#if she and Vespa weren’t so in love I’d marry her

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Partners in Crime

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Just a silly little scenario I had rattling around in my head! Huge thanks to @spiky-lesbian and @minky-for-short for always being amazing betas!

tw: mentions of drinking, hangovers

Juno Steel opened his eye and immediately wanted to strangle the person who had designed this hotel room. Any interior decorator who knew they were putting together a hotel room in Nueva Vegas, the prime place on Neptune where people went to get blackout drunk and collect the finest hangover symptoms in the galaxy, yet still insisted on neon wallpaper deserved death.

He inhaled, feeling an ache in his ribs that came from too much raucous laughter and tasting stale alcohol, taking a mental catalogue of his body as his nerves came back online. His eyelashes felt heavy with mascara that had curdled overnight, his throat felt rough with overuse, his stomach only had a slight roil to it, a sea on a choppy day rather than in the middle of a storm. He was wearing the pyjama bottoms he’d actually packed but he couldn’t speak for the shirt- his top half was still wearing last night’s spangled bralet.

And he had Nureyev’s arm thrown bonelessly over his chest, his sharp chin digging a little painfully into his shoulder, his soft snores in one ear and his dark flyaways ticking his nose. His breath smelled pretty strongly of gin but Juno could put up with that, he wasn’t one to throw stones.

Overall, Juno Steel had suffered far worse mornings. In fact, this one would probably still make it into the top twenty.

Smiling, he gently nudged Nureyev to one side, making sure he fell back against the lavish pillows and settled again before sliding out from under the silky sheets. The hotel room’s crisp air conditioning raised goosebumps across his skin as he padded across the room, stockinged feet sinking considerably into the thick, bright pink carpets. They really had made an ungodly mess of one of the most expensive hotel rooms on Neptune, he was pretty impressed with just how many empty plastic glasses, dregs of champagne clinging to their sides, were scattered around the hot tub, just how much glitter had shed from their clothes onto the floor, the probably very incriminating blueprints and files and notes that were scattered like confetti. Not incriminating for the job they’d just pulled off, of course, just several they were considering in the future.

There was no sign of the rest of their family, no Rita singing almost incomprehensible karaoke into a can of chips, no Jet sitting in a chair by the window with his arms folded and head nodding as he slept like an old dad though a whisper of any threat would snap him up and ready. No Buddy and Vespa slow dancing to music only they seemed able to hear while the neon flashes from the signs outside the window bathed them in candy coloured light.

They must have staggered back to their own rooms, just before the celebrations of a job well done would have wound down into a sleepover. Juno frowned as he scratched tiredly at where his hair was matted down, trying to remember. Buddy’s usual habit of making them all drink as much water before bed as she could had saved him from vomiting and a splitting head but memories were still fuzzy. Very fuzzy actually, now he tried to grab hold of them. No wonder his tongue tasted of about half the bottles behind the bar and his bladder felt fit to burst.

By the time he’d gone into the bathroom, wincing at the colour of lime green it had all been done up in, and dealt with that problem he could hear Nureyev stirring.

Coming back into the room, now dressed a little more appropriately in a soft bathrobe, he saw him stretching like a cat, his own wince playing across his sleepy face.

“Good morning,” he rasped, “Feeling rough too, huh?”

“Fairly,” Nureyev croaked, not making it very far before slumping back against the pillows, “What time did Buddy say we had to be back on board?”

“Not till three. It’s only eleven right now.”

“Ugh...I might not make it.”

Juno snorted, rolling his eye, “God, you’re such a lightweight, you whine so much when you’re hungover. Look, I’ll pack the bags, you focus on getting your shoes on. I think one of them’s in the hot tub.”

Nureyev groaned, bringing his hands up to bury his face in them as Juno pulled the curtains wide and flooded the room with pale sunlight. So little actual sunlight could reach this distant gas giant, what fell across Nureyev’s face was actually simulated from a massive rig of translucent spotlights that covered the city much like Mars’ domes. Rita had told him all about it around their third glasses of champagne, before her speech started collapsing into inhuman giggles and nonesene and his memories got cloudy.

He certainly couldn’t remember quite how they’d gotten the room into such a state. It hadn’t even really been that big of a job, a fairly run of the mill casino heist to fund some bigger projects that Buddy had percolating in her brain. But, from the lingering carnage of their celebration, you’d think they’d stolen a goddamn planet rather than a few measly hundred thousands of creds.

And there was a lot of confetti. All over the damn place, where had that all come from?

“Babe?” Juno frowned as he started pulling their papers together, “Do you remember much about last night?”

Nureyev gave a sleep mumble and Juno heard the sound of the silken sheets running over each other as he turned, “I remember us pulling off a job so seamless it deserves to be in some kind of textbook on thieving. I remember everyone coming into our room. I remember Buddy ordering champagne...and that’s it.”

Juno suppressed a snort of amusement. He was sure if it was his husband’s small frame or his lack of experience with the stuff but about two swallows of anything alcoholic had him absolutely useless. Adorable but useless.

“Just seems like we really tore it up for some reason,” Juno shrugged as he moved further along, now gathering up scraps of their disguises- the velour blazer he’d been wearing over that bralet, the other one of Nureyev’s stiletto heels, a diamond ring he couldn’t remember which one of them had worn.

He paused, something about that ring making him stop. It was lying in the midst of some other jewels he’d been wearing yesterday in his role as a ridiculously wealthy outer rim socialite. So it must have been his, he didn’t exactly need his years of experience as a detective to realise that. So why didn’t he remember it? Why did it look so brand new, so out of place with everything else lying in that modest dragon’s horde of luxury?

“My love?”

Juno turned, taking the ring with him, “Yeah?”

Nureyev was still lying in bed, though he was holding his left hand a little ways from his face, frowning curiously up at it as he turned it this way and that. As he watched the fake morning sun catch in the gem on a ring that sat there, a ring identical to the one Juno held.

“Did...did we get married?” Nureyev said slowly, an expression on his face not dissimilar to the one he wore when he was doing one of the many puzzle boxes Juno got him as gifts, after he’d realised a year ago that he loved them.

“Yes, about a year and a half ago. You were there, remember?”

Nureyev shot him a look across the room, “I mean last night, my love.”

Juno sucked in a long, slow breath before answering, throwing the ring up in the air and catching it, “Yeah, that would really explain a lot, huh?”

They caught each other’s eye then and after that there was nothing they could do but laugh, hard and helpless until Juno was having to brace himself on his knees to stay upright and Nureyev was curled on one side and trembling.

Once he could see and breathe clearly again, Juno found it, lying amongst a sheaf of floor plans for the casino they’d robbed yesterday. A wedding certificate, one corner of it crinkled and soaked where some spilled champagne had caught it, a little rumbled from being shoved into the pocket of a velour blazer on the car ride back to the hotel but fairly unmistakeable. The signatures were certainly theirs, even if the names weren’t.

“Yep,” Juno’s face still ached from grinning as he climbed back into bed next to his husband-twice-over, “Apparently once Rigel Fortescue and Jack Antares were done being complete strangers while the Orion’s Palace Casino had half it’s funds drained, they went off and got married.”

“Congratulations to us, I suppose,” Nureyev wiped his streaming eyes, giggles still pressing up against his words, “Oh god help us, is there any way we can keep this from the rest of the crew?”

“Well, looks like they all signed as our witnesses so I don’t think that’s an option, babe,” Juno snorted, showing him the band of signatures clustered along the bottom of the certificate, each one a ridiculous pseudonym but the handwriting was all familiar, even with how drunk their friends had clearly been.

Nureyev gave a groan of dismay that he didn’t really seem to feel, cuddling up against Juno, “Does this make us a little trashy?”

“Yeah well, you knew who I was when you married me,” Juno nudged him teasingly, “Both times.”

“Hush!” Nureyev kissed his shoulder, moving slightly so he could hitch one leg over Juno’s hip. He was still wearing his suit trousers from last night, Juno noticed, if last night really had been their wedding night then they’d neglected a pretty significant part of it.

So he turned to meet Nureyev’s body with his own, wrapping an arm around his slim waist to close what little gap there still was between them, “Maybe this could be our thing? We wear a new name pretty much every week anyhow, why don’t we get married as many times as we feel like? I know personally I’d be willing to go...well, at least another three times. Maybe four, for the money.”

He felt a light nip through the shoulder of the robe as Nureyev admonished him with his teeth. Though his hands were saying something different as they slid down Juno’s back, squeezing lightly.

“I suppose it could be quite a fun tradition…” he murmured softly, “But I would like to remember the next one. Perhaps a beach wedding on Saturn…”

Juno grinned and kissed the top of his head, “Whatever you want, babe. I’ll make sure the next one is perfect.”

“Our first one already was. But there were parts of my moodboards I didn’t get to use…”

Juno nudged him lightly until he was on his back, starting to kiss his way down his neck, tasting his perfume on his lips, “And?”

“And I love you,” Nureyev amended, smiling as innocently as someone very obviously moving his wife’s legs apart with his own could, “And marrying you a thousand times wouldn’t be enough to show you how much.”

“I love you too,” Juno murmured against his collarbone, “Happy honeymoon, baby.”

And, as much of a surprise as it had been, as much as their heads still ached and they could still taste cocktails on each other’s tongues, as much as they had a ship to catch in a few hours, it was. It really, really was.

#jupeter #tpp #juno steel #peter nureyev #post canon #just some daft fluffiness #them being loved up idiots #please reblog and comment!

[pandplit]

Chapter 7

💉💊Metro Bennet’s own stacks consisted almost entirely of an estate of two thousand bones a year which unfortunately for his daughters was going to go straight to a male heir, a distant relation, and their mother’s stacks, though ample for her situation in life, couldn’t really make up the difference. Her father had been an attorney in Meryton and had left her four thousand bones. She had a sister married to a Mr Phillips who had been a clerk to their father and succeeded him in the business and a brother settled in London in a respectable line of trade.

The village of Longbourn was crazy close to Meryton which made it easy for the young ladies to go HAM on visits, sometimes three or four days a week, to their aunt and to the Milliner’s shop just over the way. The two youngest of the family, Catherine and Lydia, were there particularly often. Their minds were more vacant than their sisters and when they weren’t busy face-jerking, a walk to Meryton was a good way to waste some time and gather some goss for the evening. However tacked the country in general might be, they always managed to get something out of their aunt. At present indeed, they were well supplied both with news and good vibes by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the neighbourhood. It was to remain the whole winter and Meryton was the headquarters. Their visits to Mrs Phillips now became sexy little spy visits. Everyday added something to their intelligence on the officer’s names and connections. Where they were staying was not long a secret and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Mr Phillips visited them all, which opened up for his nieces an ark of the covenant amount of joy that almost melted their faces off. They could talk of nothing but officers and Mr Bingley’s large fortune, the mention of which made their mother a bit hot under the collar, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of an ensign.

After listening one morning to them yapp on and on about the subject, Metro cooly observed, “Its my cool observation, girls, that you are probably the most clueless ladies in the country.”

Catherine was disconcerted and made no answer but Lydia, with perfect indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Carter and her hope of seeing him in the course of the day as he was going the next morning to London.

“I am astonished, my dear,” said Mrs Bennet, “that you would so easily dropkick your daughters like that. If I wanted to insult anyone’s children it wouldn’t be my own!”

“If my children are boneheads, dear, I would rather be aware that they’re boneheads.”

“Yeah but as it happens they’re actually rather smart.”

“Babe, we connect on a lotta levels but this is not one of them, I dissagree, I think theyre dimmer than average”

“My dear Metro, you must not expect such girls to have sense of their father and mother, when they get to our age I dare say won’t be spending all their time getting horny over officers.”

“I remember a time when I liked those camo slacks a whole lot and indeed maybe I do still, y’know, just a little bit, yeah, and if a smart young colonel with five or six thousand bones a year should want one of our girls then I’m not gonna say no, and I thought Colonel Forster looked very, um- platonically very good, the other night, at Sir Williams’

“Umh, I needa lie down”

“Mama,” cried Lydia, “my aunt says that Colonel Forster and Captain Carter don’t go so often to Miss Watson’s as they did when they first came, she sees them now very often standing in Clark’s library.”

Mrs Bennet was stopped from replying by the ding of an email notification for Miss Bennet. It came from Netherfield and it had the little red flag symbol meaning that it was important. Mrs Bennet’s eyes lit up, they exploded, they sparkled with joy as she started screeching. She was making the most ridiculous noise while her daughter read.

“Well Jane who’s it from and whats it about? What does he say? Come on, I’m busting out of my skin here, Jane tell us!”

“It is from Miss Bingley.” said Jane and then read it aloud.

“Sup fam,

“If you don’t dine today with Louisa and me we may legit fall out for the rest of our lives, cause you know two ladies together that’s gonna end in a fight, beam your ass over here as soon as you see this email, my bro and his hans are dining with the officers

“xoxo Caroline Bingley.”

“With the officers,” cried Lydia, “why didn’t our aunt tell us about that!”

“Dining out though,” said mrs bennet, “that’s unlucky.”

“Can I take the beamer?” said Jane.

“No my dear, you better go on the Vespa, because it seems likely to rain, and then you’d have to stay all night.”

“That would be a good scheme,” said Elizabeth, “except you don’t know whether they’d other her an uber.”

“Okay but the gentlemen are already out on the town, right, so they’ll be using theirs and the hearse don’t have a nice car.”

“I’d much rather take the family ride.”

“But my dear. your father can’t spare it he needs it for work, you need it for work, right, Metro?”

“I need it for all kinds of things way more often than I can get it.”

“But if you need it today specifically,” said Elizabeth, “mum will be very happy.”

She did finally squeeze out of her father that indeed the car was needed. Jane was therefore obliged to vesp it up and her mother danced behind her all the way to the door checking her weather app and smiling.

Her hopes were answered, Jane had not been gone for more than a few minutes when it started raining real hard. Her sisters were worried about her, but her mother was delighted. The rain continued all evening, there was no way Jane was coming home.

“This was a very lucky idea of mine.” said Mrs Bennet more than once as if she’d started the rain.

Till the next morning, however, she wasn’t fully aware of what she’d done. Breakfast was scarsley over when a message arrived in the family whatsapp group from Jane.

“hey team- super sick this morning 🤢 which is probably because i got all wet yesterday 🌧 🌧 the guys here really dont want me travelling until I’m feeling better they also insist on me seeing doc jones 💉 💊 so don’t freak out if you hear about him seeing me its really not a big deal, just a sore throat and a headache catch ya later -J x”

“Well, my dear,” said Metro, when everyone had finished reading the message, “if your daughter should have a dangerous fit of illness and fall over dead at least it’s nice to know that it happened chasing boys.”

“Oh I’m not afraid of her dying, people dont die from that shit, she’ll be taken care of and the longer she stays there the better I’d go see her if i could have the car.”

Elizabeth, feeling really anxious was determined to go to her but since the car wasn’t available, and she didn’t have a scooter license, walking was her only alternative. She declared her resolution.

“How can you be so crazy in the coconut,” Cried her mother, “as to think of such a thing, in all this dirt, you’ll get fucked up like a football bat and you won’t be fit for a good snorgle by the time you get there!”

“I’ll be fly enough to see Jane which is all I want.”

“Is this a hint to me, Lizzy,” said her father, “to bring the car around?”

“No, I don’t want to drive, I want the walk. distance is nothing when one has a motive, it’s only three miles, I’ll be back by dinner.”

“I’m feeling your kind spirit,” observed Mary, “but every impulse should be guided by reason and, in my opinion, effort should always be in proportion to what is required.”

“We will go as far as Meryton with you.” said Catherine and Lydia

Elizabeth accepted their company and the three young ladies set off together.

“If we make haste,” said Lydia as they walked along, “perhaps we may see something of Captain Carter before he goes.”

In Meryton they parted. The two youngest slumped off to the lodgings of one of the officer’s wives and Elizabeth continued her walk alone crossing field after field at a quick pace, jumping over stiles, springing over puddles with impatient activity and finding herself at last within view of the house.

With weary ankles, janky dirty stockings, and a face glowing with the warmth of exercise she was shown into the breakfast parlour, where all but Jane were chilling and where her appearance created a great deal of surprise. That she should’ve walked three miles earlier in the day in such horrible weather and by herself seemed turbo cray to Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley and Elizabeth would swear down that they were judging her for it.

She was welcomed though, very politely, and in their brothers manners something slightly beyond politeness. There was good humour and kindness. Mr Darcy said very little and Mr Hurst nothing at all. The former was kinda torn, the glow that all that exercise had given her was definitely tickling his fancy, but he also thought that it was kinda melodramatic and unnecessary for her to come this far alone. The other one was just making love to his breakfast.

Her inquiries after her sister didn’t get the best results. Miss Bennet had slept ill and although she was up, was still feverish and not well enough to leave her room. Elizabeth was glad to be taken to her immediately and Jane was super psyched to see her. She didn’t want to spook anyone but she had longed for such a visit. She was not up to much conversation however, and when Miss Bingley left them together all she could really do was mumble about her gratitude for the extraordinary kindness she was being treated with. Elizabeth silently attended to her.

When breakfast was over, they were joined by the sisters, and Elizabeth began to take a shine to them herself when she saw how legit nice they were being to Jane. The doc showed up and having examined his patient said, surprising no one, she had caught a violent cold and they should try and get the better of it. He told her to get back in bed, and wrote up a script for some flu meds and soup. They followed his advice for the feverish symptoms increased and her head ached a lot. Elizabeth never hit the slide nor would the other ladies often absent. With the boys being out, in fact, they had nothing to do elsewhere. When the clock struck three, Elizabeth thought it was time to go even though she didn’t want to. Miss Bingley offered her a ride but Jane made a commotion about not wanting her to go so eventually the offer of a ride was converted to an invitation to remain at Netherfield. Lizzy thankfully accepted and added to the whatsapp group.

“Staying the night, can somebody prime now me so PJs?”

This chapter was lovingly transcribed by Zuz.

#pandplit #transcribed

[reddirtramblings]

I’ve been away for a couple of weeks on a beautiful Catholic pilgrimage in Assisi. It’s always been our dream to visit Rome and Assisi. Everything aligned, and Bill, Claire and I went for ten days with the Fr. Cory Stanley and the good people of Prince of Peach Parish in Altus and St. Helen in Frederick, Oklahoma. Fr. Stanley lived in Rome for several years, and he was a great spiritual guide, who could also speak Italian. Fr. Joseph Schwarz was our other wonderful spiritual guide. Our main tour guide was Alessandro Pietro Gaj. He and Luciano, our fantastic, amazing bus driver, made our trip the best it could be. The tour company is 206 Tours, and they specialize in pilgrimages. I can’t say enough nice things about this company.

Bill and Claire on the plane to Assisi and Rome. We were very excited even if they don’t look like it.

Our tour was customized by Fr. Stanley. We flew to Rome and then traveled for 2.5 hours to Assisi where St. Francis and St. Clare lived, walked and prayed. I thought I’d share a few photos with you of our trip. We stayed for three days in Assisi at St. Anthony’s Guesthouse. The Franciscan Sisters of the Atonement were wonderful and so helpful during our stay. The guesthouse is centrally located near the Basilica of St. Clare and inside the oldest city walls.

We had mass at the tomb of St. Francis and St. Clare, which are in separate basilicas at the ends of the town.

Basilica of St. Mary of the Angels in which the Portiuncula is located.

If I’m remembering correctly, the first day we visited the Portiuncula, a small chapel within the basilica of St. Mary of the Angels, located about a mile below Assisi in the valley. Portiuncula, which means “a small portion” of land also refers to the town built around the church. This part of Italy is full of small towns built mostly on hillsides because of historic warring factions, but the Portiuncula is in a small valley.

Inside St. Mary of the Angels. You can just barely see the Portiuncula inside.

The Roselo, or Rose Garden at St. Mary of the Angels where legend has it that St. Francis threw himself into the thorns to stop temptation. The roses supposedly quit growing thorns. It was too early for bloom, but our daily guide told us they bloom in all colors. I can attest they had no prickles on the day we visited. I don’t know the variety.

Crest of the Portiuncula in the courtyard of St. Mary of the Angles.

We weren’t allowed to take a photo of the Portiuncula from inside the church, but we were allowed to take one outside. (Click on the photos in the galleries to make them larger. The monks and sisters are very strict in the churches of Assisi which makes sense. Otherwise, as we saw in Rome, people do foolish things in holy places. On this trip, I also didn’t lug around my good cameras. I only brought my iPhone so all the photos are taken with it. I just wanted to experience everything without having my neck ache.

The amazing thing about Assisi is how it hasn’t changed. No one felt the need to come in and tear down buildings. Instead, it feels very much like it did when St. Francis and St. Clare and their contemporaries lived there in the 13th Century. It also smelled wonderful, and the only sounds I heard most days were the bells ringing from the churches along with conversation on the streets.

I stood at the window of our room and took many photos and just breathed in the peace that surrounds this ancient city.

Except for the traffic.

Tiny cars whizzing down tiny streets don’t leave much room for pilgrims on the road. Constantly, someone in our group was shouting “Car, car!” just in time for us to flatten ourselves against a 13th Century building. You think I jest, but I do not. It was frankly a bit scary. Italian drivers are completely different from American ones. Not worse, just different. Wait until I share about Rome.

Bella Italian countryside from the walls of Assisi.

We had a wonderful time and spent a lot of our days in Assisi in the Basilica of Saint Francis and the Basilica of Saint Clare. As I wrote above, we had mass at both of their tombs. While we were in St. Francis’ Basilica, I had the strangest feeling that my former pastor, Rev. John A. Petuskey, was with us. When Bill and I were a young married couple, he always told us stories about Assisi and said he would take us with him to travel there one day. We were young and broke and had four kids. We never thought we’d ever get the chance, but he kept telling us we would. I remember also he was heartbroken when Assisi was hit by an earthquake and parts of the churches were destroyed, but he said we still had to go. When he died, I remember thinking that he wouldn’t get to share his favorite place on Earth with us. So, imagine my surprise when I was on the upper level of the basilica gazing up at the frescoes of Giotto on the life of St. Francis, I felt Fr. Petuskey with me. It was as if he were standing right next to me. Later, I mentioned this to Bill, and he said he felt exactly the same thing at the same time. Maybe God let the veil down long enough for us to have Father with us. I like to think so. He meant so much to our young family. I think Father would be so happy we finally got to Assisi at least with our youngest daughter, Claire. She was named after St. Clare, and Father Petuskey always loved that. He gave our Claire an image of St. Clare when she was baptized along with a San Damiano cross.

Claire on a busy Assisi street. Ok, it’s not busy now, but you can see why it was terrifying when cars came by. There was no need for a shoulder in earlier centuries.

Another beautiful Assisi road with container gardens.

Another great Assisi photo op. Check out the Vespas.

Bill and Claire looking too cool in their shades in front of the Basilica of St. Francis. We were getting ready to walk into mass, but had to wait for them to open.

Front doors of St. Francis Basilica in Assisi. I don’t think I was allowed to take photos inside, but I linked to some of the frescoes.

Part of our group walking down to the Basilica of St. Francis. We went on this trip with the good people of Prince of Peace Parish in Altus, OK. We are now such great friends.

St. Mary of the Angels is in the distance. I took this while standing in the courtyard of St. Francis’ Basilica.

We also ate amazing food every single day chased with caffè (espresso.) I forgot to take a single picture of my food, or my tiny cups of coffee while we were in Assisi. I did get a photo of this beautiful bowl I bought for my daughter, Megan, for her wedding present.

Bowl from I Due Soli – Italian Ceramics in Assisi. It’s funny that Kitchen Aid is in the bottom of the photo. Couldn’t see that on my phone. It’s our dishwasher label.

I bought her bowl from I Due Soli, which was on one of the three main streets in the old town of Assisi. What a wonderful shop it was! As an aside, Italians are mad for Trip Advisor and use it all the time. It was easy to track down the shop on Trip Advisor’s website. If you go there, ask for Ricardo. He speaks beautiful English and is very helpful. I think this ceramics company is in its third generation.

I hope I haven’t bored you with my pilgrimage/travelogue so far. We loved Assisi and look forward to visiting again. When I get a moment, I’ll also share about Orvieto and Rome, among other places. As for gardening, we received two inches of rain last night. The weeds are quite happy and growing.

  Beautiful Catholic pilgrimage: Assisi I've been away for a couple of weeks on a beautiful Catholic pilgrimage in Assisi. It's always been our dream to visit Rome and Assisi.

#Assisi #Basilica of Saint Claire #Basilica of Saint Francis #Catholic #Italian pottery #Italy #Pilgrimage