R37: Psychic and COMIC!
Comic: Valentine's Day (Aren't they SUCH an attractive couple?)
Title: Psychic
Characters: Giovanni, Pearl, (Bashous&Buson)
POV: Pearl and Giovanni
Notes: I wrote it in one shot and didn't bother editing. Doesn't really show the depth of their "togetherness" that I wanted. Oh well.
It’s morning.
“Don’t you dare.”
Pearl immediately snaps her head up guiltily. “Huh?”
Giovanni continues scribbling numbers in his ledgers. “I know you were thinking, Pearl, and yes, I would definitely notice if you started hooking paperclips through my belt. You tried that ten years ago and I shall never get over it.”
She grudgingly snorts and nods. “Damn. Well, you would, wouldn’t you? You’d notice, I mean.”
“Most definitely. I’m almost done, bambola! Just a bit of patience!”
Pearl grumbles but stretches out lazily and continues staring up at him with her one eye. “Yeah, Boss, whatever.”
It’s lunch.
She eyes his pesto pasta before reaching out and forking the whole mound into her mouth.
Giovanni looks up in surprise. “Pearl! You just ate all of it!”
She munches with a vengeance. “You wasn’t eating it, so I figured I would. No point in wasting food, that’s why we all say!”
“Well I could have just been saving it for last!”
“Naw, I know you weren’t going to eat it anyways, Boss.” She finishes the bite and starts eyeing his plate again. “You’re gonna eat that salad, aren’t you?”
“Yes I am, and you can’t have it!”
“Good.” Pearl promptly takes the slice of bread on his plate.
“Hey! Executive! Perhaps I would have eaten that?”
“Naw, you wouldn’t have.”
It’s night.
He lies down on top of her and gently rubs his fingers in circles along her bare back. She whistles happily and lays her head on the pillow, eyelid slowly drooping.
“Thanks, Sir, you always know what I want.”
It’s the next day.
She stops the two agents outside his office. “Hey, you two again? Shoo. The Boss doesn’t want to see you right now.”
The shorter one stares at her. “Says who? Certainly not you. Did the Boss tell you to not let anyone in?”
“Yes,” she lies.
“No. You’re lying.”
“Go take your lunch break or something,” she snaps. “Unless if you have really bad news, he wants to sit back a moment.”
“That is not for you to say.” The agent gives her a cold look. “Come on Buson. Let’s finish the report already.”
A few minutes later, they both burst out of the room at high speed. The cold agent simply glares at her. The big blonde agent won’t stop laughing.
It’s fifteen years later.
She sees him examining his face in the mirror. “I think they make you look dignified.”
He turns around and puts a finger up to the fine creases around his eyes. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Sort of like the man who knows all the tricks.” She smiles lightly and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Really, you’ve never been worried about your wrinkles before. You know, they’re not a sign of nearing The End.”
He sighs. “I worry.”
“You worry.” She shrugs. “Well, we’ll all get over it, won’t we? And the kid’s an independent sort of kiddo. He’ll be fine.”
“But you worry about me,” he jokes.
She scowls. “I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.” He stretches comfortably and yawns. “I know you do. You think you’re so strong that the only thing that can hurt you is me.”
“I’ll tell you what I think, and I think you’re a-“
“Hush, hush.”
Title: Psychic
Characters: Giovanni, Pearl, (Bashous&Buson)
POV: Pearl and Giovanni
Notes: I wrote it in one shot and didn't bother editing. Doesn't really show the depth of their "togetherness" that I wanted. Oh well.
It’s morning.
“Don’t you dare.”
Pearl immediately snaps her head up guiltily. “Huh?”
Giovanni continues scribbling numbers in his ledgers. “I know you were thinking, Pearl, and yes, I would definitely notice if you started hooking paperclips through my belt. You tried that ten years ago and I shall never get over it.”
She grudgingly snorts and nods. “Damn. Well, you would, wouldn’t you? You’d notice, I mean.”
“Most definitely. I’m almost done, bambola! Just a bit of patience!”
Pearl grumbles but stretches out lazily and continues staring up at him with her one eye. “Yeah, Boss, whatever.”
It’s lunch.
She eyes his pesto pasta before reaching out and forking the whole mound into her mouth.
Giovanni looks up in surprise. “Pearl! You just ate all of it!”
She munches with a vengeance. “You wasn’t eating it, so I figured I would. No point in wasting food, that’s why we all say!”
“Well I could have just been saving it for last!”
“Naw, I know you weren’t going to eat it anyways, Boss.” She finishes the bite and starts eyeing his plate again. “You’re gonna eat that salad, aren’t you?”
“Yes I am, and you can’t have it!”
“Good.” Pearl promptly takes the slice of bread on his plate.
“Hey! Executive! Perhaps I would have eaten that?”
“Naw, you wouldn’t have.”
It’s night.
He lies down on top of her and gently rubs his fingers in circles along her bare back. She whistles happily and lays her head on the pillow, eyelid slowly drooping.
“Thanks, Sir, you always know what I want.”
It’s the next day.
She stops the two agents outside his office. “Hey, you two again? Shoo. The Boss doesn’t want to see you right now.”
The shorter one stares at her. “Says who? Certainly not you. Did the Boss tell you to not let anyone in?”
“Yes,” she lies.
“No. You’re lying.”
“Go take your lunch break or something,” she snaps. “Unless if you have really bad news, he wants to sit back a moment.”
“That is not for you to say.” The agent gives her a cold look. “Come on Buson. Let’s finish the report already.”
A few minutes later, they both burst out of the room at high speed. The cold agent simply glares at her. The big blonde agent won’t stop laughing.
It’s fifteen years later.
She sees him examining his face in the mirror. “I think they make you look dignified.”
He turns around and puts a finger up to the fine creases around his eyes. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Sort of like the man who knows all the tricks.” She smiles lightly and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Really, you’ve never been worried about your wrinkles before. You know, they’re not a sign of nearing The End.”
He sighs. “I worry.”
“You worry.” She shrugs. “Well, we’ll all get over it, won’t we? And the kid’s an independent sort of kiddo. He’ll be fine.”
“But you worry about me,” he jokes.
She scowls. “I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.” He stretches comfortably and yawns. “I know you do. You think you’re so strong that the only thing that can hurt you is me.”
“I’ll tell you what I think, and I think you’re a-“
“Hush, hush.”