concoursec | Tell me you love me. [CLOSED]

Entry tags:

Tell me you love me. [CLOSED]

Character(s): Grell, Marco, and Espio (if he wants to pop in)
Location: some hallway late at night?
Rating: PG13 for fake blood, feelings, a scene that looks violent but isn't. Ironically.
Open/Closed/Finished: Closed
Summary: Espio, of all people, made good quality fake blood. Now Grell is using it to torment Marco.

The scene was small, but gruesome to the eye. To the inexperienced, it looked as if something violent had occurred, if the thick, dark red color on the walls and floor were any indication. It was a beautiful mural of DEATH, and the victim, who wore a purple nightgown, lay crumpled and lifeless at a weird angle next to the weapon that was supposedly used. There wasn't a place of impact, but would anyone really be looking for it?

Probably not.

One of the wonderful things about reapers was their lack of breathing. Grell played the perfect victim in that she had no pulse, nor did her chest move. All she had to do was wait for the right person to come along. She had told Marco she was going for a late shower. That was an hour ago.

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For the first minutes, Marco didn't think much of it. After half an hour he wondered if she'd meant that as an invitation that he'd somehow been too clueless to pick up on. Then again, she could just say so bluntly, they were married, it's not like she had reason to be shy. Or did she? Something about Victorian sensibilities, wasn't it? Or maybe it was just that she liked the romance of nuances.

Nuances which only meant a lot of room for miscommunication and missed chances. After forty-five minutes, the book he'd been reading, and the project he'd been working on were a complete failure. Try as he might, the words refused to make sense. He could crack accounting or codes or even backwards writing as if it was second nature, but now, even the simplest of things were beyond him.

He couldn't focus, he was fidgety, and between the two that tended to make him fussy and worried. Not that anything had happened to Grell, no, he was quite certain she could take care of herself. After all, it was hard to keep up a fight against Marco especially if someone didn't use haki -- though soul reaper abilities probably qualified as such -- yet Grell could always hold her own if not completely get the better of him.

If anything, he was more worried she'd be the one to go crazy axe-murderer on someone. Sorry, chainsaw-murderer.

Still, his worry this time was that she was waiting for him to realize that it was an open invitation he was missing out on and the more time he wasted wondering the more likely it was that she was going to get mad at him for not picking up on her subtle seductions and then make him pay in spades for it.

And that would kind of suck. A lot.

So after that hour, he peeked his head in the door, whistling innocently and fully prepared to own up to his own obliviousness about any hints she might have dropped. That or as to whether he was just reading too much into nothing, because knowing him, that was just as likely.

He smelled it before he really saw anything. Something terribly, terribly wrong. It didn't remind him of any wars or battlefields, luckily -- because he really didn't need any ~~flashbacks of 'Nam~~ revisits to Marineford in his head or physically -- but there was something sharp and metallic and off.

That was when he saw it.

Really and truly saw it. ~~Pun intended yohoho.~~

For all his calm face, inside he mentally completely freaked the fuck out.

His heart stopped and then plummeted like an icy cold rock into the pit of his stomach. There wasn't a lot Marco feared, but losing his family would always take the top of that list.

He couldn't breathe, as if time just froze and all the air was gone. His heart was suddenly pounding out of his chest, rocketing back up to his throat, unable to settle where it really needed to be.

Still, he kicked his way through the panic, refusing to let anything keep him down and instantly leaped into action, instantly at Grell's side so quickly it was more like he'd teleported there rather than ran the little distance. And he desperately started trying to revive her. She was a shinigami, she couldn't die, right? RIGHT?!?! It was impossible. Impossible.

"Kitten? Kitten?! Talk to me! Grell, Grell honey wake up. Wake up! Love, love what the hell happened? You were just gone a few-- Grell, no, wake up." His hands shook as he checked for a pulse and her eyes, gently slapping her face to snap her out of it. "What happened?" His arms covered over in fiery blue flames, in some vain attempt to give her his healing.

"Grell love, darling wake up. Please be alive, please be alive." It's said that most birds have a heartbeat rate of 350 per minute. Normally Marco assumed he had a normal human rate due to his size and only being half avian. Right then, however, he was quite certain 350 was too slow for what he was going through. Where everything had been moving in slow motion molasses and ice before, it had suddenly sped up to catch up with the lost time and he was frantically talking too fast. So much for legendary composure.

"Grell, Grell, love, who did this?" Because he was going to murder them. No, that was a word far too mild for what Marco would do. He would make the revenge in Kill Bill look like the naive child's game of princesses and knights in comparison. This meant war. The kind of war only a phoenix could execute when the one person he was sure would stick by him to the end could be slipping away in his very hands. The kind of war only the Whitebeard pirate crew could conduct; the kind that could end the world and he wouldn't even regret it. Oh yes, the kind that made stars shivers in worry and know the feeling of fear those humans who lived like ants felt whenever a hurricane was coming. And Marco would be that hurricane; a pure force of raging revenge and nothing but vengeance.

Wait.

Waaaaaait just one minute.

Was that.

Jam?

He was going to bite her if it was. What the hell flavor was it and why was it on the wall? That just seemed like a bad place for it. Bathroom walls jam? Yuck. And she got on his case for eating bugs? At least he was made of fire and insects were protein unlike bathroom germs. Talk about a crazy and gross double standard--

No wait! NOW WASN'T THE TIME FOR THAT! She could be dying or even already dead! He should get a doctor at the very least! And demand they figure out how to make phoenix downs from his own down feathers if they couldn't heal her. Surely, something! Anything!

"Don't die, don't die, don't die, don't die," he insisted as if he could keep her alive through sheer force of will and persistence. "I'll get help, they can do healing magic." He gently looked for any noticeably large wounds he could bind and cast the only low level healing magics he could remember from classes in the hopes that it would at least keep anything from getting worse.

She could hear footsteps approach, which was good. It was getting pretty cold on the floor and the red mixture was setting in on her skin. One moment, she was cold, the next there was warmth and protection. How could that have happened so quickly? Marco must be in quite the state of panic. Grell remained as limp as possible, even with the soft slaps to her cheek. They didn't feel soft at all. It took all her will to remain as lifeless in his arms, listening to his heart flutter faster than a humming bird's wings.

Until she heard him speak.

All that heartache really touched her. True emotions were hard to trudge up, but tugging at triggers like this made it all worth while. Of course, she would feel guilty for going this far, but she'll make it up to him. Somehow. Being a bit out of body in a sense made it easy to observe his actions, such as feeling how the para-magic was tingling all over her body. It wouldn't do anything, however.

Where was Espio to capture this moment?

At first, Grell still did not move, but shifted her eyes over to him, staring at him. If it felt creepy to Marco, then she was doing it right.

"Kitten? Kitten are you conscious?" he held up a finger to capture her eyes and moved it in lines to make sure she could follow. "Speak to me, eh? What happened? Who'd you fight? I'll go kill them after I get the doctors over here." Outwardly he was all calm and collected again, in charge and bravely facing any struggle head on, that way no matter how bad it was at least she'd know she could count on him.

His heart was still pounding and head full of a million worries and fears however.

Grell continued to stare before a faint smile appeared on her face. A hand reached up to his face, cupping the side of it. So handsome and hot when he threatens others with DEATH. They're definitely having that shower later.

"How I love you right now."

Okay, his calm actually shook a little more at that, his shoulders visibly trembling, though a quick burst of blue flames made it go away. If those were her final words to him he didn't think he could take it. The list of those he had to avenge was piling up quickly.

"K-Kitten, what happened? Tell me, eh." He took her hand and cupped it in both of his instead. He didn't return that declaration with his usual, he was too determined to make her stay and therefore if she wanted to hear it back she had to keep hanging on and get better. He couldn't hold it for long though, and instantly wrapped warm blue wings protectively around her. He didn't want to risk tugging her to him while he still couldn't tell what had happened. "Stay with me, okay? Don't go." He leaned his forehead to hers with a silent to promise to kick death himself in the face if he tried to come collect one of his shinigami and take her away from Marco.

Marco wasn't getting it, but it was her own fault. Too traumatized to realize that she was okay. Those flames had always fascinated her with the way they never burned her or anything else.

"Sshhh...I'm not going anywhere." Her arms went about his neck as she pulled herself into his lap. "Espio really outdid himself with this project." Grell kept close to him, stroking his hair soothingly, as well as the back of his neck. "I'm fine, Marco."

"Oh great..."

Espio had hidden on the ceiling at the sound of footsteps, but the moment his name came into it, he couldn't help but interject. Yes, he realised that he might be ruining a moment - a rather screwed up moment - but even so...

He felt a little bad, but considering that from the start he'd only really wanted to make a mess, he was not going to take the blame.

"Don't blame me for your soap opera drama! That bit, you did on your own!"

"Espio--?" His tone was sharp and eyes narrowed when the chameleon appeared. At first he thought she meant they got into a fight, but at the soothing touch and even more soothing words, he put the pieces together.

"You're both grounded," he growled irritably, not caring that he wasn't really their first mate or captain and therefore in charge of such a thing. Force of habit, if they were going to act like his idiot crewmates, they could suffer the price of it.

And then he leaned close to bite Grell's neck in punishment. "And that was for scaring me." He wasn't quite as mad as he could have been. They got him good, but given how often he pulled pranks or joked around, it was about time they got him back somehow. Still, he was serious about finding a way to ground them at least.

"Grounded?" Really, Marco? She wasn't a teenager! Although their prank would deem otherwise. The bite was less out of punishment for Grell and more of a topping to the cake they just created. "We're already going to clean up this area. What more do you want?"

Yes, Espio, we.

Espio's reaction was pretty much exactly the same, although technically, at nineteen he was still a teenager.

At Grell's answer, however...

"I'm not cleaning up!" he was quick to protest. "I did not make a load of fake blood just so you could freak out Marco - this mess is staying right where it is!"

"You're both cleaning it up and then I'm going to see about some sort of community service. I'm sure the Headmaster expects better of his SeeDs and instructors."

Even though he wasn't a member of the Disciplinary Committee and they weren't in training so he probably didn't actually have the authority to issue such an order, it hardly stopped Marco from trying.

Edited 2012-06-30 01:54 (UTC)

Grell has never been so confused in her afterlife. Espio wanted the mess to stay, yet Marco did not. How could their roles have become so reversed?

"I'm not sure what parallel dimension I just stepped into, but community service is out of the question if you value any sort of intimacy."

Just saying.

"It's a dimension where you just terrified your husband," Espio answered. "Short-lived as it was. And, just to remind you again, I had nothing to do with you playing dead."

And really? Marco, of all people, was telling him to be responsible and trying to issue some form of punishment? That was actually a vaguely amusing notion.

"And no. For a start, compared to swiping a spacecraft worth a few billion gil for the day, a little bit of syrup to scare a few cadets is nothing! Someone will notice it's syrup, and let the whole BBS know about it. Second, would you still be saying this if I'd told you from the start? You know, before Grell decided to drama it up?"

Edited 2012-06-30 02:37 (UTC)

"Grounded," Marco tweaked Grell's nose as a reminder that he was punishing her, not the other way around.

He folded his arms at their flat out refusal however. "Che... so long as it gets cleaned up at least."

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my god that was glorious...

pfffffft

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MY HEAD REFUSES TO BE SATISFIED WITH THIS TAG I'm sorry.

No worries :3 I like it!