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escritoireazulI wrote this treat for my assigned author immediately after I wrote what fulfilled my assignment. I told you I really wanted to write Roswell fic! I didn't intend for the two to go together, but they do. My guess is that back in the day, people wrote lots of fic using Majandra Delfino's songs as the epigraph, but I couldn't resist.
Title: Meant to Be (We Are Who We Are)
Author: escritoireazul
Characters/Pairings: Maria DeLuca and Liz Park (Maria DeLuca/Isabel Evans/Max Evans/Michael Guerin/Liz Parker/Kyle Valenti)
Rating: 13+
Word count: 700+
Written for: Eternal Scribe for Trick or Treat 2015
Read at AO3
Summary: Maria’s face sparkles under the dinky stage lights, the glitter on her cheeks and eyelids reflecting pink and blue and green and red. The crowd knows her. Welcomes her. They wait, watch, and when their voices finally fall silent, she opens her mouth, and she sings.
Draw the shade, and come to bed
and when we fall away from it all,
then you'll see who we're meant to be
"Who We're Meant to Be" Majandra Delfino
Maria’s face sparkles under the dinky stage lights, the glitter on her cheeks and eyelids reflecting pink and blue and green and red. She angles her shoulders toward the crowd, twists the microphone between her fingers, shoots Liz – working behind the bar – a little grin.
The crowd knows her. Welcomes her. They wait, watch, and when their voices finally fall silent, she opens her mouth, and she sings.
Some nights, she’s all fire and throaty voice, her energy rolling through the crowd until people laugh and buy each other drinks and shove chairs and tables out of the way to make an impromptu dance floor. Some nights, Maria caresses the mic, slips the rhythm through her body, and breathes out music like steam heat through the room. Lust follows after, until people’s hands meet, lips and teeth, bodies tight and close.
Maria is human, only, still. She holds them with her voice and her energy and her smile, nothing alien about her except how – who – she loves.
She never sings for long, half an hour, forty minutes at most. No matter how hard people cheer, beg her for more, she laughs and blows kisses as she makes her way back to the bar. Liz hands her a glass of water, extra ice, and she gulps it down. She can feel sweat gathered at her throat, the small of her back, underneath her breasts.
“I saw three people fall in love,” Liz says, and the corner of her mouth quirks.
Maria rests her hand on Liz’s shoulder, the edge of her little finger pressing against the two small moles on the side of Liz’s throat. “Only three?” she teases. “I’m losing my touch.”
“Some people would think three was more than enough.” Liz leans into her, and Maria can’t temper her smile.
She likes this bar, their regulars, that she gets to sing almost every night. She likes that Liz spends her days reading about scientific breakthroughs, shares the most interesting – for definitions of interesting, at least – with them over meals. Maria takes singing lessons, makes jewelry with Isabel, works with her best friend. She likes this life they’ve carved out for their family.
Sometimes there’s this jolt of sadness that hits her at the strangest times, like when Michael is grinning at her in the car he rebuilt to be twice as loud and three times as fast, or when Liz is so excited about something sciency that she can’t get the words out fast enough, or when Kyle makes her favorite dinner – she likes this life, and she loves them, but she wonders what they might have been.
Liz would be working on her master’s degree by now, maybe running a lab. Genius that she is, it should be her name on those scientific breakthroughs. She should be talking about chemical properties with people who actually care.
Except maybe not. Liz turned her attention to the stars years ago, and who better than aliens to help her find answers there? Max reads as much as she does, keeps his questions sharp, and Isabel is pretty much a genius too, under that ice queen fashionista she – sometimes – still shows the world. Michael wants answers just as much as the rest of them. He might not care about school, but astronomy is more than that now, to him, to all of them.
Liz and Kyle keep changing, more alien than human at times, and there's no map to guide them through this transition. What Liz discovers means a lot to each and every one of them. Maria may not have alien power flowing through her, but she loves them, each of them, all of them, and that makes everything Liz discovers important to her, too.
They miss their families, everyone but Michael left parents behind, of course they do, but this is a family, too, all of them together, Team Aliens vs the World. Maria's never once regretted that decision, no matter how else she might feel.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Liz says, squeezing Maria into a hug. They have to let go fast when a group rushes the bar, lots of laughter and sparkling dresses and high heels. Some sort of celebration.
Maria kisses Liz’s cheek, leaving her own glitter behind, a constellation of love, and then gets back to work. She'll mix some drinks, flirt and smile, listen when people need to complain ... she likes this job. She likes this life.
They'll move on soon, but the things she takes with her -- who she is, and who she loves -- means she'll never be alone.
Title: Meant to Be (We Are Who We Are)
Author: escritoireazul
Characters/Pairings: Maria DeLuca and Liz Park (Maria DeLuca/Isabel Evans/Max Evans/Michael Guerin/Liz Parker/Kyle Valenti)
Rating: 13+
Word count: 700+
Written for: Eternal Scribe for Trick or Treat 2015
Read at AO3
Summary: Maria’s face sparkles under the dinky stage lights, the glitter on her cheeks and eyelids reflecting pink and blue and green and red. The crowd knows her. Welcomes her. They wait, watch, and when their voices finally fall silent, she opens her mouth, and she sings.
Draw the shade, and come to bed
and when we fall away from it all,
then you'll see who we're meant to be
"Who We're Meant to Be" Majandra Delfino
Maria’s face sparkles under the dinky stage lights, the glitter on her cheeks and eyelids reflecting pink and blue and green and red. She angles her shoulders toward the crowd, twists the microphone between her fingers, shoots Liz – working behind the bar – a little grin.
The crowd knows her. Welcomes her. They wait, watch, and when their voices finally fall silent, she opens her mouth, and she sings.
Some nights, she’s all fire and throaty voice, her energy rolling through the crowd until people laugh and buy each other drinks and shove chairs and tables out of the way to make an impromptu dance floor. Some nights, Maria caresses the mic, slips the rhythm through her body, and breathes out music like steam heat through the room. Lust follows after, until people’s hands meet, lips and teeth, bodies tight and close.
Maria is human, only, still. She holds them with her voice and her energy and her smile, nothing alien about her except how – who – she loves.
She never sings for long, half an hour, forty minutes at most. No matter how hard people cheer, beg her for more, she laughs and blows kisses as she makes her way back to the bar. Liz hands her a glass of water, extra ice, and she gulps it down. She can feel sweat gathered at her throat, the small of her back, underneath her breasts.
“I saw three people fall in love,” Liz says, and the corner of her mouth quirks.
Maria rests her hand on Liz’s shoulder, the edge of her little finger pressing against the two small moles on the side of Liz’s throat. “Only three?” she teases. “I’m losing my touch.”
“Some people would think three was more than enough.” Liz leans into her, and Maria can’t temper her smile.
She likes this bar, their regulars, that she gets to sing almost every night. She likes that Liz spends her days reading about scientific breakthroughs, shares the most interesting – for definitions of interesting, at least – with them over meals. Maria takes singing lessons, makes jewelry with Isabel, works with her best friend. She likes this life they’ve carved out for their family.
Sometimes there’s this jolt of sadness that hits her at the strangest times, like when Michael is grinning at her in the car he rebuilt to be twice as loud and three times as fast, or when Liz is so excited about something sciency that she can’t get the words out fast enough, or when Kyle makes her favorite dinner – she likes this life, and she loves them, but she wonders what they might have been.
Liz would be working on her master’s degree by now, maybe running a lab. Genius that she is, it should be her name on those scientific breakthroughs. She should be talking about chemical properties with people who actually care.
Except maybe not. Liz turned her attention to the stars years ago, and who better than aliens to help her find answers there? Max reads as much as she does, keeps his questions sharp, and Isabel is pretty much a genius too, under that ice queen fashionista she – sometimes – still shows the world. Michael wants answers just as much as the rest of them. He might not care about school, but astronomy is more than that now, to him, to all of them.
Liz and Kyle keep changing, more alien than human at times, and there's no map to guide them through this transition. What Liz discovers means a lot to each and every one of them. Maria may not have alien power flowing through her, but she loves them, each of them, all of them, and that makes everything Liz discovers important to her, too.
They miss their families, everyone but Michael left parents behind, of course they do, but this is a family, too, all of them together, Team Aliens vs the World. Maria's never once regretted that decision, no matter how else she might feel.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Liz says, squeezing Maria into a hug. They have to let go fast when a group rushes the bar, lots of laughter and sparkling dresses and high heels. Some sort of celebration.
Maria kisses Liz’s cheek, leaving her own glitter behind, a constellation of love, and then gets back to work. She'll mix some drinks, flirt and smile, listen when people need to complain ... she likes this job. She likes this life.
They'll move on soon, but the things she takes with her -- who she is, and who she loves -- means she'll never be alone.
