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rainbowfic2013-06-24 02:48 am
bookblather) wrote in rainbowfic2013-06-24 02:48 am
Xanadu 4, Electric Purple 4: Fit
Author: Kat
Title: Fit
Story: In the Heart
Colors: Xanadu 4 (Xanadu), electric purple 4 (Mama says truth is all that matters/Lying and deceiving is a sin/Drifting through a world that's torn and tattered/Every thought I have don't mean a thing (Bryan Ferry- Don't Stop The Dance)) with SWL's paint-by-numbers (Summer, Felipe and Zack. There's three of them in this house now. There are things they need to learn about how that works.)
Supplies and Materials: Frame, miniature collection, glue (Someone may get on your nerves today... But keeping your true feelings quiet and just acquiescing won't work for you now because it's important that your opinion is heard.), oils (dressing yourself), glitter (familiar), novelty beads (“Love can change a person the way a parent can change a baby- awkwardly, and often with a great deal of mess.” ― Lemony Snicket, Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid), fingerpainting (alternating dialogue only and description only).
Word Count: 616
Rating: PG
Summary: They fit.
Warnings: none.
Notes: I got a present and then this finished writing itself. THANK YOU PRESENT-GIVER, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. Also a very late meme-fill for lilmoka.
The first thing they do is buy a new bed. The old one's too small, really, though they did their best: Summer kept waking up half smothered, or one of the boys would fall off the side. So they go shopping and come home with a king-size bed, wide enough for the three of them, narrow enough that they can still be close.
Zack and Felipe swear at the frame while Summer irons the sheets, then the three of them wrestle the mattress into the bedstead, put on sheets and blankets and pillows, and fall on it laughing, entwined, together.
--
"What are you doing?"
"Ironing, why?"
"Dude, I figured that much out. I mean, why are you ironing my shirt?"
"It was in the laundry basket and it needed ironing. And I like ironing."
"Well, yeah, that's okay, whatever."
"...is there a particular reason my ironing your shirt bothers you, Felipe?"
"I don't know, I just... never had anyone to do my ironing for me."
"Obviously."
"Shut up."
--
Felipe moves his things in piece by piece. First his uniform, hanging side-by-side with Zack's, and his clothes, polished shoes lined up by Summer's. A picture of his siblings appears between Paige with Kayleigh sprawled on her lap and Ivy with Aaron in a headlock. His badge and Zack's frame Summer's ID, their keys tangled on the front table.
It's odd how possessions can prove the truth of things. Favorite mugs in a mass in the cupboard. Books intermingling on shelves. Furniture and knickknacks in a stylistic mishmash.
It's beginning to feel like a home now. For all of them.
--
"That couch offends me."
"Fuck you, it's the most comfortable couch I've ever met."
"I like it too. Even if it is, um."
"Ugly, Summer. The word you're looking for is ugly."
"No, querida, the word you want is definitely unique."
"It... probably is a word starting with u, yes."
"Ever the diplomat."
"It's ugly, Felipe."
"It's unique! And comfortable!"
"I'm going to stay out of this, I think."
"Wise move."
--
They clean together, cook together. More exactly, Felipe cooks, stirring pots on the stove and checking the oven, while Zack washes plates and Summer sweeps the floor.
She likes things clean, almost surgically so—she cleans at odd hours, scrubs harder than they think she should. Zack picks things up as he sees them, puts them back in their places. Felipe must be forced to clean, but he likes to cook, to mend, to create things. He doesn't know the places for things yet, but he thinks he can learn.
He knows where he belongs, anyway. Unshakably. They all do.
--
"I'm sorry, it just bothers me so much."
"Don't be sorry, sweetheart—Felipe! Clean up your crap."
"A, that is your crap, and b, what happened to please?"
"A, it's definitely not mine, and b, you're upsetting Summer."
"No, you aren't. Zack, don't exaggerate, please."
"I'm not exaggerating, you were upset!"
"It bothers me, it doesn't... oh, never mind, I'll pick it up."
"No, I've got it, don't—
"Summer—"
"..."
"Now look what you did!"
"Me?"
--
Zack stops doing everyone's ironing, and they get the couch reupholstered. Felipe finds places for his things. Summer tries to talk things out instead of walking away. They argue sometimes. They settle.
And they fit. That's the key. Summer rests between her boys when they're falling asleep or walking together. Zack sits on the outside when they have to share a booth. Felipe sprawls across them both when they watch television. They kiss in circles.
Someday Summer will grow round-bellied, and they will have a fourth to fit into their lives. They'll manage.
They fit, after all. They just fit.
Title: Fit
Story: In the Heart
Colors: Xanadu 4 (Xanadu), electric purple 4 (Mama says truth is all that matters/Lying and deceiving is a sin/Drifting through a world that's torn and tattered/Every thought I have don't mean a thing (Bryan Ferry- Don't Stop The Dance)) with SWL's paint-by-numbers (Summer, Felipe and Zack. There's three of them in this house now. There are things they need to learn about how that works.)
Supplies and Materials: Frame, miniature collection, glue (Someone may get on your nerves today... But keeping your true feelings quiet and just acquiescing won't work for you now because it's important that your opinion is heard.), oils (dressing yourself), glitter (familiar), novelty beads (“Love can change a person the way a parent can change a baby- awkwardly, and often with a great deal of mess.” ― Lemony Snicket, Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can't Avoid), fingerpainting (alternating dialogue only and description only).
Word Count: 616
Rating: PG
Summary: They fit.
Warnings: none.
Notes: I got a present and then this finished writing itself. THANK YOU PRESENT-GIVER, YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. Also a very late meme-fill for lilmoka.
The first thing they do is buy a new bed. The old one's too small, really, though they did their best: Summer kept waking up half smothered, or one of the boys would fall off the side. So they go shopping and come home with a king-size bed, wide enough for the three of them, narrow enough that they can still be close.
Zack and Felipe swear at the frame while Summer irons the sheets, then the three of them wrestle the mattress into the bedstead, put on sheets and blankets and pillows, and fall on it laughing, entwined, together.
--
"What are you doing?"
"Ironing, why?"
"Dude, I figured that much out. I mean, why are you ironing my shirt?"
"It was in the laundry basket and it needed ironing. And I like ironing."
"Well, yeah, that's okay, whatever."
"...is there a particular reason my ironing your shirt bothers you, Felipe?"
"I don't know, I just... never had anyone to do my ironing for me."
"Obviously."
"Shut up."
--
Felipe moves his things in piece by piece. First his uniform, hanging side-by-side with Zack's, and his clothes, polished shoes lined up by Summer's. A picture of his siblings appears between Paige with Kayleigh sprawled on her lap and Ivy with Aaron in a headlock. His badge and Zack's frame Summer's ID, their keys tangled on the front table.
It's odd how possessions can prove the truth of things. Favorite mugs in a mass in the cupboard. Books intermingling on shelves. Furniture and knickknacks in a stylistic mishmash.
It's beginning to feel like a home now. For all of them.
--
"That couch offends me."
"Fuck you, it's the most comfortable couch I've ever met."
"I like it too. Even if it is, um."
"Ugly, Summer. The word you're looking for is ugly."
"No, querida, the word you want is definitely unique."
"It... probably is a word starting with u, yes."
"Ever the diplomat."
"It's ugly, Felipe."
"It's unique! And comfortable!"
"I'm going to stay out of this, I think."
"Wise move."
--
They clean together, cook together. More exactly, Felipe cooks, stirring pots on the stove and checking the oven, while Zack washes plates and Summer sweeps the floor.
She likes things clean, almost surgically so—she cleans at odd hours, scrubs harder than they think she should. Zack picks things up as he sees them, puts them back in their places. Felipe must be forced to clean, but he likes to cook, to mend, to create things. He doesn't know the places for things yet, but he thinks he can learn.
He knows where he belongs, anyway. Unshakably. They all do.
--
"I'm sorry, it just bothers me so much."
"Don't be sorry, sweetheart—Felipe! Clean up your crap."
"A, that is your crap, and b, what happened to please?"
"A, it's definitely not mine, and b, you're upsetting Summer."
"No, you aren't. Zack, don't exaggerate, please."
"I'm not exaggerating, you were upset!"
"It bothers me, it doesn't... oh, never mind, I'll pick it up."
"No, I've got it, don't—
"Summer—"
"..."
"Now look what you did!"
"Me?"
--
Zack stops doing everyone's ironing, and they get the couch reupholstered. Felipe finds places for his things. Summer tries to talk things out instead of walking away. They argue sometimes. They settle.
And they fit. That's the key. Summer rests between her boys when they're falling asleep or walking together. Zack sits on the outside when they have to share a booth. Felipe sprawls across them both when they watch television. They kiss in circles.
Someday Summer will grow round-bellied, and they will have a fourth to fit into their lives. They'll manage.
They fit, after all. They just fit.