right way to get attention but not appear exaggerated, without dragging her feet or rising them to high, head high, straight back; proud woman seeking attention without making it obvious. Definitely a beautiful walk, it probably took her some practice to get it right, he thought, and chuckled softly as he imagined a young Lovina walking in front of a mirror, trying to copy the walk of a model or an actress.
Gilbert took a sip of coffee and noticed that, aside from having the ability to walk nicely, Lovina also had the ability to prepare a good cup of coffee.
Correction: an excellent cup of coffee. It was strong, very bitter and very sweet, both flavors competing to overcome each other, which ended up in balance, so he didn’t want to gag because of the sweetness or cringe because of the bitterness. He made a mental note to never let her know this, in case she decided to refuse him more coffee just to piss him off.
As Gilbert drank his coffee, he looked around and noticed that everything was mostly in order. The beer cans were the nowhere to be seen, Antonio’s laptop had been picked from the floor and was now on the table, the chairs were back in their place and even his shoes had been left in a corner, in a place where no one had the risk of tripping over them.
“How long ago did you get here?,” he asked Lovina when she entered the room again.
“Half an hour? I don’t know. Why?,” she asked, staring at him as if doing so would make him disappear.
“Everything’s in order.” She’s so loud, why is she so loud?, thought Gilbert as he covered his eyes with his hand.
“You made a mess, I hate messes. Are you ready to go? I can’t wait all day, I have things to do.”
“I still don’t get why you’re here.”
“I already told you,” she said, in a voice that made it very clear that her impression of his mental capacity wasn’t improving, “Felicia asked me to come here”.
“I got that,” he replied in the most annoyed tone he could. “What you didn’t say is why she sent you.” For dramatic effect, Gilbert decided to suffer the horribly bright light for a few minutes and glare at her. It must be said that Gilbert was very proud of his glare, since he knew that, while almost every single person in the world had the ability to glare, only a small percentage of those people had red eyes, and he was sure that being stared at with a mix of challenge and disdain from someone with red eyes is very different from being stared at by someone with brown eyes. He also suspected that people with blue eyes were pretty good “glarers” too, but that didn’t really affect his point, so he didn’t care.
Re: Flamenco, Tango y Tarantella (4b/?)
(Anonymous) 2012-04-09 04:02 am (UTC)(link)Don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait, don’t take the bait…
“I need things for the room. Do you have any suggestions?,” he decided to say, trying to sound casual.
“Yes, I do: don’t change anything,” said Lovina almost threateningly.
“I don’t like that suggestion, sorry. I’ve been thinking about painting the walls red. Or you’d prefer orange, perhaps? With some blue thrown in to make it less boring.” He smiled condescendingly and had the pleasure of seeing Lovina’s eyes widen in horror. He was convinced the result would be horrible too, but he was willing to buy unicorn-shaped pillows and write the lyrics of Barney’s ending song on the walls if it guaranteed that the terrified expression would remain on her face.
“So you crash at my house, I let you use a room instead of making you sleep in the couch, and now you want to paint the walls? What kind of guest are you?” Gilbert was absolutely sure that she’d hit him if she could, but it was kind of funny looking at her face, with the ever-present frown now being accompanied by a tense jaw.
“If I remember correctly, it was Felicia who invited me and let me stay at that room. She also said I could do whatever I wanted with it while I live there and, since I’m her guest, I think I’ll listen to what she says. Your sister is very nice, don’t you think? I bet everybody likes her,” he said with the most sickeningly sweet smile he could, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken: I wonder if they feel the same about you.
Lovina turned around and walked towards the door.
Lovina: 1
Gilbert: 1
“I’m not driving you to my house if you don’t hurry.”
“And why would I want you to drive me?,” he asked warily. Driving with Felicia was one of the things he’d talk about if he ever went to a shrink, and she actually liked him; considering Lovina’s personality, he believed her capable of crashing the car just to see if she managed to break one of his bones.
“Because you were stupid enough to leave your wallet at my house. Do you have money for a cab?”
“Couldn’t you just bring me my wallet? Or call to ask me if I had money?”
“I was going to do that, but Felicia said calling two hung over men at 9 in the morning was cruel and sent me to get you, to make sure you came back safely. She wanted to come, but she had class. And I’m stuck with you. Again.”
“Do you do everything Felicia asks?”
Lovina gave him a quick look he couldn’t decipher, and rolled her eyes.
“She’s happy to have you around. When she’s happy, she helps in the house and I have more time for myself.” She opened the door and stepped outside. “Toño won’t be up for a few hours, leave him a note or something or he’ll think you were kidnapped.” For a moment, Gilbert thought he could see the corners of her mouth twitching upwards in an amused grin, but then she was as serious as always and he dismissed it as an illusion.
Lovina left the apartment and Gilbert wrote a quick note on a napkin, which he left on Antonio’s nightstand.
Antonio was in pretty much the same position he’d left him last night, still fully dressed, badly tucked into the bed, with the bedclothes covering only half of his body, arms spread and a big grin on his face. If optimism ever needed a poster man, Antonio would get the part without even trying, he’d just walk in and everyone would feel happy just by looking at him and hearing him talk about his youth taking care of the Vargas sisters. Even when he was asleep he gave that aura of complete happiness, especially in that moment, because he was mumbling something about waffles and oranges, and buying lots and lots of chocolates.
Flamenco, Tango y Tarantella (4c/?)
(Anonymous) 2012-04-09 04:03 am (UTC)(link)“So fucking bright and shiny and sunny and day-ish…,” grunted the albino when he left the bar. After a few seconds, he finally managed to look around and saw Lovina waiting next to what he assumed was her car. It was a sad thing to look at, small, old (No less than 20 years), with a few dents (but not as many as he feared), and covered in dust. At least the wheels looked new and in perfect condition, and, aside from a scratch or two, the white paint had survived, but the vehicle still deserved to be labeled as a potential death trap.
I’m gonna die, right? What’s with these two and safe driving?
“Can you stop staring like an idiot and get into the car? I’m already late.”
“Shut up or I’ll just take my time.”
“What makes you think I won’t leave you here?”
“Felicia wouldn’t forgive you.” He entered the car anyway, eager to escape the light. Lovina got in after him. “Is this your car?”
“Yes, why do you ask?,” she said, sounding defensive.
“Just curious. I expected something… different.”
“You expected an exaggeration, like Felicia’s, right? Money shouldn’t be wasted like that. It should be used in necessary things, like food, fixing the house, health… or saved for times of need. If you never use it, your kids can have it.”
“She told me the money was from an inheritance.” Another glare from her. Thank goodness she hadn’t started the car yet, she'd probably have crashed.
“Yes, it was. It still isn’t a good reason to waste it.”
“What did you do with your part?” He was curious about whether or not she’d tell him.”
“I invested most of it. The rest is for times of need; considering the crisis, I’m not touching it.” She seemed to relax a bit, but Gilbert wasn’t taking that as any kind of sign.
“Why didn’t you save everything?”
“It seemed safer to keep it in different places.”
“Safer?” He couldn’t help to sound a bit sarcastic at that. Sadly, she noticed.
“Why do you ask about my inheritance? It has nothing to do with you, mind your own business so you can leave soon.” Back to defense mode, well done Gilbert!, he thought bitterly. I was so close to getting her to tell me the truth. But he had to admit she was right, it didn’t have anything to do with him, and he didn’t really understand why he wanted her to tell him what she’d really done with her money. He’d just felt terribly curious as to why this girl would drive God knows how many miles just to make sure an irresponsible Spaniard could open a bar.
Okay, that wasn’t normal. Who spends their money on a business that’s not theirs?
Gilbert looked at Lovina (who seemed lost in her mind) through the corner of his eye. Now there was another thought he’d have to follow when his head stopped aching.
Lovina noticed him staring.
“What?”
“Just wondering when you’ll finally start this car. Weren’t you in a hurry? What were you thinking about?”
“Shut up, it doesn’t matter to you,” she replied brusquely, blushing. Yep, definitely lost in thought.
Lovina started the car and Gilbert closed his eyes, preparing himself for what was coming. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that the car worked perfectly and didn’t make any weird sounds, and to find out that red lights and speed limits were respected, and the only problem was Lovina’s tendency to increase and lower the speed all the time instead of maintaining a constant one. It could be worse, really, so Gilbert kept his eyes half-closed, laid back and studied the woman next to him. The eternal frown was there, but this time it seemed less angry and more concentrated (Gilbert realized how tired he was when he started thinking that maybe it wasn’t that Lovina wore a frown on her face, maybe it was the frown that wore Lovina, and, when it left her, she was an empty shell without any emotions; if that was the case, maybe the frown should have a name, how about “Bucky”?), and if she kept that kind of frown, she would be almost pretty (and that was the thought that proved to him that he should get into bed as soon as he arrived to the house).
Flamenco, Tango y Tarantella (4d/?)
(Anonymous) 2012-04-09 04:04 am (UTC)(link)“Wake up, Gil, we’re here,” and the illusion of peace was gone, because, aside from the insult, her voice was as mean as always.
“Five more minutes, mom,” he muttered, trying to suppress his laughter.
“Mom?! I am not your mom, you idiot, now get out of my car!,” she said as she pushed him against the door.
Gilbert got out laughing and waved goodbye. Again, he thought he saw her smirk in amusement, but she started the car immediately and left before he could see if he was right. Then he saw the car stop and come back, and he stared in puzzlement at the very embarrassed Lovina that got out of it.
“Llaves,” she said as she handed him a key, looking down to hide her blush. “You can’t get in without a key, idiot,” she muttered before going back into her car.
“Wait,” said Gilbert before she could leave. He didn’t know why he was going to say this, but he did it anyway: “Will you come shopping with us? It is your house too, after all.”
This time, the one who stared in puzzlement was Lovina. He shouldn’t have said that, right? But he was really curious about the inheritance thing, and maybe he’d get an opportunity to get her to talk about that if she went shopping with them. And when she finally admitted the truth, he’d tease her endlessly about it. Yeah, he’d do that, he’d never let her live that little fact down. It was a miracle that he managed to keep his triumphant smile to himself now that he finally knew why he’d felt the impulse to invite her.
“If you’re still here when I get home, and I have nothing better to do, I might go with you. Don’t get any expectations, though.” And with that, she got into her car and left.
That was easier than I thought.
Gilbert entered the house and went straight to his room. It was as plain as the day before and he made some mental notes about what needed to be changed. He took off his shoes and got into the bed, not bothering to change, and fell asleep immediately. When he woke up, it was two in the afternoon and his head was fine.
For lunch, he found a mysterious yellow thing in a plate in the refrigerator with a note from Felicia next to it:
It’s polenta. Sorry we didn’t leave anything to accompany it, it’ll be plain like this.
It won’t kill you, warm it in the microwave.
Felicia
The yellow thing turned to be better than he expected, so he ate it without complaining (what’s the point in complaining when no one will hear you, anyway?).
Felicia arrived at five, looking apologetic.
“I’m sorry I sent Lovina to get you, but I figured it’d be better if you could come here immediately instead of having to come back later to change your clothes and everything. I’m sorry, was it a bad idea? I’m so, so sorry, I-”
“It’s okay,” interrupted Gilbert. “It’s okay, it was good to sleep here, at least I know that the bed doesn’t need to be changed,” he added, smiling.
“Still… sorry.”
“That’s enough. Where are we going?”
“My sister called, said she wanted to make sure you didn’t paint the walls orange and blue, and told me she’s coming with us. We have to meet with her at the academy, she’ll drive.”
“Academy?”
“She works at one of those art academies. She gives guitar lessons, and dance lessons.”
“Your sister dances?” Gilbert looked incredulous. He had a few ideas about what you need to dance, and he was sure that anger wasn’t one the requisites.
“I expected you to be more shocked by the fact that she teaches, or by her age,” replied Felicia, clearly amused by his expression.
“I was getting to that. But, seriously, she dances?”
“Yeah, she does. She teaches theory and history, though, and gives tarantella classes sometimes.”
“And how does she avoid killing her students?”
“You really think she’s that terrible?” Felicia seemed about to start laughing.
“…yes.”
“She’s strict, that’s true, but dead students mean no money, so…”
Gilbert laughed, picturing a bunch of kids and middle aged men trying to learn to play guitar just to avoid the look of complete despise Lovina would probably give them if they couldn’t.
Flamenco, Tango y Tarantella (4e/?) + Author's notes
(Anonymous) 2012-04-09 04:12 am (UTC)(link)“Your sister is scary.”
“Not really, you just need to get to know her,” said Felicia with a soft smile Gilbert was beginning to recognize as the “family smile”.
“She traumatized a bunch of people,” Gilbert pointed out in his most matter-of-fact voice.
“She just looked at them like she thought they were stupid. I grew up with that look and I’m fine.”
Gilbert shook his head, incredulous.
“Social services, now. You need them.”
Felicia laughed and patted his shoulder.
“It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think? Anyway, you weren’t here, you wouldn’t know. Now let’s go, she’ll kill us if we don’t get there soon.”
“Great way to convince me she’s not that bad.”
“Don’t forget your wallet, we’re not paying for your things,” she said as she went to her room to get a purse. “Wait a minute, okay? I can’t go shopping with a backpack, where’s the style in that?”
Gilbert grabbed his wallet, looked at himself in the mirror and made sure he looked good. He was satisfied with what he saw: young man in dark jeans, wearing a grey t-shirt and a black jacket. He grinned before heading for the door, looking completely determined. He’d get the truth from Lovina, and the score would be 2-1 in his favor.
Clearly, he never learnt that the point of competitions is to have fun, not winning.
---------------------
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Sorry for the fail of a chapter, but I'll be very busy this week and I just wanted to leave you something, so you'd know I'm still here. Also, the shopping trip turned out longer than I expected.
Especial thanks to the fourth anon who left a comment in the previous chapter for letting me use their description of coffee from South Italy. I tried to get an idea of how it was and spent a few hours making coffee. My friends didn't appreciate the hyperactive result XD
As always, thanks for your comments. Any suggestions are welcome. Also, if you have some grammar/spelling corrections, please point them out, this will be de-anoned when it's over so I can fix my mistakes.
My mom thanks the third anon who left a comment in the previous chapter for calling her awesome. Don't worry, she hasn't found the kink meme, I just told her about the comment because I thought it'd make her smile. It did.
Re: Flamenco, Tango y Tarantella (4e/?) + Author's notes
(Anonymous) 2012-04-09 07:17 am (UTC)(link)It was tons of fun to finally see some more interaction between Gilbert and Lovina. The dialogue between them was delightfully snappy, and I just can't get enough of the way you write Lovina. I can't really explain it, but even though she has a lot of Romano's personality, she somehow feels like a character of her own. Maybe it's just the female touch, but I really, really like the way you're writing her.
I can't wait to see what will happen during the shopping trip. I have a feeling that this competition Gilbert has going on won't end well, but I guess things will have to get bad before they can get good. Thank you for writing this wonderful fill, anon, and I hope your week won't completely exhaust you!
Re: Flamenco, Tango y Tarantella (4e/?) + Author's notes
(Anonymous) 2012-04-10 04:40 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Flamenco, Tango y Tarantella (4e/?) + Author's notes
(Anonymous) 2012-04-10 08:44 pm (UTC)(link)