#theobertinelli

Aria was a freaking grown up! She had ordered everyone in her family to think of her as one since the age of 18. But of course, no one actually treated her like an adult. Even now, at the age of 26, her mother and older siblings still viewed her as little, baby Arianna who had to call home and ask Theo how fill up her car at the gas station the first time her parents refused to do it for her... at the age of 22. They still thought of her as the young, naive little girl who used to sneak into Henry and Theo's room as a child whenever there was a storm because she was terrified of thunder and lightning... and she still was. 

It simply wasn't fair. Aria was twenty-fucking-six years old! She deserved to be treated like the adult she was.

...After she finished eating dinner at her parents house because she forgot to buy groceries again. 

Tonight, as Aria had rifled through her refrigerator, well more like gazed into the empty abyss that was her refrigerator, she'd discovered nothing but an open, at least 4 day old beer, one of her pumps whose heel had fallen off (who knew how that got there), and some molding parmesan cheese. Muttering a few expletives in Italian, Aria promptly slammed the refrigerator door, huffed outside to her car and drove to her parents house. It was 6pm, and as soon as she got out of the car, she could smell the aroma of her mother's delicious cooking floating through the air. Her werewolf senses may have helped a bit, but everyone knew Maria Bertinelli's cooking could make even someone who'd lost their sense of smell drool.

"Ma, I'm eating dinner with you tonight!" she yelled as she opened the door and took off her coat, throwing it onto the coat stand that had been knocked over at least a million times by Aria doing just that. She had a reputation of knocking things over with her careless actions. She had a habit of 

"Oh good! You can join your brother!" Maria Bertinelli called from the kitchen. Aria cocked her head to the side, had Henry come back early from his trip? As she opened the swinging door into her mother's kitchen, she was greeted by the sight of an entirely different brother sitting at their mother's island, stuffing his face with Ma's garlic bread. 

"Oh, but Henry..." Catalina sighed into the phone, "Are you sure? Theo will be here soon." Henry had called to tell her he'd probably be late and miss dinner. She'd spent nearly the whole day in the kitchen cooking up a big Italian meal for Henry and his brother, Theo. Leaning against the counter, she glanced down at her feet and let out a disappointed sigh, "Okay. I'll make you a plate you can heat up when you get home." Her English was perfect, but it was still diluted by her thick Spanish accent. "Okay, darling. Be safe getting home. Bye." She pulled the phone back from her ear and ended the call.

She briefly wondered if this would mean that Theo wouldn't show. He seemed to get rather uncomfortable (re: hot and bothered) whenever he was in the room with her. And that was when Henry was here, much less when it was just the two of them. She turned back to the oven and leaned down enough to see the baked ziti that was finishing cooking. It seemed to be okay, so she turned and went to hers and Henry's bedroom, going straight to her closet and stepping into a pair of heels. She went over to the mirror to glance at herself. Yes, she was perfect enough for Theo to visit.

She had - of course - chosen her shortest, tightest dress in an intense black color. Her chocolate and caramel hair hung in perfectly beachy waves down to her waist, and her lips were perfectly red. She couldn't help but grin as she thought of how Theo was probably going to react. Like he always did - either running off to take a shower or the odd reaction of stuffing his face into the microwave. She didn't have much time to laugh about it though, for the doorbell rang.