nextgenerationmarvel | Still With the Long Overdue Things...

Current Mood: hopeful

Entry tags:

Still With the Long Overdue Things...

Things post-wedding had been going well. Husband and wife had no left the mansion for a few days after the wedding. By the time they were willing to visit around São Paulo, Marcelo kept their days busy. But not so busy their nights at home weren't busy either.

After sending off information to Brooke about the Symkarian group to hire as security for the New York reception, Marcelo went looking for his casual, not extremely well-tailored clothing. He needed to take Stephanie to visit his aunt. While she had been briefly at the Brazilian wedding reception to congratulate the couple, he knew she expected a visit.

The chauffeur would arrive soon to drive them to outside of the favela his aunt lived in. They would have to walk in to the slum. A standard precaution Marcelo had taken.

Now, he just needed to find his pants...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Stephanie nodded crispy and got herself back into proper position to continue working.

She was a little curious about how often this happened, and how Emanuela would have handled it without Marcelo around, but she had the feeling this wasn't the time.

She couldn't help but look out to where Marcelo was going, though. Maybe she was a little worried. Most likely, it was just instinct.

They'd both been through so much worse.

Emanuela crouched down and began adjusting the dress and pinning it to fit Stephanie perfectly. She glanced up at her living dress form.

"He'll be fine. Even if Beto has read American tabloids and thinks he can take Tchelo."

"I know. But he's my husband." Stephanie actually smiled a little bit. "I'm allowed to worry. We've been through a lot lately."

The attack on Veridian was well-known news, even if a lot of the rest of it wasn't. "It's a lot easier to go rushing into danger than to have someone you care about do it." Especially when she was bulletproof and he wasn't.

But even if he had been invulnerable, she'd still worry about things.

"You're going to have a lot of worry then. Tchelo rushes in to help a lot. Always like he has to prove himself." She finished pinning and stood up with a slight creak. She gave a small wince before stepping back to eye her handiwork.

"Slowly turn."

"He does. I wish he wouldn't feel like he had to quite so much sometimes, but ... then again, I also admire that drive." Stephanie replied honestly. She frowned slightly when she saw Emanuela wince.

"Are you all right?" She did as she was told, though, turning around slowly.

"It was a drive that instilled that in him. And now..." She trailed off as she put a critical eye on her handiwork.

"I'm old and have worked hard most of my years. It's nothing." She nodded to herself. She stepped over to help lift the dress off Stephanie.

"If you're willing to wait, you can take it with you."

"I can wait. Most certainly for a dress so beautiful." Stephanie replied with a smile. She wondered, vaguely, if she'd feel the same when she was older too.

"And now?" Stephanie picked up on the trailing off.

She nodded and moved over to an old sew machine. It still worked like it was new. She slowly settled into the small chair in front of it. There were some parts with hand stitching, but she could do a majority of the work at her century old Singer.

"And now, he's a man from a very masculine culture and rich society who has to learn to play second. And learn new ways to think. We get the 'news' from America. The pictures of you carrying him like a baby from his business was splashed on front pages here. While I am thankful for you saving his life, I worry about him. He has his pride if he's anything like me."

The sewing machine started to hum and fabric moved under her deft hands.

Stephanie nodded. "I know. He's never had an easy time dealing with my ..." There was no point in beating around the bush, she was sure she knew or suspected. "My being a mutant. He's as strong and fast as a man could reasonably expect to be." But she was stronger than that- how much stronger? Five? Ten times? And faster. And vastly more resistant to harm.

"He's got so much to be proud of. He's accomplished so much in his life, and he'll go so much further." Stephanie sighed slightly. "He has strength in so many ways more important than muscles. I wish he would see that sometimes."

Emanuela chuckled softly. "He's a man. He's doesn't see those markers. He sees the ones he's had all his life. And getting him to talk about it is a major feat."

She loved her nephew dearly. Even if he was a rich, privileged man who had less struggles to live than Emanuela's next door neighbor.

"Tell me about it." Stephanie smirked faintly. "Though I can kind of identify. I'm not entirely unlike that myself sometimes."

Marcelo was extremely privileged in many ways, just as she was. But they'd both found themselves in a lifestyle easily as dangerous as anyone in the favela. Though they could always face danger while dressed fashionably and with stomachs full of whatever fine dining they wanted.

It helped, it really did.

The sewing machine hummed along for a few moments. Her deft hands making quick work of what she needed done. Once the mechanized part was done, she began to hand stitch what was left.

"If you can identify, you should know how to show him his strengths. Strong mutant or not, he is protective of you." She paused. "I assume. Because he did not bring you to Brazil before now. Tabloids here liked ripping into his occasional girlfriends."

"Sometimes it's easy to do that." Stephanie didn't go into details, it wasn't really something she figured his aunt wanted in details. Needless to say, Marcelo's prowess in some areas could not be doubted.

"I've been in the American tabloids before. And I'm likely to be again. I'm not really hungry for fame, but when you have big plans, sometimes it happens anyway.

He is protective of me, and I am protective of him too." She laughed appreciatively.

"I'm amazed you don't have lines out through the end of the neighborhood to commission dresses like this."

"If you have big plans, you might now want the bad publicity and intense scrutiny. You did 'snatch one of Brazil's favored sons.' Or so newspapers said the day after your wedding." She finished up the dress. She slowly got up from her sewing table to grab a pristine white paper bag among a bunch of wrinkled brown ones.

"I sometimes do at the rich woman's shop. Here, I work with more common material. Sometimes, I don't get money. Bartered things or services." She carefully folded the dress and slipped it into the bag.

Stephanie realized somewhat belatedly that she hadn't actually put her jeans back on. It was easy enough to solve that problem, however. It wouldn't do to be walking the streets of a favela or anywhere else in her underwear.

"I imagine people often have problems accessing money. The homeless shelter that I help maintain, there's some people who insist on paying back for assistance, though they have no money. With time, with services.

Money is a useful thing, but it's hardly the only thing of value in the world."

Her eyebrow momentarily quirked at Stephanie mentioning she ran a homeless center. Then her face was back to calm. She held out the white bag to her newest family member.

"Here. Congratulations on marrying Tchelo. Please keep him happy and grounded." His aunt may have noticed how her nephew had changed in America. She might have even approved of it a little.

She glanced at the door. "He's obviously a good deterrent for angry, abusive husbands."

"Thank you. I will do everything I can to do so. He does the same for me." She smiled slightly. "... he really is."

"Thank you again for the dress." Stephanie said sincerely as she went towards the door. "I'll have to visit when next we're in Brazil."

"You're welcome. I couldn't think of a better way to say welcome to the family." She followed Stephanie toward the door. Before Stephanie left, she reached to hug the young woman.

"I expect a visit. Before the first child at least."

"I'll see you soon, then." Stephanie hugged the older woman, just a touch carefully, lest she accidentally squeeze the breath out of her.

With goodbyes out of the way, she headed over to her husband, whom she greeted with a kiss. "I'm pretty sure she doesn't hate me." She smiled.

Marcelo had been standing across the alley with his arms crossed in front of his chest. His t-shirt was a bit tighter with how he puffed himself out to look more intimidating. When the door opened he pushed away from the wall.

He relaxed and grinned when his wife came over to greet him. "As she didn't attack you with a sewing machine, I'd say so, too. Also, she didn't give you a burlap sack for a dress. Give me a second, querida."

He went over to hug his aunt tightly and kiss her cheeks. He promised to return to Brazil more frequently for visits. Before he stepped back out of the doorway, he made sure she didn't need his muscle to keep Beto from coming by later. His aunt assured him she had been dealing with irate husbands since she was a young girl.

"Well, today went well." He came back to Stephanie and put his arm around her. "I apparently look intimidating enough to scare men a full block away."

"My big scary, sexy husband." Stephanie concurred with a grin, leaning against him.

"I think your aunt approves. Though apparently you didn't tell her about the shelter. And probably all manner of other things." She poked him gently.

"If they find me sexy, I don't want to know." He chuckled before kissing Stephanie's cheek.

He blinked and thought about it. "Well, I did do an info dump. I might have glossed over a few things. I promise she doesn't know your vocabulary during sex."

He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Still With the Long Overdue Things...

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject