Choose, Compel, Demand (1a/1)
anonymous
May 13 2011, 21:28:06 UTC
I've been working on this for quite some time and my finals are officially over so I feel like I can begin posting while I finish up. My notes (what few there are) will be at the very end of the fill, which will hopefully be around Monday night. Or earlier. It depends. XD I apologize in advance if this is overly cheesy.
In wasn’t unusual for Marianne to be in a state of undress, wine glass in hand and lounging on the sofa, when Ludwig returned home from work, but her attire normally consisted of a silky negligee modestly hidden underneath a flimsy cotton dressing gown rather than an overly large pair of flannel pajama pants that looked suspiciously like those that Gilbert had lost a few weeks before.
She angled her forehead up to him as Ludwig bent to kiss her, but she didn’t say a word in greeting. And if the oddly unattractive clothing was not indication enough, the empty box of tissues, nearly-drained bottle of wine, and a beat-up copy of Les Liaisons Dangereuses lying face-down on the coffee table were the most telling signs Ludwig could think of to alert him as to his lover’s disposition.
He made his way into the kitchen, setting his briefcase down on the entryway table as he did, and called out “Are you feeling alright?” before shrugging off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his cuffs.
A curt reply of “Non,” came from the sofa.
In the kitchen, Ludwig reached up to the wine rack to grab another bottle. “Would you like some more wine?” He could hear her shuffle out in the living room.
“Now that, my dear, is a ridiculous question.” She strode into the kitchen, the pads of her bare feet making little sticking noises as she did. Marianne set her glass on the countertop and her hand on her hip. Ludwig uncorked a new bottle and poured slowly until there was a decent amount of wine-a deep burgundy-situated nicely in the glass.
Marianne picked it up again and gave the wine a graceful swirl before turning to exit the room. Ludwig heard the television click on as he rummaged around in the refrigerator to find a box of day-old Chinese take-away. “Did you eat?” With his flimsy paper box and a fork, he sat down next to her on the couch.
“I am not hungry.” She raised a supercilious eyebrow as Ludwig took a bite of noodles. “You’re eating that cold?”
“I don’t feel like making anything. And I’m starving.” Marianne gave a little ‘hmph’ before resuming her channel surfing. After a minute of silence, she asked: “How was your day?”
“Busy,” Ludwig replied, as normal. “And yours?” Marianne shrugged, her face a solemn yet indifferent mask. “You seem…irritated.”
“Why ever could that be,” she snapped. Ludwig was startled and began searching his brain for something that he could have forgotten or if today could have been important. The woman sighed and took another sip of her wine. “I’m sorry, Ludwig. I am irritated, but I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”
“Why are you so angry?” Marianne looked at him and he saw how pale she looked, and how tired. Her mouth, which was normally so full and lively, was drawn tight with some unspoken pain. “Is it--? Cramps?” She gave a small nod. Ludwig felt relief at not being the source for Marianne’s pain or exasperation. “I could draw you a bath, if you’d like.” Marianne brought her head to rest in her hand as she stared blankly at the bright television screen. “And you could use those aromatherapy salts-“
“I think that I’ll just go to sleep.” She abruptly rose from the sofa and went to put her now empty wineglass in the sink. “I will see you tomorrow.” Ludwig watched her go upstairs before turning off the television, finishing off his take-away, and rinsing dishes. The kitchen was still immaculately clean from the morning when he and Marianne had shared a small breakfast, so he placed the glass and silverware in the dishwasher to run when he prepared for work the next morning.
In wasn’t unusual for Marianne to be in a state of undress, wine glass in hand and lounging on the sofa, when Ludwig returned home from work, but her attire normally consisted of a silky negligee modestly hidden underneath a flimsy cotton dressing gown rather than an overly large pair of flannel pajama pants that looked suspiciously like those that Gilbert had lost a few weeks before.
She angled her forehead up to him as Ludwig bent to kiss her, but she didn’t say a word in greeting. And if the oddly unattractive clothing was not indication enough, the empty box of tissues, nearly-drained bottle of wine, and a beat-up copy of Les Liaisons Dangereuses lying face-down on the coffee table were the most telling signs Ludwig could think of to alert him as to his lover’s disposition.
He made his way into the kitchen, setting his briefcase down on the entryway table as he did, and called out “Are you feeling alright?” before shrugging off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his cuffs.
A curt reply of “Non,” came from the sofa.
In the kitchen, Ludwig reached up to the wine rack to grab another bottle. “Would you like some more wine?” He could hear her shuffle out in the living room.
“Now that, my dear, is a ridiculous question.” She strode into the kitchen, the pads of her bare feet making little sticking noises as she did. Marianne set her glass on the countertop and her hand on her hip. Ludwig uncorked a new bottle and poured slowly until there was a decent amount of wine-a deep burgundy-situated nicely in the glass.
Marianne picked it up again and gave the wine a graceful swirl before turning to exit the room. Ludwig heard the television click on as he rummaged around in the refrigerator to find a box of day-old Chinese take-away. “Did you eat?” With his flimsy paper box and a fork, he sat down next to her on the couch.
“I am not hungry.” She raised a supercilious eyebrow as Ludwig took a bite of noodles. “You’re eating that cold?”
“I don’t feel like making anything. And I’m starving.” Marianne gave a little ‘hmph’ before resuming her channel surfing. After a minute of silence, she asked: “How was your day?”
“Busy,” Ludwig replied, as normal. “And yours?” Marianne shrugged, her face a solemn yet indifferent mask. “You seem…irritated.”
“Why ever could that be,” she snapped. Ludwig was startled and began searching his brain for something that he could have forgotten or if today could have been important. The woman sighed and took another sip of her wine. “I’m sorry, Ludwig. I am irritated, but I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”
“Why are you so angry?” Marianne looked at him and he saw how pale she looked, and how tired. Her mouth, which was normally so full and lively, was drawn tight with some unspoken pain. “Is it--? Cramps?” She gave a small nod. Ludwig felt relief at not being the source for Marianne’s pain or exasperation. “I could draw you a bath, if you’d like.” Marianne brought her head to rest in her hand as she stared blankly at the bright television screen. “And you could use those aromatherapy salts-“
“I think that I’ll just go to sleep.” She abruptly rose from the sofa and went to put her now empty wineglass in the sink. “I will see you tomorrow.” Ludwig watched her go upstairs before turning off the television, finishing off his take-away, and rinsing dishes. The kitchen was still immaculately clean from the morning when he and Marianne had shared a small breakfast, so he placed the glass and silverware in the dishwasher to run when he prepared for work the next morning.
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