oh, they are so romantic, and so screwed up, oh my god. which is how it would have to be, of course.
the first time peter gets picked up for stealing, he's nine and susan is eight, and the police bring him home. she remembers the officer saying, "he's not being charged and he apolgized to the shop-owner --" and their father thanking him, the heavy beat of the cops' footsteps as they went out the front door. and then their father closing the kitchen door with him and peter inside, and the way his shouts had echoed through the house. susan had sat on the bottom step of the stairs with an arm each around edmund and lucy, listening. their mother had been out at her book club.
peter had come out of the kitchen and put a handful of silver hershey's kisses in susan's palm. "they only found the snickers bar," he whispers to her, gathering little lucy up in his thin boy's arms to take her upstairs.
"why was daddy mad, peter?" lucy mumbles sleepily into his shoulder as susan passes two of the kisses to edmund.
"don't worry about it, lu," peter says, stroking her hair. he looks back over his shoulder and winks at susan, and she shakes her head.
- -
he brings back presents for them. candy, mostly, but sometimes other things. paperbacks, mostly, shiny and new, not the beat-up used books they're used to from st. vince's, but once he brings edmund a slim, leatherbound copy of machiavelli in the original italian.
"aren't you taking italian in school?" he asks, sitting backwards on a chair, his chin on his arms, folded over the headrest.
"yeah, i am," edmund says, turning the pages of the book. "but i can't read this."
peter raises his eyebrows. "not yet," he corrects, grinning.
edmund grins back. "not yet," he agrees.
- -
they have to reach for the stars. there's nowhere else to go.
- -
susan's junior prom dress is used, but the fabric is soft and silky and seems to float in the air around her, and she spins in front of the mirror, entranced by the way the skirts lift and flow.
"with that neckline," peter says, "you really need a necklace."
she looks up. he's leaning against the doorframe, his bowtie undone and his shirt half-buttoned -- he's going with some cheerleader that likes his blue eyes and soft mouth. "none of my necklaces match the dress," she says.
peter grins at her and straightens. he comes up behind her, and she shivers a little when he lifts her hair away from her neck. "i think this matches," he says as he fastens the clasp closed. his breath is warm on the back of her neck.
susan lifts a hand to the red stone, the silver setting, tilting it up so she can see it somewhere other than in the mirror. peter's right; it does match.
"earrings, too," he adds, and puts those in one at a time as susan is still frowning at the necklace.
"is the cubic zirconium?" she asks.
peter laughs a little. "no," he says. "those are rubies."
- -
what happens at prom -- her junior prom and peter's senior prom -- is that peter gets into a fight and gets escorted out. susan's date spends most of the dance throwing up in the men's bathroom, or maybe getting sucked off by peter's cheerleader, and susan, after two hours on the bleachers watching the shimmering spectacle of dresses and tuxedos and teenage hormones in front of her, finally gets up and leaves.
she's not even out of the parking lot when the heel on one of her shoes snaps off. "perfect," she says, yanking off both shoes, "just fucking perfect."
she turns to look around, sees the nearest car. it's frankie guerra's truck, and she frowns at it, considering. he always leaves his keys in the ignition.
and that's the first time susan steals anything.
okay, you write porn, and i write tragic backstory, apparently.
no subject
the first time peter gets picked up for stealing, he's nine and susan is eight, and the police bring him home. she remembers the officer saying, "he's not being charged and he apolgized to the shop-owner --" and their father thanking him, the heavy beat of the cops' footsteps as they went out the front door. and then their father closing the kitchen door with him and peter inside, and the way his shouts had echoed through the house. susan had sat on the bottom step of the stairs with an arm each around edmund and lucy, listening. their mother had been out at her book club.
peter had come out of the kitchen and put a handful of silver hershey's kisses in susan's palm. "they only found the snickers bar," he whispers to her, gathering little lucy up in his thin boy's arms to take her upstairs.
"why was daddy mad, peter?" lucy mumbles sleepily into his shoulder as susan passes two of the kisses to edmund.
"don't worry about it, lu," peter says, stroking her hair. he looks back over his shoulder and winks at susan, and she shakes her head.
-
-
he brings back presents for them. candy, mostly, but sometimes other things. paperbacks, mostly, shiny and new, not the beat-up used books they're used to from st. vince's, but once he brings edmund a slim, leatherbound copy of machiavelli in the original italian.
"aren't you taking italian in school?" he asks, sitting backwards on a chair, his chin on his arms, folded over the headrest.
"yeah, i am," edmund says, turning the pages of the book. "but i can't read this."
peter raises his eyebrows. "not yet," he corrects, grinning.
edmund grins back. "not yet," he agrees.
-
-
they have to reach for the stars. there's nowhere else to go.
-
-
susan's junior prom dress is used, but the fabric is soft and silky and seems to float in the air around her, and she spins in front of the mirror, entranced by the way the skirts lift and flow.
"with that neckline," peter says, "you really need a necklace."
she looks up. he's leaning against the doorframe, his bowtie undone and his shirt half-buttoned -- he's going with some cheerleader that likes his blue eyes and soft mouth. "none of my necklaces match the dress," she says.
peter grins at her and straightens. he comes up behind her, and she shivers a little when he lifts her hair away from her neck. "i think this matches," he says as he fastens the clasp closed. his breath is warm on the back of her neck.
susan lifts a hand to the red stone, the silver setting, tilting it up so she can see it somewhere other than in the mirror. peter's right; it does match.
"earrings, too," he adds, and puts those in one at a time as susan is still frowning at the necklace.
"is the cubic zirconium?" she asks.
peter laughs a little. "no," he says. "those are rubies."
-
-
what happens at prom -- her junior prom and peter's senior prom -- is that peter gets into a fight and gets escorted out. susan's date spends most of the dance throwing up in the men's bathroom, or maybe getting sucked off by peter's cheerleader, and susan, after two hours on the bleachers watching the shimmering spectacle of dresses and tuxedos and teenage hormones in front of her, finally gets up and leaves.
she's not even out of the parking lot when the heel on one of her shoes snaps off. "perfect," she says, yanking off both shoes, "just fucking perfect."
she turns to look around, sees the nearest car. it's frankie guerra's truck, and she frowns at it, considering. he always leaves his keys in the ignition.
and that's the first time susan steals anything.
okay, you write porn, and i write tragic backstory, apparently.