[Log] Alturo, Noitora
Title: Who is the Better Now?
Characters: Alturo (luminamon), Noitora (supahukevaizard)
Timeline: July 13, 2006
Rating: PG
Summary: Alturo enjoys having complete power over Noitora.
The lanky Espada parked his car in the staff-only section of Plateado Pizza’s lot, closing the door of the run down machine with a gentle and affectionate push. If there was one thing Noitora adored, it was his car. His baby.
He crossed over to the back entrance to the kitchen, having been told to come in that way now he was officially an employee of the much loved pizza place. The owners had sounded more than happy to welcome him with open arms and offer their son’s assistance on his first day.
Currently, he was looming in the doorway, casting a shadow on the aqua-haired teen.
“Oi.” He said, flatly, hands placed on his slim hips. “Did you miss me, pet?”
He grinned a special grin that was starting to be reserved for Alturo alone. One that gave off not only an aura of arrogance and smugness, but with just enough of a leer and intent of doing something naughty, the other teen just couldn’t help but squirm. That was Noitora’s objective, anyway.
Ah yes. And to get free pizza.
Alturo was not pleased with his parents' effusive decision to have him mentor the new employee. Their repetitive reasons that his time with the Espada would give him camaraderie with Noitora had been only reason enough to put him in a foul humour.
Clouded that little bit more when he saw Noitora pull up and heard his greeting. The Privaron flinched at that slight insinuation, but forced his features to an unimpressed look as he held out the dark tangle of a hair net.
"Put that on before you arrive, whether you're working or not," he instructed. "We don't want any more grease in the pizza."
Noitora looked down at the hideous thing in the shorter boy's hands. He blinked and stared some more before looking up, levelling Alturo with an uncharacteristic icy glare.
"You've got to be fu--" he looked around and stopped himself as he caught sight of the chef looking less than happy. "You're kidding, right? I'm not diseased, I ain't going to contaminate anything."
He swiped the hair net anyway, stretching it out between slim hands to stare at it hatefully. It was Satan spawn for sure.
"Why don't you have to wear one of these, eh? You've got hair, too, and I'd be hella freaked if I saw some blue fuzz on my pizza."
The look was smug, vindictive in its own right as Alturo crossed his arms, an impassable figure in the door that did not shirk away from the taller Espada. Noitora's reaction empowered him, a feeling that he was sure he could get used to, without thought to the advice that pride came before the fall.
"Because I'm not an Espada," he replied. Alturo avoided the hairnets by virtue of his work; cashiers worked mainly with closed food containers and could slip past the food safety requirements, but he did not elaborate on that. Noitora would have to earn the right to work at the front and he had no intention of letting his type of grease out of the drain.
"You wear the hairnet or you're out of a job," he added, nodding towards the black netting. Alturo smiled, hoping that Noitora would cave and quit at this first stumbling block.
Unfortunately for Alturo, Noitora was made of sterner stuff and knew that his only friend, his car, would not shun him after seeing him in a hairnet. And so he groaned and twirled his hair up in one hand, tying it in place with a hair tie he kept constantly around one bony wrist. As soon as all the black locks were out of his face he folded his arms, showing off a white eye patch that had previously been hidden under the curtain of hair.
Huffing and turning his one eye away, he tapped the end of his boot against the floor.
"So what trials will you throw at me next, Darth Plateado?"
Vindication faltered when Alturo caught sight of the stretch of black-rimmed white that covered one eye of his tormentor-turned-subordinate (for the next four hours, at least). It was a slip of expression, where he seemed he might relent the intended cruelty, but it was only a slip. Alturo would not feel pity for the Espada, the revealing of the eye patch did not change who Noitora was.
"That from the last person you talked to?" Alturo made the comment off hand, not intending to make any friends of the Espada, not after the Star Wars remark.
Noitora scoffed and prodded at the eye patch, almost experimentally. "Nah, I can hardly remember where this came from." he shrugged and lied through his teeth, instead fixing a grin back in place. Storytelling was never really his thing.
"So, pet, you have a uniform or somethin' I need to wear? Cuz I'm feeling a little silly wearing a hairnet and leather pants here."
He reached up to scratch his head through the net, finding it horribly scratchy and itching and thoroughly irritating. Still, he wasn't going to give Alturo the pleasure of wimping out this early in the game, not when he believed himself to be so much better.
There he went, inviting the torture instead of turning away from it. Alturo had to credit Noitora for stupidity, and he felt no more need to take pity and play nice because of one lost eye. The little name, used again to elicit that slight twitch in his cheek, made certain of that.
Alturo stepped back to let Noitora into the back kitchen of the pizzeria, since certain health standards had been met, and turned to pick up the visor, shirt, and apron that were staples of all Plateado Pizzeria workers. Not even he, as the son of the owners, could escape wearing these, though he tried and settled for wearing the visor as far askew as possible.
"Wear these for every shift, atop appropriate work clothes," he outlined, taking some pleasure in bringing down another conforming cruelty to an Espada that looked to enjoy bending the rules of acceptable. Emphasis was put on appropriate and a glance made to the leather pants, clothes that would only cause Noitora to swelter and sweat uncomfortably.
Alturo felt the cold smile growing at that thought. All the better, let Noitora experience a real hell's kitchen in those.
Noitora shrugged and took the clothes, pulling the hat onto his head and shifting it so the visor covered his eye patch, figuring customers wouldn't really want to see something like that whilst eating pizza. He held up the shirt and inspected it with eyebrows raised, realising that things could be decidedly worse.
"So...is there somewhere I can change, or would you like me to strip right here?" he grinned and made a move to start tugging his shirt off, already exposing a few bare inches of his well-toned stomach. Alturo might wear him down after the first week, but Noitora was damned if he wasn't going to make him squirm now.
Alturo could think of no one that would appreciate the sight that Noitora offered. Indeed, he quite visibly twitched and went so far as to reach forward in an attempt to tug the material back down to cover pale skin that, surprisingly, did not ooze grease and sleaze like the rest of that Espada did.
"There's a staff-only washroom in the back," he said, gaze averted strictly in the direction of said facilities. "Make it quick."
Noitora grinned and grabbed the extended hand, pressing it against his warm skin and moving toward Alturo for the briefest of moments, lips lowered to press against the shell of his ear.
"Then don't peek, pet. I'll be as fast as I can."
He moved fluidly past Alturo into the indicated room, already tugging his shirt over his head before he closed the door behind him, shouting through so as not to sound muffled.
"Try not to miss me too much~"
Alturo would come to hate the long reach of Noitora's arms. Already he did when that, coupled with his warm breath at his ear, sent an unnecessary shudder down his spine.
With a scowl, Alturo watched as Noitora disappeared into the room, brushing his hair back over his ears and tugging his visor lower to keep that from happening again. "There is no missing here, be assured," he muttered, asking fate again why it was that he had to work with not only an Espada, but this one in particular.
Alturo had time and space to think while Noitora was gone and, given that departure, his thoughts went to revenge, no matter how subtle. That lead to the blue-haired Privaron picking up a toothbrush and a small scraper to be the tools for Noitora's first task on the job: Cleaning the pizzeria floor inch-by-painful-inch.
That brought a pleased smirk to his lips; he had known that he would have the Espada bent over on his knees before his first shift was half done.
Noitora returned mere moments later, grumbling to himself about the annoying, stifling shirt and tugging at it like a dog with a collar. He was unaware of Alturo's innuendo-laden plans until he spotted the toothbrush and cleaner, stopping dead in his tracks.
"What--?" he began, but didn't really need to go any further. The evil smirk on Alturo's face was enough to tell the Espada what he was about to spend the next few hours doing.
Vengeance could be sweet and would be in this case. Alturo could think of no more fitting punishment for the blessed lifestyle of an Espada than to be forced to scrub down the floor of a common pizza parlour for a mere hourly wage that only met the legal minimum. An hour or two spent bowed over on the ground would do wonders for Noitora's ego and would make the Privaron feel far less like an amusement and pet -- as Noitora put it -- for the tall fencer.
The meagre supplies were held out for Noitora to take, Alturo recovered entirely from the unbalancing comments and flirtations that oozed from the other as easily as one might breath in (and choke on them). Seeing the look on his face at the realisation had been the final cure for Alturo, who looked forward to seeing Noitora become fed up with this work and quit.
That would really make his day.
No, wait. His month.
Possibly his year, depending on how well Noitora could throw a tantrum.
"You may consider the task completed when the grout is white," he stated, nodding to the blackened lines between the tiles on the floor. Alturo jerked his head towards the counter, where he would be working while Noitora slaved. "I will be watching you the whole time to ensure your grease does not make it worse."
Noitora could feel his pride shrivel up and wail like a three-year old as he took the cleaning equipment. He glanced down to the tiles and, for a few seconds, considered throwing the bleach over Alturo's smug face and quitting.
But he was an Espada. Noitora did not get where he was today by quitting.
"I have a sneaking suspicion, but correct me if I'm wrong," he started, crouching down on his haunches to pick at the grouting between the tiles, "That this is supposed to black, or a sort of dirty greyish-brown. Like your soul."
He glanced up, glaring as best he could with his one eye, toothbrush twirling between his fingers like he usually did with a sword. "I get the impression you don't like me very much...Mr Pet."
Alturo had the satisfaction of penetration that smug aura about Noitora, but even that could be popped by the return of that little title. One little twitch broke the his own smug expression as the pale tone of his eyes darkened in ire, but he forced a smile back onto his face. That came not out of any necessity to be polite, but out of the very rigid desire to retain his superiority.
"Then you have a long and arduous task ahead of you," Alturo clarified stiffly. "Do not waste the time in pointless conjuncture as to whether I would ever like an Espada."
Noitora was about to retort but heard a door open and then shut behind him, watching Alturo as his face seemed to twist into an expression full of many emotions--none of them seeming pleasant. This pleased Noitora, and he didn't care who it was behind him.
He turned, however, to see a normal-looking, middle-aged couple. From the uniforms they wore and slight resemblances he could see, Noitora came to the conclusion that these were Alturo's parents. Ex-Espada.
He grinned gleefully and inclined his head as he had grown accustomed to doing (begrudgingly, he would admit) before a match. "You must be Mr and Mrs Plateado? I've heard so much about you. We have your pictures on the wall of our training hall."
He looked over his shoulder at Alturo, and grinned sweetly, blowing him a subtle kiss.
Worst luck could not have struck had lightning shot down from the sky and struck Alturo dead in the middle of the building. In fact, at that exact moment, he wished for that to happen in order to save him from the humiliation that was coming. Not even Ichimaru, the professor would led the Privaron, catching him like this could have been worst. That would have been a lecture, but equally the disdain would fall to the Espada. However, his parents would not treat Noitora with disdain, ignorance, or even simple manners. They would roll out the damn red carpet and usher him onto it.
All for the fact that he was an Espada.
Alturo gagged at the thought, but bit his lip hard when his father turned his eyes towards him, questioning his presence combined with the Espada holding a scraper and toothbrush designed for the most menial task in the business. "This is the new employee," he reported through gritted teeth. "Noitora."
Mother smiled at the complimentary remind of her school and stepped up to meet the Espada, eager to have a chance to talk with a member of her former club. The tools of the floor were brushed out of Noitora's hands and handed to her son. "Alturo will finish up here, dear," she commented, gesturing towards the front of the pizzeria. "You'll must come and have a proper interview before we put you to work."
Alturo snorted, faint and concealed to avert his parents from noticing his aggression.
Father did not miss that cue, by the look offered to his son. "Noitora," he said, quite conversational as he moved to guide the lanky fencer away, "tell us how the Espada are doing nowadays. Alturo is unable to provide us with the latest updates as he is quite involved with another club."
Noitora did a happy little dance inside his head. Oh, this was going to be such a joy, no matter what Alturo tried to do to him. He grinned as the cleaning 'equipment' was passed over, dusting his hands off on a nearby dishtowel. "Oh, thank you." he smiled, almost offering to do it anyway but deciding not to push his luck.
"Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you would have to interview me. Alturo gave me the impression I could start right away. I wouldn't have imposed myself on you both so rudely if I'd have known."
He smiled sweetly to the Privaron, almost giggling when his father asked the question about the Espada. "Ah, yes, Alturo seems to have lots of good friends with Privaron. A good club, I'm sure."
He grinned over at the younger teen, waving sarcastically as he was guided out to the front of the restaurant. "Things are going well in the club. In fact, I've recently been moved up so I'm ranked second..."
He trailed off, wanting to hear a response from Alturo although he guessed he wouldn't be blessed with one. This was more than enough karma coming around to bite the snotty Privaron right in the ass.
Characters: Alturo (luminamon), Noitora (supahukevaizard)
Timeline: July 13, 2006
Rating: PG
Summary: Alturo enjoys having complete power over Noitora.
The lanky Espada parked his car in the staff-only section of Plateado Pizza’s lot, closing the door of the run down machine with a gentle and affectionate push. If there was one thing Noitora adored, it was his car. His baby.
He crossed over to the back entrance to the kitchen, having been told to come in that way now he was officially an employee of the much loved pizza place. The owners had sounded more than happy to welcome him with open arms and offer their son’s assistance on his first day.
Currently, he was looming in the doorway, casting a shadow on the aqua-haired teen.
“Oi.” He said, flatly, hands placed on his slim hips. “Did you miss me, pet?”
He grinned a special grin that was starting to be reserved for Alturo alone. One that gave off not only an aura of arrogance and smugness, but with just enough of a leer and intent of doing something naughty, the other teen just couldn’t help but squirm. That was Noitora’s objective, anyway.
Ah yes. And to get free pizza.
Alturo was not pleased with his parents' effusive decision to have him mentor the new employee. Their repetitive reasons that his time with the Espada would give him camaraderie with Noitora had been only reason enough to put him in a foul humour.
Clouded that little bit more when he saw Noitora pull up and heard his greeting. The Privaron flinched at that slight insinuation, but forced his features to an unimpressed look as he held out the dark tangle of a hair net.
"Put that on before you arrive, whether you're working or not," he instructed. "We don't want any more grease in the pizza."
Noitora looked down at the hideous thing in the shorter boy's hands. He blinked and stared some more before looking up, levelling Alturo with an uncharacteristic icy glare.
"You've got to be fu--" he looked around and stopped himself as he caught sight of the chef looking less than happy. "You're kidding, right? I'm not diseased, I ain't going to contaminate anything."
He swiped the hair net anyway, stretching it out between slim hands to stare at it hatefully. It was Satan spawn for sure.
"Why don't you have to wear one of these, eh? You've got hair, too, and I'd be hella freaked if I saw some blue fuzz on my pizza."
The look was smug, vindictive in its own right as Alturo crossed his arms, an impassable figure in the door that did not shirk away from the taller Espada. Noitora's reaction empowered him, a feeling that he was sure he could get used to, without thought to the advice that pride came before the fall.
"Because I'm not an Espada," he replied. Alturo avoided the hairnets by virtue of his work; cashiers worked mainly with closed food containers and could slip past the food safety requirements, but he did not elaborate on that. Noitora would have to earn the right to work at the front and he had no intention of letting his type of grease out of the drain.
"You wear the hairnet or you're out of a job," he added, nodding towards the black netting. Alturo smiled, hoping that Noitora would cave and quit at this first stumbling block.
Unfortunately for Alturo, Noitora was made of sterner stuff and knew that his only friend, his car, would not shun him after seeing him in a hairnet. And so he groaned and twirled his hair up in one hand, tying it in place with a hair tie he kept constantly around one bony wrist. As soon as all the black locks were out of his face he folded his arms, showing off a white eye patch that had previously been hidden under the curtain of hair.
Huffing and turning his one eye away, he tapped the end of his boot against the floor.
"So what trials will you throw at me next, Darth Plateado?"
Vindication faltered when Alturo caught sight of the stretch of black-rimmed white that covered one eye of his tormentor-turned-subordinate (for the next four hours, at least). It was a slip of expression, where he seemed he might relent the intended cruelty, but it was only a slip. Alturo would not feel pity for the Espada, the revealing of the eye patch did not change who Noitora was.
"That from the last person you talked to?" Alturo made the comment off hand, not intending to make any friends of the Espada, not after the Star Wars remark.
Noitora scoffed and prodded at the eye patch, almost experimentally. "Nah, I can hardly remember where this came from." he shrugged and lied through his teeth, instead fixing a grin back in place. Storytelling was never really his thing.
"So, pet, you have a uniform or somethin' I need to wear? Cuz I'm feeling a little silly wearing a hairnet and leather pants here."
He reached up to scratch his head through the net, finding it horribly scratchy and itching and thoroughly irritating. Still, he wasn't going to give Alturo the pleasure of wimping out this early in the game, not when he believed himself to be so much better.
There he went, inviting the torture instead of turning away from it. Alturo had to credit Noitora for stupidity, and he felt no more need to take pity and play nice because of one lost eye. The little name, used again to elicit that slight twitch in his cheek, made certain of that.
Alturo stepped back to let Noitora into the back kitchen of the pizzeria, since certain health standards had been met, and turned to pick up the visor, shirt, and apron that were staples of all Plateado Pizzeria workers. Not even he, as the son of the owners, could escape wearing these, though he tried and settled for wearing the visor as far askew as possible.
"Wear these for every shift, atop appropriate work clothes," he outlined, taking some pleasure in bringing down another conforming cruelty to an Espada that looked to enjoy bending the rules of acceptable. Emphasis was put on appropriate and a glance made to the leather pants, clothes that would only cause Noitora to swelter and sweat uncomfortably.
Alturo felt the cold smile growing at that thought. All the better, let Noitora experience a real hell's kitchen in those.
Noitora shrugged and took the clothes, pulling the hat onto his head and shifting it so the visor covered his eye patch, figuring customers wouldn't really want to see something like that whilst eating pizza. He held up the shirt and inspected it with eyebrows raised, realising that things could be decidedly worse.
"So...is there somewhere I can change, or would you like me to strip right here?" he grinned and made a move to start tugging his shirt off, already exposing a few bare inches of his well-toned stomach. Alturo might wear him down after the first week, but Noitora was damned if he wasn't going to make him squirm now.
Alturo could think of no one that would appreciate the sight that Noitora offered. Indeed, he quite visibly twitched and went so far as to reach forward in an attempt to tug the material back down to cover pale skin that, surprisingly, did not ooze grease and sleaze like the rest of that Espada did.
"There's a staff-only washroom in the back," he said, gaze averted strictly in the direction of said facilities. "Make it quick."
Noitora grinned and grabbed the extended hand, pressing it against his warm skin and moving toward Alturo for the briefest of moments, lips lowered to press against the shell of his ear.
"Then don't peek, pet. I'll be as fast as I can."
He moved fluidly past Alturo into the indicated room, already tugging his shirt over his head before he closed the door behind him, shouting through so as not to sound muffled.
"Try not to miss me too much~"
Alturo would come to hate the long reach of Noitora's arms. Already he did when that, coupled with his warm breath at his ear, sent an unnecessary shudder down his spine.
With a scowl, Alturo watched as Noitora disappeared into the room, brushing his hair back over his ears and tugging his visor lower to keep that from happening again. "There is no missing here, be assured," he muttered, asking fate again why it was that he had to work with not only an Espada, but this one in particular.
Alturo had time and space to think while Noitora was gone and, given that departure, his thoughts went to revenge, no matter how subtle. That lead to the blue-haired Privaron picking up a toothbrush and a small scraper to be the tools for Noitora's first task on the job: Cleaning the pizzeria floor inch-by-painful-inch.
That brought a pleased smirk to his lips; he had known that he would have the Espada bent over on his knees before his first shift was half done.
Noitora returned mere moments later, grumbling to himself about the annoying, stifling shirt and tugging at it like a dog with a collar. He was unaware of Alturo's innuendo-laden plans until he spotted the toothbrush and cleaner, stopping dead in his tracks.
"What--?" he began, but didn't really need to go any further. The evil smirk on Alturo's face was enough to tell the Espada what he was about to spend the next few hours doing.
Vengeance could be sweet and would be in this case. Alturo could think of no more fitting punishment for the blessed lifestyle of an Espada than to be forced to scrub down the floor of a common pizza parlour for a mere hourly wage that only met the legal minimum. An hour or two spent bowed over on the ground would do wonders for Noitora's ego and would make the Privaron feel far less like an amusement and pet -- as Noitora put it -- for the tall fencer.
The meagre supplies were held out for Noitora to take, Alturo recovered entirely from the unbalancing comments and flirtations that oozed from the other as easily as one might breath in (and choke on them). Seeing the look on his face at the realisation had been the final cure for Alturo, who looked forward to seeing Noitora become fed up with this work and quit.
That would really make his day.
No, wait. His month.
Possibly his year, depending on how well Noitora could throw a tantrum.
"You may consider the task completed when the grout is white," he stated, nodding to the blackened lines between the tiles on the floor. Alturo jerked his head towards the counter, where he would be working while Noitora slaved. "I will be watching you the whole time to ensure your grease does not make it worse."
Noitora could feel his pride shrivel up and wail like a three-year old as he took the cleaning equipment. He glanced down to the tiles and, for a few seconds, considered throwing the bleach over Alturo's smug face and quitting.
But he was an Espada. Noitora did not get where he was today by quitting.
"I have a sneaking suspicion, but correct me if I'm wrong," he started, crouching down on his haunches to pick at the grouting between the tiles, "That this is supposed to black, or a sort of dirty greyish-brown. Like your soul."
He glanced up, glaring as best he could with his one eye, toothbrush twirling between his fingers like he usually did with a sword. "I get the impression you don't like me very much...Mr Pet."
Alturo had the satisfaction of penetration that smug aura about Noitora, but even that could be popped by the return of that little title. One little twitch broke the his own smug expression as the pale tone of his eyes darkened in ire, but he forced a smile back onto his face. That came not out of any necessity to be polite, but out of the very rigid desire to retain his superiority.
"Then you have a long and arduous task ahead of you," Alturo clarified stiffly. "Do not waste the time in pointless conjuncture as to whether I would ever like an Espada."
Noitora was about to retort but heard a door open and then shut behind him, watching Alturo as his face seemed to twist into an expression full of many emotions--none of them seeming pleasant. This pleased Noitora, and he didn't care who it was behind him.
He turned, however, to see a normal-looking, middle-aged couple. From the uniforms they wore and slight resemblances he could see, Noitora came to the conclusion that these were Alturo's parents. Ex-Espada.
He grinned gleefully and inclined his head as he had grown accustomed to doing (begrudgingly, he would admit) before a match. "You must be Mr and Mrs Plateado? I've heard so much about you. We have your pictures on the wall of our training hall."
He looked over his shoulder at Alturo, and grinned sweetly, blowing him a subtle kiss.
Worst luck could not have struck had lightning shot down from the sky and struck Alturo dead in the middle of the building. In fact, at that exact moment, he wished for that to happen in order to save him from the humiliation that was coming. Not even Ichimaru, the professor would led the Privaron, catching him like this could have been worst. That would have been a lecture, but equally the disdain would fall to the Espada. However, his parents would not treat Noitora with disdain, ignorance, or even simple manners. They would roll out the damn red carpet and usher him onto it.
All for the fact that he was an Espada.
Alturo gagged at the thought, but bit his lip hard when his father turned his eyes towards him, questioning his presence combined with the Espada holding a scraper and toothbrush designed for the most menial task in the business. "This is the new employee," he reported through gritted teeth. "Noitora."
Mother smiled at the complimentary remind of her school and stepped up to meet the Espada, eager to have a chance to talk with a member of her former club. The tools of the floor were brushed out of Noitora's hands and handed to her son. "Alturo will finish up here, dear," she commented, gesturing towards the front of the pizzeria. "You'll must come and have a proper interview before we put you to work."
Alturo snorted, faint and concealed to avert his parents from noticing his aggression.
Father did not miss that cue, by the look offered to his son. "Noitora," he said, quite conversational as he moved to guide the lanky fencer away, "tell us how the Espada are doing nowadays. Alturo is unable to provide us with the latest updates as he is quite involved with another club."
Noitora did a happy little dance inside his head. Oh, this was going to be such a joy, no matter what Alturo tried to do to him. He grinned as the cleaning 'equipment' was passed over, dusting his hands off on a nearby dishtowel. "Oh, thank you." he smiled, almost offering to do it anyway but deciding not to push his luck.
"Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't realise you would have to interview me. Alturo gave me the impression I could start right away. I wouldn't have imposed myself on you both so rudely if I'd have known."
He smiled sweetly to the Privaron, almost giggling when his father asked the question about the Espada. "Ah, yes, Alturo seems to have lots of good friends with Privaron. A good club, I'm sure."
He grinned over at the younger teen, waving sarcastically as he was guided out to the front of the restaurant. "Things are going well in the club. In fact, I've recently been moved up so I'm ranked second..."
He trailed off, wanting to hear a response from Alturo although he guessed he wouldn't be blessed with one. This was more than enough karma coming around to bite the snotty Privaron right in the ass.