Part 3 # The Next Morning
Graverobber awoke to a beautiful, sunny morning, soft sheets, and the singing of birds outside.
"Whaddafuck?" he cried out in horror, kicking out at the sheets with all of his limbs, before remembering where he was and falling back down into the pillows sheepishly.
"Not quite a dumpster, is it, dear?" singsonged a mocking - but fond - voice from past the end of the bed. Amber, already up, was inhabiting the comfiest chair, painting her toenails the same lurid purple as her fingernails; hair green, lips pink. He made a noise in response and began adjusting his eyes to his new surroundings, better able to take it all in now after a (very) decent night's rest. It was insanely, extravagantly elegant, white and red with silver and gold trimmings, sun filtering in through the curtains. Daylight still threw him a bit, and he settled his gaze back on his wife for comfort - comforting, that was, if he didn't remember the appellation of "wife" that now attached itself to her. She was dividing her concentration just enough between him and her beauty regime to smirk at him condescendingly.
"Oh, get that look off your face and get me a beer, woman," he grunted.
"Get your own friggin' beer," she retorted. "Better still, get a coffee - it's first thing in the morning!"
"*That," he grunted, swinging round to sit up, "is why I need a friggin' beer." He made a face. "Mornings," he huffed, as though it were a dirty word. But he got up and engulfed Amber in a hug on his way through to the bathroom.
"The fuck you doing?" she yelped. "I'm painting my fucking nails! Get the fuck off!"
"Oh, well screw you too" he said affectionately, ruffling her hair to her further annoyance as she exaggeratedly checked her nails for signs of damage, wondering how best to fix her hair whilst retaining perfect nails.
"Amber!" growled a voice from the bathroom.
"Yes dear?" Oh god, she thought, I never knew I'd become a "Yes, dear" person.
"Where am I supposed to keep my friggin' make up?"
"I left you room, dear!"
"The fuck you did!"
She sighed dramatically and flounced into the bathroom to find a bemused Graverobber scratching his head in the middle of it.
"There, see?" She pointed to a space on the shelf.
"That's like this big!" he gestured.
"So? It's bigger than you'd get in a dumpster!"
He shrugged. She had a point. "Fiiine," he sighed. "Wouldn't want to deprive you of room for lotions, faces, and hair."
"Don't be an arse, Graverobber," she said, rolling her eyes affectionately, "I don't keep my hair in the bathroom. Neither should you," she added.
"Thank you, Ms. Sweet. Do please best educate me on where to store my accessories."
She ignored the sarcasm completely, suppressing even the urge to tell him how painfully he needed educating. "I have a special room for hair and shoes," she said, as though it were obvious. "You can have a corner if you promise not to mess your stuff up with mine," she added grudgingly.
"So gracious of you," he grunted, executing a mock bow.
"Asshole." She smiled.
"Barbie doll."
"Minger."
"Superficial mega bitch."
"Ill-mannered cockroach."
"Ms. Sweet, you wound me, I have never met an ill-mannered cockroach in my life."
"Look in a mirror sometime."
"Oh, take a pill."
"I'll take you."
With each rebuke they had moved closer until, now, finally colliding, they crashed into one another's lips and bodies with careless, hungry abandon. After a moment he leaned back and gave a deep, contented sigh.
"Good morning, Ms. Sweet." He smiled.
"Good morning, Graverobber." She pulled him back to her and proceeded to prove exactly how much room for two there was in one bathroom.
~O~
They came down to breakfast late, Graverobber lurking at the entrance, embarrassed, while Amber abused the staff, insisting the restaurant stay open just for them. She dragged him in - reluctantly on his part - as she flounced in triumphantly.
"Are you sure this is, like, allowed?" he muttered.
She gave him a faintly pitying look. "I'm Amber Sweet," she announced proudly, if a little too loudly; "I'm allowed to do whatever the hell I like."
"I just kinda…y'know…feel bad for the staff," he mumbled, aware that this probably broke some kind of taboo of filthy rich etiquette.
She frowned at him in amused incomprehension and laughed. "You're weird."
"Decaf?" came the voice of a man offering coffee. They both jumped, listening automatically for the string of invectives that would follow such a query at home, then caught each other doing it and laughed.
"Damn," he sighed, "it's good to get away."
"Hell. Yeah."
~O~
"So…any news from home yet?" Graverobber asked with an audible wince in his voice, genuinely concerned for the safety of the planet with his (shudder!) brothers-in-law left in charge. It was some minutes later, having just ordered breakfast and heartily mocked one another's choices.
"Just watch this space." Amber tapped her phone wryly, rolling her eyes.
"I suppose that at least means they haven't destroyed too much yet," he sighed.
"Graves, baby," she pouted in the very soft, oh-so-patient voice usually reserved for Pavi and which filled him with terror, "we've talked about how you talk about my brothers, haven't we, dear?"
He gave an exaggerated gulp and looked down at the table. "Yes miss, sorry miss."
She glared at him for a moment, unsure if he was being contrite or taking the piss, decided (correctly) that it was a little of both, and broke into a laugh to see the mischievous glitter in her husband's eyes.
"Of course," she said, accepting the arrival of breakfast without acknowledging the waiter in the slightest, "Luigi did call me with abandonment issues before we'd been gone half an hour. I'm just surprised that that's the last we've heard - sweetie use cutlery at least!"
"Sorry!" Graverobber looked up guiltily and shrugged. "What did you say to him?"
"I told him to get the f*** over it, of course I still love him and blah blah blah - y'know, the usual."
"Huh" Graverobber grunted. He was usually more than pretty forgiving of people; Luigi Largo was the exception. "I don't see why you put up with him at all, complete and utter -"
"Graverobber!"
"But he is a -"
"Graverobber!"
"- and a complete and total one," he muttered. "So, um, what's the plan?"
"Plan is we go the colosseum, doofus, it *is our first day in Rome."
"I read there were some great catacombs just outside the city…"
"Pfft," she snorted. "Like you'd be trusted within a mile of them, GraveRobber." She pronounced the words with smiling, mocking emphasis.
"Huh," he sulked, "you won't be complaining when you're full of the nice shiny Zydrate."
"Today we do the Coloseum" said Amber patiently; "*tomorrow we can go see your smelly old catacombs. Deal?"
Whether to capitulate or to argue a thing out for half an hour until Amber got her own way anyway was fast becoming the most frequently made decision in Graverobber's life.
"Deal," he sighed.
"I have to go get changed," she said.
"You're dressed!"
"I have to go get changed," she repeated, this time in her Doing A Favour To A Slow And Stupid Child tone of voice. "I've already worn this now." Then she grinned and licked her lips. "Wanna come help me?"
"Amber my love," he replied as nonchalently as possible, picking up a newspaper casually to hide how tempted he was by her offer, "tempting though that scenario sounds it is not one that will lead to either of us leaving the hotel any time today and you know it."
He grinned and leaned back with the paper, putting his feet up on the painfully valuable table as she smiled tolerantly and kissed her finger sweetly to his lips.
"I'll wait," he called as she departed, and he blew an elaborate kiss at her retreating back.
_x_