Entry tags:

!complete, cindy cendrillon (cinderella), garrus vakarian

Who: Cinderbrations (Garrus & Cindy)
What: Garrus meets the family.
When: Idk, this weekend~
Where: Georgia
Rating/Warnings: low!
Status: Complete!

Being that, in a former life, Cindy was once a Princess in the Homelands - various fairytale and folklore worlds - the manor of her youth sort of was a chip off that image. The plantation in Atlanta was free from the big-city feel; it was graceful and symmetrical, mimicking the manors of the Deep South in the 19th century. A soaring columned porch, tall French windows (maybe it was why she had a thing for French doors, a requirement in her and Garrus’s new place), wooden shutters, that sense of regional history. Of course, her father had been at the hospital saving the lives of babies when Cindy and her beau arrived after a rather long flight, so he’d arranged for a driver to meet them at the airport and bring them back to the manor - technically, it belonged to her stepmother who was descended from rather successful indigo plantation owners. Her two daughters, Cindy’s stepsisters Charlotte and Clarinda (Claire, as she insisted on being called), loved to flaunt that wealth they were connected to as it enabled them to list ‘heiress’ as their sole occupation - so this visit would be nothing short of a headache, and it was why Cindy had already made reservations at a hotel nearby as opposed to enduring the torture of actually staying in the manor.

Reuniting with her family, and beginning the long road to making amends, was one thing. Living here again, even if just for a few days, was another.

“So that’s the place,” Charlotte was saying, on one side of Garrus, with Claire on the other; they both had taken an immediate liking to him as Cindy just knew they would. They’d insisted on a tour, naturally, and just arrived back in the sitting room. “It’s sort of...Neoclassical meets Greek Revival, don’t you think?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here?” Claire interjected with a pout, leaning on Garrus’s arm. “We have plenty of room.”

Oh my god, get lost. Cindy rolled her eyes - the two women were like pointless harpies, there was no sense in trying to control what they did. She’d gotten used to them rather than choosing to fight them; it was progress. “Didn’t mother say something about apéritifs?” she asked pointedly. “Can you check on that for us, before dinner?”

The two harpies joined at the hip fluttered off, leaving Cindy and her companion in the sitting room, where Cindy flopped onto the sofa that was more designed for aesthetic appeal than comfort and let out a looooooooooooooooooong sigh. “Jesus Christ.” Oops, she took the Lord’s name in vain!

Stepping into Georgia felt like two things, specifically. One, swallowing water why you breathed because godfuck, he was spoiled by Califorinia’s dry climate, this was awful. Two, it felt like getting uncomfortably eyeraped. Dumb and Dumber were nice enough, he guessed, but the unwelcome invasion of his personal bubble - only allowed by a couple few - was a kind of annoyance that simmered, in which he held multiple, multiple sighs.

But Garrus truly was polite, gentlemanly - he’d cater to the conversations, add a little dry snark here and there, but when he got the chance to look away and give Cindy the eyebrow raised look of are they serious?, he didn’t waste it.

Lucky them they didn’t have to stay, regardless of their copious amount of rooms (which they didn’t hesitate to flaunt, over and over). So when the sisters sauntered off elsewhere and they were left with a certain degree of privacy, even for a second, Garrus accompanied the sigh. His was shorter, clearly, and he went to stand by his couch-fallen girlfriend.

“They seem nice,” he said, but the words were carried with a smirk because there was sarcasm in there, somewhere.

“Yeah, don’t they just?” Cindy snarked, flinging her sandals off for the time being. Toes had been pedicured and painted, and were back to being pretty as a picture thanks to the girl time allowed with Leliana, and her floral-printed sundress kept her cool in the stifling heat. At least it was springtime in Georgia, and not full-on summer hell. Small favors, she guessed. “I knew they’d be climbing you like a tree but that’s just them.” And Garrus was good-looking, wasn’t like Cindy didn’t know that. “They don’t mean any harm.”

Her family wasn’t made up of serial killers or sociopaths. They were just so damn southern that it hurt sometimes.

They also didn’t have to spend every minute at the house. She had a whole list of things she wanted to do and see. “Tomorrow we’ll do something fun. Did you know that Atlanta’s the zombie capital of America?”

Garrus was along for the ride, really - and support. This wasn’t the easiest to do, to come back to your roots and confront the faces of the past. He’d go wherever and do whatever Cindy needed and wanted. This trip was for her, to mend her peace of mind and actually try and attempt to do the family thing.

The spot next to her was soon occupied and he pulled her legs over his lap, taking advantage of her bare feet to give them a rub. Maybe not the most appropriate thing to do on someone else’s couch (or decorative chair thing, whatever), but she looked like she needed it, anyway. “I did not, actually. But you know I’m up for everything - show me the alien land of your people, I come in peace.”

Really, he was more anxious to meet her father. There was a certain part of Garrus that wanted approval from the patriarch of this plantation. Not that he needed it, but it’d be...nice. Would definitely make this less complicated and more comfortable for all parties involved.

Aw, the footrub on Cindy’s tired tootsies was nice - because traveling via plane always made her feel gross, and dehydrated, especially during an endless flight. She had trouble sitting still for that long and had gotten up to prowl the aisle on occasion, hopefully not driving Garrus too insane. She let out another sigh, this one of satisfaction. The smells of dinner cooking (by the chef, of course, not like Mrs. Pediatric Surgeon would ever lift a finger) wafted in, and her stomach growled. At least her family was attuned to her vegetarian diet, so they wouldn’t be forcing her to awkwardly pick at salad while they barbecued spare ribs.

She was kind of nervous about Garrus meeting her father too, but it would be fine. It was just that she just hadn’t seen the man in so long, that was the nervewracking part. “Yeah, you’ll probably go back to the OC with a few stories of this alien land,” she snorted in amusement. “Southerners are weird. It was mostly why I deflected.”

And of course it wouldn’t be a proper southern get together without the gimlets as a before-dinner drink. They were brought out on a tray, and of course Dumb and Dumber had to fight over which one handed the guest his. “Ten minutes, then we’ll be all set,” announced Dumber Charlotte. “You enjoy that, honey, the limes were freshly squeezed.” The southern accent was dripping molasses.

As weird as they were, Garrus had to admit that they knew how to play hosts. There’s a reason why ‘southern hospitality’ was so infamous, and the arrival of alcohol was a sterling example. Except for the part where it took a minute for him to actually get it (he tossed Cindy a look during the sisterly ‘quarrel’) anyway, and the glass was taken gratefully. “I’m sure I will,” he replied, offering Charlotte a slightly crooked smile. Polite and charming, he could work this without surprisingly being too awkward - the ladies made it fairly easy.

But maybe putting his foot in his mouth, or pretending to have a socially awkward affliction would have been the better route to go. It’d amuse the shit out of him and keep them at bay, if he wasn’t trying to take this seriously and make a good impression anyway. He’d do his best to help pave the road to amends as smoothly as possible, and if that meant entertaining the stepsisters, he’d do it gladly.

A sip of the gimlet, and it was enough to taste the freshness - color him impressed. “Well done, ladies. Best one I’ve drank yet.”

They clapped their hands with joy, nearly simultaneously, because Charlotte and Claire were like one unit of a single mind - determined to provide the very best and most comforting in southern hospitality. Their mother would tan their hides if they failed at their hostess duties! “Yeah, it’s alright,” Cindy grumbled, but she didn’t sip her own. She knocked it back like it was a straight shot and then gave the dainty glass back to her stepsisters - who both looked horrified at the display of improper manners. But she was just like that. It was very nearly endearing.

“Come on now, we’ll escort you in, mother and father have just been dying to meet you,” chirped Tweedle-Dee Claire. “We were all so surprised when Cindy called us, wanting to come for a visit. Mother nearly fainted from shock! Though she’s probably going to ask when you plan to make an honest woman outta her, ‘cause we don’t see a ring, there’s no ring, is there?”

A very pointed look at Cindy’s left hand, and she resisted the urge to give her stepsister the finger. “It smells good...” Subject change, as she stood up from the couch and smoothed her dress. “Dinner’s on the veranda, right?” Of course it was. The breathtaking view of the sunset had to be shown off, for company.

It was endearing. Garrus even gave her a side-glance of adoration. “There’s no ring yet, no,” he answered with a surprising sense of calmness and another sip of the gimlet - he was going to enjoy this one. Having an alcoholic beverage in his hand to nurse at all times was imperative for the first visit, both for the headache (caused by Airhead #1 and #2 and possibly even the evil step mother) and nerves (caused by the patriarch). “But she’s welcome to ask any questions, of course.”

Not much to hide anyway, and things that couldn’t be explained by the utter truth could be distorted and censored. Garrus wanted to be as honest as he could, anyway. Meeting the parents was a serious thing.

He rose from the couch a second after Cindy did, taking her by the hand for a reassuring squeeze. “You okay?” He’d waited until they were a couple steps behind the sisterly duo to ask - he didn’t need them to butt in on their conversation, they definitely seemed like the nosy sort.

“I’m good,” Cindy laughed, a soft sound, squeezing Garrus’s hand in return. Her not-so-wicked-mostly-just-dumb stepsisters were chatting animatedly up ahead, so she wasn’t too worried about them eavesdropping. “I forgot how funny they are. It’s not so bad. Kind of nice, actually, because I can just shut off my brain for awhile.” Everything was all no-hurry, no worries, sit back on the porch with a mint julep here in the deep south - she didn’t have to worry about being stalked or kidnapped or dealing with the fallout from all of that either.

The setup for dinner was nice, a long table on the veranda overlooking the green lawn, with a pristine tablecloth, cushy chairs, fine china, fresh flowers, and even candles in mason jars for the sinking of the sun, to give them light. Time differences were kind of quirky too, but Cindy was adjusting well enough already. Her stepmother looked like something straight from Gone with the Wind, but at least she didn’t have on a hat - though she did have a fan, which was ivory lace. And her father was in a suit. With a bow tie. Kind of formal compared to her, in her sundress and bare feet but whatever.

“How’s my little Peanut?” was his greeting in a deep voice that held no shortage of accented peaches, and wrapped her up in a hug while her stepmother daintily fanned herself. Then Cindy switched, though hugging the woman was a stiff thing because Heaven forbid she mess any part of her dress. Introductions were made, before sitting down, and Cindy’s father gave Garrus one of those appraising looks - a sweep with eyes that were clear like hers. “Pleasure to meet you, son. You want to do us the honor of leading us in a prayer before dinner?”

Oh god.

“Well, I think that’s a splendid idea! Don’t you, girls?” asked stepmother dearest - still fanning daintily, as her husband pulled her chair out for her so she could sit like the Socialite Queen she was.

A little formal than what he thought, yeah. Garrus wasn’t entirely casual, with his well-pressed pants and polo shirt, but his ensemble wasn’t ‘bow-tie’ worthy or ‘lacy cliche fan’ worthy. Cindy seemed comfortable enough and so would he, then, after a deep breath and another sip (more like a gulp) of his drink, leaving him with ice more than anything. Was it rude to ask for another?

Introduction and formalities ensued with the stepmother and father - normal as ever, with a grin and a handshake (and relieved that he had a drink, less of a chance to put his foot in his mouth), and when they took a seat, the prayer request almost caused him to fall flat on his ass.

Awkward.

“Don’t think I could do it justice, sir,” Garrus began, eyebrow raised. “Claire and Charlotte - they were telling me all about your dinners, I’m sure one of them could do it in a more eloquent light than I can - they’d been gushing about it during the tour.” Flatter the girls, maybe, get them going - hopefully it worked.

He wasn’t religious. Nor was he willing to join the congo line of Bible Humping, and he wasn’t going to pretend that he was - but maybe skirt around it some to avoid offending anyone. Garrus didn’t want to make things complicated for Cindy, but he also didn’t want them to think he was someone he wasn’t.

Oh, that received a pointed hmmmmmmmm that was as judgey as judgey could be, from Cindy’s stepmother, and it was probably a level below the sardonic bless your heart. In fact, Cindy was just waiting for her to say it, then...

“Bless your heart,” the woman gushed, and it was about as sincere as counterfeit money. Her eyes were hard and glittering; she fanned herself some more, as ‘the help’ brought out pitchers of sweet tea and poured it into glasses, along with serving the courses - it was biscuits with tomato jam, ham and potatoes au gratin for the carnivores, collard greens, grits, black-eyed pea cakes, mud pie for dessert. All mouthwatering.

Cindy’s father simply chuckled, in his deep and booming way. “Go on then, Claire, it’s your turn.” Eager to earn good marks with Daddy, she jumped right into it - heads bowed, everyone - and then when it was over they could move on to actually consuming the meal they were so thankful for. While giving Garrus the third degree. “Well, I’ll be pleased to hear you tell us all about yourself,” the patriarch continued, encouraging all to fill their plates. Cindy was starving, personally, so she’d dig in - much as she hated to admit it, she actually missed southern cuisine. Rogue’s cafe was a good substitute, but being here for it was an added bonus.

“Oh, yes, we’re just dying to know.” Her stepmother laid the fan beside her and motioned for one of the servers. “Another gimlet or will you stick with tea?”

Bullet dodged for now, lucky him - except for the piercing stare that could melt a glacier, thanks to the most gracious matriarch of the table. “A gimlet, if you’d be so kind,” was his answer, polite with the hidden edge of snark and a subtle half-grin that if you squinted hard enough, you’d see a smirk.

But with the conversation switched to him, Garrus calmly racked his mind for what details were safe to spill and went from there. “I joined the military right after high school. Trained to be a sniper, did a lot of reconnaissance, won a couple medals before I was discharged - honorably.” The last tidbit was important, as dishonorable discharges were a stain on your record forever. “After that, I went back home to Chicago and worked for the police department, but things didn’t work out - too many cops being paid off, mouths shut for the sake of dollar signs, so I opted for more...independent work, that actually made a difference.”

Bounty hunting was a legal profession, should one actually have the patience to jump through the hoops of getting properly certified. There were regulations to follow even in that, but Garrus had bent and broke a couple for the sake of doing the right thing, which wasn’t always synonymous with American law.

“I retired recently from it, actually,” which was putting it lightly, considering the shitstorm of scum they had survived because of his previous career choice, “and opted for a government job stationed in the area where Cindy and I first met - and help with the store now and there, apparently I’m actually decent at selling shoes. More her benefit than mine, if we’re being honest.”

A gimlet it was, and Garrus was brought a fresh one in its pretty glass. Much as Cindy wanted to get drunk, it wouldn’t be a good idea - not if it meant leaving her boyfriend to deal with her family while she was three sheets to the wind. Her father seemed impressed, however, which was a good sign. At the heart of it, he wanted her to be happy - he was simply a man who valued honor and tradition, that was all.

“A military man.” This obviously pleased her father. “Well, that’s a noble thing.” Even if he’d been honorably discharged.

Though as predicted, the Main Lady of the House was more interested in future plans. What was the point if her sweet little stepdaughter didn’t see this going anywhere? “And so were you aiming for something more long term?” she inquired, with a pointed look between the two. “A joint shoe-selling collaboration, perhaps?”

“He’s great at selling shoes,” Cindy praised, though of course neither of them were really all about selling shoes. It was just safer to not reveal all the nitty-gritty details, and she wanted to kick her stepmother under the table. “I might just let him do it all from now on.”

A joint shoe-selling collaboration, sure, why the hell not? If it so kindly eased the stepmother’s mind of Cindy’s well-being then they’d say they’ll sell shoes for the rest of their lives, all while keeping the pumpkin carriage of war and carrying concealed weaponry on them at all times. Mr. and Mrs. Smith didn’t have shit on them.

“Guess right now we’re taking one long term thing at a time - we’re actually in the process of buying a house together,” Garrus explained, sipping on his drink to avoid the assumptions of him being a lush at the moment. Though downing it all in one gulp, ice and all, had been tempting. He wasn’t the sort to like being in the spotlight. Especially when the family had taken upon themselves to practically dissect every motive and intention and examine it under a magnifying glass. On the bright side, he at least expected it. “But you’d all have to come by and visit, see the store. Cindy’s done well for herself.”

His turn for a praise, because they needed to know she didn’t need to fit their mold of gender roles to be happy, or successful.

How sweet of him. Cindy tossed a grateful look his way, over the edge of her glass, and her sisters were already nearly pissing themselves with joy about the thought of going out to California. “Oh, can we, daddy?” asked Charlotte - you’d think she was twelve instead of in her early twenties. “We want to go surfing!”

They’d probably bust their heads open on a rock or something. The thought made Cindy chuckle, but then she managed to rein it in.

“Now that does sound like a mighty fine time. What do you think, darlin’?” her father asked his wife, who may as well have revealed her green wicked witch skin and cauldron right then.

“Living in sin?” was her response. “I’d rather not see it.” Then she picked up her fan to flutter away all the heathenous vibes. “And I’m surprised you would.”

Cindy’s father just laughed too. At least Garrus had managed to win him over, though it would probably take longer for the frigid ice queen to thaw herself enough to warm up to someone else in the family. “Oh, she’ll come around,” he waved it off. “This is a fine young man our little Peanut’s got here. Now, who wants dessert? Everyone wants pie, don’t they?”

“Don’t worry,” Cindy told Garrus. “I instructed them to leave the nuts out.” Wouldn’t want him to die during family dinner!

Garrus almost snorted. They lived in a lot of sin; all smeared on the bedsheets and soon the hotel bed too, he’d make guarantee of that. But he’d let her judge - she seemed to do a lot of that - because he was at least upfront and honest. What they saw was what they were getting (aside from the FBI employee tidbit), and he wasn’t going to start a relationship with them based on falsehoods just because stepmother dearest had a parasol the size of a tree trunk up her bum.

Must hurt like a bitch.

“Thank you,” was his reply to her father - a genuine utterance of gratitude. He felt better about it anyway. And also a thank you about the lack of nuts in the pie he also didn’t feel it’d make a great impression if he went red faced and died on their beautiful table. A look was spared to Cindy, both brows lifted in a quiet question of did I mess up? Tell me I didn’t mess up. Throw the man a bone here!

Luckily Cindy could read and interpret silent Garrus-speak pretty well, and while she wasn’t surprised that her stepmother was slow to be accepting, she actually was kind of shocked that her father had been okay with everything. But maybe he just realized he was getting on in years and, now that it looked like Cindy was settling down, didn’t want to be cut out of her life - or the lives of any grandchildren. So he’d just ease up on the ‘respectable,’ tradition-loving patriarchal instincts and let her do her own thing for once.

She assured her boyfriend that he did great, though. By giving his thigh a squeeze under the table, and a nudge, and really it was going to be fine. They’d made the right decision, coming out here - that she could be assured of, and that was all she needed.

Oh, and the pie was pretty good too. Even without nuts.