Marco Domici: Head of the Class
"Buy you a beer, soldier? Here, give us a kiss!" Marco's glass went flying as he was lifted up and spun around into an iron grip bear hug.
His muscles tensed to gain space as his right leg braced on the bench. His left knee went rocketing towards a muscular stomach.
He stopped, and smiled. "Irene!"
As usual she was dressed in violent pastel and her hair was wildly free and now almost reached the back of her knees. She had grabbed Marco tight, knowing what he would do and hoping he recognized her before they beat the crap out of each other.
Marco smiled as his muscles relaxed and he rested his hands on her welcoming hips. "Your eyes were always entrancing." He said quietly, reacting to her powerful hug and the close proximity of her well proportioned lips.
Irene held Marco tight and just looked at him for a moment. She felt his hands rest on her hips as he hugged her even closer. Her eyes closed for a moment and she didn't see him start to lean forward.
"You gonna introduce us, 'Rene?" A loud male voice said from behind her.
"Oh...yeah...uh...yeah, dad." Her golden skin glowed bronze. "Marco, this is my dad. Dad, Marco Domici. We bunked together...err...served together last year."
Marco squeezed his way out of Irene's entanglement and shook hands. "Mr. Pace, good to meet you."
"You too, Marco. 'Rene has talked about you a lot." He raised an eye at his daughter. "Though somehow she missed that part about bunking together."
Irene studied the spilled drink on the floor and bit her lower lip almost to blood.
"Marine term, sir." Marco stepped into the man's visual line of fire to protect his friend. "We are often in cramped ship's quarters and room assignments are fairly random. We shared the same bunk but never at the same time, due to shifts. I'm sure you know how it is."
Actually, Marco wasn't sure at all. His hand still hurt from Pace's unconsciously strong grip. His ribs were bruised. Part of him could think of several verbal accidents to embarrass Irene even more but another part of him wanted little but to be crushed again.
"Did she tell you the story about breaking my wrist?"
"She what? Not surprised, really. Kinda clumsy if you ask me."
"Oh no, sir! Irene was known as the person to practice with if you really wanted to get good. I asked for it, of course." He caught her thankful glance. "You know what, though? She was also the one who carried two critically wounded men back to safety under heavy fire. Let me tell you that story while I get us a round."
The men wandered off to the bar and Irene sat at Marco's table after the 'bot cleaned up the mess. Marco talked a lot sometimes but by the time he returned with her dad there was a happy smile on the older man's face.
"Yep, that's my 'Rene. Always doing the right thing and not looking for advantage in it. Well, I need to head back home. 'Rene has some news to share with you and I just wanted to let you know how much it means to me."
Marco felt ribs displace as the older man hugged him. "Thank you, Marco. This means a lot to me."
Marco slumped into the table and worked to breathe. "Don't you people just wave? I think I'm going to have to get my spleen put back in place."
"Yeah, dad gets a little strong when he gets emotional."
"Glad he didn't 'get emotional' about your bunking comment. Not sure I could have survived that one."
"Me neither. He still thinks of me as his little girl. Well, the clumsy middle child girl who kept playing in the mud and rain."
Marco slid the second glass over to Irene. "Drink up and tell me the news. What's your dad so emotional about?"
She licked her lips and brought out a pocket vid. "It's me."
"Pointless comment. How many golden toned black haired beauties go walking around in blue gowns. What am I.." Marco had been watching the video and saw the image of her taking a roll of paper.
"You did it!" He smiled from ear to ear. "Congratulations!"
Irene bit her lip and nodded. "Thanks to you!" She reached out and squeezed his hands. Marco winced. "Oh, sorry." Her hands stayed in place.
