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| Men In Red; Here comes the fic, all dressed in red... | |
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| Topic Started: Jun 13 2008, 02:04 PM (1,492 Views) | |
| Little Fluffy Theo | Jun 13 2008, 02:04 PM Post #1 |
Mrs Fabregas
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So here we are. Even though the board looks weird, the smilies look gay -_- and I suspect it might be about to eat fic, I'm still posting this, because I said I would. Rating: Probably about the same as my other one, which was 15+. There may be strong language and adult concepts. Oh, who am I kiddng? Of course there will be adult concepts: I have Perv Disease. Disclaimer: The contents of this fic are entirely fictional. Apart from people's names and tra la la la la. Prologue: May 2006 Armed with two tightly-packed frosted pink suitcases and an understated green rucksack strapped to her back, Adi stumbled down the road, scuffing her shoes on the paving stones and wincing at the severe thumping of her sister’s cases as they slammed into the backs of her legs. She shot Nymphadora a pained look and growled, “Why can’t you carry your own stupid bags?” Nymphadora – or Nettie, as she’d promised her father, the king, that she would remember to go by from now on, for Nymphadora was sure to arouse unwanted suspicion on planet Earth – raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at her sister, whose new human face was glistening with sweat. “I’m carrying the map,” she said, pointedly thrusting the A-Z in Adi’s face. “It’s only a few bags, Adi dear. Don’t make it look harder than it actually is.” Adi shifted her weight from foot to foot as Nettie ran her finger along the inside pages of the A-Z, sighing heavily. The handles on the pink suitcases were burning the palms of her hands, and suddenly Adi found herself wondering why these humans were always banging on about how superior they were to every other animal, all because they had opposable thumbs. So bloody what that they can pick things up? She wondered why anyone would choose to pick things up, if the pain when doing so was this intense. “Oh, just put the bags down!” Nettie snapped, picking up on the impatience of her sister out the corner of her eye. Snatching a suitcase out of Adi’s hands, she laid it down gently on the pavement, and busied herself with inspecting the map as Adi followed suit and set the other suitcase down on the ground and slid her rucksack off her back. “Why did you have to pack so much?” Adi asked, rubbing her sore hands together soothingly. “Um, because of shoes,” she answered, as if it were obvious. Unlike her sister, Nettie envied the human species and their intense emphasis on fashion. Back on their home planet, people were still stuck in the dark ages, and if you were lucky they might tie a loose sheet around their slimy bodies on particularly cold days, and invest in a pair of carrier bags to tie around their feet. Nettie was known fondly back home as “Princess Panache”, forever stepping outside the palace doors in some incredibly cutting-edge outfit of some sort. Her people had had a field day when she was spotted walking about with shoes on. And even more outrageous was the fact that these shoes had something Nettie coined as heels. Well, I say coined, but secretly it was a term she’d stolen from Dr Pervacious’s research on the General Human Interest. “What are heels?” her father had asked her, scratching his shiny orange head in confusion. Nettie simply sighed and said, “You see, Dad, this is why I need to go to Earth. Oh please tell me I can go!” After many years of adamant warnings that he’d confiscate her “heels” (he always made little bunny-ear quotation marks with his long, thin fingers when he said it) if she didn’t stop banging on about going to live on Earth, finally he caved. “But only if you take Adi with you!” “Oh, but Daaaaaad!” Adi had growled irritably. “Earth sucks. Everyone’s so ugly on earth.” It wasn’t until a few days later when he’d managed to find some time to have a quiet word with Adi and explain to her just why it was so important she accompany her sister on this trip to the blue-and-green-planet-where-everyone-is-ugly, did she finally agree. Though to her this was no holiday. Nettie may have made plans to trail the shops on the Upper East Side of New York and dine with hunky Italian men in Milan, but their father had entrusted Adi with a very important job, one which she promised not to disclose to her sister until they got there and were settled. And this job meant they were to stay in London. It took some persuasion, but once Adi showed Nettie the photographs of the shops that lined London’s Oxford Street, she finally obligingly climbed into the spaceship and off they went. And now here they were, Adi staring up at the grey sky with a distinct feeling of homesickness clouding her new and unfamiliar human façade, whilst Nettie tried to decode the zig-zagged, multi-coloured markings on the map. But it was difficult, and not only because she’d never seen a map like this before, but because every time someone passed them on the street, she’d see them out the corner of her eye, eyeing her up and down with a mixture of appreciation and inferiority. Oh, how she loved the attention, and this new human body of hers was just perfect at attracting it. “Right,” she said eventually, finally locating the road they were standing on. “I think we need to take a left up here, cross the road, turn right, cross the road again, walk up a bit, go over the bridge, take a left, walk up for about… half a mile… go over the other bridge, cross the road, turn left and then, um… Oh wait: that looks like a dead-end…” “I have a better idea,” Adi said, shoving her sister out the way and stepping out into the road. A large black thing on wheels, making a noise not too dissimilar from Justine Temberlook on track four of her smash hit album Impending Romp/ Affection Noise, ground to a halt in front of Adi. Oh yeah, Nettie had heard about these things. They were called cabs? Or was it a taxi? She could never remember. “Oh, goody!” she said excitedly as Adi ushered her into the back of the cab-taxi thing. “This is so exciting! I’ve never been in one of these before!” The man in the front seat peered at the two sisters suspiciously through his rear view mirror. Adi, too consumed with trying to stuff the suitcases on the floor beneath her feet, little realising the invention of the boot, failed to notice the playful smile her sister shot the balding man behind the wheel. Which was probably a good thing, for she would only have loudly warned her sister of the ugliness of the human species, and how this guy was a fantastic example of such ugliness. And then, quite possibly, he might have been quite reluctant to drive them anywhere. “So where to, ladies?” he asked them finally, tapping the steering wheel impatiently. Adi tore the map out of Nettie’s hands and narrowed her eyes at it. “Um, I think the place is called, um… Islington.” He nodded his head slowly, the folds in the back of his neck deepening to an even more hideous degree of ugliness. “Okay. And what part of Islington, exactly?” “Flat B!” Nettie declared proudly, practically bouncing up and down in excitement. “Yeah, and what road?” Adi sighed and shook her head. “Just take us to a bar in Islington. Any bar.” “Adi!” Nettie hissed, elbowing her sister in the ribs. “We’re not staying in a bar! Don’t you remember Dad told us we’re to stay in a flat?” She pulled a set of keys – on a fluffy pink keyring, of course – out of her pocket, and jangled them deliberately in front of Adi’s face. “That’s what these are for!” “Yeah, but once we get to Islington we can ask people and find our way from there. Don’t worry, Nymph… I mean, Nettie.” She turned her attention to the driver. “Think you can get us there?” The man stuck the car into first gear and grimaced. “Oh, I think I can manage it,” he said, with a tone that Adi, though not exactly familiar with human ‘humour’, recognised as sarcasm. Bastard, she thought to herself, winding down the window the way she’d seen them do in Dr Pervacious’s staged documentary of Those Twats on Planet Earth, fanning her sweaty face back and forth with her hand – and made a mental note to scratch the side of his taxi-cab-thing with those keys Nymphadora was holding when they got out. Only, when it actually came to getting out of the taxi-cab, the whole scratching-the-bastard’s-car-with-some-keys plan kinda went out the window. “Er, excuse me!” he called loudly through the window as Nettie and Adi, now standing with their suitcases out on the pavement, turned away towards the looming bar – a pretty little place lit up with bright lights, with an imposing-looking man in a suit standing by the door with a scowl on his face. “Whoa, he so got out of the wrong side of the bed,” Nettie said loudly, pointing to the guy by the door. “EXCUSE ME!” The two of them turned back to face the driver, looking confused. “Yes?” Nettie said, as if expecting him to ask her for her phone number or something equally tiring. In a strange way, the thought quite excited her – not that she’d ever oblige. Puh-lease! She had bigger fish to fry. And besides which, this guy wasn’t even a fish. He was a toad. And he had a giant wart on his neck. “How about the fare?” He was looking kinda angry now, and almost simultaneously the two sisters realised how bushy his eyebrows were, and also that he had little tufts of grey hair coming out of his ears. The word ‘yuck’ sprang to mind. “What’s a fare?” Nettie said, scratching her head in bewilderment. Adi scratched her head in identical fashion and hissed, “I think he means, like, a funfair or something.” “Oh, you mean with teacups and bumper cars!?” Nettie cried enthusiastically, her eyes wide with excitement. “Awesome! Where is it? Let’s go now!” But the cab-taxi driver was climbing out of the car now, his face an ugly display of grossness. Adi tried not to throw up, for alien vomit is actually an unusual shade of glow-in-the-dark yellow that might rouse suspicion, and if she got puke splatters on her sister’s shoes, Nettie would most definitely strangle her and her pretty little human neck. “Whoa, careful putting those wrinkly old hands on my suitcase!” Nettie said defensively as the guy picked up her smallest suitcase (which still wasn’t actually all that small) and clutched it to his chest. You could so tell he was finding it heavy, but didn’t want to appear like a weak little man, which incidentally is exactly what he was. “If you want your suitcase back you pay the fare,” he said warningly, his round eyes bulging in Adi’s direction. She couldn’t help but feel the teensiest bit offended that he should choose to pick on her. They had both been in that cab-taxi and offended him in one way or another, so why the heck was he limiting his threats to her and not Nymphadora? Did she have ‘older, more mature sister, so please pick on me’ stamped across her forehead or something? She was only two minutes older than Nymphadora anyway, and probably only marginally more mature because she was able to get past a strange infatuation with all things pink and fluffy. “Don’t threaten my sister,” Adi said through clenched teeth. “No one threatens my sister and gets away with it.” “Oh, so you want me to just let you walk away without paying, do you?” he said, propping the suitcase up with his knee in a very obvious kind of struggle. “You accept my services and then you refuse to pay. Do you know what I call that? I call that stealing.” “Stealing?” Nettie echoed, her eyes huge and round as if offended by the total lack of innocence such word insinuated. And she was innocent, she was. “Adi and I would never steal. Tell him, Adi!” She turned to face her sister, realising as she did so, that her cheeks had turned bright red. Because suddenly, it seemed, Adi had realised what a fare was, and what kind of case she had been trying to argue. “I- I- I…” she stammered. “You- you- you- you what?” he spat, mimicking her stammer like the bastard he was. Okay, sure, they hadn’t paid him yet, but did he have to be such an unsympathetic prat about it all? For all he knew, they could have both had severe learning difficulties, or some form of amnesia where you’re constantly forgetting the last fifteen minutes of your life. Kind of like a fish, but with better hair. Adi was lost for words. “I don’t… have… any…” “Is everything okay?” Her head shot up, as did Nettie’s and the bastard cab driver’s, and found itself locked in the direction of where the soft, floaty voice had come from. The owner of the voice – a man, relatively tall, his face glowing with some quality she’d never seen before, his dark eyes warm and smiling – was looking at her intensely, almost worriedly. Her eyes trailed his face and landed on his lips, parted slightly, as if preparing to say something in that delicious accent that certainly was not English. Bloody hell! His lips were gorgeous. She wanted to bite them. “Fine,” she croaked, instantly taking back everything she had ever said about the human race being ugly. This man was the epitome of beauty. Nettie cleared her throat. “Er, except it’s not really fine.” Somehow she managed to pull the man’s eyes away from her sister’s face and steer his attention to her, his eyebrow raised slightly. “This guy is picking on us.” She stabbed her thumb in the direction of the driver, a cheeky grin playing about her lips. She turned to shoot Adi a smile of solidarity, but found, much to her surprise, her sister’s eyes glued to the stranger who had emerged from the club behind them. Uh-oh. He was looking at the cab driver now, his eyebrows knitted together. “Is this true?” “Oh no, certainly not!” the driver insisted, laying the suitcase down on the ground clumsily, his hands shaking. “I was just helping them with their bags. Honestly. Wow, it’s such an honour to meet you, Henry. I mean, Thierry. I mean, Thierry Henry. Can I have your autograph?” Thierry Henry, as he seemed to be called, swung his head back round to face Adi, as if searching for confirmation that he was allowed to be Mr Nice Guy again. If he expected a response – verbal or otherwise – from her, then he was to be disappointed: Adi was completely star-struck… without even realising that this guy stood there in front of her was a star. “I guess so,” he said eventually, not before the driver guy had already thrust a notepad and a pen in his face. Adi watched Thierry scrawl some delicious looking piece of scribble on the piece of paper, his solid, yet soft-looking, hands expertly moving up and down the page. It wasn’t fair! She wanted an autograph! Whatever an autograph was. “Thank you so much!” the driver gushed, accepting the notepad and pen, his old hands still shaking. Nettie watched him with a faint feeling of smugness as he climbed back into the car, banging his head on the roof as he tried sliding in. What a dweeb! The guy was practically having a seizure he was shaking so hard. “I must say, I thought you should go to Barcelona, but I’m glad you decided to stay in the Premiership. It wouldn’t have been the same watching Match of the Day without you in it.” Thierry raised an eyebrow. “That’s great,” he said, already turning away from the car and back to face a startled-looking Adi. “You drive safely now!” “I LOVE YOU, MAN!” the driver called out before he pulled away from the curb. Thierry sighed and muttered under his breath, “Get a hobby, you twat.” Adi, proving she was still capable of human expression, if only marginally, giggled slightly. Nettie’s eyes shot towards her in alarm. Adi was giggling? When had this become possible? She’d be painting her nails and plaiting her hair next. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again, those perfect lips of his all puckering with concern. “Yeah.” She stared up into his eyes, utterly transfixed. “Perfect.” Nettie poked her on the arm. “Actually,” she piped up, looking at the two of them in turn, “I hate to spoil the pretty little picture you’re trying to paint here of how perfect everything is, but we still need to get to this flat and we don’t have a clue where it is.” Thierry, for the first time, looked at Nettie properly, as if she were a human and not just a talking… thing with pink eye shadow powder. “I can help,” he offered helpfully. “I can drive you anywhere. Just name the place.” Nettie shrugged her shoulders. Seemed like a good offer. Why not? “Sure,” she said eagerly, picking up one of her suitcases and looking around down the street. “Where’s your car?” “No!” Adi said suddenly, as if being snapped out of a trance. She looked worriedly from her sister to this, um, Sex God, and said, “Really, we couldn’t put you out like that.” Thierry smiled at her and two perfect little dimples presented themselves on his cheeks. Adi stared at them, transfixed, wondering if it was normal for humans to want to put their fingers in these dimple things. “Like what?” he asked her, and stabbed his thumb in the direction of the club, oblivious to the fact that this attractive young woman was standing in front of him, salivating. “You’d be doing me a favour, to be honest, if it means escaping from the party going on in there. I’m meant to be celebrating my new contract with my friends and they’ve all gotten pissed stupid. I’ve been sticking to lemonade, what with having to drive home and everything.” Adi continued to stare back at him in wonder. “Contract? Lemonade?” Even the imposing man by the club entrance was looking at her as if she’d grown two heads. “You don’t watch football, no?” Nettie cleared her throat, proudly remembering reading about this said football in passing as she’d been trawling through Dr Pervacious’s research last year, in an attempt to find out what colours best went with pink. Dr Pervacious had recommended black, but Nettie had stuck to her guns and donned more pink. “I know what that is!” she said excitedly. “Twenty-two men kick a cow around some grass, yeah?” But neither Thierry nor Adi were listening to her anymore – the former being especially important, considering how the more pink of the alien sisters was doing a pretty good job of blowing their cover. “Even so,” Adi continued, pushing her long, flowing hair out of her eyes expertly, as if she’d had these gorgeous dark strands for years. “We shouldn’t. We can’t accept lifts from strangers.” Nettie dropped her suitcase. Was Adi mad? Geez! Her flirting techniques were useless. They really had to work on those while they were on Earth. She had clearly blown it with this hot guy now. But Thierry simply smiled and shot Adi his most playful smile. “I promise,” he said, picking up the suitcase Nettie had dropped on the floor, making it look about as light as a feather, “I’m not strange.” Somehow, Adi found herself smiling back at him, and as she relented, said the one word which would only serve to turn the whole football world – a world of mystery and unfamiliarity, which she was soon to immerse herself in completely – upside down. “Okay.” |
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| janbobs4fabby | Jun 13 2008, 07:35 PM Post #2 |
Mrs Fabregas
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Haha.. that was good. Loved it, I can't wait for more. :D |
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| squishygooners | Jun 13 2008, 09:55 PM Post #3 |
Administrator
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Oh my. Sex God Itit :wub: I love it TLGA! |
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| Little Fluffy Theo | Jun 14 2008, 09:07 PM Post #4 |
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Mrs Fabregas
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Thank you both. *Curtsies in a lady-like manner* ... *And then burps* |
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| Kem | Jun 15 2008, 03:41 AM Post #5 |
Mrs Fabregas
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thats really good Marnie :D |
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| OneUnited117 | Jun 15 2008, 05:38 AM Post #6 |
yagga yagga yagga yow
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HOLY hell was that amazing! *jaw drops* I don't think you can get any better than this, Marnie!!!
MEEE! :) Yay! I <3 youuu Marnieee! :)
Teee heee! I love shoes!
I am SUCH a cool alien.
Um...Freddie Ljungberg and Cristiano Ronaldo are from Earth...
Ooh! Luca Toni? Yes? Cricket bag? Yes? Barney's New York? Yes? Gucci outlet? Wow. I am in love with Earth already. <333
OMG. What does she have to do?! Pfft. Always hiding things from me. ^o) -_-
Tee hee! I'm a hot alien! Woot woot!
Wow. :blink: Even I didn't understand what I just said! And I'm the one who said it...
Oh dear lord.This is genius!
:$ The sad thing is, I actually have one.
Hmph. -_- Asshole.
EW.
That's right buster! >:( You ruin my Giambattista Vallis and you die.
Pffft. Don't be hating on the pink affection. My Love is Pink like the Sugababes said. -_-
Awww. :wub: Adi, how sweet!
Oooh la la, he sounds hot! Humans aren't so bad after all, now are they Adi?!
That's right, you cab-taxi driving toad! You leave us the feck alone and beg for Thierry's autograph. Wait. The hot guy is Thierry?! :blink:
Oooh, I'll lend you my pink nail polish! :)
Mmm...hot lips. <3
Oh don't be silly, Thierry-human! I'm more than just a human. You bet your bananas on that.
Wow...I am bright. :ermm: |
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| Little Fluffy Theo | Jun 15 2008, 03:49 PM Post #7 |
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Mrs Fabregas
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:$ << One of the few cool things about this new board. BLUSHING SMILEEEEEY! I missed him. :wub: Thank you, dearies. Thanks for the prinalysis, Nettie. :wub: It must've taken you ages. And yes, you are quite the fashionista alien. B) |
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| OneUnited117 | Jun 15 2008, 03:56 PM Post #8 |
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yagga yagga yagga yow
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I heart the blushing smiley too! :) Pfft...this fic deserved AT LEAST a prinalysis...the time it took to write that prinalysis was nothing compared to what I am sure went into this fic to make it absolutely amazing like it is now. <3 I love it. Teee heee! I coined the term "heels". Shazam! I am fierce. |
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| Little Fluffy Theo | Jun 15 2008, 04:03 PM Post #9 |
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Mrs Fabregas
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:huh: I don't remember what went in to writing this, cos I wrote it last year. Seriously, I wrote it in November or something. I just added a couple of bits to it last week. More than that: you made shoes on Planet Perv. |
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| OneUnited117 | Jun 15 2008, 04:12 PM Post #10 |
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yagga yagga yagga yow
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Wow? Well...still. It's amazing. And I'm sure it took a long time. :) Woo weep! I am so cool. B) I actually feel like I accomplished something. lol! |
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| rockstr | Jun 16 2008, 05:40 PM Post #11 |
Cesc's Teammate
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marnieeeeee tht was brill can't wit for moreeeeee rockstr |
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| davidvilla7 | Jun 17 2008, 10:03 PM Post #12 |
Mrs Fabregas soon to be Mrs Villa!
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Wow Marnie, that was really good. You have a job at the Villa Times anytime...even when youre old and grey at the age of 30 ;) :rolleyes: -_- Edited by davidvilla7, Jun 17 2008, 10:06 PM.
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| Little Fluffy Theo | Jun 17 2008, 10:39 PM Post #13 |
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Mrs Fabregas
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Thank you, my good friendlings. *Shares peaches* Woop! Biased sports journalism, here I come! :nanadance: (Don't forget: we're twins. If I'm going grey, you're going grey with me... :twisted: ) |
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| Señorita Torres | Jun 18 2008, 03:11 PM Post #14 |
Cesc's 'Gas
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Marnie! This was great! OMG, I'm so jealous. You're such an amazing writer! I was about to eat a chocolate bar, but I'm throwing it to you instead :D |
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| Super_Swede | Jun 19 2008, 03:44 PM Post #15 |
Mrs Fabregas
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YAY another fic from Marnie!!! i love the way you write it's so amazing!! and i have a feeling this too is going to be a brilliant fic!! ;) |
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