Geena (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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rainbowfic2012-09-08 09:37 pm
geena) wrote in rainbowfic2012-09-08 09:37 pm
Alice Blue 22
Author: geena
Color: Alice Blue 22. I have seen so many extraordinary things, nothing seems extraordinary any more
Supplies and Styles: Frame, oils, seed beads, and glue.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,837
Story: Polyfaceted (Index~Timeline); the title of this story is Les Autres.
Summary: Five times Maria scared L and one time she didn't.
Notes: This occurs in 2034, 2035, 2037, 2038, 2044, and 2055. There are references to violence and threats contained within.
***
2038
They’re four hours into what is shaping up to be another all-nighter at Maria’s place (Aleksy having long since banned him from bringing work home), when L casually mentions, “You know, Joseph and Ricky have been warning the cousins about working with you. No one’s buying into their shit as far as I can tell, but it seems like they’re telling all the new kids that you’ll slit the throat of anyone that gets on your bad side.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Maria remarks, flipping through a file with interest. “I don’t kill family, it’s a rule. If I did, those two certainly wouldn’t be here.”
“I admire your restraint, then.” He hesitates, fidgeting with a pen as he asks, “Why do you always say it like that? ‘I don’t kill family, it’s a rule’.”
She doesn’t glance up. “Because it is a rule. The second one, in fact.”
L laughs, delighted as always by her impeccable dry wit-- that is, until he catches sight of her expression and realizes she means it. “No way. There is no way that you seriously have a list of rules. You must be joking.”
Wordlessly, Maria stands and leaves the room, returning just as his curiosity threatens to overpower his patience. The paper she places before him is fragile and worn, folded with the same methodical care that he’s grown to associate with her, and though she remains as stoic as ever, something tells him that this moment could be a turning point for the both of them. With great care, L opens the paper and scans its contents.
“You weren’t joking,” he finally mutters, lifting his head to stare at her in disbelief. “You have an actual list of rules. You came up with rules, and you wrote them out, and you numbered them. I don’t-- who even does that?”
“I find it useful to have boundaries clearly laid out,” Maria explains, apparently nonplussed by his reaction. “You’re not upset by this, are you?”
L takes a moment to think before responding, “No. Sure, I’m kinda weirded out that you have an actual physical list of actual rules, but I’ll get over it.” He stares at the last line, the words Be polite burning into his mind. “I mean-- christ, when did you even write this?”
“When I was twelve, following a day of very informative research.” Maria leans forward, holding his gaze as she tells him, “No one else knows about this, of course. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Yeah, sure, of course. I won’t say a word, don’t worry.” L blinks. “Wait, did you say twelve?”
***
2044
“Malcolm Reddick is dead,” L announces, rapping his knuckles against the door as he lets himself into Maria’s office. “You know Malcolm Reddick, right? He’s been all over the news ever since it was discovered that KMT Unlimited exploits foreign farmers and uses child labor in their factories. Of course, he claimed he didn’t know any thing about that, being that he’s only the CEO and founder. Oddly enough, he admitted to the animal cruelty charges.”
“I know who Malcolm Reddick is,” Maria interrupts, setting her pen aside as she give him her full attention.
L nods. “I thought so. Anyway, he was killed last night. According to the reports, he was practically cut in two and left to die in his own kitchen. The police have no leads, but I don’t think anyone is too broken up over a guy like that dying.” He pauses, picking a nonexistent piece of lint from his shirt. “You were out of contact last night, weren’t you?”
Though her expression remains blank, there’s a hint of genuine interest in her voice. “Do you want to have this conversation?”
“Not really,” L admits, ignoring the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Besides, that’s not why I came here.” Sinking into the chair opposite her, he produces a slim box from his pocket and slides it across the desk. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.” Maria carefully unwraps the gift, eying him with speculation as she lifts the dagger from the box.
“I had it custom-made,” he explains. It’s a work of art, even to L’s untrained eye-- the blade is skillfully shaped to provoke lethal amounts of pain from non-lethal wounds, while the contours of the handle and the precise balance allow for a natural use. “Paid in cash and had it picked up by someone with no connection to us. It’s untraceable.”
She gives no indication that she’s heard him, absorbed in examining the blade. She murmurs, “It’s exquisite. Worthy of something special.”
L tries not to think about her definition of ‘special’. “I thought you could name it Albert. Or maybe Alberto. I think most of the parts originated in Columbia.”
“I’m not Nicoletta,” Maria reminds him, tucking the dagger back into the box. “I don’t name inanimate objects.”
“Of course not.” L shifts in his seat. “That would be reassuring.”
***
2055
“Okay, how about John Wayne Gacy?” L asks, claiming defeat and using his fingers to bring the last sushi roll to his mouth.
Unsurprisingly, Maria manipulates her chopsticks with elegance and controlled skill. “Sloppy.”
“Charles Manson?”
“A coward.”
L reaches across the table and snags a fried tofu roll from her plate, amused by her lack of response. “Son of Sam?”
She sighs. “Delusional and unimpressive. Annoying, though the ones with nicknames usually are.”
“What about that guy from a few years ago, uh, Ryan Roy Matheson?” Grinning, he teases, “He has three names-- everyone knows that the greatest serial killers always have three names.”
“A staggering amount of evidence led the police directly to his apartment, where they found his collection of dismembered index fingers,” Maria dryly replies. Pushing her plate aside, she retrieves a slim compact and a tube of lipstick from her purse. “Appalling. Any self-respecting serial killer knows how to clean up after themself. They should have left his head on a pike outside of the courthouse pour encourager les autres.” She applies the lipstick with practiced care, pressing her lips together and peering into the mirror.
“Uh, right,” L mutters, suddenly interested in his cutlery. “Okay, um, the Zodi--”
“Don’t,” Maria warns without a hint of irony, eyes on her reflection, “make me laugh. Dumb luck, that’s all, with absolutely no skill involved. If he were working now, he’d be caught before he was halfway through his first murder. And taunting the authorities? Inelegant and plebian.”
L coughs, suddenly wishing he hadn’t started this little game. “Okay. Okay, then. Who would rate highly enough for your approval?”
Maria cocks her head, snapping the compact closed. “Nicoletta has skill, of course, but without the connections the family brought, she wouldn’t have lasted nearly as long. Philip Jefferson had a certain style, though his need for recognition was his undoing.” Her lips quirk. “Who gets my approval? Easy enough-- I do.”
L blinks. “Are you ready for the check? I think I’m ready for the check.”
***
2035
Aleksy stares for a long moment, finally shaking himself free of disbelief to echo, “You invited her here?”
L keeps his back to the other man, wincing. “Well, as I invited her to dinner and this is where we’re having dinner, yes, I did.”
“Into our home?”
L sighs, turning around and cocking an eyebrow. “Is there a problem with that?”
“Is there--” Aleksy throws his hands into the air, spinning on his heel and striding into the kitchen. “Is there a problem? He asks me if there’s a problem. You invited a sociopathic lunatic into our house.”
“No,” L corrects, narrowing his eyes as the last of his patience and understanding drain away. “I invited my friend, my relative, and my coworker over.”
“She’s a serial murderer!”
Reeling back, L watches Aleksy for a long moment before crossing his arms and asking, “Just what is it that you think I do?”
Aleksy flushes, visibly flustered. “That’s different. You--”
Just then, the doorbell rings. Shooting a look over his shoulder, L steps through the threshold and into the living room, replying, “There’s next to no difference and you know it.” He shakes his head as he reaches the door, opening it and forcing a smile. “Maria! Come in, dinner’s almost ready.”
“You’re terrible at that,” she remarks by way of a greeting. Stepping into the apartment, she shrugs out of her overcoat and instinctively hands it to him. “You should practice in the mirror. If you can make the skin around your eyes crinkle a little, it looks more genuine.”
“Uh, right.” L takes her coat, glancing quickly toward the kitchen. “Sorry. It’s just Aleksy...”
“Oh. I could leave, if you’d like? It doesn’t matter to me.”
L starts. “But it matters to me. I should be able to invite you over for a simple dinner without my husband--”
“Quiet.” They turn just in time for Aleksy to enter the room. At the sight of him, L flushes, but Maria breaks out into a huge, wide smile (he can’t help but notice that she’s right about the crinkling of the eyes, damn it). “Aleksy, hi! Thanks for having me, it means a lot. I don’t often get to do something like this, and, well, Little David and I have grown so close that it feels weird to not know his husband very well. It smells wonderful-- is that pelmeni?”
“Don’t,” he quietly urges. “Don’t do that.”
To her credit, Maria doesn’t even hesitate. “Don’t?”
Aleksy glares, fuming just beneath his calm and collected exterior. “Don’t pretend to-- to be like that. It’s disgusting.”
L glances away, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.
“Ah,” Maria murmurs. “Was is the part about the pelmeni? That did seem like too much, but I genuinely enjoy the dish. Or was it the enthusiasm?”
“There’s something wrong with you,” he whispers after a long, tense silence.
“Well, yes, obviously.”
Without another word, Aleksy stomps out of the room and down the hall, slamming their bedroom door hard enough to rattle the walls. L sighs, lifting a hand to rub his temples. The entire night is ruined and it’s primarily his fault. “Maybe you should go. This was a terrible idea.”
“Yes, it was,” Maria agrees, gently prying her coat from his grip. “My sociopathy aside, anyone could see that his own distant relationship with his mother would cause Aleksy to react negatively to any close attachments you form with women. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Huh. Oh, uh, yeah, tomorrow,” L distractedly answers. He eyes Maria, adding “You know, that’s actually really insightful. I never thought of it like that. He’s never been terribly fond of-- wait, who told you about his mother?”
In response, Maria merely blinks.
***
2034
Ever since their... agreement that they would be honest and themselves with one another, L would be lying if he didn’t admit that exchanging presents with Maria made him a little nervous. It’s not that she’d ever get him anything outright dangerous (or, well, dangerous to him), it’s just that he can’t even begin to imagine what sort of things Maria-- the true Maria-- would consider acceptable as a gift.
So it is anxiously that he awaits one evening during the week of his birthday, repeatedly checking the street for any sign of her car. She promised to meet him shortly after eight, warning him that she would be bringing his present along. It’s nearly eight-fifteen, and with every passing moment, his nerves only grow more frazzled.
Eventually, he catches sight of her car looping around the block in search of a parking spot. Hurrying out of the apartment and down the stairs, L reaches the lobby of his building just as Maria is entering. With a... puppy.
“Happy birthday,” she tells him once she’s within earshot. The salutation is uttered in a flat, monotone voice, but he knows that doesn’t mean she’s any less sincere.
“A dog,” L states, stunned. “You got me a dog.”
Maria nods, holding out the leash while simulatneously guiding the curious puppy away from various passing residents. “She’s a spaniel mix, as best as I can tell. A shelter dog, of course-- it’s despicable how many backyard breeders are allowed to get away with things while millions of loving dogs languish in shelters-- and she’s had all her shots. She’s ten weeks old and according to the volunteers she’s of a mild disposition.” Maria glances down at where the puppy is eagerly sniffing her shoes, bounding around her feet in excitement. “She’s playful, that’s for sure.”
“You got me a dog,” L repeats. He’s stuck on this point, unable to move past it.
Maria’s brow furrows slightly. “Yes. Her name is Shelby, at least for now. You can always change it.” She lifts her chin, staring L in the face. “You mentioned that you and Aleksy wanted to get a dog. You told me you agreed on it. Your building allows pets, your apartment is large enough and can be puppy-proofed in no time at all. I have a crate and other supplies in my car that I’ll bring in soon. Is there something wrong?” She reaches down, scratching behind the puppy’s-- Shelby’s-- ears.
L shakes his head, a slow smile creeping across his face. “No. No, it’s fine, I just... I really didn’t expect this. I didn’t know what I was expecting but this is just incredible. I-- thank you, Maria. Really, thank you so much.” Bending his knees and crouching down, L holds out a hand to be sniffed. “Hey there, girl. Oh, yeah, you’re a cute little thing, aren’t you? So tiny and bouncy...”
Maria watches this exchange in silence for a few minutes before nodding to herself. “Good. She seems to like you. I think you’ll both acclimate nicely.” Leaning over, she lowers her voice and adds, “If you harm her, if you neglect her, if you don’t pamper her and take care of her to the best of your ability, I will break into your home and slit your throat while you sleep.” She straightens. “And again, happy birthday.”
She leaves without another word, seemingly unaware of the way L can hardly breathe, terrified and frozen on the spot.
***
2037
“Please.” L grips the phone, glancing into the living room to check that his daughter is still absorbed in her show. “I wouldn’t ask if I had any other choice, you know this. But if I don’t go talk to them--”
“We lose the deal, I know.” There’s a pause followed by a huff of air, before Maria asks, “Are you sure that you want me to babysit? Are you sure that Aleksy wants that?”
L cringes. “Aleksy won’t know, if I can help it. And there is literally no one else. It’s only for a couple hours, Maria. Please, I need your help.”
Eventually she sighs. “All right. I’ll be there in a half hour.”
“Thank you,” he practically weeps.
It isn’t until much later that night that L returns home, weary but satisfied by the results of his excursion. They may be losing out on a few hundred thousand, but he managed to ensure the majority of the deal remained intact, netting the business upwards of a few cool million. Considering that he only had to resort to violence once or twice, it’s definitely been a productive night.
Letting himself into their apartment, he calls out, “Maria? Pumpkin? I’m home!”
“Shhh,” Maria chastises, appearing from around the corner. “Is it normal to refer to your offspring as a type of squash?”
“Sometimes.” L grins, slipping off his coat and hanging it on the hook beside the door. “Thanks again. I’ll fill you in on the details tomorrow, but tonight was definitely worth it. How was she?”
Maria shrugs. “Fine, I suppose. She ate and went to sleep without complaint. She says I’m her favorite auntie; you should dissuade her of that idea. There are others better suited.” She hesitates, quickly glancing over. “I taught her how to clean blood off of a blade. She seemed fascinated by the process.” Clearly Maria is expecting some sort of protest or outrage, based on her almost nervous demeanor (not, L allows, that she could ever actually be called anxious or anything of the like).
“Really?” L steps past Maria, making his way into the kitchen. A beer sounds perfect just about now. “Good. So many people focus on using the knife and ignore the care and upkeep. It’s good that she’s learning how to do that. It’s a lesson she should know.” He pops his head back into the hall, asking, “Do you want to stay for awhile? There’s some leftover quiche and we have a veterinary program saved.”
It’s not often that he manages to surprise Maria-- very few people are ever able to-- and he relishes moments like these.
After a beat or two, she subtly nods. “I think I can spare another hour or so.”
“Great. I’ll start heating up the food.”
***
geenaColor: Alice Blue 22. I have seen so many extraordinary things, nothing seems extraordinary any more
Supplies and Styles: Frame, oils, seed beads, and glue.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,837
Story: Polyfaceted (Index~Timeline); the title of this story is Les Autres.
Summary: Five times Maria scared L and one time she didn't.
Notes: This occurs in 2034, 2035, 2037, 2038, 2044, and 2055. There are references to violence and threats contained within.
***
They’re four hours into what is shaping up to be another all-nighter at Maria’s place (Aleksy having long since banned him from bringing work home), when L casually mentions, “You know, Joseph and Ricky have been warning the cousins about working with you. No one’s buying into their shit as far as I can tell, but it seems like they’re telling all the new kids that you’ll slit the throat of anyone that gets on your bad side.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Maria remarks, flipping through a file with interest. “I don’t kill family, it’s a rule. If I did, those two certainly wouldn’t be here.”
“I admire your restraint, then.” He hesitates, fidgeting with a pen as he asks, “Why do you always say it like that? ‘I don’t kill family, it’s a rule’.”
She doesn’t glance up. “Because it is a rule. The second one, in fact.”
L laughs, delighted as always by her impeccable dry wit-- that is, until he catches sight of her expression and realizes she means it. “No way. There is no way that you seriously have a list of rules. You must be joking.”
Wordlessly, Maria stands and leaves the room, returning just as his curiosity threatens to overpower his patience. The paper she places before him is fragile and worn, folded with the same methodical care that he’s grown to associate with her, and though she remains as stoic as ever, something tells him that this moment could be a turning point for the both of them. With great care, L opens the paper and scans its contents.
“You weren’t joking,” he finally mutters, lifting his head to stare at her in disbelief. “You have an actual list of rules. You came up with rules, and you wrote them out, and you numbered them. I don’t-- who even does that?”
“I find it useful to have boundaries clearly laid out,” Maria explains, apparently nonplussed by his reaction. “You’re not upset by this, are you?”
L takes a moment to think before responding, “No. Sure, I’m kinda weirded out that you have an actual physical list of actual rules, but I’ll get over it.” He stares at the last line, the words Be polite burning into his mind. “I mean-- christ, when did you even write this?”
“When I was twelve, following a day of very informative research.” Maria leans forward, holding his gaze as she tells him, “No one else knows about this, of course. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Yeah, sure, of course. I won’t say a word, don’t worry.” L blinks. “Wait, did you say twelve?”
***
“Malcolm Reddick is dead,” L announces, rapping his knuckles against the door as he lets himself into Maria’s office. “You know Malcolm Reddick, right? He’s been all over the news ever since it was discovered that KMT Unlimited exploits foreign farmers and uses child labor in their factories. Of course, he claimed he didn’t know any thing about that, being that he’s only the CEO and founder. Oddly enough, he admitted to the animal cruelty charges.”
“I know who Malcolm Reddick is,” Maria interrupts, setting her pen aside as she give him her full attention.
L nods. “I thought so. Anyway, he was killed last night. According to the reports, he was practically cut in two and left to die in his own kitchen. The police have no leads, but I don’t think anyone is too broken up over a guy like that dying.” He pauses, picking a nonexistent piece of lint from his shirt. “You were out of contact last night, weren’t you?”
Though her expression remains blank, there’s a hint of genuine interest in her voice. “Do you want to have this conversation?”
“Not really,” L admits, ignoring the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Besides, that’s not why I came here.” Sinking into the chair opposite her, he produces a slim box from his pocket and slides it across the desk. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.” Maria carefully unwraps the gift, eying him with speculation as she lifts the dagger from the box.
“I had it custom-made,” he explains. It’s a work of art, even to L’s untrained eye-- the blade is skillfully shaped to provoke lethal amounts of pain from non-lethal wounds, while the contours of the handle and the precise balance allow for a natural use. “Paid in cash and had it picked up by someone with no connection to us. It’s untraceable.”
She gives no indication that she’s heard him, absorbed in examining the blade. She murmurs, “It’s exquisite. Worthy of something special.”
L tries not to think about her definition of ‘special’. “I thought you could name it Albert. Or maybe Alberto. I think most of the parts originated in Columbia.”
“I’m not Nicoletta,” Maria reminds him, tucking the dagger back into the box. “I don’t name inanimate objects.”
“Of course not.” L shifts in his seat. “That would be reassuring.”
***
“Okay, how about John Wayne Gacy?” L asks, claiming defeat and using his fingers to bring the last sushi roll to his mouth.
Unsurprisingly, Maria manipulates her chopsticks with elegance and controlled skill. “Sloppy.”
“Charles Manson?”
“A coward.”
L reaches across the table and snags a fried tofu roll from her plate, amused by her lack of response. “Son of Sam?”
She sighs. “Delusional and unimpressive. Annoying, though the ones with nicknames usually are.”
“What about that guy from a few years ago, uh, Ryan Roy Matheson?” Grinning, he teases, “He has three names-- everyone knows that the greatest serial killers always have three names.”
“A staggering amount of evidence led the police directly to his apartment, where they found his collection of dismembered index fingers,” Maria dryly replies. Pushing her plate aside, she retrieves a slim compact and a tube of lipstick from her purse. “Appalling. Any self-respecting serial killer knows how to clean up after themself. They should have left his head on a pike outside of the courthouse pour encourager les autres.” She applies the lipstick with practiced care, pressing her lips together and peering into the mirror.
“Uh, right,” L mutters, suddenly interested in his cutlery. “Okay, um, the Zodi--”
“Don’t,” Maria warns without a hint of irony, eyes on her reflection, “make me laugh. Dumb luck, that’s all, with absolutely no skill involved. If he were working now, he’d be caught before he was halfway through his first murder. And taunting the authorities? Inelegant and plebian.”
L coughs, suddenly wishing he hadn’t started this little game. “Okay. Okay, then. Who would rate highly enough for your approval?”
Maria cocks her head, snapping the compact closed. “Nicoletta has skill, of course, but without the connections the family brought, she wouldn’t have lasted nearly as long. Philip Jefferson had a certain style, though his need for recognition was his undoing.” Her lips quirk. “Who gets my approval? Easy enough-- I do.”
L blinks. “Are you ready for the check? I think I’m ready for the check.”
***
Aleksy stares for a long moment, finally shaking himself free of disbelief to echo, “You invited her here?”
L keeps his back to the other man, wincing. “Well, as I invited her to dinner and this is where we’re having dinner, yes, I did.”
“Into our home?”
L sighs, turning around and cocking an eyebrow. “Is there a problem with that?”
“Is there--” Aleksy throws his hands into the air, spinning on his heel and striding into the kitchen. “Is there a problem? He asks me if there’s a problem. You invited a sociopathic lunatic into our house.”
“No,” L corrects, narrowing his eyes as the last of his patience and understanding drain away. “I invited my friend, my relative, and my coworker over.”
“She’s a serial murderer!”
Reeling back, L watches Aleksy for a long moment before crossing his arms and asking, “Just what is it that you think I do?”
Aleksy flushes, visibly flustered. “That’s different. You--”
Just then, the doorbell rings. Shooting a look over his shoulder, L steps through the threshold and into the living room, replying, “There’s next to no difference and you know it.” He shakes his head as he reaches the door, opening it and forcing a smile. “Maria! Come in, dinner’s almost ready.”
“You’re terrible at that,” she remarks by way of a greeting. Stepping into the apartment, she shrugs out of her overcoat and instinctively hands it to him. “You should practice in the mirror. If you can make the skin around your eyes crinkle a little, it looks more genuine.”
“Uh, right.” L takes her coat, glancing quickly toward the kitchen. “Sorry. It’s just Aleksy...”
“Oh. I could leave, if you’d like? It doesn’t matter to me.”
L starts. “But it matters to me. I should be able to invite you over for a simple dinner without my husband--”
“Quiet.” They turn just in time for Aleksy to enter the room. At the sight of him, L flushes, but Maria breaks out into a huge, wide smile (he can’t help but notice that she’s right about the crinkling of the eyes, damn it). “Aleksy, hi! Thanks for having me, it means a lot. I don’t often get to do something like this, and, well, Little David and I have grown so close that it feels weird to not know his husband very well. It smells wonderful-- is that pelmeni?”
“Don’t,” he quietly urges. “Don’t do that.”
To her credit, Maria doesn’t even hesitate. “Don’t?”
Aleksy glares, fuming just beneath his calm and collected exterior. “Don’t pretend to-- to be like that. It’s disgusting.”
L glances away, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.
“Ah,” Maria murmurs. “Was is the part about the pelmeni? That did seem like too much, but I genuinely enjoy the dish. Or was it the enthusiasm?”
“There’s something wrong with you,” he whispers after a long, tense silence.
“Well, yes, obviously.”
Without another word, Aleksy stomps out of the room and down the hall, slamming their bedroom door hard enough to rattle the walls. L sighs, lifting a hand to rub his temples. The entire night is ruined and it’s primarily his fault. “Maybe you should go. This was a terrible idea.”
“Yes, it was,” Maria agrees, gently prying her coat from his grip. “My sociopathy aside, anyone could see that his own distant relationship with his mother would cause Aleksy to react negatively to any close attachments you form with women. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Huh. Oh, uh, yeah, tomorrow,” L distractedly answers. He eyes Maria, adding “You know, that’s actually really insightful. I never thought of it like that. He’s never been terribly fond of-- wait, who told you about his mother?”
In response, Maria merely blinks.
***
Ever since their... agreement that they would be honest and themselves with one another, L would be lying if he didn’t admit that exchanging presents with Maria made him a little nervous. It’s not that she’d ever get him anything outright dangerous (or, well, dangerous to him), it’s just that he can’t even begin to imagine what sort of things Maria-- the true Maria-- would consider acceptable as a gift.
So it is anxiously that he awaits one evening during the week of his birthday, repeatedly checking the street for any sign of her car. She promised to meet him shortly after eight, warning him that she would be bringing his present along. It’s nearly eight-fifteen, and with every passing moment, his nerves only grow more frazzled.
Eventually, he catches sight of her car looping around the block in search of a parking spot. Hurrying out of the apartment and down the stairs, L reaches the lobby of his building just as Maria is entering. With a... puppy.
“Happy birthday,” she tells him once she’s within earshot. The salutation is uttered in a flat, monotone voice, but he knows that doesn’t mean she’s any less sincere.
“A dog,” L states, stunned. “You got me a dog.”
Maria nods, holding out the leash while simulatneously guiding the curious puppy away from various passing residents. “She’s a spaniel mix, as best as I can tell. A shelter dog, of course-- it’s despicable how many backyard breeders are allowed to get away with things while millions of loving dogs languish in shelters-- and she’s had all her shots. She’s ten weeks old and according to the volunteers she’s of a mild disposition.” Maria glances down at where the puppy is eagerly sniffing her shoes, bounding around her feet in excitement. “She’s playful, that’s for sure.”
“You got me a dog,” L repeats. He’s stuck on this point, unable to move past it.
Maria’s brow furrows slightly. “Yes. Her name is Shelby, at least for now. You can always change it.” She lifts her chin, staring L in the face. “You mentioned that you and Aleksy wanted to get a dog. You told me you agreed on it. Your building allows pets, your apartment is large enough and can be puppy-proofed in no time at all. I have a crate and other supplies in my car that I’ll bring in soon. Is there something wrong?” She reaches down, scratching behind the puppy’s-- Shelby’s-- ears.
L shakes his head, a slow smile creeping across his face. “No. No, it’s fine, I just... I really didn’t expect this. I didn’t know what I was expecting but this is just incredible. I-- thank you, Maria. Really, thank you so much.” Bending his knees and crouching down, L holds out a hand to be sniffed. “Hey there, girl. Oh, yeah, you’re a cute little thing, aren’t you? So tiny and bouncy...”
Maria watches this exchange in silence for a few minutes before nodding to herself. “Good. She seems to like you. I think you’ll both acclimate nicely.” Leaning over, she lowers her voice and adds, “If you harm her, if you neglect her, if you don’t pamper her and take care of her to the best of your ability, I will break into your home and slit your throat while you sleep.” She straightens. “And again, happy birthday.”
She leaves without another word, seemingly unaware of the way L can hardly breathe, terrified and frozen on the spot.
***
“Please.” L grips the phone, glancing into the living room to check that his daughter is still absorbed in her show. “I wouldn’t ask if I had any other choice, you know this. But if I don’t go talk to them--”
“We lose the deal, I know.” There’s a pause followed by a huff of air, before Maria asks, “Are you sure that you want me to babysit? Are you sure that Aleksy wants that?”
L cringes. “Aleksy won’t know, if I can help it. And there is literally no one else. It’s only for a couple hours, Maria. Please, I need your help.”
Eventually she sighs. “All right. I’ll be there in a half hour.”
“Thank you,” he practically weeps.
It isn’t until much later that night that L returns home, weary but satisfied by the results of his excursion. They may be losing out on a few hundred thousand, but he managed to ensure the majority of the deal remained intact, netting the business upwards of a few cool million. Considering that he only had to resort to violence once or twice, it’s definitely been a productive night.
Letting himself into their apartment, he calls out, “Maria? Pumpkin? I’m home!”
“Shhh,” Maria chastises, appearing from around the corner. “Is it normal to refer to your offspring as a type of squash?”
“Sometimes.” L grins, slipping off his coat and hanging it on the hook beside the door. “Thanks again. I’ll fill you in on the details tomorrow, but tonight was definitely worth it. How was she?”
Maria shrugs. “Fine, I suppose. She ate and went to sleep without complaint. She says I’m her favorite auntie; you should dissuade her of that idea. There are others better suited.” She hesitates, quickly glancing over. “I taught her how to clean blood off of a blade. She seemed fascinated by the process.” Clearly Maria is expecting some sort of protest or outrage, based on her almost nervous demeanor (not, L allows, that she could ever actually be called anxious or anything of the like).
“Really?” L steps past Maria, making his way into the kitchen. A beer sounds perfect just about now. “Good. So many people focus on using the knife and ignore the care and upkeep. It’s good that she’s learning how to do that. It’s a lesson she should know.” He pops his head back into the hall, asking, “Do you want to stay for awhile? There’s some leftover quiche and we have a veterinary program saved.”
It’s not often that he manages to surprise Maria-- very few people are ever able to-- and he relishes moments like these.
After a beat or two, she subtly nods. “I think I can spare another hour or so.”
“Great. I’ll start heating up the food.”
***
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“Is it normal to refer to your offspring as a type of squash?”
FAVORITE LINE. But there were a lot of good ones. Great job!
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Yay! I'm so glad that you liked it. I almost forget how much I love their friendship. It's just so open, accepting, and utterly perfect, really. We really need to write more of them.
Anyway, yay, so glad. And thank you!
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Their relationship is awesome. Maria should have someone she can be real with, outside Nic; L is the perfect person for it. I love the way you portray both of them and love their friendship so. You write Maria's sense of humor awesomely.
Great job.
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Yay, I'm glad you like it! The serial killers section was kind of fun to write, I have to admit.
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Thank you!
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THIS WAS MY REACTION TOO. Plus, I really enjoyed how the first scene is kind of sweet WHILE STILL FUNDAMENTALLY HORRIFYING.
The conversation in the second one. So, this guy got butchered... anyway, happy birthday. Are you naming your doom!knife? No? Oh, well. I wasn't sure if I should laugh or cringe. I think maybe I did both. And I am totally OK with that. XD
“Delusional and unimpressive. Annoying, though the ones with nicknames usually are.”
HOLY SHIT. That is like really good insight too (and then, she does the insight thing to L later and it's just... whoa). I also am ready for the check!
I don't know what it is about the fourth one, but Maria really reminds me of an android someone just flipped on, and that's cool.
Maria watches this exchange in silence for a few minutes before nodding to herself. “Good. She seems to like you. I think you’ll both acclimate nicely.” Leaning over, she lowers her voice and adds, “If you harm her, if you neglect her, if you don’t pamper her and take care of her to the best of your ability, I will break into your home and slit your throat while you sleep.” She straightens. “And again, happy birthday.”
She leaves without another word, seemingly unaware of the way L can hardly breathe, terrified and frozen on the spot.
I honestly had to stop reading for a sec after THAT, so I totally empathize. It's just- puppy > killing you. And it makes so much sense it's almost kind of like getting snapped with a rubberband.
Considering that he only had to resort to violence once or twice, it’s definitely been a productive night.
*HEARTS* ^ Favorite line.
Corlionis bonding over knives. It's a beautiful thing.
Much like all of this fic. Thank you so much for posting!