Ilya (foundapurpose) wrote in warrantlogs, @ 2015-12-28 23:38:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | solomon price, zwei |
WHO: Zwei and Solomon Price
WHAT: He brings her a gift, they're adorable, the end.
WHEN: December 21st!
WHERE: Bahama Mama
RATING: Light. They're cute.
It'd been quite the month. December had been a mixed month for years now, considering the anniversary that started it out. Sol never took December 3rd off, he just figured out a project for himself to do that day, and it was all he did. Couple that with Dae getting shot and a RAC kidnapping not too long after, and it was shaping up to be a real great end of the year. Well Sol was not one to let things fester or stay negative for long, so he started planning the Christmas dinner Sebin implied she wanted. He'd already planned on it before leaving the ship for the real holiday, but now he had good incentive. He also picked up some presents while getting the dinner, Zwei being higher on the list than most because of their history. It went family, crew, and then a special someone he didn't talk about very often to anyone else. He knew the White Russian weighed heavily on Zwei, more so than him, but that was a subject that wasn't brought up. If the month could just be over already, that would be great for everyone. The least he could do is try to make her genuinely smile before heading off to Tijuana. He put the ingredients in the kitchen first and then headed over to Zwei and Colt's quarters. He held a big box in his hands but it didn't weigh much of anything. Sol set it down in the hall and rapped his knuckles lightly to her door. "Package delivery for a Ms. Zwei." There was a delay between the knock and the door sliding open to reveal the smaller woman. Emphasis on the smaller: Zwei, wrapped in one of Colt's (stolen) sweaters, seemed slighter than usual, her bare legs free and the cuffs of the sweater reaching past the knuckles of her thumb. It didn't swallow her up, but between that and the blonde braid, she seemed ten years younger. Barefoot, she padded up to the gunner, tilted her chin up. "Is one of the Appletini pilots in there?" The bitterness of the Appletini colliding with them on that Mars bounty was long-lasting, though her eyes reflected at least some amusement. "I wish," was his groaning reply. Sol was an easy going guy, but even easy going guys could want to punch people that terrible at their job. It was one thing to be bad, it was another to get other crews involved. Sol usually felt pity for the Appletini. That wasn't going to happen again any time soon. "No it's just cumbersome and gives away the element of surprise if I'm carrying it." Zwei could take care of herself, he knew that from experience, but he was not made of stone. When she was looking particularly small and young, Sol had a natural urge to gather her up in his arms and become her human blanket. It could've been the big brother in him, or the White Russian in him, but he managed to fight that impulse, wisely. Instead he smiled and opened the top of the box. Inside was a soft fleece blanket that she would wear like a dress instead of a single stolen sweater. It was in leopard print. Sol leaned in to be certain Colt wasn't actually there and then glanced back at her. "Merry Christmas, Nana." The treasured and private name only used sparingly. It, combined with the reveal of the present, sparked an interesting reaction in her gaze, just as private as the name. Few were privy to this Zwei, the one who was a little less selfish, a little less focused on her own needs to let them in. She removed the box from his grip without warning, her other hand sneaking out to furl into the front of his shirt. "Remind me to lift a calendar for you from the supermarket," was all she said before tugging, an invitation that said Come inside; Colt isn't here. "No lifting, a smile is the gift I was looking for." Sol didn't argue with the tug, as he was used to being manhandled occasionally, and followed her into the apartment. He closed the door behind them and reached out to tug at her hair affectionately. "I figured you could snuggle in it if you get cold while piloting, you never know." Zwei folded the gift in her hands, testing the softness, and judging from the slight twitch of her lips, it sufficed. Not another word was offered as she backed up, only enough to settle the robe between her legs and work Colt's sweater off her lithe frame with easy, fluid movements. She eased the leopard print over her camisole, smoothed her hands over the material and twisted it again in her grip. Upon looking up, her grin could probably be contagious. There was no permission asked for her to reach in and take his face between her palms, mock-serious. "It's goddamn heinous." But it was her Thank you. The grin was contagious, because his grin was immediate in response. Getting an expression like that out of her was worth a lot, and he never took it for granted. Sol laughed and her description and nodded, since yes, it was exactly that. He leaned down so she had a better grip on his face, settling his hands on top of hers. "They had all these simple and pretty colors, and I went nope, that won't suit her. But I figured leopard suited you better than zebra. My little hellcat." A grin from Zwei followed, here. Impulsively he kissed her on her forehead. By this point in their friendship (whatever the word was; it went a little deeper than words could convey), she had stopped wiping away that mark of those kisses. "What are you doing for the holiday, hermanita?" Zwei swept a hand over one sleeve once her arms had fallen away, savouring the softness. The holidays were a strange thing. She enjoyed them, ate whatever anyone put in front of her, but there was no intimate connection. She didn't give many gifts. She had no biological family to go back home to. On a superficial level, Christmas was great. Apart from that, there was little point. She shrugged. "Putting on my horns and kidnapping some children, the usual." The usual joke, maybe. He chuckled. Casually and comfortably, the pilot relocated her wrists around Sol's neck, lacing her fingers behind to lock him in. He wrapped his arm around her waist, comfortable in their brand of intimacy. "Are you going back to TJ, hombre? Who's gonna feed me?" "Yes, I'm bumming a ride off the Tequila, but I'm making dinner for all of us first. Dae's baking, Sebin's with me, it'll be delicioso." Sol enjoyed the domesticity of the Mama and went out of his way to encourage it whenever possible. He didn't get the chance to make that connection with the B52, but the Russian was when it started. "You could come to Tijuana. My mother will do her best to fatten you up, it's her goal in life. Food and booze, can't go wrong there." Her brows went up; she was clearly entertained. "All this time and you're only taking me home to her now? I thought we had something, blue eyes. Breaking my fucking heart." "We have everything, little one." Sol actually never invited anyone home. Sure he was open about where he came from, and in Tijuana the Prices were generally well known, but he was superficial when talking about where he grew up. He didn't bring anyone there. But Zwei wasn't anyone. "If I thought you would come before this, I would've invited you." His hand moved along her back, feeling the soft fabric he'd just brought to her; her shoulder blades shifted at the touch. "The downside being you'd have to deal with more Prices than you'd ever think possible." She didn't care much for the fact that he didn't speak of home, because she spoke even less of hers. Outside of "Venus", the only person who knew her real origins was back on Mars tending a bar. There was a lot that Zwei chose not to divulge for obvious reasons, and she pressured no one into giving her their origin story, and that was, in part, because god, what a snore. Jokes were jokes, but at the end of the day, their business was their own. Even so. Sol, similarly, wasn't just anyone. She purposely toyed with the light hairs at the base of his neck. "I've been dealing with you for centuries, what's a couple more of you?" A moment passed where Zwei realized, and rather acutely so, that she hadn't given a concrete answer. Her gaze drifted. "I'll come for the food and booze." (It would be for more than the food and booze, the twinge in her heart said.) "Centuries? Are we ageless vampires now, bound to each other for eternity?" He chuckled, his smile warm and wide once she said yes. It was going to be odd, bringing someone back, but it was Zwei. This wouldn't be the first time his mother heard the name. She'd been aware of the Russian and what happened. She'd know Zwei was family too. "It'll be fun, I promise." He put his arms around to her back and then playfully lifted her right off the ground in a bear hug (to which, long-suffering, she heaved). She was a tiny thing to him, but he set her back down. "How's your Spanish?" A look was directed toward the metal ceiling. "Oh, y'know. Shit." "I've taught you nothing, in all these centuries." Sol's primary language was English, obviously, but Spanish was a very close second. He learned it at the same time, and when he was back in Tijuana, he'd probably go in and out of both. He pinched her cheek. "Dinner as a crew tomorrow, leaving for TJ on the 23rd. I'm skipping out to go to Mars after Christmas, if you want to go there or back to Ganymede." Mars only held one real appeal to him, but it was the kind that tugged hard. One hand, painted gold at the tips, was settled over his heart. "Slow it down, casanova. A girl needs to get over dinner with the fam first. Otherwise, I'll be expecting marriage next, and then I'd need to work on my wedding dress body. You know how it is." She looped her arms back around his neck and grinned. "We have the rest of eternity, anyway." Sol chuckled and shook his head. "You already have me for eternity, why bother with marriage? But I would like to see you in a wedding dress." Just to imagine what would be her style. Sol avoided serious marriage talks. It was too much a reminder of how his life could have taken a different path. "Maybe one day someone else will sweep you off your feet and out of my arms, and I'll have to settle for being a guest." Zwei snorted. "Fat fucking chance." Marriage had once been a dream, or at least a passing thought, but now, after all this time, it seemed pointless. Besides, there was no one she wanted to spend anywhere close to the rest of her life with, not in holy matrimony. This, what she had with Campbell and Sol, sufficed. She didn't need any more. "But speaking of bodies." It was an odd segue. Whatever. "Come raid the kitchen with me. You don't have anything better to do." Since he was here and all. He was used to her odd segues, especially around subjects that needed changing. "I could have a million things to do." Sol opened the door to her room because he was a gentleman, and gestured for her to go ahead. "Not that I'm saying I do, but I could." Her feline smile on the walk past said everything: No, he couldn't. |