The Last Dreamer: Law on cruel women
Warning: Snippy people in love, post-canon material... and ADORABLE. Written for non_plot.
He found her on a hill yellowed by summer; lying on her back with her eyes closed and simply enjoying the day. A year ago he would've sworn she didn't know how to simply enjoy anything. Maybe he would've been right, a year ago.
When he settled next to her she cracked an eye to confirm his identity, but she must have already recognized him, since she hadn't so much as tensed. He always wondered how she knew -- in his line of work it would've been nice to have a failproof method of recognizing everyone in the vicinity -- but it was simply a Maris thing he would have to grow accustomed to.
He had already broached the subject a number of different ways. She had failed to encourage him at all, but she had also failed to discourage him. The battle resumed.
"I was wondering," he said, casual, "if maybe you'd like to come home with me sometime soon... maybe over dinner, so you could meet my parents."
Maris opened her eyes and stared up at the sun, then turned her head to look at him questioningly. "You mean you actually have parents?" she asked after a long moment.
Law stared at her. "Beg pardon?" he said.
"I thought you made them up," she said, shrugging slightly. "You know. The way you make up everything else."
Unexpected counterattack. He fumbled for a grip on something and came up with a slightly indignant, "No! I actually HAVE parents, thanks." Nice save.
"I see." Maris tucked her arms under her head and pondered the sky, slowly darkening to evening at the edges. "Well, are they criminals and con artists, at least? I have a mental image of you to uphold."
He was in love with a cruel woman, he realized, and flopped onto the ground next to her. The grass tickled his cheek, and turned the world to a yellow blur beyond the circle of his glasses. "It's one thing to mock a man, and another thing to make fun of his parents," Law accused. He'd been routed already.
She argued implacably, "Think about me here. All at once you've gone from murderer of children to devoted son? I'm the one who deserves pity, having to make sense of all this contradiction."
"Now you really have to meet my parents," he said. "They'll beat all that self-pity right out of you."
Maris didn't laugh -- he didn't think she did laugh, yet -- but she smiled quietly to herself, so maybe he'd won a little after all.
He found her on a hill yellowed by summer; lying on her back with her eyes closed and simply enjoying the day. A year ago he would've sworn she didn't know how to simply enjoy anything. Maybe he would've been right, a year ago.
When he settled next to her she cracked an eye to confirm his identity, but she must have already recognized him, since she hadn't so much as tensed. He always wondered how she knew -- in his line of work it would've been nice to have a failproof method of recognizing everyone in the vicinity -- but it was simply a Maris thing he would have to grow accustomed to.
He had already broached the subject a number of different ways. She had failed to encourage him at all, but she had also failed to discourage him. The battle resumed.
"I was wondering," he said, casual, "if maybe you'd like to come home with me sometime soon... maybe over dinner, so you could meet my parents."
Maris opened her eyes and stared up at the sun, then turned her head to look at him questioningly. "You mean you actually have parents?" she asked after a long moment.
Law stared at her. "Beg pardon?" he said.
"I thought you made them up," she said, shrugging slightly. "You know. The way you make up everything else."
Unexpected counterattack. He fumbled for a grip on something and came up with a slightly indignant, "No! I actually HAVE parents, thanks." Nice save.
"I see." Maris tucked her arms under her head and pondered the sky, slowly darkening to evening at the edges. "Well, are they criminals and con artists, at least? I have a mental image of you to uphold."
He was in love with a cruel woman, he realized, and flopped onto the ground next to her. The grass tickled his cheek, and turned the world to a yellow blur beyond the circle of his glasses. "It's one thing to mock a man, and another thing to make fun of his parents," Law accused. He'd been routed already.
She argued implacably, "Think about me here. All at once you've gone from murderer of children to devoted son? I'm the one who deserves pity, having to make sense of all this contradiction."
"Now you really have to meet my parents," he said. "They'll beat all that self-pity right out of you."
Maris didn't laugh -- he didn't think she did laugh, yet -- but she smiled quietly to herself, so maybe he'd won a little after all.