March Malt Madness #1 + Gingerbread #8, Carob #24
Story: Blaze Mafia Family
Title: Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend
Prompts: Gingerbread #8: golden egg, Carob #24: selfishness + malt (hi_falootin ’s dare: Firebird has a soft spot for ___! Write a piece where that soft spot is exploited)
Rating: PG13
Characters: Dean “DeeDee” Decarlo, Firebird Blaze
Summary: I cannot think of a better person to exploit Firebird than Dean. Not only is he one of the few people with the balls to do it, but he goes about it in such an amusing way. I mentioned in his intro piece that Dean once camped out on Blaze Territory without their knowledge; this is how he gets back in Firebird’s good graces after that debacle.
Firebird didn’t notice the earrings until she was already seated at her vanity table, putting on her makeup for that night’s party. They were hiding beside her perfume bottles, catching and reflecting light off the crystal bottles in a dazzling display. She summed them up with a speed begotten of excess experience. Earstuds with multiple marquise and pear-shaped diamonds, cut and displayed to their best advantage. Just under two carats, she’d say.
They were beautiful rocks and exactly her style. The only problem was they weren’t hers. Firebird’s jewelry collection was vast, but she never forgot a stone, and she’d never seen these before in her life. Besides, she would never be so careless as to leave something so beautiful lying about like this.
As if on cue, she felt a large presence behind her then, before she could turn around, she was trapped in her seat by a pair of male arms braced on the table on either side of her. A voice so dark only the devil could possess it murmured in her ear, “Do you like them?”
Firebird’s reaction was pure reflex. She snatched her heavy silver hairbrush off the table and slapped it down on the man’s left hand.
“Ow!” Dean yelped, dropping the seductive act in his indignation. He jumped backwards, rubbing his knuckles. “That’s not nice, Birdie.”
Firebird stood up and turned on Dean with a glare. “After the stunt you pulled three months ago, you aren’t going to get nice from me for a long time. In fact, just about the only thing that could make me nice again is if I killed you now.”
Dean grinned. “With a hairbrush? Kinky.”
Her smile was more of a threatening display of teeth as Firebird picked up her clutch and pulled out a small snub nose revolver.
“Well that’s not going to be nearly as much fun,” Dean said, but he put his hands up. That Dean actually acknowledged a gun being pointed at him meant he was trying to make amends by letting her have the appearance of the upper hand.
But Firebird wasn’t playing this time. She flipped the safety off and cocked the gun, just waiting for him to give her a reason to do the entire planet an enormous favor.
Dean did his best to look contrite but he was out of practice. “I suppose you’re still a bit upset about that little misunderstanding. Maybe I should have waited for you to cool off a bit longer.”
“There is no ‘misunderstanding’, DeeDee. I understand perfectly well that you used my property as your personal vacation home for two weeks while you wrought havoc around my city. Then you blew up my garden and disappeared, leaving me to deal with a pack of furious gunrunners!” Firebird snapped, finally letting loose with all her fury at how well he had used her without her even knowing he was in town, much less raiding her fridge on a daily basis.
“Really, it’s not very flattering of you to hold a grudge over a little C4 in the fountain,” Dean said.
“Did you know the Moldovan Butcher came to my house after you left?” Firebird asked, stepping forward and making Dean take an equal step backwards. “He was very insistent on seeing you. So insistent that he ran a meat truck through my front gate and threw a smoke grenade through the stain glass window my great grandfather personally commissioned and installed over the front door one hundred and twenty five years ago!”
“But you did kill him, so that had to be some consolation, right?” Dean said, still stepping backwards as Firebird advanced on him.
“The only consolation that I want is your head on my front gate,” Firebird hissed.
“Think of what your neighbors would say if you did that.” Dean’s back hit the opposite wall. “You can’t shoot me, Birdie. Not when I came just so I could fix our friendship. I’m a bad bad boy for abusing your hospitality, and you can whip me if it would make you feel better. I know it would me.”
Firebird’s eyes narrowed dangerously and her fingers stiffened on the trigger. Dean started talking faster. “Okay! No whippings, no matter how much fun they’d be. Just take the earrings then.”
“You made a complete fool of me,” Firebird snapped at him. “And you think a pair of earrings you probably filched off of some poor woman you killed is going to make that better?”
“She wasn’t dead when I took those!” Dean said, then his panicked indignation transformed into a devilish smirk with his trademark quicksilver change of emotions that only further convinced Firebird he wasn’t human. “But she was when I took this.”
He flicked his right hand and pulled a necklace out of his sleeve. Firebird’s attention was unwillingly but unavoidably diverted to the excessive sparkling. The necklace was roped with diamonds and a multitude of pear-shaped and marquise diamonds in the same shape as the earrings flowed off the main circlet in short beautiful drops down Dean’s sleeve. So many diamonds, all of them catching the light and glittering like ice cold fire.
“40 carats?” Firebird asked.
“46,” Dean corrected.
She tore her gaze away from the delightful temptation sparkling so wonderfully in the lights of her bedroom. “Why would I want a dead woman’s jewelry?”
“Because she had amazing taste,” Dean answered, “And dead women don’t make nearly as big a fuss when you take their jewelry than the ones that are still kicking do.”
“You are completely insane,” Firebird said, her eyes darting back up to the necklace.
“Of course,” Dean slowly moved his hand in front of him then draped the necklace over the nose of her gun. “But that doesn’t mean we should stop being friends.”
Firebird tilted her gun back and the necklace slipped over the metal straight into her hand. It was even more wondrous up close. There were over two hundred diamonds that begged her to spend some time staring into their glittering depths. It was a beautiful piece, she could already imagine how amazing she would look with the earrings and the necklace together.
She glanced up at Dean sharply. “Where’s the bracelet?”
“What makes you think there’s a bracelet?” Dean asked, trying and failing at looking innocent.
Firebird gave him a telling look and Dean stuck his lower lip out in a little pout. “I wanted to wear the bracelet.”
She held out her other hand. Dean huffed then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a bracelet with three connected strands of diamonds in the same design as the other pieces. “Greedy girl,” he muttered, dropping the bracelet into her hand.
“I deserve it for putting up with you,” she said without any real heat, too excited about her newest acquisitions to be angry. She hurried back to her vanity and dropped her gun on the table, within reach of course, so she could put on all those diamonds.
Dean flopped down onto Firebird’s bed. “You are so easy,” he mused, thoroughly amused with the way she preened in front of the mirror.
“I am not,” she replied, distracted. Firebird was well aware that she’d just been had; allowing Dean to gift himself back into her good graces. But, she comforted herself as she looked at her glittering reflection, at least she wasn’t cheap. She was wearing around a quarter of a million dollars worth of perfection. And besides, she knew she would have had to forgive him eventually anyway. As annoying as the Moldovan Butcher was, he wasn’t worth ruining the tenuous friendship with Dean that kept her family safe from his superhuman ability to destroy. The diamonds were just a bonus. A very pretty bonus, if she did say so herself.
Dean wagged his eyebrows at her in the mirror. “If you’re still put out about the garden, my offer for a whipping remains open.”
Title: Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend
Prompts: Gingerbread #8: golden egg, Carob #24: selfishness + malt (hi_falootin ’s dare: Firebird has a soft spot for ___! Write a piece where that soft spot is exploited)
Rating: PG13
Characters: Dean “DeeDee” Decarlo, Firebird Blaze
Summary: I cannot think of a better person to exploit Firebird than Dean. Not only is he one of the few people with the balls to do it, but he goes about it in such an amusing way. I mentioned in his intro piece that Dean once camped out on Blaze Territory without their knowledge; this is how he gets back in Firebird’s good graces after that debacle.
Firebird didn’t notice the earrings until she was already seated at her vanity table, putting on her makeup for that night’s party. They were hiding beside her perfume bottles, catching and reflecting light off the crystal bottles in a dazzling display. She summed them up with a speed begotten of excess experience. Earstuds with multiple marquise and pear-shaped diamonds, cut and displayed to their best advantage. Just under two carats, she’d say.
They were beautiful rocks and exactly her style. The only problem was they weren’t hers. Firebird’s jewelry collection was vast, but she never forgot a stone, and she’d never seen these before in her life. Besides, she would never be so careless as to leave something so beautiful lying about like this.
As if on cue, she felt a large presence behind her then, before she could turn around, she was trapped in her seat by a pair of male arms braced on the table on either side of her. A voice so dark only the devil could possess it murmured in her ear, “Do you like them?”
Firebird’s reaction was pure reflex. She snatched her heavy silver hairbrush off the table and slapped it down on the man’s left hand.
“Ow!” Dean yelped, dropping the seductive act in his indignation. He jumped backwards, rubbing his knuckles. “That’s not nice, Birdie.”
Firebird stood up and turned on Dean with a glare. “After the stunt you pulled three months ago, you aren’t going to get nice from me for a long time. In fact, just about the only thing that could make me nice again is if I killed you now.”
Dean grinned. “With a hairbrush? Kinky.”
Her smile was more of a threatening display of teeth as Firebird picked up her clutch and pulled out a small snub nose revolver.
“Well that’s not going to be nearly as much fun,” Dean said, but he put his hands up. That Dean actually acknowledged a gun being pointed at him meant he was trying to make amends by letting her have the appearance of the upper hand.
But Firebird wasn’t playing this time. She flipped the safety off and cocked the gun, just waiting for him to give her a reason to do the entire planet an enormous favor.
Dean did his best to look contrite but he was out of practice. “I suppose you’re still a bit upset about that little misunderstanding. Maybe I should have waited for you to cool off a bit longer.”
“There is no ‘misunderstanding’, DeeDee. I understand perfectly well that you used my property as your personal vacation home for two weeks while you wrought havoc around my city. Then you blew up my garden and disappeared, leaving me to deal with a pack of furious gunrunners!” Firebird snapped, finally letting loose with all her fury at how well he had used her without her even knowing he was in town, much less raiding her fridge on a daily basis.
“Really, it’s not very flattering of you to hold a grudge over a little C4 in the fountain,” Dean said.
“Did you know the Moldovan Butcher came to my house after you left?” Firebird asked, stepping forward and making Dean take an equal step backwards. “He was very insistent on seeing you. So insistent that he ran a meat truck through my front gate and threw a smoke grenade through the stain glass window my great grandfather personally commissioned and installed over the front door one hundred and twenty five years ago!”
“But you did kill him, so that had to be some consolation, right?” Dean said, still stepping backwards as Firebird advanced on him.
“The only consolation that I want is your head on my front gate,” Firebird hissed.
“Think of what your neighbors would say if you did that.” Dean’s back hit the opposite wall. “You can’t shoot me, Birdie. Not when I came just so I could fix our friendship. I’m a bad bad boy for abusing your hospitality, and you can whip me if it would make you feel better. I know it would me.”
Firebird’s eyes narrowed dangerously and her fingers stiffened on the trigger. Dean started talking faster. “Okay! No whippings, no matter how much fun they’d be. Just take the earrings then.”
“You made a complete fool of me,” Firebird snapped at him. “And you think a pair of earrings you probably filched off of some poor woman you killed is going to make that better?”
“She wasn’t dead when I took those!” Dean said, then his panicked indignation transformed into a devilish smirk with his trademark quicksilver change of emotions that only further convinced Firebird he wasn’t human. “But she was when I took this.”
He flicked his right hand and pulled a necklace out of his sleeve. Firebird’s attention was unwillingly but unavoidably diverted to the excessive sparkling. The necklace was roped with diamonds and a multitude of pear-shaped and marquise diamonds in the same shape as the earrings flowed off the main circlet in short beautiful drops down Dean’s sleeve. So many diamonds, all of them catching the light and glittering like ice cold fire.
“40 carats?” Firebird asked.
“46,” Dean corrected.
She tore her gaze away from the delightful temptation sparkling so wonderfully in the lights of her bedroom. “Why would I want a dead woman’s jewelry?”
“Because she had amazing taste,” Dean answered, “And dead women don’t make nearly as big a fuss when you take their jewelry than the ones that are still kicking do.”
“You are completely insane,” Firebird said, her eyes darting back up to the necklace.
“Of course,” Dean slowly moved his hand in front of him then draped the necklace over the nose of her gun. “But that doesn’t mean we should stop being friends.”
Firebird tilted her gun back and the necklace slipped over the metal straight into her hand. It was even more wondrous up close. There were over two hundred diamonds that begged her to spend some time staring into their glittering depths. It was a beautiful piece, she could already imagine how amazing she would look with the earrings and the necklace together.
She glanced up at Dean sharply. “Where’s the bracelet?”
“What makes you think there’s a bracelet?” Dean asked, trying and failing at looking innocent.
Firebird gave him a telling look and Dean stuck his lower lip out in a little pout. “I wanted to wear the bracelet.”
She held out her other hand. Dean huffed then reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a bracelet with three connected strands of diamonds in the same design as the other pieces. “Greedy girl,” he muttered, dropping the bracelet into her hand.
“I deserve it for putting up with you,” she said without any real heat, too excited about her newest acquisitions to be angry. She hurried back to her vanity and dropped her gun on the table, within reach of course, so she could put on all those diamonds.
Dean flopped down onto Firebird’s bed. “You are so easy,” he mused, thoroughly amused with the way she preened in front of the mirror.
“I am not,” she replied, distracted. Firebird was well aware that she’d just been had; allowing Dean to gift himself back into her good graces. But, she comforted herself as she looked at her glittering reflection, at least she wasn’t cheap. She was wearing around a quarter of a million dollars worth of perfection. And besides, she knew she would have had to forgive him eventually anyway. As annoying as the Moldovan Butcher was, he wasn’t worth ruining the tenuous friendship with Dean that kept her family safe from his superhuman ability to destroy. The diamonds were just a bonus. A very pretty bonus, if she did say so herself.
Dean wagged his eyebrows at her in the mirror. “If you’re still put out about the garden, my offer for a whipping remains open.”