Fic: No Pagliaccio non son!
Title: No Pagliaccio non son!
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Neal/Kate
Spoilers: None
Content Notice: Opera!
Word Count: ~400
Summary: Neal gets silly outside the Metropolitan Opera House.
A/N: Written for daria234, who prompted me with, “someone falls or gets pushed into a fountain.”
----
Neal put his arm around Kate’s shoulders and held her closer. They were sitting on the edge of the famous fountain at Lincoln Center, straining to hear Canio's aria No Pagliaccio non son! from Pagliacci as it filtered down to them from the great opera house.
“Some day, I’ll be able to afford to take you inside,” Neal said, pressing a kiss into her hair.
“Shh,” she admonished, her fingers on his lips, “this is the best part.” She closed her eyes and listened, swaying slightly as the tenor’s voice rose with the lyrics.
L'uom riprende i suoi dritti,
e'l cor che sanguina vuol sangue
a lavar l'onta, o maledetta!
Suddenly, Neal got up on the edge of the fountain on his knees, mouthing the lyrics to her. “No, Pagliaccio non son!”
Kate turned and stared at him, eyes wide. He held his hand up and closed his eyes, brows knit. “Son quei che stolido ti raccolse orfanella in su la via,” he scrambled to his feet, widened his stance and held his right hand on his chest, his left gesturing to Kate, “quasi morta di fame, e un nome offriati.”
He pulled both his hands into fists and held them in front of his chest dramatically - over dramatically, Kate thought, but this was opera after all - and, visibly shaking, glared at her as the final words were sung, “ed un amor ch'era febbre e follia!” and promptly launched himself into the fountain with a huge splash.
Shocked, laughing, Kate got to her feet and called to him. “Neal! Neal, what the hell?”
He resurfaced, water streaming down his head into his eyes and grinned at her. “La commedia è finita,” he said to her and she smacked him on the shoulder and helped him get out. She shrieked with laughter as he took her into his soaking arms and kissed her.
Thirty yards away, Jon, a beat cop, was handing his pal Mario, an usher at the opera house, a cigarette, watching the young lovers carry on. “Hey, look at that,” Jon remarked, jutting his chin in the direction of the fountain.
“Yeah,” Mario said with the air of a man who’d seen it all.
“Need me to go and break it up?”
“Nah, they’ll leave in a minute,” Mario said, shaking his head. “Every time they do Pagliacci, some douchebag jumps in the fountain to impress his girl. Come back the same time tomorrow - you can set your friggin’ watch.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You think that’s somethin’, come back when they do Pirates of Penzance. Assholes jumpin’ around with umbrellas as swords and whatnot. It’s freakin’ ridiculous.”
----
Thank you for your time.
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Neal/Kate
Spoilers: None
Content Notice: Opera!
Word Count: ~400
Summary: Neal gets silly outside the Metropolitan Opera House.
A/N: Written for daria234, who prompted me with, “someone falls or gets pushed into a fountain.”
----
Neal put his arm around Kate’s shoulders and held her closer. They were sitting on the edge of the famous fountain at Lincoln Center, straining to hear Canio's aria No Pagliaccio non son! from Pagliacci as it filtered down to them from the great opera house.
“Some day, I’ll be able to afford to take you inside,” Neal said, pressing a kiss into her hair.
“Shh,” she admonished, her fingers on his lips, “this is the best part.” She closed her eyes and listened, swaying slightly as the tenor’s voice rose with the lyrics.
L'uom riprende i suoi dritti,
e'l cor che sanguina vuol sangue
a lavar l'onta, o maledetta!
Suddenly, Neal got up on the edge of the fountain on his knees, mouthing the lyrics to her. “No, Pagliaccio non son!”
Kate turned and stared at him, eyes wide. He held his hand up and closed his eyes, brows knit. “Son quei che stolido ti raccolse orfanella in su la via,” he scrambled to his feet, widened his stance and held his right hand on his chest, his left gesturing to Kate, “quasi morta di fame, e un nome offriati.”
He pulled both his hands into fists and held them in front of his chest dramatically - over dramatically, Kate thought, but this was opera after all - and, visibly shaking, glared at her as the final words were sung, “ed un amor ch'era febbre e follia!” and promptly launched himself into the fountain with a huge splash.
Shocked, laughing, Kate got to her feet and called to him. “Neal! Neal, what the hell?”
He resurfaced, water streaming down his head into his eyes and grinned at her. “La commedia è finita,” he said to her and she smacked him on the shoulder and helped him get out. She shrieked with laughter as he took her into his soaking arms and kissed her.
Thirty yards away, Jon, a beat cop, was handing his pal Mario, an usher at the opera house, a cigarette, watching the young lovers carry on. “Hey, look at that,” Jon remarked, jutting his chin in the direction of the fountain.
“Yeah,” Mario said with the air of a man who’d seen it all.
“Need me to go and break it up?”
“Nah, they’ll leave in a minute,” Mario said, shaking his head. “Every time they do Pagliacci, some douchebag jumps in the fountain to impress his girl. Come back the same time tomorrow - you can set your friggin’ watch.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You think that’s somethin’, come back when they do Pirates of Penzance. Assholes jumpin’ around with umbrellas as swords and whatnot. It’s freakin’ ridiculous.”
----
Thank you for your time.