Author's Note: Another drabble-babble, crappy, plotless, oneshot. I still spell Debrah's name as 'Debrah' for two reasons. First being that I wrote fics with her before the release of the English episode she was introduced in. Second being that I dislike the letter 'o' and if I can get away with spelling a word without that letter, then I will.
"Ever written a song about him?" Marcese's golden orbs lazily shifted to the singer on the bed, faintly glinting with curiosity. Debrah smirked at her and innocently twirled a braided chestnut lock around her finger. "Write a song for who?"
"You know who. Castiel." Marcese rolled over on the plush carpet and pulled herself into a sit. Debrah nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders up and down, the pale ash butterflies on the right one taking flight. "You know I don't usually write my own songs. I have people to do that for me."
Golden eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. "It can never just be a yes or no with you."
A pleased purr passed fuchsia lips as Debrah inched her way over to the edge of the bed. She fixed Marcese with a gleeful stare, tempting the blue haired teen to smack it right off her pretty face. "Is that jealousy I hear?"
"No," Marcese scoffed, "Just annoyance." But she was jealous. She didn't want to be, but that just couldn't be helped. Debrah had history with Castiel, took to flirting with him constantly, and always left those infuriating little hints that she was still interested in him. How else was Marcese supposed to feel?
"Liar, liar, pants on fire," the chestnut haired beauty singsonged, slender legs sliding over the edge of the bed and folding over one another. Patches of creamy apricot skin peeked out at Marcese through rips in indigo denim. Just begging to be touched.
Marcese responded with a moderate glare as opposed to words.
"You're cute when you're mad, Mar-Mar," Debrah giggled. "But fine. I did write a song about Castiel. Two actually." Her unique gaze flashed mischievously, and once again Marcese found her conscience speaking up: This girl is not good for me. Whatever this is is not going to end well.
"Ever written a song about me?" The blue haired teen pretended her conscience didn't exist, tucking rational conclusions down into the corner of the most neglected spot in her mind. Truth be told, she'd listened to said conscience from the beginning. Debrah was manipulative, spiteful, conceited. But she was gorgeous too. And what Marcese thought was casual appreciation of Debrah's alluring presence had somehow grown into something more emotional. Something painfully personal.
So now it was time to swim in da Nile and ignore her common sense. She'd have time to reflect on that when this finally blew up in her face and scorched her heart beyond repair (or not. Hearts are never truly irreparable in the romantic sense, are they?).
"Yeah, I've written a song about you." The singer grinned. Marcese's cheeks heated irresistibly, but a sensation of pleased reassurance brought her to a stand. She sauntered over and plopped down beside Debrah. She leaned over to plant a warm, chaste kiss on grinning lips.
The chestnut haired girl breathed a chuckle against her mouth. "I didn't say it was a flattering song."
"You didn't have to." Marcese swiped a tongue across the smug, fuchsia lips. "Anybody ever told you that you taste like cotton candy and pecans?"
"I might've heard that once or twice." Steel blue pools gleamed with mirth. The singer leaned in closer until their foreheads were pressed together, one of her hands finding Marcese's and loosely linking fingers.
The tip of her tongue poked out and brushed over the blue haired teen's mouth without a care in the world. "Has anyone ever told you that you taste like rainwater?"
"Now that's something that isn't flattering," Marcese teased. With another soft giggle and gentle nip on the lips, Debrah flopped back down on her back. Shiny chestnut pooled beneath her head, glimmering in the sunlight that streamed in from the window. The shimmering, benevolent rays casted Debrah in the most positive of natural lights. They brought out the lively magenta accents in her eyes and dancing across her flawless, fair skin.
Content with just watching the singer bathed in sunlight, Marcese remained in her patch of shade on the king-sized hotel bed. Unlike Debrah, she was not made for the spotlight. Debrah's sequined black tank top crept up to her middle, revealing the thin, silver bellybutton ring. It was shaped like a butterfly and Marcese had adored it from the first time she saw it.
She now trailed her finger along the exposed flesh, idly drawing shapes and faces. "Could you sing the song you wrote about me?"
"Not now. I have to save my voice for that gig tonight."
Undeterred, the blue haired teen continued her wispy caress. "Will you at least tell me what it's called?"
"Dandelions in Frost."