Chocolatey, With a Touch of Marshmallow


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Scene Title Chocolatey, With a Touch of Marshmallow
Synopsis The weather outside is frightful, but inside it's quite delightful… Tasha and Colette's discussion of Ferry issues segues into something more personal.
Date April 29, 2010

The Garden

The trip back to Staten Island was bitterly and painfully cold, so much worse than the day Colette lecture Tasha on hiking in the cold just a few days ago. It seems like a lifetime. The cold journey made the Garden all the more inviting once they reached it — its charming appearance a welcome sight to their nearly snow-blinded eyes.

Coats have been shed and tea kettles put on to warm the two teens, and now they have claimed the sofa, curled up with cocoa and quilts, new and colorful zany socks on their feet since Tasha bought a new cache while shopping with her mother — including three pairs for Colette to mix and match as her little Punky Brewster heart desires: Cheshire Cat in pink and purple stripes, Mario Bros. in red and white, and a pair of orange and hunter green argyle that reminded Tasha of the first "pair" she saw on Colette's feet.

Tasha has a mug of cocoa balanced on one knee. "I really hope that Liette issue gets rid of this weather soon," she says wistfully. "I'm just starting to feel my toes again."

"I thought my legs were gonna' fall off," Colette offers exasperatedly, brows furrowed and eyes wide. Curled up as she is with legs folded beneath herself and quil draped over them, she's of course making best use of her proximity to Tasha for warmth — or that's her excuse for the closeness this time, anyway — though that cocoa mug cradled to her chest is certainly helping some with its radiating warmth.

It's been relatively quiet since they got back, though Colette has been more nervous and more awkward as of late than usual. Ever since they arrived at the Garden it's been like waiting for the other shoe to drop, some unspoken tension running through the teen, and it only got worse after she had a very quiet conversation with Jonas while Tasha was preparing their cocoa. Perhaps that's why she's so quiet now, and why she keeps looking at Tasha, watching her in quiet study that at times might be leering.

Bringing up her cocoa to test its warmth, Colette winces on touching the rim of the mug to her lips; still chocolate lava. Green eyes flick to Tasha, and Colette leans her chin down on the other girl's shoulder, staring up at her. "Do you trust me?" is probably the weirdest question she could ever ask out of the blue.

Both hands are wrapped around the mug that is probably burning her hands, if she could feel them, and Tasha braves a sip despite, getting more marshmallow than anything, a bit dotting the divot above her upper lip for a moment before she presses her lips together to clean it. At Colette's question, Tasha turns and arches one of her brows curiously.

"Colette, you probably saved my life and I've told you something that no one else in the Network knows, not even back in Boston." The last bit is said barely above a whisper, her brown eyes flicking to the doorway to the kitchen to see if anyone lingers there. "Of course I trust you." She leans her head down on Colette's, her slightly longer hair falling across the other's eyes. "Except with a paint brush," she adds, smiling from the feel of her cheek shifting against the other's.

Leave it to Tasha to make Colette smile and bubble up with laughter even when she's trying to be serious. "I still think you should've let me help you clean up," she notes a bit more impishly than she normally would, but then hurriedly gets into the topic at hand, "B— ut anyway, uh, the— reason I ask is 'cause— " dark brows crease together and Colette offers a look to Tasha, breathing in deeply and then huffing out a breath.

With her free hand, the teen reaches under the blankets and comes up with her cell phone. She's not supposed to have it on here, but when she powers it up with a chime of the startup screen, it's not to place a call or do something as roguish as ask Tasha for her phone number, but rather to page through a received call, then hold out her phone to Tasha.

"Is this your dad?" Colette asks, and the picture illuminated on the small screen of Colette's phone is a press photograph of Vincent Lazzaro. Colette's brows furrow, teeth toy at her lower lip, and she watches Tasha carefully.

Colette's flirty joke is echoed by Tasha's nervous laughter, her dark lashes dipping as she peers at the marshmallows in her cocoa. Yep. Still there. Still melting. Still hot. But then Colette is pulling out the cell phone and Tasha's head tilts to watch her, brows knitting together with curiosity — her lips part, no doubt with some clever repartee but instead no words come out as she glances down at a picture of her father.

Her mouth snaps shut, and her eyes slide away, proverbial walls, so palpable that one can almost see them rushing up out of the sofa cushions, throw distance between Colette and herself. Her chin lifts slightly and her eyes narrow at the image on the cell phone, before she reaches to set the cocoa down on the coffee table. Her arms wrap around her knees and she exhales.


Colette slides her phone over the off button on the phone's surface, looks away from Tasha and tosses the phone to the other side of herself to be wedged between the arm of the sofa and a cushion. Colette makes a soft sound in the back of her throat, shifts hands with her cocoa and wraps the closest arm around Tasha's shoulder, pulling the younger teen into an embrace, leaning up to that she can press her nose into Tasha's dark hair, breathing out a warm breath there, that same worried noise rising up with that.

"Um…" Colette's voice isn't so much heard as it is felt, the feathery touch of breath in Tasha's hair, Colette's fingers curling at the teen's shoulder, and then with a press of her nose into Tasha's scalp again, Colette leans back and looks conflicted. Biting down on her lower lip, she swallows and looks away, then back to Tasha. "You… you know he's Evolved, right?" There's that nervousness again.

Holding her knees close, Tasha lets the other hug her, but she doesn't release her grip on her crane-bent knees, holding herself into a ball as if everything might unfurl if she let go. She gives a soft but humorless laugh at Colette's nervousness — is that all this is about? Telling her Vincent is Evolved?

"Yeah, I know. He's registered, it's no secret. To be honest? I think he probably is disappointed in me for not being like him. You know. I got the stubborn streak and smoke like he does, but no cool super power," she says lightly. "It doesn't change who he is and what he does, you know? Besides, when he was a cop, he pretty much threw other cops under the bus — he's probably doing the same for the DoEA, too, you know?" Her voice is tight.

Nodding her head, Colette looks down to her lap, lifting the cocoa up again as she does, testing the edge again— still too hot. "A few weeks ago, the— before you got here," Colette's green eyes avert over to Tasha. "The Ferry was working on setting up this place called the Armory. Old man Tien and Jonas," she nods to the kitchen, "were helping set it up when it got raided. I— guess by those same guys who were at the vaccine trucks, the ones in the wuite suits with the masks?" Toying with her lower lip, Colette stares into the surface of her cocoa.

"Tien was hurt, and Jonas was trying to drag him through… this gas, stuff that negates people." Licking at her lips, Colette's head tilts to the side, fingers wringing around the ceramic mug. "Um, it— they would've gotten caught. But this… there was a guy there who showed up. He— this— bald guy. In a suit." Colette swallows tensely, nodding her head once slowly. "Jonas says… it was the guy on my phone."

Green eyes meet Tasha's darker ones, and her throat tightens in a nervous swallow. "Cat heard the same report. He— he's been feeding her information recently, helping… us." There's a faint tremor of Colette's jaw, and she looks back down to the cocoa. "I— I don't know what else to say… I— I'm sorry."

There is a small nod to show that Tasha heard what was said, but she stares straight ahead into the fireplace, trying to make sense of it. While she is silent for a long moment, her face betrays her. There is a tremor in the lower lip before she brings her hand to her lips to chew on her thumb nail. Her brows knit together, and for a moment it looks like she might cry. Finally, her eyes narrow slightly, perhaps against that threat of tears, but they are dry when she turns to look at Colette.

"Don't be sorry," she finally murmurs, leaning to bump into Colette lightly with her shoulder. "It's not your fault. He's giving us information?" she repeats, trying to get a sense of what's going on. "Like, what kind of information? Did… did you tell Cat about me? I…" she sighs and runs a hand through her hair nervously. "If he's involved with Ferry, I need to tell someone before… if…" she stammers a bit and sighs. "If they find out later, they might think he planted me, you know? And if he's really … if he's really trying to help, that would ruin whatever he's trying to do."

"Calm down, c— calm down." Colette offers nervously, practically spluttering out the words. She leans to the side, settling her mug of cocoa down next to Tasha's with a clink. How many times now have they made cocoa and not drank it until it was almost cold? "I— I didn't tell Cat," which is the white lie that implies she did tell someone with the way her voice raises at the end. With the cocoa down, Colette leans in and wraps both of her arms around Tasha, nose buried in the brunette's shoulder.

"I got— reintroduced to someone today, her name's Liz. She's an old friend of my mentor Conrad. She was someone he wanted to train me if something— ever happened to him." There' a tightness at Colette's voice there. "I told Liz about you, 'cause aside from my dad and Tamara there's nobody I trusted more than Conrad— and— I guess you now too," that's added a little sheepishly.

"A— Anyway. What I mean to say is," Colette's green eyes lift up, peering from the edge of Tasha's shoulder. "She doesn't think you're a spy, and you told me, and I knew so— so nobody'll think bad of you okay? I'll totally stick up for you and if nobody believes me I will pout and you know what that does to people."

Her brow creased, Tasha swallows audibly before she chuckles at Colette's threats to pout. "Yeah, you've got a lethal pout. I hope you only use it for good and not evil," she murmurs, though the delivery of her quip is a little lackluster; her eyes stare into the fire as if trying to see the answers to her dilemma there, but all she gets is the crackle and flicker of the flames in reply.

Finally, she turns to face Colette, her hands moving up to hold Colette's where they are still wrapped around her. "I trust you, Colette. What do you think I should do? What… what would you do if you were me? You know everyone better'n I do — I mean, I'm not a spy, and I can easily prove it. I don't know barely anything about anything, so I'm totally fail at it, if I am, but your friend Kaylee can read my head or … like in Boston, there was a guy, Rudy, he could tell if people were lying or not… I'm willing to prove I'm not a spy."

"You're not gonna' have to prove nothing," Colette says in murder of the english language, pressing her nose into Tasha's hair at her temple before leaning away. "Normally I'd say I give terribad advice," Colette's hands squeeze gently against Tasha, "but I think in this case I've got a little experience in having to tell people shit they don't wanna' hear." Letting her arms slide down slightly, Colette rests a hand on Tasha's leg over the blankets.

"If you're worried about being honest with the Ferry, we should go talk to Eileen. She's pretty understandable about stuff even if she doesn't have a sense of humor at all." There's a wrinkle of Colette's nose at that and her eyes avert down to her lap. "As— for your dad…" there's a motion of teeth dragging over her bottom lip, then green eyes back up to stare into brown. "We should be careful 'bout that. He might do the just because I do it it's not okay for you to crap, you know?"

Giving Tasha a squeeze, Colette leans her mouth down to rest on the brunette's shoulder again, looking up at her with wide eyes. "If you wanna' talk to him though, I'll be your super secret bail-out plan."

Tasha groans, and pitches herself to her side so that she's lying across Colette's lap but with her face tucked against the arm of the sofa, hiding her face against the fabric. "I can't even rebel right. I go join a super secret organization of revolutionary vigilantes that I'm sure my father would disapprove of and hate — not that I joined it to piss him off, mind you! — only to find out he's actually their even more super secret government double agent spy guy? What the fuck is wrong with this picture?"

She heaves a sigh and curls into a ball, back against Colette. "I guess I should talk to Eileen…" she says in a small voice. "And yeah, my dad's really good at that 'don't do as I do' shit. Smoking, swearing. This would be at the top of the list, I'm sure, given what he said the other day about us being 'dangerous people.'"

A little speechless, a little red in the face and a lot happy about how this has gone, Colette doesn't quite notice how delighted her smile look on her own face. Making a quiet, gentle sound in the back of her throat, Colette lifts a hand up to rest across Tasa's side, the other laying down in her hair just above her ear, nails gently scratching across her scalp and fingertips stroking through the chocolate brown locks. "I'll come with you, um, when you talk to Eileen if you want? Or— I mean, your dad? I dunno… whatever you need me for, I'm totally there."

Nervously, Colette bites down on her bottom lip, then lets the corners of her mouth creep up into a slow smile as she gently pinches Tasha's ear and tugs on it. "You shouldn't smoke anyway," she says in a mockingly strict voice, "cause— it— makes your breath smell funny." There's a wrinkle of her nose, a goofy turn of her smile, and she remembers that's why she quite smoking.

"Come talk to Eileen with me, yeah," Tasha says quietly. Despite her jokes, she's still confused and afraid, and her voice quavers just a touch to hint at the turmoil within. "I don't know if … I'll see maybe what Eileen wants me to do about my dad," she adds a little uncertainly. "I'd rather just… he not know, but now that I asked him about it, he's probably all suspicious, and I probably screwed everything up already."

She chuckles at the tug of her ear and gives a small shrug. "I started after … after joining Ferry." After Dane left, and there was no one to kiss, no one to worry about offending with the taste of smoke. "I like the nicotine rush but I don't actually like the smoke," she adds, turning her head on the sofa arm so she can peek up at Colette. "Maybe I should just buy patches, huh."

Smiling faintly, Colette just shakes her head, tracing a fingernail down behind Tasha's ear and then down the side of her neck. "You didn't screw nothin' up," the teen states as if she has the authority to, "stop— bein' so me, I'm gonna' start charging you royalties every time you make a stupid mistake like I make." Tracing her finger back up, Colette curls it around a lock of Tasha's dark hair and gives it a gentle tug. "Eileen'll know what to do, she's super smart. I dunno if she ever had parent problems, but I mean— I can't imagine a girl her age not knowing how to deal with this situation. She totally will have some helpful advice."

Leaning to the side, Colette rests a hand up on Tasha's shoulder to brace herself, brows lifted and green eyes regarding the brunette through dark lashes. "You've got nothin' to worry about because I won't let nothin' bad happen to you." It's said as protectively as she'd always thought it would've sounded coming from Tamara, though perhaps less eloquent than the sybil would've been.

Sitting up just a little, Colette's hand moves to Tasha's cheek, fingernail tracing the pattern of a heart there. "Patches," Colette agrees.

"I haven't had a cigarette since Manhattan," Tasha murmurs softly, long lashes dipping as she turns her cheek a little, toward and into the hand that traces a heart there. "But I've had gum, and it's that Orbitz gum, you know, so in theory, according to television commercial reality, I have diamond glinties sparkling off my teeth, they're so clean — except then I had hot chocolate, too…" The joke is offered as her eyes lift to seek Colette's green gaze, but the words are breathless and it seems that perhaps all of the too-much information has a rather pointed purpose. Tasha's hand reaches up and touches Colette's cheek softly; at the same time, her free hand presses down into the sofa cushion for leverage, to push herself upward off of Colette's lap.

When Tasha moves to sit up, Colette's hand moves away from her cheek, teeth nibble at her lower lip and she ducks her head down in a sheepish smile. Lips part like she's going to say something, her hand moves like she's going to reach for something, her heart skips like she's going to do something, but in the end Colette just bites down on her bottom lip again and offers a breathy laugh and a smile. There's a hand at Tasha's shoulder when she moves up off of her lap and gets sitting upright again, though, just to keep her steady of course.

Green eyes move out to look at her hot cocoa, just barely steaming now, watching the tendrils of steam rise up from the top of the mug in silence, brows lifting up as she looks back to Tasha, one corner of her mouth up in a hesitant smile, like she's not certain what she's smiling about, but feels like it; can't help it.

There's a creak of the springs of the sofa from the way Colette shifts her weight to the side, reaching out and leaning forward to pick up her cocoa in one hand, and Tasha's in the other. Settling back on the sofa, Colette wrinkles her nose and looks at the two mugs, Tasha's just a little bit more full than hers. So of course, she takes a sip from it to balance it out, then offers the mug out to Tasha with raised brows and a chocolate mustache.

Well, that didn't work the way Tasha was planning. She glances at the cocoa and takes the mug, glancing at it and reaching to set it down again, her cheeks flushing a little at her failed gesture. She looks up at Colette, her lips parting to say something, anything, because the silence has dragged on just a touch too long. Her eyebrows rise at the chocolate mustache, and her lips quirk into a smile.

"You have chocolate," she begins, one hand moving up toward Colette's lips, as if to smudge away the sweet stain — but then her hand drops to Colette's holding the mug, to steady it and keep her from jumping, as she leans forward with parted lips, brushing Colette's mouth with her own — upward, then downward, slowly; her lashes fan against Colette's cheeks at the same time. A whisper of a kiss. Tasha's heart pounds fiercely in comparison, a timpani in her chest.

Colette's heartbeat matches that same rapid-fire tempo, her face flushes warm and the softest squeak erupts in the back of her throat when she feels Tasha's lips gently brush against hers. A chill runs down Colette's spine, her eyes come shut and — were it not for Tasha she would've spilled hot cocoa everywhere and ruined the moment. Instead that hand's there to help steady her, Colette closes her eyes, breathes out a soft breath against Tasha's kiss, and the younger brunette can feel the gentle tremble of her lips as she leans forward.

Chocolatey, with a touch of marshmallow.

Nose brushing gently against Tasha's, Colette lifts her free hand, brushing her palm against Tasha's cheek, thumb stroking softly beside her ear and then letting fingers curl around it, playing with dark hair. Her lips pluck the other girl's, a gentle, playful show of affecting than comes with the smallest and most breathy of laughs. Her cheeks are radiating warmth, her affection is too in so much more gentler fashion.

Swallowing nervously as she lets her lips part from Tasha's, Colette's forehead rests against the brunette's, nose to nose, eyes closed, smiling. She's speechless, from the sound of the nervous bubble of laughter that burbles to the surface, and Tasha can feel that breath against her lips before Colette finally speaks.

"I bet that'll piss your dad off."

There is that butterfly flutter of dark lashes against Colette's cheeks followed by a smile. Tasha's hand slides to the other girl's neck, curling up through the nape and tangling in the short locks. She exhales softly, a trembling sigh that moves through her body and reverberates against the other's, so close as they are. Tasha moves her chin to Colette's shoulder, wrapping her arms around her, careful still of the hot chocolate.

The hug is a generous one — the last one that Colette gave her, she merely took; she did not return, choosing to wrap her arms around her knees and her pity around herself while the other offered advice. Now she gives, warmth and thanks and something more. She turns her face and kisses Colette's cheek lightly, before nosing it playfully, a porpoise of affection — something she learned from Colette.

"You know… right now? I'm not really thinking about my dad…"

The tiny contented sound Colette makes comes with a giggle at Tasha's words, and Colette's leaning into the affection the other girl offers, the embrace, the closeness, the acceptance; it's something she hasn't quite ever experienced in this way. With both of them balancing mugs of hot cocoa, Colette offers the tiniest of smiles, then leans up to press her lips to Tasha's nose, then once lower again, stealing a kiss once more from the brown-eyed girl. "I've been too scared to…" Colette offers quietly to Tasha, her lips ghosting across the other teen's as she talks. "…but I've wanted to since I first met you."

There's another kiss, emphasizing her point, still tender and sweet and gentle, those little plucks and caresses. Colette's nose brushes against Tasha's again, and when her green eyes open, the relief in them is mirrored by Tasha's stare, and also the watery quality of her eyes.

The cocoa's going to be cold, again.

"I know," Tasha whispers, lips moving softly against Colette's to say them, growing a little more bold, a little less shy. "I've never… you're…" she sighs slightly, exasperated by the inability to put things into words. "I'm new at this," she finally manages, finding one of Colette's hands and interlacing her fingers through the other's — both hands still bearing traces of the paint that will take a few more scrubbings to get off entirely.

"So be … patient with me?" It's a question, nervously asked, before Tasha leans in again, offering her lips and taking more this time, still sweetly but less chastely, despite her request for patience.

"Having… having a real relationship is new to me too," Colette offers softly, looking down to her cocoa and giggling, then up to Tasha before she leans back, one hand raised and a finger lifted to the air as if to imply onemoment, now you be patient. She reaches out and takes Tasha's cocoa in that hand, then leans aside and stretches for the coffee table, settling hers down, then taking another sip from Tasha's mug before sitting up straight again. Dark brows lift, the corners of Colette's mouth comes up into a soft, sweet smile, and she reaches out to brush the knuckles of her fingers across Tasha's cheeks, thread her hair behind her ears, and then guide her forward with a gentle tug.

Colette leans in, letting her lips touch Tasa's again, a noise squeaking in the back of her throat as she does. "But, I think… it's going to be a little something…" and then slowly leans back on the sofa, one arm sliding down to wrap around Tasha's waist as she pulls her in to lay down with her on the sofa, holding her close in that warm and tender embrace. "Like this," she says sweetly, voice small, rolling on to her side to just hold Tasha close, tangled up in the quit together, arms around one another and foreheads touching, "and this…" she tilts her chin up, kissing Tasha on the forehead, then brings her head back down to the same level.

"For as long as we're together."

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