Foreword: I'm terribly excited for this chapter. I got to write out the backstory I've been planning and altering since...well, since Super Mario Bros! Hopefully you'll like it as much as I loved writing it. :) And hopefully my attempt to get Bowser's staying at the sleepover works out. Yeesh.
Mario, Luigi, Peach, and Daisy sat in the Mario's comfortable sitting room, Papa Mario drinking a glass of red wine as he listened to Luigi tell stories of their adventures. Mario would interrupt to correct a detail now and again, but for the most part, he was just as quiet as normal. Daisy and Peach had far more to add, and for the most part, they weren't ever on the adventures.
It was easy to talk to Papa Mario. He was warm and inviting, just like a father should be, but without a word of judgment. And he seemed just as curious about the lives of the princess' as those of his own sons. He asked where they lived, how much they reigned over, and what they hoped to do in the future. In Daisy's case, he talked a lot about the options she had with changing her career direction, as Luigi hadn't hidden her disdain for royalty from him.
Mama Mario would pop her head in now and again, usually between cooking a course, or while beating a bowl full of something or other. She would add her own remark, compare a story to something slightly embarrassing from the twins' childhood, or just ask for more detail. She was always the most curious about the exotic places the brothers adventured through and the places the princess' had explored, even Peach's many locales of being held hostage. "Oh, mama mia," she would always say, wistfully. "One day, Papa and I will-a see these places, and watch what the sunrise looks-a like there."
Her romantic view of the world was something Peach admired quite a bit. Besides being the one of the world's most romantic cities, Grand Canal was famous for their sunrises. And still, Mama seemed like she would do anything to see the sunrise from an igloo in Shiver City, the sand dunes of Sarasaland, and even from a crater in the moon. She was probably the source of Mario and Luigi's adventurous spirits, if anyone was. Peach realized that she had no idea what Mario and Luigi would be like if they had grown up without a mother, and at the same time, realized she had no idea what she would have been like if she'd grown up with one.
"Scusi," Papa Mario said as dinner grew closer to completion, "I have emptied my glass." He stood up slowly, walking to the kitchen where the bottle sat, when Mama Mario thrust herself in his path. "No, Adolfo. You cannot have two glasses before dinner even starts! Vino, vino, vino!"
"Aaah, Gema, today is a circostanza speciale. We have guests! Our boys are home! Time to celebrate!"
"You know what the doctor said, amore. Too much wine is bad for your dolce coure."
"One extra glass will not hurt, piccolo."
She shook her head. "Okay, Papa. But if you die first, I am-a going to kill you."
He laughed and held her hands, kissing her softly. "Okay. You win. I will fill this with-a water." He made a funny face, as if it was torture to do so.
"Good boy," Mama laughed. Just barely in sight from the sitting room, she whipped his behind with her towel. Soon, the four guests were alone in the room and could no longer see Mario and Luigi's parents, but they could still hear them squealing and laughing in the kitchen.
"You will-a have to excuse them," Mario apologized, looking with disappointment towards the kitchen. "They don't often-a have company."
"I think it's sweet," Daisy said, looking fondly towards the kitchen. "They're in love! No one should need to apologize for being in love and acting like it." She grabbed Luigi's hand and added, "You could take lessons, mister."
Luigi blushed and muttered something about propriety, which made Daisy laugh and roll her eyes. Peach looked at them and felt honestly jealous. Here she was, sitting next to the boyfriend she'd had even longer than Daisy and Luigi had known each other, and she didn't really even want to hold his hand, let alone have him learn lessons from his parents. They were another story.
Peach wanted their kind of love so badly, the kind where they would grow old together, have fights about who got to die first because it would be too painful to be alone, and couldn't be in the same room together without making a spectacle of how mad they were for each other. But, she realized, Mario would never be that kind of husband. And as Peach had enjoyed her week without Mario a lot more than she had thus far enjoyed this one, she doubted she would ever be that kind of wife. At least not to him.
But if not Mario, then who?...Bowser? There would certainly be a lot more emotion, and, proudly, Peach realized that even if she was 103, Bowser would not want her to be anywhere but by his side, where he could hug and kiss her. And if Peach was 103, she wouldn't want to be anywhere but with… Peach suddenly felt very far away from the sitting room. She was very cold and very alone. These were very dangerous thoughts to be thinking.
She grabbed Mario's hand, probably a little more aggressively than she should have, seeing as Mario gulped at the unexpected pain. Frustratingly, Peach noted that this feeling of holding Mario's hand was still not the same pleasant feeling she got from holding Bowser's hand. Obviously, Mario was doing something wrong.
"Okay, bambinos," Papa Mario sang as he reentered the room with a glass of water, tinted red from its previous contents. "Time to go in for dinner."
"Adolfo, dinner can-a wait a few moments. Dare un'occhiata a, the little love-blossoms."
"Don't be silly," Daisy commented, quite boldly. "Let's go sit down, before your famous lasagna gets cold, Mama Mario."
The dining room extended off of the kitchen, and it was obvious that this was the second-most used room in the house. The chairs each had three different shades of tan fabric, worn from years of sitting, and the table was warped to the point that even the tablecloth couldn't hide it. The wallpaper looked freshly washed, but it was still peeling around the corners, and the beige carpet was spotted in reds, purples, and even green in some places. And yet, it looked as put-together and welcoming as the Marios themselves.
"Pick a seat," Papa Mario said, "Any seat. Just not my seat or Mama's." He walked over to the head of the table, sitting proudly where he could see the whole group. Mama was in the kitchen, preparing the first course, while everyone picked their seats. Papa had his feet propped on the chair to his left, evidently protecting Mama's seat.
Once everyone was seated, Mama brought in the salad: a huge, white bowl, overflowing with leafy greens and brightly colored fruits. Immediately, Mario reached out to grab the salad tongs, but Mama slapped his hand away. "Mario, your manners went where? First we say Grace."
"Oh," Mario muttered. "Sorry, I forgot."
"Have you been not saying Grace, Mario?" his mother grilled, clearly disappointed where all his upbringing had gone.
"Gema, do not-a worry. I will say Grace. Mario and Luigi will not-a forget."
"But what about our nipotes? What if their daddies do not teach them proper manners? Who will, Adolfo?"
Adolfo looked apologetically over at the princesses. "Mama, bow your head. We will-a discuss this later." With a dramatic sigh, she put her head down and her hands out, one for her husband to hold and the other for her son. The group was soon connected as everyone held hands, even those unfamiliar with the practice. In Italian, he began, "Benedici Signore noi e il cibo che stiamo per prendere, fà che non manchi mai a nessuno in nessuna parte del mondo, specialmente ai bambini. Amen."
"Amen"s circled the table and heads began to pop up. Brightly, as if she had forgotten all her worries about the manners of her posterity, Mama sang, "buon appetito!" and served Mario his serving first. The salad was as delicious as it looked, and soon the group was sharing compliments around the table. Mama brushed each one away, telling them all of how the fruit crop was extra good this year, and she had nothing to do with that, or how the salad had been marinating for a long time, which was also not her doing.
The salad was gone quite quickly, and Mama already had the lasagna on the table, steaming in its five-layer glory. The dinner guests eagerly piled it onto their plates, sitting on top of the few pieces of lettuce still stuck to the plates. Before she dug in, Peach asked, "So, what brought you two back to Grand Canal?"
Papa swallowed his bite and replied, "We aren't really back to Grand-a Canal, Peach. But we came-a back to the Kingdom for our boys."
"I cannot decide if it is worse to be in the same realm and never see them, or actually have the excuse of a separate realm," Mama whined. "vergognati, boys. You should visit your poor, retired parents more often."
"Why did you ever leave?" Daisy asked curiously. "Luigi doesn't talk very much about Brooklyn."
"It's a long story," Papa cautioned, shaking his head. "And is-a very boring."
"Idioze, Adolfo. Is very good story! Only boring when you tell it."
"Not true!" Papa scoffed. "You could not tell it any better than I could, Gema."
"Would you want to bet?" she laughed. Turning her attention to the princesses, she said, "I will-a tell the story. You say if it is-a boring or not."
"I'm sure it won't be boring, Mama Mario," Peach encouraged.
"You will-a be wrong, Peach!" Papa Mario laughed. "You see."
Mama took a bite filled with lasagna before beginning her story.
xxxx0o0o0o0o0o0o0xxxx
Toadsworth bit his lip and hastily erased what he had written on the paper. Then, almost immediately, he wrote the same word back in its place. When the door creaked open behind him, he howled in surprise.
"Calm down, Toadsworth. It's just me," Toadette begged. She stepped farther into the room and peered over his shoulder. "Is that the note that's supposed to go in Peach's bouquet? I thought His Majesty wanted that hours ago."
"Well," he muttered, "I want it to be absolutely perfect."
"How was she, anyway? When you saw her at the airport?"
"She was…" he fought for the right word, debating between eccentric and impossible. Finally, he decided on, "excited." He gave Toadette a meaningful look. "I don't know what happened to her before she got off that big bird, but I haven't seen her so bloomin' joyful since…well…ever." He sat back and blew a low whistle. "And yet, nobody has a spot of a clue why."
Toadette pulled up a chair, intrigued. "What do you mean 'excited'? How was she acting?"
"Well," Toadsworth started, "She wouldn't stop smiling, and she was hugging every blooming person she saw. The little lass wouldn't take a thing seriously, and I swear, she was literally glowing with whatever joy had overtaken her, wot wot. And she didn't seem to prefer one person over the other at all. She hugged me just as much as she hugged Daisy, or even Mario. And it was absolutely impossible to keep her attention for more than a hare's second; she was always whirring around like she was on some…mushroom rush."
Toadette began to ponder, thinking about how this may connect with her own beliefs about Peach. "And Mario? Was she particularly happy to see him?"
Toadsworth looked at her with crossed-eyes, clearly not amused. "What did I just say a flipping two seconds ago? She wasn't particularly happy to see any person more than any other. Including Mario."
The toad continued her slow walk through the room, one hand behind her back and the other playing with one of her 'pig-tails'. "And she was…glowing, you say? Would you describe this as a warm glow, or a light-infused glow?"
Toadsworth sunk into his seat to consider it, though it was pretty obvious he didn't think it really mattered what sort of abnormal glowing Peach had gone through. "Mostly warm, but she was pretty bloomin' lit-up, too."
"And she acted in this manner…after getting off the plane?"
"Yes, marm, she did. Toadette, why-"
She ignored him and turned on the spot, asking more questions as she continued to pace. "How long did she maintain this high? Were there any moments it seemed to…fade?"
"Well…yeah, there were a few spots where she calmed down. At one time," Toadsworth explained with a laugh, "she was bloomin' silent and we couldn't get nary a word out of her!"
"Would you describe these moments as reflective or sorrowful or contemplative?"
"What is with all these questions, poppet?"
"Or is there another word you believe suits the situation better?" she answered, again ignoring his unhelpful response.
Toadsworth sighed audibly. "Reflective, I'd say. A tad bit of sorrow wouldn't be far off the map."
Toadette began to brighten, rushing around to face Toadsworth. She hunched over and grabbed his knees, shouting into his face, "This means I was right! Everything I said would happen now has!" She let go of his knees, the force knocking his chair back. In between laughs, she offered him help up, but once Toadsworth was standing again, Toadette threw her arms around him and squeezed him, laughing even harder.
"Toadette! What in the name of the Queen are you talking about?"
Toadette stopped laughing long enough to remark, "we don't have a queen, Toadsworth."
"Not currently, but that's neither here nor there. Now answer my question, poppet!"
"Isn't it obvious?" She laughed harder. "Peach is in love! She fell in love on her trip! And with someone who isn't Mario, too."
Toadsworth was taken aback. Honestly, he'd never seriously considered that she might fall in love with someone against his own personal plans. "Rubbish. Why would you ever say that?"
"Everything you said points directly to her being in love, that's why. She's swept off her feet, head over heels, heart in the clouds, in love! And I would bet you 10 to 1 that she'd just been kissed before getting off that plane."
"Why on earth would you seriously believe your own personal barrage of lies?"
"I'll prove it to you!" Toadette sang, excitedly.
"Oh? And how, pray tell, will you do that?"
She was, finally, at a loss for words. "I don't know yet. Maybe Peach will tell us herself. Ooh! Idea!" She ran back to Toadsworth, as somehow during their conversation she had ended up on the opposite wall. "Peach is calling tonight, isn't she?"
"What, you want me to pick up the phone and say, 'cheerio, Princess Peach! I've got a little bugger of a question for you, old gel. Are you in love with someone besides the person you're currently on a romantic getaway and most likely seated next to? Now answer up, pip pip!'"
"Pretty much," Toadette replied. "In fact, I bet being so straight-forward about it will shock her into honesty."
Toadette began prancing around the room, reciting plans for extracting the 'truth' out of Peach, and discussing all the people she was most certainly in love with, until Toadsworth stopped her. "Poppet, calm down. I need you to think about this seriously."
"I am!"
"No, Toadette." He grabbed her arms to hold her still. "Listen to me. You and I both know you don't honestly think she's in love with someone else. You're just hoping she is, so you can ride off into the sunset with Mario. Which we both doubly know will not happen."
"Stop it! That's not true!"
"What isn't? That you and Mario won't be happily ever after? That he isn't a man so far out of your league that you need to stop wasting your life on trying?"
Hot tears were quickly filling Toadette's eyes, and she looked angry beneath all her evident pain. "You're wrong, Toadsworth. And Peach really is in love, you'll see. You're wrong." She threw his arms down and stormed out of the room, trying not to let his see her cry. "And you're really mean for such an old toad."
"Don't you storm out of here like that, young lass!"
"Your not my father, Toadsworth! Or Peach's! Stop acting like you know everything. And finish your freaking note. Maybe you can manage to ruin her day, too!"
"Toadette!" The door slammed, leaving Toadsworth alone. He picked his chair off the floor to better slump into it and stared at the note on his desk. He had absolutely no energy to finish it, instead burrowing his head into his arms. What had he done?
xxxx0o0o0o0o0o0o0xxxx
Wendy and Peach's friends, all twenty-eight of them, were bounding around the conference room, chattering and shrieking and making a terrible din. The room had been transformed, tables replace with enormous beds covered in lush blankets and pillows, desks replaced with piles of junk-food and sodas, and the elaborate Bowser fountain now spouting chocolate. The giant pull-down screen was showing some late-night television that most girls weren't paying any mind to, and board games and haphazard piles of cards were spread throughout the room.
A bell rang outside the door, and Wendy jumped up, shrieking for joy. "That's, like, totally Chet with the pizza!" The other girls laughed and crowded around the door as Wendy tripped over herself to get to the door. She straightened out her bow, touched up her lipgloss, and dramatically unlocked and swung the door open, only to reveal her father.
"Oh. It's just you, Dad," she groaned.
"Just me?" Bowser snarled, "Aren't I the guest of honor?"
"Well, we're all getting really hungry for pizza, y'know," she answered.
"Oh yeah, that reminds me," Bowser said, bending out of their view and pulling a cart behind him into the room, steaming with dozens of pizza boxes. "I saw that pizzakoopa struggling down the hallway, so I told him I could bring the rest of the pizzas over with me."
"What?" Wendy cried, her face falling into an extremely over-dramatic expression of terror. "You…you…took his pizzas?"
"Sure did!" Bowser answered with a mischievous grin. "Who wants pepperoni?"
"WHY did you do such a thing?" she shrieked, pulling at Bowser's arm.
"Because I 'love being mean', princess. You get it from me, y'know." He smirked and shook her off.
"Daaaad, this is now officially the Worst Sleepover Ever." She pouted and sat down on the floor, where four other girls rushed to comfort her. "Chet was, like, always the highlight of the night."
"What, does he come in and do a little song-and-dance when he delivered the pizza? Fed it to you by hand? Brought you gowns of silk and necklaces of rubies instead of anchovies?"
"No," she snarled, "But he's a boy, and he's an attractive boy, and we don't get those at sleepovers."
"Except for Christian Pale and Taylor Goomblaur," a kitty boo sighed, turning her attention to the television dreamily.
"And you, sire," a young koopa cooed. "You're an attractive…man."
Bowser stared at the girl, squinting his eyes at her. "As flatteringly creepy as that is," he turned to face his daughter, "why don't you get many boys here?"
"Dad, you're so clueless. Sleepovers are, like, totally the best thing ever, and boys never know that." She opened a box of pizza and removed a piece absolutely covered in fried fruit. She ate the entire thing in two bites, continuing with a full mouth, "They're totally missing out. It's, like, a travesty."
Bowser bent down to her height, his eyes glowing with the fire that Wendy could feel growing in his throat. "Do you mean to tell me that I'm currently here, as I have loudly announced to most of my fellow dignihats and underlings, at a sissy girl thing?"
Wendy swallowed and stared back at her father, deeply intimidated. "Um…will I, like, be grounded if I say yes?"
"Ohoho, Wendy, you'll be worse than grounded," he snarled. The sleepover guests had crowded around them, unable to hear Bowser and Wendy without invading their personal space.
"I-I-I just thought you'd want to sh-sh-share your, like, story to all of us. And, like, sleepovers are the-the-the best way to do that," she stuttered, batting her eyelashes for added effect of innocence.
Bowser rocked back on his heels, pondering Wendy's words. "Well," he muttered, "I do want to talk about Peach…"
"So you'll stay?" she chirped, "You're not mad?"
"I'm staying, but that sure as heck don't mean I'm not mad, Wendy O. Koopa. And by the end of the night, we are going to have the best excuse ever as to why I, the most macho, ferocious king this empire has ever seen, spent his night with a bunch of sissy teenage girls."
The crowd of girls laughed and chattered in agreement, backing up to give the royals room to stand.
Bowser stretched his back, grabbing a half of a pizza and taking a huge bite. "Now," he growled through the cheese, sauce, and assortment of meats, "get ready for a story that is going to blow your girly minds!"
xxxx0o0o0o0o0o0o0xxxx
"First, you have to hear how we fell in love," Mama Mario began, fondly.
"Mama mia, Mama!" Mario droned. "Why do you have to tell that story again?"
"Well, your girls have not-a heard the story, Mario. Besides, I like the story, and it is important." She smiled at him.
"I'll tell this part, Gema," Papa Mario said. "It started years and years and years before today, when I was a major-league fighter at the Glitz Pit."
Daisy leaned over the table, her hair dangerously close to the lasagna. "You fought at the Glitz Pit?"
"That's the thing that's like wrestling, right?" Peach asked.
"No, no, and no. Adolfo, this is why I tell the story. You only tell lies. Girls, it was me fighting at the Glitz Pit, not Papa. He was there, but only as a plumber."
"That I believe," Luigi laughed, nudging his father in the side.
"And Peach, cirumachella, it's not at all like-a wrestling. Wrestling is for brutes."
"And for people who are stronger than 'fighters'," Papa interrupted.
"Says the man who can-a only do two push-ups, pappamolle." She laughed. "Anyway, so I was a fighter at the Glitz Pit, and Papa was hired to repair one of the toilets in one of the major leauge's dressing room. It had a problem where if the fighter using it was-a too small, they would-a fall right in and right to the other dressing room."
"Papa, it's broken again. It still-a does that," Mario commented.
"Mario, that is-a because Papa never fixed it," Mama Mario laughed. "He travelled right through the pipes and met me on the other end, while I was-a stretching before I went-a on. He was-a covered in grease, and I was-a covered in sweat, but it was-a like love at first sight. He put-a down his tools, sat by me on the bench, and we started to talking." Mama looked over at her husband fondly, giggling as if she was still that young girl, flirting with the plumber. "We talked so long, I missed all of my bells and was-a disqualified.
"During our conversation, we realized we both lived in the area between Grand Canal and Linguine Empire, sometimes-a called Ravioli Valley. Adolfo said he lived-a just ten minutes from mia casa. He lied, by the way, as his-a house was a two hour walk, and Papa could-a not afford a car, or a yoshi, or anything like-a that."
"But seeing her again was worth it!" Papa Mario explained. "And eventually," he smiled, "we decided to-a meet in the middle. We would-a meet several times a month."
"Our parents thought we were crazy!" Mama laughed, "which we probably were. But this was a matter of amore, and Raviolians understand that supersedes all other tings. So after three months, Papa proposed. It was-a very romantic," she added, grinning at the princesses. "I had told him that-a my dream was to one day live in Grand Canal and watch the sunrise over the water. He got the whole town-"
"The toads who lived in the town between our homes, Verona City, knew us very well by then: the two love-struck young humans who met almost every week and knew no one in the city besides each other. They were-a very helpful when I told them what-a my plan was," Papa explained fondly.
"Well, the whole-a town was turned upside-town. There were lanterns over the streets, which were all-a filled with at least two feet of water, and the buildings were all-a covered in fabric to look older, like stone. And, he had a gondola. Adolfo had made me my Grand Canal, and he promised that one day, we would spend our sunrises with-a the real one," Gema explained. She rubbed her hand over her husbands, staring into his eyes like it was that same magical day. "So I said si, and I have never once-a regretted it."
Daisy was gripping Luigi's hands, her eyes filled with emotion as she cooed, "That's beautiful! So amazing! What a story!"
"Oh, that's not the end, Highness," Papa laughed. "Mama tells her stories way too long. She is detailing a romanzo, not an explanation."
"At least it is-a not boring," teased Mama.
"Yes, please continue!" Peach begged. "I want to hear why you ever left the realm, knowing that love story!"
"Well, Papa and I moved into Verona City, and bought ourselves a toad home where we could raise a happy family. We were happy; it was-a our bonna vita. But from before Mario and Luigi even joined our family, the realm was too dangerous for two bambinos like my boys. We almost lost them before they were even ours…" she muttered, looking pained. Peach had heard about baby Mario and Luigi's kidnapping, and the valiant rescue from the Yoshis, but hadn't often considered how much that would affect the expectant parents. "Little bambinos should not need to worry about magikoopas, or bandits, or boos. We could not ever take them out of the city's safety, not even visit their nonni, because it was always-a too dangerous. Papa and I wanted to grow old together in-a the realm where we had-a grown up, but our boys came-a first.
"There was a way, it-a was discovered, to go to a different realm, where our ancestral humans were the only dominant race, and where it-a would be safer to raise two little boys. So, Papa and I packed up our things, sold our home, and found the pipe to Earth. It took us to Brooklyn, in a sewer, but once we reached-a the surface, we realized we had found home. This would-a be our new bonna vita. Papa quickly got a job as a plumber, and our gold coins as-a big as-a your face, which are just-a currency in this realm, afforded us a nice apartment and a new chance for bonna vita. I did peoples' laundry and raised our boys. They grew up in Brooklyn, and we-a told them Papa and I were-a from Italia."
"But Mario and-a Luigi are too curious for Brooklyn," Papa commented. "They had-a memories of toads, and koopas, and mushrooms from being toddlers that-a we could not explain."
"-Until they-a were old enough," Mama assured the group. "When they-a were legal adults, we pulled out our photo albums and story books. They believed us very fast, because to our bambinos, there was-a always something missing. Papa brought them-a to the pipe that brought us to Brooklyn, and we said our-a arrevederci." Mama looked like she was tearing up, and her husband tugged her hand in strength. "Obviously, this realm was ready to have our-a boys back where they belong." She smiled fondly at her boys, wiping a tear out of her eyes.
"Papa and I stayed behind. He had-a good job, I had-a good friends, and we had debts to pay off. Gold-a coins only last so long. It took us years, but finally, Adolfo made good on his promise, and brought us to our new home, our final bonna vita. And now, every morning, we can see the sunrise where it-a belongs, over the water where we belong."
"Gema, you have hardly touched your lasagna," Papa Mario said softly, tapping her pasta with his own fork.
"Scusi, I was busy telling the guests why I chose to waste my life with you, amore."
"For me," Papa said, addressing the guests around him, "she just-a has to cook, and I would-a never leave her side."
"You couldn't, Papa. You would die of starvation," Gema teased. "You do not-a even know how to boil water for noodles." In reply, he stole a bite of Gema's lasagna, and the couple began to laugh, stealing from each other's plates.
"See," Mario apologized to Peach, "I told-a you, no good around-a company."
"Just because they don't need to be," Peach justified, watching Mario's parents carefully. "They want to spend the rest of their lives together, Mario, whether or not anyone else gets to share it with them." She turned to him, whispering, "I think that's wonderful." She watched him gulp, his eyes darting to hers, away, and then back again.
Peach tried to mask her sigh by taking another bite of her lasagna's remainders. It was pretty obvious that she wouldn't be able to last a whole lifetime with Mario. Getting through dinner was hard enough.
Author's Note: I feel ridiculous for not knowing a single thing to say right now. I don't even have any idea what to say about next chapter. Just that I'm planning on getting it done on time (Planning is the key word- I'm going to college by the end of the month and heaven knows that's not going to give me any more freetime than summer has).
And of course, my apologies to those readers who know Italian and, as such, know how much I'm butchering your language.
-Razzi