femmefest (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} femmefest) wrote,@ 2009-05-04 13:18:00 |
 |
|||
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
FIC: Moleschinis and Cabernet Sauvignons
Title: Moleschinis and Cabernet Sauvignons
Recipient:smirking_muse
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Hermione/Pansy
Summary: She's on the right path in life and wants to get to higher positions. She's practical, efficient - and needs to work on her people skills. Being forced to work with an old rival can change her ways.
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 1786
Author's Notes: N/A
I
She sighs, because she's carrying a a bunch of papers that she knows won't be read for any of those people at the meeting she should be participating in right now. It irritates her. She's great at researching, has sharp instincts and it's not enough. She enters the room; a dozen serious faces turn to her, making her blush the slightest bit and mumble an apology.
'You should work on your people skills', her boss's voice echoes in her head, but she shakes it off. She was raised to believe in meritocracy and hard work, not on politics and favors. 'Be great for who you are, not for who you know,' her father's strong voice echoes.
Her father died four years ago and she hasn't quite gotten over it. It was a fat Wednesday, taking her by surprise and never leaving her a chance to say goodbye. He didn't go away, he just wasn't there; it took her three years to stop staring at old, tall and serious looking men and accept her father wasn't going to show up and apologize for such a prolonged absence.
This story is not about funerals, death and parental figures, though. It is about romantic relationships – of course, she doesn't know that when she gives everyone a copy of the file she meticulously wrote and begins to speak in a clear, sharp tone, drawing everyone's attention.
II
She hisses in frustration, tearing apart the piece of paper that says she'll have to work with a stuck-up, stubborn woman. She chose her Department partly because she doesn't want to work with those type of people. 'Do you want to be promoted? Do you have the ambition to get to the higher levels?' She hears her best friend's voice in her head and recalls his sharp green eyes staring at her.
Her eyes shine in fury. He's right. She's too ambitious, she thinks too far – sacrifices need to be made. She gathers her cool ways in the bathroom, the cold sink bringing her back to reality. The bathroom is a huge place, thought in every detail to be as relaxing as possible. That's not working very well right now.
She's young and she's on the right path. Have I told you she never makes mistakes? She never does. A machine to the point of perfection, from her polished nails to her well-tailored suits, from her analyses to her curriculum. When she broke off her engagement, the boy was the one to ruin the relationship, not her. How could it be her?
Her strength touches her best friend deeply. Hard as iron, smart as can be, caring in a way most people are not used to, she's his role model of perfect woman. She tells him that he'll never settle down if he keeps searching for one woman in all others. He smiles sweetly and says that after all they've been through, any woman will have big shoes to fill.
This is not a tale about them, either. Nothing will be written anything about the time they kissed, the day she saved his life, or their tween years. It's just a platonic, infinite love. When she goes back to her room the other woman had sent her a message scheduling a meeting. A formal and polite answer is sent back. She sighs and buries her face in her hands. This is a great opportunity, forging useful contacts.
III
She lifts the mug and drinks the searing hot coffee. It's her first one-to-one meeting with the other woman, who has been nothing but professional so far. They both work with great names in their field as apprentices, because they're oh so promising and oh so smart.
It's quite fascinating, how the tension builds during the one hour they spend together, how their stomachs are in knots. Staring into each other eyes like some kind of child's competition, it feels intense and overwhelming. She's not used to feel this competitive, but that black haired woman, with a slender figure, aristocratic manners and such red lips, brings it up on her.
She's always had a maturity beyond her years. Her displeasure for the other woman in not shown that day – nor the next, nor the next week or next month. She learns how professional and committed a once spoiled little brat can be. 'Having your parents thrown in jail when you're 17 can change a person,' she thinks to herself when she's alone drinking wine at her house, mourning a lost fiancée and feeling like a sad cliché.
One ability she never had was making friends easily. She had two best friends in her teenage years, almost married one of them, got cheated, got enraged, and now she has only one best friend left. At work she has two closer acquaintances, but none has gotten anywhere near her deepest needs. One thing she doesn't knows is that she searches for friends like her best friend the same way he looks for women who resemble her.
This is not about her loneliness and her taste in men, still, even though it'll be useful to unravel something about her. She's a very complicated individual. As a matter of fact, this is about the moment she found her first romantic partner to challenge her ways, her thoughts and her conceptions.
IV
It takes her eight long months, but she does end up staring at the other woman's derrière. It's a very nice behind, but it makes her feel horrible for noticing it. She's not supposed to ogle coworkers. Especially the ones she has rivaled with during most of her life. It doesn't stop her from doing it again, perfect fitting black pants making it a sight for sore eyes.
Let me tell a secret: she is indeed bisexual. Her first summer love, during a trip to Barcelona, was a girl. Taller, older, a great reader, the perfect Spanish accent, her heart was won in matter of days. She won't be the one to come out and tell people in the conservative environment she lives that she likes boys and girls, though. She doesn't have the guts for that. She doesn't stop ogling.
There's an expensive watch on her desk on her birthday, with a signature already so familiar in a card. She places it on her wrist; it's a perfect fit and a gorgeous piece of work. A smile shows up in the corner of her mouth and it remains there for the whole day.
V
She's a very practical woman, to tell you the truth. She's sweet, caring and thoughtful, but romance is not a significant part of her life. It doesn't fit with her thoughts and the way she leads her life. Still, the next day she sent a little something from her favorite brand of Swiss chocolate with a “Thank You” beautifully handwritten in a piece of paper.
They're flirting already, but she barely notices. It's hard to tell who actually initiated it; the sparkle was always there. Two months later she sends a Moleschini to the other woman for her birthday, “Thought you'd have the sensibility to enjoy it” written on its first page. She had a feeling it would be appreciated.
The next day, as evening came and she got ready to leave, a messenger drop a bottle of Chilean wine. 'Concha y Toro, good choice,' she thought to herself. Only then did she notic a small message: “Feel free to share it with me. P”. She's not used to people this straight forward – she and her former fiancée kissed for the first time after years of friendship and flirts.
She stops and thinks about P, deciding that she's too grown up for children's rivalries. What's done is done and they wish no harm for each other. They both had been through a lot and matured, and this new P is a much softer version. Still very rich, elitist and sarcastic, but a lot more serious and introspective.
She feels a little ashamed for her prejudices as she holds the bottle carefully, deciding what to do.
VI
She enters P's office, holding the bottle and two glasses. To be precise, it's 7:12pm. P's making the last call of the day before going to her family's mansion get some well deserved rest. P looks up and smiles to the sight of the brunette in front of her, standing.
She places both glasses on the table and pours wine ever so slowly, saying something in the lines of a great wine after an exhausting day of work. P places a hand on hers and takes her glass. She murmurs a thank you, getting up and getting closer. There's an easy silence between them as they gesture a toast and drink their first sip.
Without a word, P takes their glasses and places them again on the table, their bodies meeting immediately after. She's holding her breath without noticing it when she places a hand on the back of P's neck and pulls her for a kiss. Slender arms find their way around her waist, pulling her closer. She keeps the kiss light and slow, and when they pull apart, they're smiling.
She likes to take things nice and slow. Sipping her wine – it tastes wonders and her taste buds couldn't be more thankful-, they begin to talk. She likes things to have a comfortable pace, because she never rushes into anything. They talk and their fingers meet, and then their lips. She likes to have her heart won piece by piece, never giving it too willingly to anybody.
VII
She learns P is a very serious person who keeps most things to herself. She learns P will seduce her before taking her to bed and it feels very hot and languid when she finally does. She learns P's bedsheets are made of silk and she has a fine taste for wine. She gets little gifts all the time and hasn't felt lonely and forgotten for a long time.
She feels comfortable for being with someone who has priorities that match hers and has a similar paycheck. She likes how they're taking one step after the other, not rushing into anything. She enjoys the feeling of P's lips against hers, her soft hands running on her body. She loves when P's on a demanding mood.
They never talk about the past, about their arguments, about their different views. She doesn't mention the day she hit P's ex-boyfriend in the face, over a decade ago. She doesn't talk about how vile P and her friends were. She prefers to look in her eyes and trace P's features with her index finger.
Title: Moleschinis and Cabernet Sauvignons
Recipient:
smirking_museRating: PG-13
Pairing(s): Hermione/Pansy
Summary: She's on the right path in life and wants to get to higher positions. She's practical, efficient - and needs to work on her people skills. Being forced to work with an old rival can change her ways.
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 1786
Author's Notes: N/A
She sighs, because she's carrying a a bunch of papers that she knows won't be read for any of those people at the meeting she should be participating in right now. It irritates her. She's great at researching, has sharp instincts and it's not enough. She enters the room; a dozen serious faces turn to her, making her blush the slightest bit and mumble an apology.
'You should work on your people skills', her boss's voice echoes in her head, but she shakes it off. She was raised to believe in meritocracy and hard work, not on politics and favors. 'Be great for who you are, not for who you know,' her father's strong voice echoes.
Her father died four years ago and she hasn't quite gotten over it. It was a fat Wednesday, taking her by surprise and never leaving her a chance to say goodbye. He didn't go away, he just wasn't there; it took her three years to stop staring at old, tall and serious looking men and accept her father wasn't going to show up and apologize for such a prolonged absence.
This story is not about funerals, death and parental figures, though. It is about romantic relationships – of course, she doesn't know that when she gives everyone a copy of the file she meticulously wrote and begins to speak in a clear, sharp tone, drawing everyone's attention.
She hisses in frustration, tearing apart the piece of paper that says she'll have to work with a stuck-up, stubborn woman. She chose her Department partly because she doesn't want to work with those type of people. 'Do you want to be promoted? Do you have the ambition to get to the higher levels?' She hears her best friend's voice in her head and recalls his sharp green eyes staring at her.
Her eyes shine in fury. He's right. She's too ambitious, she thinks too far – sacrifices need to be made. She gathers her cool ways in the bathroom, the cold sink bringing her back to reality. The bathroom is a huge place, thought in every detail to be as relaxing as possible. That's not working very well right now.
She's young and she's on the right path. Have I told you she never makes mistakes? She never does. A machine to the point of perfection, from her polished nails to her well-tailored suits, from her analyses to her curriculum. When she broke off her engagement, the boy was the one to ruin the relationship, not her. How could it be her?
Her strength touches her best friend deeply. Hard as iron, smart as can be, caring in a way most people are not used to, she's his role model of perfect woman. She tells him that he'll never settle down if he keeps searching for one woman in all others. He smiles sweetly and says that after all they've been through, any woman will have big shoes to fill.
This is not a tale about them, either. Nothing will be written anything about the time they kissed, the day she saved his life, or their tween years. It's just a platonic, infinite love. When she goes back to her room the other woman had sent her a message scheduling a meeting. A formal and polite answer is sent back. She sighs and buries her face in her hands. This is a great opportunity, forging useful contacts.
She lifts the mug and drinks the searing hot coffee. It's her first one-to-one meeting with the other woman, who has been nothing but professional so far. They both work with great names in their field as apprentices, because they're oh so promising and oh so smart.
It's quite fascinating, how the tension builds during the one hour they spend together, how their stomachs are in knots. Staring into each other eyes like some kind of child's competition, it feels intense and overwhelming. She's not used to feel this competitive, but that black haired woman, with a slender figure, aristocratic manners and such red lips, brings it up on her.
She's always had a maturity beyond her years. Her displeasure for the other woman in not shown that day – nor the next, nor the next week or next month. She learns how professional and committed a once spoiled little brat can be. 'Having your parents thrown in jail when you're 17 can change a person,' she thinks to herself when she's alone drinking wine at her house, mourning a lost fiancée and feeling like a sad cliché.
One ability she never had was making friends easily. She had two best friends in her teenage years, almost married one of them, got cheated, got enraged, and now she has only one best friend left. At work she has two closer acquaintances, but none has gotten anywhere near her deepest needs. One thing she doesn't knows is that she searches for friends like her best friend the same way he looks for women who resemble her.
This is not about her loneliness and her taste in men, still, even though it'll be useful to unravel something about her. She's a very complicated individual. As a matter of fact, this is about the moment she found her first romantic partner to challenge her ways, her thoughts and her conceptions.
It takes her eight long months, but she does end up staring at the other woman's derrière. It's a very nice behind, but it makes her feel horrible for noticing it. She's not supposed to ogle coworkers. Especially the ones she has rivaled with during most of her life. It doesn't stop her from doing it again, perfect fitting black pants making it a sight for sore eyes.
Let me tell a secret: she is indeed bisexual. Her first summer love, during a trip to Barcelona, was a girl. Taller, older, a great reader, the perfect Spanish accent, her heart was won in matter of days. She won't be the one to come out and tell people in the conservative environment she lives that she likes boys and girls, though. She doesn't have the guts for that. She doesn't stop ogling.
There's an expensive watch on her desk on her birthday, with a signature already so familiar in a card. She places it on her wrist; it's a perfect fit and a gorgeous piece of work. A smile shows up in the corner of her mouth and it remains there for the whole day.
She's a very practical woman, to tell you the truth. She's sweet, caring and thoughtful, but romance is not a significant part of her life. It doesn't fit with her thoughts and the way she leads her life. Still, the next day she sent a little something from her favorite brand of Swiss chocolate with a “Thank You” beautifully handwritten in a piece of paper.
They're flirting already, but she barely notices. It's hard to tell who actually initiated it; the sparkle was always there. Two months later she sends a Moleschini to the other woman for her birthday, “Thought you'd have the sensibility to enjoy it” written on its first page. She had a feeling it would be appreciated.
The next day, as evening came and she got ready to leave, a messenger drop a bottle of Chilean wine. 'Concha y Toro, good choice,' she thought to herself. Only then did she notic a small message: “Feel free to share it with me. P”. She's not used to people this straight forward – she and her former fiancée kissed for the first time after years of friendship and flirts.
She stops and thinks about P, deciding that she's too grown up for children's rivalries. What's done is done and they wish no harm for each other. They both had been through a lot and matured, and this new P is a much softer version. Still very rich, elitist and sarcastic, but a lot more serious and introspective.
She feels a little ashamed for her prejudices as she holds the bottle carefully, deciding what to do.
She enters P's office, holding the bottle and two glasses. To be precise, it's 7:12pm. P's making the last call of the day before going to her family's mansion get some well deserved rest. P looks up and smiles to the sight of the brunette in front of her, standing.
She places both glasses on the table and pours wine ever so slowly, saying something in the lines of a great wine after an exhausting day of work. P places a hand on hers and takes her glass. She murmurs a thank you, getting up and getting closer. There's an easy silence between them as they gesture a toast and drink their first sip.
Without a word, P takes their glasses and places them again on the table, their bodies meeting immediately after. She's holding her breath without noticing it when she places a hand on the back of P's neck and pulls her for a kiss. Slender arms find their way around her waist, pulling her closer. She keeps the kiss light and slow, and when they pull apart, they're smiling.
She likes to take things nice and slow. Sipping her wine – it tastes wonders and her taste buds couldn't be more thankful-, they begin to talk. She likes things to have a comfortable pace, because she never rushes into anything. They talk and their fingers meet, and then their lips. She likes to have her heart won piece by piece, never giving it too willingly to anybody.
She learns P is a very serious person who keeps most things to herself. She learns P will seduce her before taking her to bed and it feels very hot and languid when she finally does. She learns P's bedsheets are made of silk and she has a fine taste for wine. She gets little gifts all the time and hasn't felt lonely and forgotten for a long time.
She feels comfortable for being with someone who has priorities that match hers and has a similar paycheck. She likes how they're taking one step after the other, not rushing into anything. She enjoys the feeling of P's lips against hers, her soft hands running on her body. She loves when P's on a demanding mood.
They never talk about the past, about their arguments, about their different views. She doesn't mention the day she hit P's ex-boyfriend in the face, over a decade ago. She doesn't talk about how vile P and her friends were. She prefers to look in her eyes and trace P's features with her index finger.