Disclaimer: Not mine, don't make money, etc.
I know it's been a while. Just got caught up in my other stories, but here you are, lovely new chapter. There won't be many more of this story. As it was early, Remy's accent is extremely mild atm because I can't be arsed. Sorry.
-----o(O)o-----
"This one?"
"No."
"This one?"
"Definitely not!"
"This one?"
"We can' afford a bike," Remy moaned as Siannagh dragged Salla down the aisle, pointing randomly at kiddies bikes, mostly with pink tassels coming off the handle bars. "Chere, c'mon, it's not as if she can ride it yet."
Of course, to prove him wrong, Salla clambered onto a little bright red bike and scooted it down the aisle with a grin. "I wan't this one."
"So like her ma," laughed Remy. "She picks de most expensive one."
"The girl has style," Siannagh grinned, spinning her long simplified skirt, revealing be-sandled feet below the folds of pale green material. "Let's get her this one. Please, honey?"
"No!"
"Pleeaassee," she grinned, mock-pouting with a flutter of her eyelashes. "Come on. Look at her face. You have to let her have it, otherwise she'll be heatbroken."
"Not my problem," Remy said, but he was weakened. When Salla joined with the pout, he sighed exasperatedly and shrugged. "Fine. But if she falls off, it's not de fault of Remy, oui?"
"Yeah. Thanks!"
-------o(O)o-------
"Merrily we roll along, roll along," sang Salla loudly in the voice of a presenter of the telly. Luckily, the presenter is a female one, or strange looks would have occurred. "Mama, I'm hungry."
"Me to sugar, but let's wait 'til we're home."
Salla continued pushing her way along the bumpy pavement in the gorgeous new bike paid for with Remy's credit card. Loosely speaking. It wasn't actually his, it was the security guard's, but the poor cashier wasn't to know that. Siannagh hadn't seen him take it luckily, or she would have flipped; she hated the fact that her long term partner was a complete kleptomaniac and a skilled one at that.
He certainly wouldn't risk anything to lose his Siannagh. He smiled warmly in happiness as he felt her hand grip onto his and planted a swift kiss on her flawless cheek.
"Mama and Daddy sitting in a tree, doing things they shouldn't be," sang Salla as she slowed her bike momentarily to pull a face at them. "First comes looove, then comes marriiiiage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage!"
"Tree, hey?" whispered Remy. "Sounds interesting."
"Drag your mind out the gutter and hurry up," giggled Siannagh. "I want to get home before Kurt eats my food again."
Remy grinned and looked around, surveying the area subconsciously in protectiveness. He saw someone he recognised with a frown, a young white-haired boy with an angry pout on his face. It would have been fine if the boy had just been walking, but instead he was staring at the couple holding hands and glaring at Salla in front of them. He wasn't too far away, close enough to hear their voices at least; but not so close that Siannagh or Salla noticed him, to Remy's relief.
Siannagh did, however, notice the increased speed of Remy's feet as he hurried out of the area. "Something wrong dear?" she asked.
"Non, Remy's good," he smiles reassuringly. "I'm jus' hungry. Like y' two."
"Fair enough."
He saw the same boy three more times on the way home; each time, the pale young man disappeared in the blink of an eyelid.
--------o(O)o--------
"I t'ink someone's following' us," Remy whispered to Siannagh once they were in the safety of the mansion. Siannagh looked alarmed as he elaborated. "Dere's a boy I kept seeing - remember dat time you danced wit' de stranger? The blonde one?"
"Yes…" she replied, glancing around as if expecting someone to jump out of their bedroom cupboard. Salla rushed into the room, grabbed a toy or two and sprinted back out with an enormous grin on her face.
The room the two were sat in was, in the literal sense of the word, a mess. There were clothes all over the floor and rubbish around the bin that they had neglected to bother to pick up once it had fallen out of the bin, books everywhere around the bedside table and numerous teddies and toys belonging to Salla scattered around the place. Salla's room was next door, yet that had become so full of junk that it had spread like an infection to the rooms around it.
"We'll have t' be careful," said Remy. "If y' got y'self a stalker, it coul' be dangerous."
"Oooh, a stalker," smirks Siannagh. "See how beautiful I am? I get a stalker! That's it, I should be a model, no one can resist my beauty and charm!"
"Remy can confirm dat," he grins and settles his arms around her. She leans on his shoulder.
"I'm tired," she yawns. "All this being stalked takes it out of you."
"You might not be," he reminds her. "He could be stalkin' Remy, or Salla."
"Cradle snatcher."
"What?"
"If he's stalking Salla, he's a cradle snatcher," she says, raising her head to look at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Come on, I can think of better things to talk about than this."
"What would they be?"
A small smile raised on her lips, and his eyes widened slightly.
"Ah."
I know it's been a while. Just got caught up in my other stories, but here you are, lovely new chapter. There won't be many more of this story. As it was early, Remy's accent is extremely mild atm because I can't be arsed. Sorry.
-----o(O)o-----
"This one?"
"No."
"This one?"
"Definitely not!"
"This one?"
"We can' afford a bike," Remy moaned as Siannagh dragged Salla down the aisle, pointing randomly at kiddies bikes, mostly with pink tassels coming off the handle bars. "Chere, c'mon, it's not as if she can ride it yet."
Of course, to prove him wrong, Salla clambered onto a little bright red bike and scooted it down the aisle with a grin. "I wan't this one."
"So like her ma," laughed Remy. "She picks de most expensive one."
"The girl has style," Siannagh grinned, spinning her long simplified skirt, revealing be-sandled feet below the folds of pale green material. "Let's get her this one. Please, honey?"
"No!"
"Pleeaassee," she grinned, mock-pouting with a flutter of her eyelashes. "Come on. Look at her face. You have to let her have it, otherwise she'll be heatbroken."
"Not my problem," Remy said, but he was weakened. When Salla joined with the pout, he sighed exasperatedly and shrugged. "Fine. But if she falls off, it's not de fault of Remy, oui?"
"Yeah. Thanks!"
-------o(O)o-------
"Merrily we roll along, roll along," sang Salla loudly in the voice of a presenter of the telly. Luckily, the presenter is a female one, or strange looks would have occurred. "Mama, I'm hungry."
"Me to sugar, but let's wait 'til we're home."
Salla continued pushing her way along the bumpy pavement in the gorgeous new bike paid for with Remy's credit card. Loosely speaking. It wasn't actually his, it was the security guard's, but the poor cashier wasn't to know that. Siannagh hadn't seen him take it luckily, or she would have flipped; she hated the fact that her long term partner was a complete kleptomaniac and a skilled one at that.
He certainly wouldn't risk anything to lose his Siannagh. He smiled warmly in happiness as he felt her hand grip onto his and planted a swift kiss on her flawless cheek.
"Mama and Daddy sitting in a tree, doing things they shouldn't be," sang Salla as she slowed her bike momentarily to pull a face at them. "First comes looove, then comes marriiiiage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage!"
"Tree, hey?" whispered Remy. "Sounds interesting."
"Drag your mind out the gutter and hurry up," giggled Siannagh. "I want to get home before Kurt eats my food again."
Remy grinned and looked around, surveying the area subconsciously in protectiveness. He saw someone he recognised with a frown, a young white-haired boy with an angry pout on his face. It would have been fine if the boy had just been walking, but instead he was staring at the couple holding hands and glaring at Salla in front of them. He wasn't too far away, close enough to hear their voices at least; but not so close that Siannagh or Salla noticed him, to Remy's relief.
Siannagh did, however, notice the increased speed of Remy's feet as he hurried out of the area. "Something wrong dear?" she asked.
"Non, Remy's good," he smiles reassuringly. "I'm jus' hungry. Like y' two."
"Fair enough."
He saw the same boy three more times on the way home; each time, the pale young man disappeared in the blink of an eyelid.
--------o(O)o--------
"I t'ink someone's following' us," Remy whispered to Siannagh once they were in the safety of the mansion. Siannagh looked alarmed as he elaborated. "Dere's a boy I kept seeing - remember dat time you danced wit' de stranger? The blonde one?"
"Yes…" she replied, glancing around as if expecting someone to jump out of their bedroom cupboard. Salla rushed into the room, grabbed a toy or two and sprinted back out with an enormous grin on her face.
The room the two were sat in was, in the literal sense of the word, a mess. There were clothes all over the floor and rubbish around the bin that they had neglected to bother to pick up once it had fallen out of the bin, books everywhere around the bedside table and numerous teddies and toys belonging to Salla scattered around the place. Salla's room was next door, yet that had become so full of junk that it had spread like an infection to the rooms around it.
"We'll have t' be careful," said Remy. "If y' got y'self a stalker, it coul' be dangerous."
"Oooh, a stalker," smirks Siannagh. "See how beautiful I am? I get a stalker! That's it, I should be a model, no one can resist my beauty and charm!"
"Remy can confirm dat," he grins and settles his arms around her. She leans on his shoulder.
"I'm tired," she yawns. "All this being stalked takes it out of you."
"You might not be," he reminds her. "He could be stalkin' Remy, or Salla."
"Cradle snatcher."
"What?"
"If he's stalking Salla, he's a cradle snatcher," she says, raising her head to look at him with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Come on, I can think of better things to talk about than this."
"What would they be?"
A small smile raised on her lips, and his eyes widened slightly.
"Ah."
