Life, Later (15/?)
Title: Life, Later (15/?)
Pairing: Pepa/Silvia (LHDP)
Rating: R [to be on the safe side]
Spoilers: Yup, if you haven’t seen the earlier pre-Pepa episodes (season 3). So basically, this will be a kind of half-AU.
A/N: Read, enjoy & comment! :-)
15.
Well, I just don’t get it why they all moan about it. It’s not that bad to be behind bars. After all, it’s not like we’re in the Middle Ages and we get thrown in dungeons anymore. I look around my tiny cell. Sure, there’s no privacy, it could make one claustrophobic, the thin mattress doesn’t look or feel comfortable at all. But it does look safe enough for now, it would be even safer for me if the key to open the heavy door would somehow miraculously get lost. But with how my luck’s been running lately, Silvia would just come in bearing a heavy-duty metal cutter to get her little hands on me. She does seem obsessed to have her hands on me these days. It took three able-bodied police officers to separate her from me. I don’t know how to feel about that, it just means she’ll have a chance to get her hands on me again later. To be or not to be, alive right now? So many questions, so many bad answers.
The hinges of the door produce a gravely ominous screeching sound when it opens. Oh my god, here she comes! It’s her, it must be her. I bury my head in my hands and curl up tightly on the mattress, the smaller a target you make your body to be, the better.
Giggling. Dios mio, she has snapped. I made her snap, my poor, little pelirroja gone crazy because I am stupid, my name is Stupid. … Stupid Cupid … That rhymes! … But I’m just Stupid Stupid, unfortunately. No cutting of metal going on, just irrepressible giggling. I dare crack open one eye and behold my niece who is dissolving in laughter in front of the bars. She’s laughing so hard, it looks like she’s barely getting enough breath, like she’s soon gonna make herself sick laughing. Why do people put children into this world? Don’t they know that sooner or later they’re just gonna become the laughing stock of them? And couldn’t Paco just put a knot in it at the right moment so this creature wouldn’t have come into the world to torment us all?
I uncurl myself and jump at the bars to scare her out of her laughing fit. It works, she stops for a moment looking at me wide-eyed, uncomprehending, hiccoughs once on another giggle wanting to escape, and then remembers there are steel bars between us and starts happily laughing once again, then leans exhausted on the wall, slowly sliding down it, drowning in her merriment.
I can’t believe my eyes. This is the sweet, though slightly/very nutty child Silvia and I used to babysit? How… how can they grow up to be like this?! Can we give back the baby we’re having if it starts to resemble in the slightest their older, batty cousin? … Too bad I’m not going to meet you anyway, little unborn baby, your mother is planning my demise as we speak, I sigh.
The door opens again, I’m still too stupefied by Sara’s behaviour, to let the fear drive me into hiding again. It’s only Paco. He looks with his big sad eyes to me, shaking his head, speechless, expectedly dragging his big, wide, wrinkled and always abused handkerchief out of his pocket and bringing it to his mouth in the gesture by now universally known as ‘Holy Fuck! What am I gonna do?... I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing I can do? Is there? No, of course not, if there were, I’d’ve thought of it by now. … But there must be something I could do. Or not?’ He notices the apple of his eye, more of a pain in the gut if you ask me, but anyway, his only child wriggling on the floor like she’s being possessed by the devil himself, she being actually the devil himself if you ask me, but anyway, his eyes grow bigger, though it seemed impossible that they could, physically speaking, and he tentatively approaches her and pushes her with his foot, the love of a father goes only that far, I gather, and rightfully so when we’re speaking of a little demon like Sara. I’m sure he’s already thinking of contingency plans to save her soul, were she to be possessed, probably Mariano coming in decked in his holy pictures and praying beads and Pove conducting an impromptu exorcism sermon and pouring bottles of holy water upon the head of this poor sinner. The image soothes me and brings me untold joys, and I start smirking myself. So lost am I in the fantasies of Sara getting her due, that I don’t hear the door opening for the third time, but the atmosphere changes around me, a chill runs through me, it seems like all the air is being sucked out of the room and freezing stillness is left behind, like an evil power has come in and taken over the room by its mere presence. I gasp for air and in between my hungry gulps I choke seeing the force that now has us all in its grasp. And it hasn’t come with good intentions, it has come to destroy, to destroy me, to demolish and then bury me and after dance upon my sorry-ass grave. Silvia has arrived.
Even Sara stops, grasping the graveness of the moment, or just running out of breath for her traitor-laughter, my brother seems like he’s about to swallow his handkerchief - but he is the demon-child’s father so he can’t leave her here alone, defenseless, and grabs her by the arm, dragging her up off the floor, but then still positioning her in front of himself as a shield, hoping her cuteness might still work on her aunt even after all these years and that it could save them both from certain death, which I’m sure by now Silvia would consider as justified based only on them being my blood relations, conveniently forgetting that at least one of them was a direct blood relation of hers as well. I’m sure she’s thinking something along the lines of ‘Oh well… Lola IS young enough to have another child… or they could adopt and get luckier the second time around.’ Can’t say I blame her much here, though I’d surely miss Sara, at least for a couple of days…
Silvia is looking like an avenging angel, pink-tinged cheeks, fiery red hair, blowing in the wind … Wait, there’s no wind here! Holy shit! I stutter in my mind … a rectangular file under her left arm, the right hand casually caressing her firearm strapped to her waist, black tight jeans and high black leather boots and sharp, blindingly white shirt, several upper buttons left open, showing a decent expanse of porcelain skin, that is in no way decent. She looks butch and I feel myself getting turned on, I can’t help it, okay? I whine in my mind. And she looks like she means business, and that business involves only me as she’s staring fixedly at me, not even seeming to notice the other inhabitants of the room, who are starting to realize the same thing, and thanking their lucky stars in their heads, start making their way out of the room, slowly, with no sudden movements, like we’ve all been taught to proceed were we are face to face with a rabid animal or rabid killer, always keeping her in their peripheral vision, so as to have at least a minimal chance of escaping were she to suddenly strike, but never looking her in the eyes, in the hope of not enraging her even more, knowing that she’d perceive a direct look as a challenge and she’d strike silently and with deadly accuracy. During this entire Animal Planet Special of ‘Surviving an Encounter with a Cobra’ I tried to get my mouth to move and utter at least one word like HELP, but I just couldn’t find enough moisture in this body of mine, it was all just headed south, creating this intense almost debilitating arousal at witnessing the malefic hotness of my future wife [if she’d deem me adequate to still have a claim upon this life of mine]. After several tries I did manage to croak a feeble ‘Don’t go.’ But my family were too bent on saving their own skin, than attempting to save mine and thus surely losing all our lives in the process. My brother though managed to turn around and wave his handkerchief in a last goodbye to me before they both disappeared behind the door.
I turned my eyes back to her and stood stock still, my knees trembling like castanets under her gaze.
‘Miranda! Alone at last.’ She whispers menacingly.
***
Pairing: Pepa/Silvia (LHDP)
Rating: R [to be on the safe side]
Spoilers: Yup, if you haven’t seen the earlier pre-Pepa episodes (season 3). So basically, this will be a kind of half-AU.
A/N: Read, enjoy & comment! :-)
15.
Well, I just don’t get it why they all moan about it. It’s not that bad to be behind bars. After all, it’s not like we’re in the Middle Ages and we get thrown in dungeons anymore. I look around my tiny cell. Sure, there’s no privacy, it could make one claustrophobic, the thin mattress doesn’t look or feel comfortable at all. But it does look safe enough for now, it would be even safer for me if the key to open the heavy door would somehow miraculously get lost. But with how my luck’s been running lately, Silvia would just come in bearing a heavy-duty metal cutter to get her little hands on me. She does seem obsessed to have her hands on me these days. It took three able-bodied police officers to separate her from me. I don’t know how to feel about that, it just means she’ll have a chance to get her hands on me again later. To be or not to be, alive right now? So many questions, so many bad answers.
The hinges of the door produce a gravely ominous screeching sound when it opens. Oh my god, here she comes! It’s her, it must be her. I bury my head in my hands and curl up tightly on the mattress, the smaller a target you make your body to be, the better.
Giggling. Dios mio, she has snapped. I made her snap, my poor, little pelirroja gone crazy because I am stupid, my name is Stupid. … Stupid Cupid … That rhymes! … But I’m just Stupid Stupid, unfortunately. No cutting of metal going on, just irrepressible giggling. I dare crack open one eye and behold my niece who is dissolving in laughter in front of the bars. She’s laughing so hard, it looks like she’s barely getting enough breath, like she’s soon gonna make herself sick laughing. Why do people put children into this world? Don’t they know that sooner or later they’re just gonna become the laughing stock of them? And couldn’t Paco just put a knot in it at the right moment so this creature wouldn’t have come into the world to torment us all?
I uncurl myself and jump at the bars to scare her out of her laughing fit. It works, she stops for a moment looking at me wide-eyed, uncomprehending, hiccoughs once on another giggle wanting to escape, and then remembers there are steel bars between us and starts happily laughing once again, then leans exhausted on the wall, slowly sliding down it, drowning in her merriment.
I can’t believe my eyes. This is the sweet, though slightly/very nutty child Silvia and I used to babysit? How… how can they grow up to be like this?! Can we give back the baby we’re having if it starts to resemble in the slightest their older, batty cousin? … Too bad I’m not going to meet you anyway, little unborn baby, your mother is planning my demise as we speak, I sigh.
The door opens again, I’m still too stupefied by Sara’s behaviour, to let the fear drive me into hiding again. It’s only Paco. He looks with his big sad eyes to me, shaking his head, speechless, expectedly dragging his big, wide, wrinkled and always abused handkerchief out of his pocket and bringing it to his mouth in the gesture by now universally known as ‘Holy Fuck! What am I gonna do?... I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing I can do? Is there? No, of course not, if there were, I’d’ve thought of it by now. … But there must be something I could do. Or not?’ He notices the apple of his eye, more of a pain in the gut if you ask me, but anyway, his only child wriggling on the floor like she’s being possessed by the devil himself, she being actually the devil himself if you ask me, but anyway, his eyes grow bigger, though it seemed impossible that they could, physically speaking, and he tentatively approaches her and pushes her with his foot, the love of a father goes only that far, I gather, and rightfully so when we’re speaking of a little demon like Sara. I’m sure he’s already thinking of contingency plans to save her soul, were she to be possessed, probably Mariano coming in decked in his holy pictures and praying beads and Pove conducting an impromptu exorcism sermon and pouring bottles of holy water upon the head of this poor sinner. The image soothes me and brings me untold joys, and I start smirking myself. So lost am I in the fantasies of Sara getting her due, that I don’t hear the door opening for the third time, but the atmosphere changes around me, a chill runs through me, it seems like all the air is being sucked out of the room and freezing stillness is left behind, like an evil power has come in and taken over the room by its mere presence. I gasp for air and in between my hungry gulps I choke seeing the force that now has us all in its grasp. And it hasn’t come with good intentions, it has come to destroy, to destroy me, to demolish and then bury me and after dance upon my sorry-ass grave. Silvia has arrived.
Even Sara stops, grasping the graveness of the moment, or just running out of breath for her traitor-laughter, my brother seems like he’s about to swallow his handkerchief - but he is the demon-child’s father so he can’t leave her here alone, defenseless, and grabs her by the arm, dragging her up off the floor, but then still positioning her in front of himself as a shield, hoping her cuteness might still work on her aunt even after all these years and that it could save them both from certain death, which I’m sure by now Silvia would consider as justified based only on them being my blood relations, conveniently forgetting that at least one of them was a direct blood relation of hers as well. I’m sure she’s thinking something along the lines of ‘Oh well… Lola IS young enough to have another child… or they could adopt and get luckier the second time around.’ Can’t say I blame her much here, though I’d surely miss Sara, at least for a couple of days…
Silvia is looking like an avenging angel, pink-tinged cheeks, fiery red hair, blowing in the wind … Wait, there’s no wind here! Holy shit! I stutter in my mind … a rectangular file under her left arm, the right hand casually caressing her firearm strapped to her waist, black tight jeans and high black leather boots and sharp, blindingly white shirt, several upper buttons left open, showing a decent expanse of porcelain skin, that is in no way decent. She looks butch and I feel myself getting turned on, I can’t help it, okay? I whine in my mind. And she looks like she means business, and that business involves only me as she’s staring fixedly at me, not even seeming to notice the other inhabitants of the room, who are starting to realize the same thing, and thanking their lucky stars in their heads, start making their way out of the room, slowly, with no sudden movements, like we’ve all been taught to proceed were we are face to face with a rabid animal or rabid killer, always keeping her in their peripheral vision, so as to have at least a minimal chance of escaping were she to suddenly strike, but never looking her in the eyes, in the hope of not enraging her even more, knowing that she’d perceive a direct look as a challenge and she’d strike silently and with deadly accuracy. During this entire Animal Planet Special of ‘Surviving an Encounter with a Cobra’ I tried to get my mouth to move and utter at least one word like HELP, but I just couldn’t find enough moisture in this body of mine, it was all just headed south, creating this intense almost debilitating arousal at witnessing the malefic hotness of my future wife [if she’d deem me adequate to still have a claim upon this life of mine]. After several tries I did manage to croak a feeble ‘Don’t go.’ But my family were too bent on saving their own skin, than attempting to save mine and thus surely losing all our lives in the process. My brother though managed to turn around and wave his handkerchief in a last goodbye to me before they both disappeared behind the door.
I turned my eyes back to her and stood stock still, my knees trembling like castanets under her gaze.
‘Miranda! Alone at last.’ She whispers menacingly.
***