The Shop

I'm basically just playing around with characters here, but feel free to leave a comment.

 

The bell above the door dinged and Hans looked up from the newspaper to see Jean entering with Victoria hanging on to the leg of her trousers. The girl looked apprehensive around the antiques shop before her eyes landed on his face and she ran up to the counter.

“Uncle Hass!” she exclaimed happily and raised her hands to him.

“Hi, Vicky,” he greeted her as her mother caught up and lifted her up on the counter with a grunt.

“We came to visit,” the girl informed him and nodded importantly. He nodded back before brushing a few strands of sand blond hair out of his eyes.

“That’s very nice of you. And you’ve grown!” Admittedly it hadn’t been more than a couple of weeks since he had seen the girl last, but she beamed at him before her attention drifted to the glass cases behind him.

“Who’s grown?” Franky had been drawn out of the workshop by the voices and Vicky threw herself into his arms, completely confident he would catch her.

“Don’t do that, you could have fallen,” Jean huffed, but gave Franky a smile anyway.

“She would have bounced right up again,” he said and threw Vicky lightly up in the air without letting go of her, but still drawing an ecstatic whine from her. “Anything particular that brought you here? We’ve got some nice tea cups.” He quickly wiped his dirty hands on his trousers and went over to one of the shelves. Jean slowly followed, massaging the small of her back with her fingertips as she went.

“I think we have enough cups to feed an army,” Jean said with a sigh, but didn’t deny the one in Franky’s hand was pretty.

“Real gold lining on the rim, the pattern is from the 1850s and it’s most likely not a reproduction,” he told her, letting Victoria inspect the lavender flowers on in closer, but still keeping a good hold on it himself.

“Most likely,” Hans muttered from the counter, dividing his attention halfway between them and the newspaper.

“This one’s got a crack, though,” Franky continued and squinted down in the cup. “Nothing serious, just a small line. Don’t think it would be possible to brush over, though... Unless I painted the inside black.” His face lit up in a grin.

Jean lifted an eyebrow and held out her hand for the cup. “I guess that would work. Might look weird, though,” she said, playing along with his antics.

“Not with the right paint,” he shot back and let Victoria down again, she was getting bored by the grown-ups talk. “Non-toxic, of course. This could be like the matriarch cup, queen of all the others.”

“You’re not right in the head,” Jean laughed.

“Course I ain’t,” he answered and quickly peeked into the matching cups on the shelf. “The rest seem to be in order, but might as well do two with black insides, a king and a queen.”

“Uh-huh.” She braced her hands against her back, but it didn’t relieve the pain much.

“God, you look like you’re carrying twins!” Franky suddenly exclaimed, by some miracle having forgotten she was pregnant up till that point.

“You sure know how to charm a lady,” she said dryly and went slowly over to the counter.

“Nope, and that’s why I ended up with Hans,” Franky shot back, but he ran his hand nervously through his red hair. “We can go up, get you seated.”

“No, this is better,” she answered as she placed her elbows on the counter and leaned forward. A cool hand stroked her neck as her white-blonde hair pooled in front of her face and she sighed.

“You sure you’re okay?” Hans asked quietly.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Victoria was getting a bit of cabin fever, though.”

“It’s nice of you to come, and Franky always appreciate a visitor with his own mental age,” Hans said.

“Get bent,” the redhead replied before whistling. “Vicky, where have you gone off to?”

“She’s not a dog,” Hans sighed, but the girl soon appeared with a silk scarf wrapped around her like a skirt.

“It’s pretty,” she said shyly as she toddled up to her uncle, running her hand over the yellow fabric.

“And it looks lovely on you,” Franky said while kneeling down. “Do you wanna look at more clothes or come out back with me? I think I have something you’d like.” The girl just looked wide-eyed at him before nodding.

“Give me the scarf in the meantime so it doesn’t get dirty,” her mother said, looking at her from under her arm. The girl was still looking mesmerised at her uncle and let the scarf puddle around her feet before he took hold of her hand and led her into the work shop.

“Pregnancy looks to be hard work,” Hans noted after a moment of quiet and began massaging Jean’s neck softly with one hand.

“Not as hard as giving birth will be,” she answered and straightened up again. He retracted his hand with a timid smile. “No, it was good! But all the blood’s pooling in my head.”

“We can go up if you want to sit, they’ll find us,” he said and folded up the newspaper.

“It really is fine,” she said tiredly. “I’ve just been up since the crack of dawn since Victoria hasn’t got a snooze button, or a gear between full speed and completely comatose.”

“Well, as long as she grows out of it.” He shot a quick look towards the door to the workshop and she giggled. “I’m sure a four-year-old can be worse, though.”

“Don’t bet on it,” she answered dryly. “All’s well with you, though?”

“Yeah, we’re both fine. The business isn’t exactly blooming, but that’s mostly because he keeps buying things that are impossible to sell again.”

“Or painting the ones that aren’t,” Jean said with a humoured smile.

“Or that. Or taking things apart and then forgetting how to put them back together. Or trying to use them and then discovering it goes to pieces because it’s just meant for decoration.” He gave a tired sigh, but she was laughing quietly.  “We get by fine, though. I manage to keep the really valuable things out of his reach.”

“Just put child locks on everything, you won’t even get into it yourself,” she said and slowly quieted down.

“You’re fine, though?” he asked.

“Yeah, all’s... All’s well,” she answered, but the words were hardly out of her mouth before she choked up and tears came to her eyes.

“Hey,” he said softly and put a hand on her arm.

“I’m fine,” she insisted and began rummaging in her bag. “Just these damn hormones.” She sniffled and kept clumsily running her hand through the content of her bag. He took the liberty of reaching in to it to take out the pack of Kleenex and quickly gave her one.

“What’s the matter?” he asked quietly when she had mopped up most of her tears.

“It’s nothing, really, nothing,” she said, but pressed the Kleenex to her eyes and tried to suppress a sob. He quickly made his way out from the counter and placed his arms around her.

“It’s not nothing,” he whispered and she gave in, falling apart in his arms and sobbing, but trying to keep it quiet so they wouldn’t hear it in the next room. He rocked her slowly from side to side and let it happen.

“I’m – I’m scared,” she got out at last, her face nested in the front of his sweater. “For the baby.”

“Is something wrong? Has your doctor –“

“No, no,” she cut him off with and retracted half an inch. “Nothing like that.” He waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t.

“Jean, what is it?” he asked at last, stroking her back.

“It’s Will,” she almost whispered.

“What?” He looked down at her with a furrow in his brow. “Isn’t he happy you’re having another child?”

“No, it’s not that.” She chewed her lip for a moment. “It’s just that, when Vicky was small, it really stressed him. She cried at night, she cried during the day, there was always crying for something or another and he didn’t handle that.” She sniffed again. “I’m afraid he’ll go... I’m afraid it’ll wear on him even more with two kids in the house.”

Hans didn’t know what to say and just kept rubbing her back. He had noticed Will had looked shabby when Victoria was a baby, but so had Jean to a degree, and he had figured suddenly getting a helpless infant to take care of could wear on the best of people. Still, he didn’t doubt Jean had reason to worry, she knew her husband much better than he did.

“Have you tried talking to him?” he suggested at last.

“He’d take it the wrong way,” she muttered. Hans didn’t need more than a second to consider the truth of this, as he had seen Will cause a racket just from some of Franky’s jokes. Admittedly Franky’s jokes could be rather hard to take nicely, but he still didn’t doubt her.

“I could talk to him?” To be honest he didn’t favour that suggestion the most, but it was the only one he had at the moment.

“No offense, but I’d like you to live to see your thirtieth birthday,” she answered with a hoarse laugh.

“How about Franky? He could just casually ask how Will felt about having—“

“No.” Now she was pulling away from him in earnest. “I appreciate the thought, but all of this is a giant mess.”

“I’m sorry.” He looked down.

“No, I’m sorry for weeping like a schoolgirl.” She straightened up and wiped her eyes with the Kleenex again. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.” He could hear the doubt in her voice.

“Just tell us if there’s anything we can help you with,” he said softly and she nodded before curling her hand tight around the Kleenex. A moment later Victoria came barging in, screaming in joy, her uncle only a pace behind her.

“I’m gonna get you!” Franky fell to his knees next to Jean while Vicky did her best to hide behind her mother’s legs and escape the grip of the big leather gloves her uncle was wearing.

“Mummy!” Victoria laughed and looked up at her mother before suddenly falling completely silent.

“I’m fine, honey. Uncle Hans just told me a very funny joke and I laughed so hard tears came to my eyes,” Jean told her and stroked the fine hair even a shade lighter than her own, but hardly looked at her daughter. Franky shot a quick look at Hans before standing up.

“You showed her the tricycle?” Hans asked and lifted a brow. “That thing is dirty as... Now her tights are ruined, not to mention she could have gotten tetanus or god knows.”

“What did you think I was showing her, the paintings?” Franky shot back. “Besides, the rust stains’ll come off in the wash.”

“It was fun,” Victoria said quietly, clinging to her mother’s leg again.

“I’m sure it was,” Jean answered tiredly, still resting her hand on her head. “I’m not angry at you.”

“Are you ever going to paint that piece of crap?” Hans asked Franky, crossing his arms.

“Watch your mouth in front of the kid. And no, I’m just gonna oil it up so it doesn’t squeak to high heaven. Folk like things that look old like that. And if no one’s able to see how cool it is like that,” he shrugged, “then I might paint it.”

“You’ve got your priorities all turned around,” Hans sighed.

“Do I?” Franky asked, got up and went over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. Hans grumbled something unintelligent, but smiled nonetheless before looking at Victoria.

“You like fish fingers, don’t you?” he asked and squatted down. She nodded. “You see, we’re having fish fingers for dinner tonight, but I think we bought way too many for just Franky and me. Do you think you could help us eat them all?” The girl slowly let go of her mother’s leg and nodded solemnly.

“I can eat...” She slowly held her hand up in front of herself and contemplated how many fingers to hold up before opening her hands wide. “This many!” she concluded at last.

“That many? Wow!” Franky had knelt down too and grinned at her. “I think that’s more than I can eat! It’s certainly more than Hans can eat.”

“I don’t think I can eat more than one hand of fish fingers,” Hans agreed.

“One fish hand?” Franky quipped before reaching out to grab the scarf off the floor. “Where did you find this? Maybe we have more like it,” he said to the girl and she set off into the labyrinth of shelves at once.

“Hans...” Jean looked tiredly at him. “You really don’t have to.”

“Yes, I really do,” he answered and ran his fingers down her cheek. “Go home and get some rest, you deserve it.” She sighed and looked towards where Victoria had disappeared off to.

“Well, there’s no talking her out of eating fish fingers now,” she said under her breath. “I’ll come pick her up around seven. She might get tired, but just convince her to lie down for two minutes and she’ll fall asleep.”

“As long as you come get her before midnight it’s fine,” he said with a smile. “If not there’s room on the couch.”

“Thank you.” She tried smiling, but her lips didn’t obey fully.

“It’s no problem,” he said as the sound of something falling over reached them from the other end of the shop. “Well, not much of a problem, at least. Go home now.”

“I’ll see you later, if she doesn’t kill you.” She hugged him lightly and he rubbed his hand up and down her back.

“I’m sure she won’t.”

 

***

 

Hans turned slowly over on his side and Franky curled up behind him with a grunt of content. The blond rested his hand on top of the other’s, slowly running his fingers over the knuckles.

“I think Vicky tried to kill me today,” Franky sighed.

“You mean when she wrapped that scarf around your neck? Yes, it did seem like it,” Hans answered.

“No, just generally. I’m completely knackered.” He stretched out his legs with a groan, but quickly drew them up to Hans’s again. “Was fun, though.” He yawned.

“I think we better enrol you in kindergarten again,” Hans said with a smile. “Maybe it’ll wear you out enough to keep you from coming up with harebrained schemes.”

“Hey, my schemes are never harebrained!” Franky objected. “A bit daring, maybe, but you have to risk something to gain something.”

“I’d prefer if what you were risking was not the roof over our heads,” Hans answered drily.

“Never,” Franky said and kissed the nape of his boyfriend’s neck. “And Mum never suspects a thing when we come for tea every day for a month straight, we’re not even risking starvation. And if we did I bet Jean would feed us in return for looking after Vicky.”

“You really like the girl,” Hans said after a moment and smiled.

“Well, she doesn’t yell at me,” Franky said and wrapped his arm around Hans’s stomach. “And she doesn’t roll her eyes every other minute.”

“I don’t roll my eyes,” Hans said, idly playing with the other’s fingers.

“You might as well,” Franky muttered and took a deep breath before exhaling slowly. Hans felt the arm over his torso growing heavier as it relaxed.

“Would you want one of your own?” he asked quietly at last.

“Want a what?” Franky asked groggily.

“A child,” Hans said and chewed his lip.

“God, no,” Franky chuckled. “I’d have to yell at them when they flooded the bathroom and actually take responsibility for how they turned out. Vicky I can just hand back when she gets grumpy. Why, do you?” he added quickly.

Hans sighed and lifted one shoulder in a partial shrug. “Not really,” he said after a few seconds. “You just seemed to enjoy yourself a lot today and you do have a way with kids.”

“I have a way with getting watches to work, too, doesn’t mean I want to be a watchmaker,” Franky responded. “And Vicky likes you just as much as me, don’t go giving me all the credit.” He drew his hand down Hans’s stomach in a slow caress.

“Just tell me if you change your mind,” Hans muttered and took hold of his hand again.

“And you do the same thing,” the other replied and squeezed his hand. “If we’re not able to adopt I can always disconnect the brakes on Will’s Caddie and we can be Vicky’s guardians.” He chuckled, but Hans turned around to look at him with a horrified expression.

“You really don’t see anything wrong with your schemes?” he demanded hotly.

“It was a joke,” Franky said softly and ran his hand through the blond hair. “You know it was a joke. I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt anyone.”

“It wasn’t funny,” Hans said and turned back abruptly, but let the redhead curl up behind him again.

“I’m sorry,” Franky said and interlaced their fingers.

“Just try to use your brain once in a while,” Hans muttered back. Franky grunted in confirmation. “Jean was pretty tired today,” he noted a minute later, once again pulling Franky from the edge of consciousness.

“Pregnancy,” the other muttered. “I’m glad I’m incapable of going through that.”

“She was worried how Will might react to another kid,” Hans went on. Franky grunted again. “Could you have a talk with him?”

“Can I sleep first?” Franky shot back and rolled away from him. Hans sighed and turned to face him. “The bed is for sleep and sex, and this is neither.” His annoyance wasn’t too real and Hans ran his thumb over the other’s forehead to erase the fake frown there.

“Can you just try to bring it up and hear how he’s dealing with it?”

“Yeah, sure,” Franky answered and sighed. “Next time you’re gonna worry about everyone, do it during the day, okay?”

“And the next time you’re touching that bike, don’t wear one of your good shirts,” Hans retorted with a chuckle.

(I'm just gonna pull this off my tumblr and put it here, too.)

I’m just gonna post this now even if I should probably have gone over it a few more times and checked for mistakes, fixed the wording some places, just generally tidied it up, but to hell with it. Just keep in mind that it’s very first draft-y and will hopefully improve when I get the motivation.
It’s not even an important part of the story, just a little thing to intruduce some characters and the relationship between them. And it’s cheesy. Seriously, it should be on a pizza.
Without further ado, here it is!

.

On Sunday afternoon they got in the car, Jean ready for a pleasant evening with her parents and in-laws, Will more prepared for the subtle battle of wits and will that was always present when he met anyone he shared blood with. Still, he looked forward to it in his own way, especially to seeing his oldest daughter, although not that much to seeing her boyfriend.

“Vicky called earlier,” Jean told him when they were halfway there.

“Did she leave the snot rag in France?” Will asked moodily.

“Please don’t talk about my father like that,” she said evenly, but smirked to herself, she knew who he was referring to.

“Not him, Pierre le magnifique,” he said with a mocking hand gesture, making his wife sigh.

“His name is Richard and he’s a perfectly decent young man,” she answered hard. He snorted and they spent the rest of the drive in silence.

They arrived last, judging by the number of cars in the drive-in, but it was still room for them as long as no one planned on speeding up the hill and thereby didn’t notice their rear bumper before it was too late. Jean straightened the skirt of the white dress she was wearing and gave her husband’s Guns ‘n’ Roses t-shirt one last disapproving look before grabbing the bottle of wine they had brought and stepping out. Both their mothers had already showed up on the front step and she went to welcome them with a hug while he took his time and was able to sneak in almost unnoticed while the women gobbled away like a flock of turkeys.

“Oh, good, I won’t have to starve to death completely,” Frank welcomed him with as he entered the living room.

“What a pity,” Will answered drily and nodded a quick hello to the other inhabitants of the room, not that surprisingly all male.

“You ate a sandwich and a week’s worth of cheese and crackers before we left,” Hans told Frank.

“See, this is what I have to live with, someone who deals out crackers on a weekly basis!” Frank threw up his arms, but let one of them wrap around Hans’s neck and used the other fist to give his scalp a good rubbing.

“Still not grown up, I see.” Will turned to the voice of his father and found him leaning against a cabinet with a glass of whisky in his hand. “Here.” He handed his son a glass, but Will shook his head.

“I’m driving,” he answered shortly and got a shrug in reply before they both turned back to the goofballs on the couch, who were now in a full wrestling match before Frank called it to an ending and they both sat up, out of breath and dishevelled. Hans’ sand blond hair stood in every direction and Frank’s shirt was tugged halfway off his shoulder, but they tried getting back in order. “Weren’t Vicky supposed to be here?”

“She’s upstairs, changing,” his father answered, which made Will’s brows rise considerably.

“And Pierre?” he said with a hostile note.

“She’s eighteen, and if either of them have the guts to get it on in the same house as all her grandparents, let them,” his father said firmly. “It’s not like you were an angel at that age, either.”

“It’s not the same,” Will said gruffly and took the glass of whisky after all.

“Of course not,” his father said sardonically as the women made their way from the kitchen to join the others in the living room.

“All we need now is your parents and we’d be all set,” Jean laughed with a nod to Hans.

“They’re vacationing on the Dog Islands,” Frank answered for him, which left everyone looking confused. “You see, the canary bird didn’t give name to the islands, it’s named after the islands, which in turn are named due to the multitude of dogs there. That also means it’s dog birds, which is a pretty strange name for a bird, especially one so small.”

“They’re on Tenerife or Lanzarote, I can’t remember which,” Hans broke him off with.

“That sounds lovely,” Will’s mother answered with a warm smile.

“You know you’re always welcomed to visit us, Mildred,” Jean’s mother told her. “France might not be quite as warm as the Canary Islands, but it’s still better than here.”

“I would, but you’ve already been so kind as to take Victoria in with you, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” she answered. “Talking off, where has she gone to?” She looked around the room as if she expected her granddaughter to materialise out of thin air, but all it resulted in was the two heads bent over the chess board in the corner look up, and Will clenched his jaw.

“Probably adjusting her stockings or something,” her husband answered lightly and went over to see how Johnny and Henri, Jean’s father, were doing with their chess game.

“Hey, Will, we just got something that might interest you,” Frank said, and although the oldest brother didn’t trust that grin at all, he went over to the sitting group. “And old lady who’s run a small theatre up in Braxton dropped by the other week with some costumes and stuff, and among them were a mask from the Phantom of the Opera.” Frank didn’t get further before Will picked an orange from the fruit bowl and hurled it at him, but the younger broke down in laughter anyway. Hans offered an apologetic smile.

“She had a lot of interesting stuff, though. Dresses from the ‘50s, a skull she said was used in Hamlet—“

“But might as well have been her husband’s,” Frank broke his partner off with and continued laughing.

“Costume from Les Miserables with genuine Parisian stink…” Hans smiled again. “You could bring in the girls one day, they might be interested in the dresses at least.”

“I’ll ask them,” Will said and gave his still-laughing brother a cold look, but it didn’t sober him up much. “The hell’s wrong with you?” he asked in the end.

“I missed the train to Moanyville,” Frank answered cheekily and neatly caught the apple that was thrown at him before taking a bite of it. “Thanks, I was getting peckish.”

“You just have to learn to live with it,” Hans told Will with a sigh. He nodded and turned look for his wife, but was instead faced with the voluminous figure of his mother-in-law, dressed in purple and looking like a cat that had just spotted a mouse in the corner. He gave her a shaky smile and she grinned from ear to ear in return.

“Wilbur!” The use of his given name made Will cringe and Franky to set off howling like a loon again, but he played along.

“Lorina!” He replied and threw his arms around her in a hug, trying not to choke on her perfume. She giggled and hugged him back before letting go quickly and instead tucking her arm into his and patting his hand while she began walking him around the small living and dining room.

“I’ve heard you haven’t yet fallen for dear Richard,” she began and stopped a second by a vase of lilies to adjust the flowers slightly.

“Oh, no, I love the little Dick,” he answered, knowing he wasn’t fooling anyone within a ten mile radius and got a hard look from Lorina to prove it.

“Then might I remind you of a young hoodlum who showed up at my doorstep thirty years ago in ripped jeans and smelling of beer, asking if he had the right address and if this was where Jean lived?” She continued her tour into the kitchen and peeked into the pot of mashed potatoes.

“To my defence, I had just gotten off a plane and a bus, and it was the idiot next to me that spilled the beer,” he answered, but couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Seldom had he felt as small or insecure as when meeting the people later to be his parents-in-law for the first time.

“And the jeans?” She gave him another hard look and he took a deep breath.

“Lo, listen, the kid’s a player. Trust me, I know the type. The moment he has the tiniest shot at doing better than Vicky, he’ll drop her like a hot potato and she’ll be crushed.” He swallowed hard.

“He can’t do better than Vicky, and he knows that,” Lorina answered with certainty and pushed her black hair back. “And they’ve been together for almost six months, it’s time you start trusting him.”

“I’ll trust him when they start hanging posters for ice shows in hell,” he muttered, but any further comments were stopped by the sound of high heels going down the stairs, followed by Victoria and Richard appearing in the doorway, and she throwing herself into her father’s arms.

“I’ve missed the smell of you,” she announced while drawing deep breaths, her nose tucked into his shirt front. He only smiled weakly and patted her hair before letting her go and she stood up straight again, her blonde hair streaming down her shoulders, her nose still small and slightly upturned, but hardly noticeable for those who hadn’t known her for years and her teeth a perfect row of white pearls. She was definitely more grown woman than child now.

“Hi.” Richard stepped up to her side and gave Will an uncertain wave and Will gave him a tiny stiff nod in return without looking at his grease-combed hair or the shirt with the top button undone, but further exchanges weren’t necessary as Mildred zoomed into the room and hushed everyone but Lorina out to the dining table.

With his wife and daughter as buffers between him and Richard, and the distraction of Franky opposite him, Will was able to enjoy the meal as it should be. He wasn’t sure if his mother’s cooking had got better since he was a boy or if he was just enjoying it more, but the steak was supreme and the mashed potatoes so creamy he would probably have taken them over sex at least a few times a year.

“I would like to propose a toast for family!” Mildred beamed from her seat at the top of the table and lifted her glass of wine high. The rest of them mimicked her and echoed “For family” in varying degrees of enthusiasm. Johnny barely muttered it and Will furrowed his brows.

“How’s things at work?” he asked his younger brother and mopped up some gravy with the piece of steak on his fork before consuming it.

“Fine,” Johnny answered, not raising his eyes from his plate where he seemed to be picking at his food more than eating it.

“Did you go to that auction you talked about?”

“No,” Johnny muttered and put down his fork.

“We did,” Franky answered instead with his mouth full of peas and carrots. “Wasn’t much we could afford there, but we did get hold of an old script in Latin. From what we’ve understood so far it’s mostly fart jokes,” he added and swallowed.

“Suits you excellent,” Will retorted and took a sip of his coke.

“Doesn’t it just,” Franky agreed with a tip of his own glass.

“I swear, we are actually running a serious business,” Hans added, his eyes turned upwards as if addressing some higher power.

“It’s a limit as to how serious it can get with him involved,” their father put in, pointing at Franky with his knife, who proceeded to clutch his chest as if mortally wounded.

“It’s going well, though?” Will asked Hans, who nodded and chewed the piece of steak he had just put in his mouth fast.

“Splendid, actually,” he said with a smile. “We get some odd requests from time to time, though, people asking if we have giant wigs or shoes from the eighteenth century. We’re an antique shop, not costume providers!”

“Well, now we’re sort of that, too,” Franky said and helped himself to more mashed potatoes. Will gave them a lopsided smile and looked back at Johnny, who were still staring dimly down on his plate and would probably have stormed from the table if he wasn’t a grown man. Will let it be for now, though, it wasn’t the place to ask and get an honest answer when everyone could listen in.

The talk went easy around the table with help from the wine for those who were drinking it and Will got to chat a bit with Henri about chess and politics, with his father about the garden and the other small projects he had going on, and even if they didn’t partake in the conversation everyone was forced to listen to Lorina’s loud tale of her dress shopping. Even the men chuckled at it, but the women looked like they had found their new Messiah. In the end everyone was so stuffed not even Franky could force down anything more even though he had unbuttoned his trousers halfway through the meal, and the women began gathering plates and pots while the men retracted to the sitting room. Franky collapsed with his face down in Hans’ lap and the blond began stroking his partner’s hair, his fair lashes lowered.

“You never learn,” he said quietly.

“I never learn,” Franky groaned back.

“He never learns,” Will told the person by his side, but got stone-faced and quickly sat down when discovering it was Richard. For the duration of the meal he had managed to forget the kid even existed.

“I have no idea how you’re not round as a beach ball,” Henri told Will’s father as they both sat down, the former massaging his considerable paunch.

“It’s not like this every day,” the other said quietly and interlaced his fingers over his own flat belly. “It’s good, but today… Wow.”

“You’re a lucky man,” Henri told him with a warm smile, his cheeks red from laughter and the drinks.

“So are you. We’re all lucky.” Will’s father smiled around the room and Will could have swore he lingered longer at Richard, but tried to put it out of his head. “Do any of you want something to drink on the side of your coffee?” He got slowly up again in his old man fashion, his hips and knees needing some time to straighten, but when he reached the decanters he was as tall as ever and skilfully poured out whiskey and cognac according to people’s wishes. The women could be heard clucking away in the kitchen, the sound not much louder than the gurgling of the old coffee maker and Will took a deep breath before allowing himself to sink down in the couch.

“I have no idea what your mother puts in her cooking, but it has to be some sort of sleeping aid.” Will caught his eyes from slipping shut when he was addressed and sat up a bit straighter to look at Hans. Franky still had his head in his lap, but had turned his face sideways to be able to breathe.

“Good think Charlie isn’t here, we wouldn’t have had enough couches for us all to lie down on,” Will replied, then could have kicked himself.

“Have you heard anything from him?” Hans looked earnest at him, always looking so much younger than he was with his fair skin and clean-cut features and Will looked away while shrugging.

“Probably still in South-America or something,” Will muttered before stifling a yawn. There had to be something in his mother’s cooking.

The women entered again and quickly distributed coffee cups before filling them up, offered sugar and cream to those who usually took it and then some ruffling of feathers as they found their places, Richard was offered a dining chair so he didn’t have to stand around looking like a lost puppy any more, and Franky was nudged to sit upright so his mother could sit beside him. Will took his wife hand for a second as she sat down next to him, but soon got his daughter on his lap and had to let go.

“I really have missed you,” Victoria murmured into his collar, having wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I’ve missed you too,” he answered softly and stroked her back. She was tall and slender, and there seemed to be a lot of arms and legs going in every direction, but he didn’t mind.

“You need to get your hair cut.” She tugged slightly at his ponytail and he chuckled soundlessly, the vibration making them both tremble.

“I wouldn’t be your father without my ponytail,” he retorted and she sat up properly to look him in the eyes.

“I guess you wouldn’t be,” she agreed after a moment and kissed his scarred cheek before getting up and finding her place on the chair beside her boyfriend. Will gave her a tender smile before wrapping his arm around Jean’s shoulders.

“You okay?” she asked, her hands wrapped around the coffee cup.

“Yeah,” he answered and hugged her tighter for a moment. “You?”

“Perfect,” she replied with a smile and rested her head on his shoulder while watching Mildred and Franky get worked up over each other until he erupted in laughter and she huffed indignantly and looked at her husband for help.

“Don’t drag me into this, he gets it from your side of the family,” he answered calmly, making Will grin. How true that was he didn’t know, but Frank had got the red hair from their mother, and it wasn’t entirely unlikely some other stuff had followed, too. Charlie, the other one of the brothers who had inherited the trait, definitely had their mother’s hot temper.

“Men, they’re all useless,” Mildred huffed, then smiled coyly and got comfortable on the couch again. “Just tell me when you’re ready for cake.”

“Not yet,” Henri answered immediately and burped. “God, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to kill us.” His promptly slapped his arm, but they both calmed down quickly.

“Where’s Johnny?” Mildred looked from one face to the other, but they all gave her the same blank look.

“I think he went to the bathroom,” Richard muttered in the end and chewed his lip.

“He’s been gone a while in that case,” Will’s father said with a look at his watch.

“I’ll check, see if he’s got stuck or something,” Will said and got up. He doubted he would find his brother at the loo, but he still had a good idea of where to find him and a quick look out the kitchen window confirmed his suspicion. He quickly put on his boots and jacket before jogging across the yard to where his younger brother was standing, looking out over the village further down in the valley, a cigarette to his lips.

“Five fucking minutes of peace,” he muttered as he heard Will approach him.

“It’s just me,” Will answered quietly. “You’ve started smoking again?”

“Not really,” John answered and dropped the butt on the ground before putting it out with his foot. “I just needed to get away.”

“Understandable,” Will answered and squinted out over the rooftops. “Going through a rough time?”

“I’m fine.” The answer was defensive and the younger stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Sure?” Will knitted his brows and looked at him.

“Yeah. Stop getting in everybody’s business.” John raised his shoulders defensively, either against the cold wind or at his brother’s intruding.

“I’m not,” Will protested feebly.

“You are.”

“I’m just trying to help. Tell me if you need anything, okay?”

“I need you to get off my back.” John looked hard at his older brother, using the inch or so he was taller than him for all it was worth. Will nodded and rubbed his hands together.

“There’s coffee inside,” he said instead before heading back, looking forward to gulp down some of the hot liquid.

Once inside he found the family spellbound by a fancy tale of Frank’s, which he was just finishing off with “Then the bloody cat ran and hid under the couch!” which was met with healthy laughter from all of them and Will sat down almost unnoticed, even his mother seemed to have temporary forgotten about Johnny.

“We still haven’t got the paint off the floor,” Hans said when they had calmed down again. “There are still red streaks all over the living room.”

“Maybe you could paint it all red,” Richard said shyly, which Franky beamed at.

“We should!” he exclaimed and Hans groaned.

“We’re not paining the floor red,” the blond said patiently.

“But it would be so cool! And we could do the walls turquoise or something!” Franky grinned from ear to ear and almost bounced where he sat.

“It’s your fault, Milly, for giving him coffee so late,” Hans told his partner’s mother, but she just chuckled before placing a hand on her second youngest son’s shoulder.

“Franky, a red floor goes with almost nothing. It would look absolutely awful,” she said with an understanding smile.

“What would you know,” Franky huffed and shrugged off her hand. “I say we paint it red!”

“Then you have to go with a shiny red, not barn red,” Lorina put in, obviously intrigued by the idea.

“Yeah, a dark red with not too much yellow in it, more blue,” Franky said thoughtfully and nodded. “But not too dark either.”

“You’ve done it now,” Victoria told her boyfriend with a titter before kissing his cheek. Will gave them a dark look, but was soon distracted by his wife turning his head towards her and kissing his chin. He tried smiling at her, but it only turned into a quick tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“We could look at some colour samples tomorrow,” Lorina suggested to Franky, having jumped on the possibility of a new project. “That is if you want an old hag getting all up in your business.”

“What, are you bringing Mum?” Franky answered with feigned surprise and got two elbows in his sides. “I’m only joking, for god’s sake,” he grumbled unhappily.

“Watch it or I’ll come just to spite you,” Mildred answered, but Franky ignored her.

“It would be nice to see the floor as it is now first, though,” Lorina said. “Getting an idea of what we need to cover up and how the room looks now.”

“Sure!” Franky was grinning from ear to ear again. “Bring Vicky and Frenchy here, they need to see the shop.”

“We’re staying here,” Victoria quickly put in. “Grandma and Grandpapa have a room down…” Her voice trailed off as her uncle was more interested in describing his living room than listening to her.

“They didn’t want to sleep on forty year old mattresses?” Jean asked her daughter with a tender smile. “I don’t blame them.”

“Or they wanted their privacy,” she answered with a short shrug. “I don’t mind Dad’s old room, though, it’s cosy.”

“Yup, AC/DC posters scream cosy,” Will said under his breath, but smiled at her anyway.

“Grandma took down the posters and burned them years ago,” Victoria told him gravely and he could feel the blood draining from his face before she began laughing. “Sorry, Dad. Don’t worry, they’re still there and I’ll take good care of them.”

“You could have given me a heart attack,” he said sternly, but couldn’t get angry.

“And you, Richard? Where are you staying?” Jean asked.

“Um… Mildred offered me a room here,” he answered quietly and stared at his knees.

“A different room,” Victoria supplied drily with a look at her father. He gave her the look right back.

“How was the trip over here, though?” Jean quickly changed the subject and snuggled better into the crook of her husband’s arm.

“Great. We took the train, and it was much more comfortable than I would have thought. It’s fun riding with Grandpapa, too,” she said with a short look at Henri before lowering her voice, “but it a change didn’t hurt.” Jean laughed and obviously saw her point very well.

“School?” Will asked shortly and couldn’t help himself from leaning forward a bit.

“Good! Very good!” Victoria answered with a huge smile. “It’s tiring, so I’m glad we had a few days off now, and that Grandma is babying me with having dinner ready for me and doing my laundry before I even notice it needs to be done.”

“She’s spoiling you,” Jean laughed.

“That’s what grandmothers are for!” her mother informed her from across the coffee table.

“I’m helping out a bit, though,” Victoria insisted.

“You’re helping out a lot,” her maternal grandmother assured her. “You and Richard are keeping us young and alive, making sure we don’t just rot away in front of the TV.”

“I doubt you’d be able to rot away anywhere,” Franky told her with an earnest look.

“Stop hitting on my girl,” Henri chuckled to him. “I need her to keep track of my pills!” They all laughed, but Will had to quickly retract his legs to make way for his mother who scurried into the kitchen.

“More food?” he said with a sense of doom.

“Cake, I assume,” Jean told him as Johnny slinked into the room again, brought a dining chair over to the coffee table with him and sat down beside Richard. The cake was soon placed on the table along with more coffee and although he took a piece of cake, Will gave up all pretext of wanting to socialise. He let his wife handle the talking and picked up what scarce news there was from that, but otherwise didn’t speak or even listen much unless directly addressed. The women seemed to be more talkative than ever, Franky jumped at anything he could make a crazy idea out of, and Henri supplied the occasional male comment followed by a deep chuckle, but the remaining three men had either given up or hadn’t the courage to speak up.

In the end the others thankfully had had enough, even though the women couldn’t shut up while clearing the table or even when getting dressed, and Lorina was close to giving several black eyes as she tried telling a riveting story while putting on her coat, which ended with her husband pinning her arms to her sides and marching her out the door with her scarf fluttering behind her.

“Dad?” Victoria tapped her father’s shoulder and he quickly turned around, having put on one boot but not yet done up the laces.

“Yeah?” He was tired, but tried giving her a reassuring smile. She returned it and put her arms around him, hugging him for a long time.

“I’ll always love you, no matter what,” she said into his chest before looking up at him.

“I know that,” he mouthed back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “And I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

“Even if I’m dating a dirty Frenchman?” Her eyes gleamed with mischief for a moment, but soon softened again.

“I said I’ll love you, I didn’t say anything about him,” he answered quietly and kissed her forehead. He could feel her vibrating with silent laughter before letting go of him and seeking out her mother.

The drive home was easy mostly because he had driven it so many times, but it was first when parking the car he realised he had been blinking far too infrequently and his shoulders hurt like he had been beaten up. They had hardly spoken a word on the trip back and he had only answered her in one syllable words, but it was okay. Now they were finally home he went in and up the stairs without glancing at her, didn’t kick off his shoes before he was in the bedroom and collapsed face-down on the bed. He knew he wasn’t going to sleep yet, but he desperately needed absolute peace, quiet and dark, just for a little while.

Sims stuff

Since I'm weird, I made a commenter family in The Sims. Me (as a guy, just because), James, Aaron and Ema. And here's some screenshorts.

So, for some reason, they walks around in their underwear a lot.

Here's a young Aaron demonstrating.

 Aaron and Ema making out.

 Me proposing to James. (Because that's totally gonna happen IRL.)

 Aaron and Ema really liked spending time with each other...

 .... in the bathroom.

They did that all the freakin' time!

 Me and James getting married

while some random woman throws flowers at us.

.... And now James and Ema are making out.

That caused a lot of trouble.

Now excuse me, I have an appointment at the nut house.

I don't think I'll be getting back soon...

More blood

For a change, I'll write something inspired by a comment:

"I'm not sure why the moderation on this website attracts so many people with period fetishes."

And why is this getting it's own post when I could have combined them? I'm not sure, probably because I like making posts.

Warning: You might be grossed out and turned on at the same time.

-

He comes back again carrying a damp rag. She's still laying on the table, not making a sound even though her mouth is free. Her arms and legs aren't, they're securely strapped to the table in different ways, all after what he felt was appropriate when tying her up. Her left leg is fastened to the table leg with an old brown belt, pulling her legs apart.

"No need to worry," he mutters as he carefully wipes away the line of blood on her cheek. All of it won't come off, and her large eyes follow every tiny movement he makes. At least he think they are. He feel they are. "It's all right," he says with an edge in his voice. He's not quite sure what the edge is, but her eyes are making him nervous. She whimpers slightly and he realise he's scrubbing her cheek pretty hard. He lets go of the rag at once and picks up the knife again.

It's not the nicest knife he's seen in his life, just an old hunting knife with a black handle. Still, it will do. It will do more than fine. He's sharpened it and even polished it a bit, just for the occasion.

"Are you all right?" he asks tenderly and places his free hand on her stomach. She nods several times. "You sure?" he asks and looks back in her face to those bottomless blue pools.

"Y-yes," she stutters and surpresses a sob. He shakes his head slightly in disapproval and apply pressure to her stomach. She whinces and the sob escapes.

"That bad, huh?" he mutters before slowly moving down to her feet. They're naked, long and just as unsettling as her eyes. He can count the bones in them through the transparent pale skin and the nails are carefully clipped and polished. The sandals she had on when he found her are placed beside the table, the only thing they did was cover up the only good feature on her feet: the soles. Still, it's not the feet he's interested in.

The light blue summer dress she's wearing comes to a halt around her knees and he slowly place his hands on her knees to ruffle it up. His hands are so much bigger than her kneecaps, even if the kneecaps look big enough on her, and he knows his touch is warm and soothing to her. Another small sound escape her, but he doesn't pay attention to it as he lifts the light fabric to expose her underwear.

"You've had an accident, dear," he mutters and purses his lips as he see the iron-red crust between her legs. "You've probably ruined the dress."

"No! Please!" She's lifted her head and her large eyes are staring in terror at him while her voice cuts through his head. He slowly look up at her and feel a muscle near his eye twitch.

"I'm gonna clean you up," he says roughly and reach for the knife positioned between her feet. She let her head fall back again and luckily doesn't make any more sounds, although he can both see and feel how tense her muscles are. "Please relax," he adds in a calm voice and pets her thigh. She doesn't respond.

He cups his hand between her legs, feeling the warmth of the spilled blood curse up through his palm and into his arm as if it was the blood itself making its way towards his heart. She tries closing her legs for a moment, but he puts the hand he's holding the knife with on her knee and carefully separates them again before stroking his middle finger up along her sex and letting go. A quick shiver runs through her body.

"Don't worry," he mutters soothingly as he begin cutting off her underwear. It's no use trying to take it off with her legs tied, but at the same time it's too bad he has to ruin them by cutting them off. Well, they're partly ruined by the blood anyway. Or maybe not ruined, but he doesn't think she would want to wear them again either way, they're plain white and getting the stains out would be hard.

Slowly he peels back the fabric to reveal her. The source of the blood. She doesn't shave, that's easy to tell, but it's not much to shave anyway. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly as he holds the string that's got glued to the inside of the knickers by the blood between two fingers and pulls it free from the fabric. It's not time yet.

Her creases are filled with half-dried but still very warm blood. Every crease, and even a bit down on her thighs, although that could be from him undressing her. To him it's a lovely painting in rich pink, blood-red and crimson, filling him with a strange sense of pride.

He leans down slowly and kiss the inside of her thigh before slowly working his way upwards. Her muscles are tense and vibrating under the skin.

-

I can't finish this now anyway, so I'll just leave it like it is for now and probably forget about it, sorry.

Blood

It wasn't hard to imagine it. How the warm blood would run down her cheek in a smooth line, filling the air with a hint of metallic smell. Not that there wasn't enough smells to identify as metallic in the old garage, but there is something special about blood. It smells alive, warm and sinister at the same time.
Her eyes were big, blue pools of terror. No wonder, most people don't take being strapped to a table while someone looms over you with a knife easy. Still, as far as reactions go, she was holding up well. She still had the rosy tint in her cheeks, even if it had got weaker. At least she didn't already look pale as a ghost. She looked alive and there was no doubt about the blood cursing through her veins.
He slowly ran the cool blade of the knife down her cheek, from the corner of her wide eye to the edge of her pink lips. The lips weren't particulary full, nor sensual, they were actually pretty boring as far as lips go. But they were still okay. They opened slightly, as if she was wondering if it was worth it to scream. Of course it wasn't and he would prefer if she didn't. Loud noises always threw him off and made him do irrational things. It would be sad to mangle her face in a brutal way when all he wanted to see was a little blood.
He carefully set the tip of the knife against her skin and made a quick cut. It wasn't big and not particulary deep, but the blood oozed from it at once, first making a little red bubble, then trickling down her pale skin in a nice line. It didn't seem like she had noticed, she just kept staring at him with those wide pools of eyes. Her breath kept coming fast and uneaven, but so it had for the last hour.
He sighed and slowly laid the knife down next to her shoulder. Not yet. There was a lot of time yet. A tiny whimper escaped her lips and he felt his own turn slightly up in a smile. Her eyes got bigger. He shook his head, still slowly, not rushing, and turned around to leave her. She didn't make any more sounds and his footsteps sounded too loud as he walked away. For now.


Yeah, I have no idea what this is. It's just something. Sorry for any spelling mistakes, I don't care right now.
EDIT: Fixed the grammar in the last paragraph, I think. Either that, or I mangled it more, not always good to tell.

From PM to AM

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