starlingari ;

[ arienette INSISTS bunny nose boops count, but we digress ]

@isyancialtan !!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

“Hold still, I don’t want to get any in your eye.”

How does one overcome a grown man’s instinctive twists and twitches when his wounds are being dabbed at with antiseptic? According to Arienette, apparently, you have to literally trap the poor thing– which is exactly what she’s done: on his sofa, with knees pressed into cushions on either side of his thighs, Ari hovers over him, belly pressed into his chest, an arm furled about his neck, and a washcloth to press against all of those little cuts here or there.

It’s an attempt to settle him. A futile attempt to keep him still and pinned back into the sofa; she hadn’t even been able to watch the ending of that fight, had hid her eyes in her hands and waited until the crowd roared before even daring to look.

At least now, he’s safe. He’s safe and there’s no more fists coming at him. Just her. Unfortunately, the pain doesn’t seem to have stopped, as he flinches this way or that under her care. Ari is no nurse, he should probably be seeing someone who knows what they’re doing and can actually help him instead of torture him back to wellness.

Pity. Finally, Arienette takes pity on her poor friend– her dear, poor friend. The cloth is abandoned into the bowl on the table, and she uses hands not to dab, but to hold: his head, his bruised face… and in an act of contrition and care, she presses a delicate kiss to the same places he’d earlier felt knuckles– one for each new cut in his brow, one for the corner of his blackened eye, one for his nose just because, one for the corner of his split lip, another for sincerity as she presses her pout to his. After the rather adorable assault, Ari finally goes limp against his chest, still sat in his lap and now nuzzling her face in his throat…

“Sure you will.  And who’ll be cleaning its cage and feeding it and–”  He waves a hand, not quite certain what other work is involved, but knowing there’s got to be more than just loving it.  “–And everything.”

She’s right, though: it’s cute.  But if he gave in to everything cute Ari would get her way all the time, and they’d be living in a zoo.  “Where’d you get it, anyway?”  He’s almost afraid to find out.

Heaving a sigh, Sarp eyes the rabbit, knowing (but not wanting to admit) he’s beat.  “It’s black and white,” he says finally, “it needs a Beşiktaş name.”

“I can help with those things!” ... suggested as she almost drops their little bunny friend when it tries to squirm just a tad. Is this what having a baby is like? No, couldn’t be, babies aren’t as cute as her little bunny...

And she’s hoping, by pouting out her bottom lip, and slowly stepping towards Sarp with the bunny held out before her, that he agrees with how dang adorable their bunny is. That he won’t notice her skip out on his question when she holds the bunny up to boop noses with him -- how is she supposed to admit that she’s already bought the rabbit? -- there’s a method to her madness, here:

Part One: Make him fall in love just as she has.

   steps of caution were deterred by the mere sight of the girl as the lanky form lumbered up without second thought. lacking the anticipation of a sudden outburst or scolding planted pure surprise on a face once stretched with glee. the girl on the stool had reared, face scrunching up with betrayal as coasters sliced through the air, having mickey prance around like a marionette doll to avoid contact. heart sunk with the weight of guilt —– he was unaware that his departure would have such effect, too excited to return to their habitual diner once again.

   “you know i didn’t mean-” his hands are thrown up in surrender, probing eyes pleading more for mercy as the gap between them shortened. “i wasn’t going to leave forever. i just needed to get —- shit, where is it?” a sigh stretches out from grit teeth as the loop is hooked by a blunt fingertip, weeding the trinket out from pockets stuffed with gum wrappers and empty packets. “ibought you a keychain…? and uh, hey! there’s a star on there. you can, uh, wish on it…right now.”

Ari’s still holding her glare as he comes nearer, absolutely unprepared to offer forgiveness or to dissuade his approach any further. In fact, she even turns back to her milkshake, pretending it is thousands times over more interesting than her friend... until he reveals the keychain...

“You... You did?” a present! Despite having just been willing to knock his block off, Arienette immediately softens at his suggested consolation prize. “Oh, Mickey, it’s lovely!” A smile slipped on over her previous scowl, and she even hops up to stand on the rung of her stool so an arm can sling on around his neck, and she can press a grateful peck of a kiss right on the plump of his cheek. The sacrifice has been graciously accepted-- and now, Mickey can have the sweet Arienette he’s likely a bit more accustomed to... 

“Look at it, a little star, just like me, you missed me, too!” 

              He tries to take a deep breath to calm himself down, but truth be told, James is fucking seething. Everything’s going wrong— he can’t write a song to save his fucking lifeand his record company’s threatening to sue him over his many sins, his husband won’t shut the fuck up and picks fights over every little reason, and now THIS. He’s had ENOUGH. ❝ Look at me, Ari. ❞ He’s going to lose it soon, very soon, never mind the fact that she’s just a kid to him. ❝ I… DON’T… CARE. ❞ James says the words deliberately and slowly, like she’s fucking stupid, and maybe she is for not getting out of the way of his impending tantrum.                ❝ D’you get that? D’you understand that? I don’t fuckin’ care. I don’t give a flying FUCK if you leave here fuckin’ bawling your evil fuckin’ eyes out, d’you get that? Who the fuck d’you think you are, eh? Who the fuck does— I don’t know who’s more fuckin’ annoying, you or that fuckin’ MONSTER you call your mum! Thank fuckin’ GOD my mum’s dead, ‘cause I’d rather have her in a grave than the fuckin’ walking circus yours is. How fuckin’ old are you, eh? Are you gonna fuckin’ dance to her tune all your life like some sort of marionette? I don’t LIKE you, or particularly care for you. I’m not doing this fake dating shite out of the kindness of my heart, so I honestly don’t give a FUCK if you leave here fuckin’ crying, alright??? ❞

‘ Look at me, Ari ’ and surprisingly enough-- she does, with that same look of indignation she’d been giving him before. And oh-- she loathes to give him an inch, knowing full well the rest of the mile may come to follow.. Don’t care, don’t care, neither does she: but James has hit a new goddamn low when he brings up her Mother. Condemning the woman is one thing, Arienette does do all the time... it’s the comparison that somehow finds a way to tighten her throat. Her Mother is obviously more annoying, or so she’d hope he would believe so, that anyone would believe so. 

“You’re lying to yourself more than I lie to everyone.”

He’s finally cracked on past that polished exterior of hers. The finish is ruined, the poise has gone from her shoulders, and any sense of aloofness Arienette could have feigned gives way to a full out rage she hardly appears to have control of. Soon enough, Ari is advancing on him, until she can land flattened palms against his chest and shove--

A rogue coaster goes flinging his way, easily missing and hitting the wall behind him: “Mickey, damnit, I have missed you so very dearly, you know--” the second coaster follows, again landing far away from him, Arienette’s aim has either gotten worse in their time apart, or she’s purposefully trying not to hit him ( it’s the latter: she just needs her little spitfire of flair mixed in if she’s expected to succumb to sincerity ) -- “You cannot just go off and disappear and, and not call, or even...” she’s finally distracted, looking about to try and find something else to throw so he hopefully won’t notice the choke in her voice.