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osakaso5 · 4 years

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IDOLiSH7 End Of Year Story 2019: Friends Meet!

Part 2: A Memorable Day

Part 1

Torao Mido: ...It's gonna fall...

Toma Inumaru: Just hold the apple in your hand already. You can always wash your hands afterwards.

Torao Mido: That's unsanitary.

Minami Natsume: I've brought wet wipes.

Haruka Isumi: You've got everything on you, Minami.

Torao Mido: I guess I'll eat it with my hands after I've wiped them...

Riku Nanase: Ah, that guy's eating a candy apple with his hands!

Iori Izumi: Nanase-san, don't point at people!

Toma Inumaru: ...Hmm?

Toma Inumaru: Riku! It's you!

Riku Nanase: Toma-san! It's Toma-san! Wow! And the rest of ŹOOĻ, too!

Haruka Isumi: S-stop yelling.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Oh. We thought it was local hooligans, but it's just Isumin!

Haruka Isumi: You guys are here, too? Ah, takoyaki.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Looks good, right? Want some?

Haruka Isumi: Yeah.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Happy New Year. We owe you a great deal for the events in Northmare and Black or White.

Toma Inumaru: Ah, Ms. Manager... Uh, right back at you...

Toma Inumaru: ...This year, we'll beat IDOLiSH7 fair and square. We'll be waiting for you guys.

Tsumugi Takanashi: Yes!

Torao Mido: Come to think of it, didn't you fall in love with me?

Riku Nanase: Huh!?

Tamaki Yotsuba: Seriously!?

Iori Izumi: You did!?

Tsumugi Takanashi: Huh? What?

Torao Mido: Ah, my mistake. I thought you might've fallen for me. Oh well, it doesn't make a difference.

Mitsuki Izumi: Yeah, it does!

Toma Inumaru: Sorry about him! This guy's got crazy luck with the ladies, so he probably misunderstood something because of that.

Yamato Nikaido: I can't tell if you're apologizing or bragging.

Minami Natsume: Mido-san. If you get too caught up in your preconceptions, you'll get burned.

Torao Mido: I could say the same to you.

Minami Natsume: Why?

Torao Mido: Because you were comparing me to Haruki Sakura. He's the real "cheater who doesn't understand the inner workings for the heart", right?

Minami Natsume: ........

Nagi Rokuya: Good evening. It has been a while.

Minami Natsume: Ah... Good evening.

Nagi Rokuya: Since you may not know this, I should let you know that you should not pass through a torii.

Minami Natsume: Rokuya-san, I'm Japanese, and mourning traditions vary from region to region, so you probably shouldn't look so proud of yourself.

Nagi Rokuya: .......?

Minami Natsume: "Happy New Year". That's also something we should avoid saying, depending on where we are.

Nagi Rokuya: Haruki would not mind. He loved the New Year, as well as other celebrations.

Minami Natsume: Fufu... That's true... I'm sure he must be celebrating the New Year in Heaven as we speak.

Minami Natsume: I'll miss him, but at least now I have more people to celebrate the New Year with.

Minami Natsume: <Happy New Year.>

Nagi Rokuya: <Happy New Year.>

Torao Mido: Sogo, what's that? A banana?

Sogo Osaka: It's a frankfurter.

Torao Mido: Looked like a banana to me. This is an apple.

Sogo Osaka: So it would appear. What happened to the chopsticks?

Torao Mido: They got in the way, so I tossed them.

Sogo Osaka: We were just in need of chopsticks. I guess supply and demand always varies from place to place.

Torao Mido: It's the New Year, and you're already talking economics...

Riku Nanase: Ah... I got a message from Tenn-nii.

Toma Inumaru: "Tenn-nii"? You mean Tenn Kujo?

Riku Nanase: Yes. We were together until a moment ago.

Toma Inumaru: Seriously?

Riku Nanase: Apparently he bumped into Re:vale by chance.

Toma Inumaru: Seriously!?

Riku Nanase: He's asking if Re:vale can come here with them.

Iori Izumi: I suppose it's alright, but... Won't we stand out?

Toma Inumaru: In that case, we'll get going. You guys had plans together, right?

Mitsuki Izumi: Nah, it's fine. You guys can take off if someone recognizes us.

Haruka Isumi: TRIGGER and Re:vale are coming over here..?

Minami Natsume: What a coincidence... Ah...

Torao Mido: What is it?

Minami Natsume: This is a sacred tree. Maybe it brought us all together.

Mitsuki Izumi: It's huge. I bet it looks pretty in the spring when the cherry blossoms are blooming.

Gaku Yaotome: Hey, guys!

Kaoru Anesagi: You're too loud!

Rinto Okazaki: Your daruma doll stands out as well, Anesagi-san...

Momo: Look, look! This is amazing! Ah..! Is that...

Yuki: It's ŹOOĻ.

Toma Inumaru: Happy New Year. Uh... I look forward to working with you in the coming year.

Yuki: No way. We didn't come prepared because we didn't expect ŹOOĻ to be here, too.

Toma Inumaru: Huh?

Momo: Then why don't we focus on the minors of the group and have Yamato and Mitsuki go without one this time?

Tamaki Yotsuba: Ah! Is it...

Riku Nanase: New Year's money!!!

Yuki: Here. Happy New Year.

Riku Nanase: Thank you, Re:vale!

Iori Izumi: I told you, you're too loud... Thank you, Momo-san and Yuki-san.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Thanks! I love you, Momorin and Yukirin!

Nagi Rokuya: Thanks! OH! A New Year's gift with a pretty mascot!

Momo: And here's to Minami and Haruka.

Haruka Isumi: ........ Weren't these supposed to go to guys from IDOLiSH7?

Yamato Nikaido: It's fine. You'll just have to buy us food sometime.

Mitsuki Izumi: Take it! Think of it as a gift from us, too!

Haruka Isumi: ...Thank you.

Momo: Work hard again this year. Here, Minami.

Minami Natsume: Thank you. This is all very considerate of you...

Re:vale: You're welcome.

Mitsuki Izumi: Oh yeah. Momo-san what did you want us to look at? Did you bring something cool?

Momo: It's not me, it's Tenn!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Show them your fortune, Tenn!

Tenn Kujo: Excellent luck.

Riku Nanase: That's amazing, Tenn-nii..!!!

Nagi Rokuya: OH! Special luck!

Tenn Kujo: Fufu. Did you draw a fortune, Riku?

Riku Nanase: Not yet. We'll do it later!

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: He said he'd make sure to get 'excellent luck', and then he really did.

Gaku Yaotome: That's what's so amazing about this guy. He always keeps his promise. And he even gets the gods to help him do that.

Yamato Nikaido: What about you?

Gaku Yaotome: I got 'small luck'. Not bad, huh?

Tamaki Yotsuba: I wanna draw fortunes, too!

Sogo Osaka: We should go visit the shrine and draw fortunes after we're done eating.

Minami Natsume: Don't you want a fortune, Isumi-san?

Haruka Isumi: I'm good. If I get a bad one, it'll just make me depressed...

Haruka Isumi: And I got New Year's money, that's enough for me.

Woman: Hey, are those people...

Woman: It can't be... But...

Toma Inumaru: ...We'll get going. Seeya guys around.

Riku Nanase: Yes. We'll see you again soon. Let's go out to eat, if we can find the time.

Toma Inumaru: If we've got the time, yeah. You're just as busy as us. Take care of yourself.

Riku Nanase: Yes!

Gaku Yaotome: Seeya. Take care.

Yuki: It's getting cold... Should we get a move on, too?

Tamaki Yotsuba: We haven't gotten fortunes yet. And we gotta go make offerings.

Yamato Nikaido: But Kujo already got an 'excellent luck'.

Tenn Kujo: All that luck is for TRIGGER.

Momo: I guess we'll wait in the car, then. Let us know when you're done.

Mitsuki Izumi: Seriously? Would you like some takoyaki? You can eat it in the car.

Momo: You sure?

Mitsuki Izumi: Of course! I'm gonna look around some more! Nagi's been waiting for this, too!

Nagi Rokuya: I want to eat chocolate bananas and okonomiyaki!

Gaku Yaotome: We should go find something to eat, too. What're you guys in the mood for?

Tenn Kujo: Bell castellas.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Fried squid!

Yamato Nikaido: Fried squid sounds good. Can you guys buy me some, too?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Of course! Can you buy us chocolate bananas, too?

Man: Is that...

Man: Seriously? Should we take a picture? Where's my camera...

Banri Ogami: I think it's about time we separated... I'll discuss the place we'll go afterwards with Momo-kun.

Nagi Rokuya: OH! A New Year's party! I want to go to the Cocona collaboration café! Yaotome-shi promised me!

Gaku Yaotome: Oh, right! I don't think we can manage tonight, but let's make sure to go sometime this year!

Riku Nanase: Ahaha! Then let's go with all 16 of us! Do you think Toma-san and the others will come if we invite them?

Sogo Osaka: I think they will. A collaboration café will attract less attention, so we might actually go completely unnoticed.

Tenn Kujo: I doubt Cocona-chan will expect a visit from 16 idols, either.

Yamato Nikaido: Got it. We'll have the normal New Year's party tonight. Let's split into groups for now. One to visit the shrine, and the other to buy things.

Tamaki Yotsuba: I wanna ring the bell! And I've got money for the offering!

Riku Nanase: Ah, those coins are brand new!

Tamaki Yotsuba: Yep. I bet it'll get the gods to answer my prayers real good!

Yamato Nikaido: Alright. Mitsu and Nagi, we're going to the stalls.

Sogo Osaka: Tamaki-kun and Riku-kun want to visit the shrine. Will you come too, Iori-kun?

Iori Izumi: I'm sure it'll be hard for you to look after both of them, so I'll join you.

Mitsuki Izumi: Okay, see you guys later!

Gaku Yaotome: Yeah. Later!

- - - -

Tamaki Yotsuba: I wonder if I'll get 'excellent luck'. Tenten's so awesome!

Riku Nanase: TRIGGER's going to join us later too, right?

Iori Izumi: Probably... I don't know if they have other plans.

Riku Nanase: We should've invited Toma-san and the others, too. I feel like I've been hearing it more lately.

Iori Izumi: Hearing what?

Riku Nanase: Things like "see you later".

Tamaki Yotsuba: Yeah, I know what you mean.

Sogo Osaka: We've all been busy. It's nice that we get to spend time together after so long. We've still got a lot to do...

Tamaki Yotsuba: Not on the New Year's. We can take it easy.

Sogo Osaka: Right.

Iori Izumi: I'm sure we'll be busy this year, as well. We'll have to take any chance to rest that we can.

Riku Nanase: Want some cotton candy?

Iori Izumi: Don't try to change the subject when you're the one who brought it up.

Riku Nanase: It tastes good. Come on.

Iori Izumi: Wait. Let me take my gloves off...

Tamaki Yotsuba: I'll feed you. Open your mouth.

Iori Izumi: You touched a tree branch earlier, Yotsuba-san.

Tamaki Yotsuba: So what? It's not gonna kill you.

Iori Izumi: Say something, Osaka-san.

Sogo Osaka: I've gotten pretty used to Tamaki-kun's hygiene habits.

Iori Izumi: What..?

Sogo Osaka: So I've begun to take more of an "it won't kill you" attitude.

Sogo Osaka: I still won't eat anything off the ground, of course, but no matter how I worry and watch out, my stomach problems have never been caused by the things I eat.

Tamaki Yotsuba: Don't bring up my trauma...

Sogo Osaka: You're still worried about that? I told you, it wasn't your fault.

Tamaki Yotsuba: You say that, but...

Sogo Osaka: It's not your fault. I'm healthy now, thanks to you.

Iori Izumi: People really do change.

Riku Nanase: You've changed too, Iori. Here, I'll hold your gloves. Eat up.

Iori Izumi: Ah, thank you... I've changed? How, exactly?

Riku Nanase: Hmm... You used to be like konpeito.

Iori Izumi: Konpeito?

Riku Nanase: Now you're more soft, like cotton candy.

Iori Izumi: .........

Riku Nanase: But you can't be eaten unless we take our gloves off. It's funny.

- - - -

Toma Inumaru: I didn't think we'd run into those guys at a place like that. This year feels like it's gonna be really amazing.

Haruka Isumi: Last year was, too. Ah... They're selling kids' toys on the street.

Minami Natsume: Do you want something, Isumi-san?

Haruka Isumi: As if I'd want kids' toys. ...I was just thinking about a certain someone who liked playsets.

Toma Inumaru: ........

Minami Natsume: I doubt we'll be able to see him until things calm down... Though we might not see him even after that.

Minami Natsume: It feels like he's completely cut us off. Almost like he's trying to protect our name...

Haruka Isumi: ........ He came to listen to us... During BorW.

Haruka Isumi: I dunno why, but it made me kinda happy... It was like he was supporting us for the first time...

Torao Mido: ...Hmph. Let's send him those toys. I'm sure he'll accept them, even if he won't see us.

Torao Mido: Toma. Wallet.

Toma Inumaru: Hey, your hands are all sticky. If you touch anything with those, won't it get dirty?

Torao Mido: We ate something difficult, so we might as well have some difficult stains on us, too. Both us and him.

Minami Natsume: ...I agree. Instead of purifying ourselves and facing the coming year with cleansed souls...

Minami Natsume: We're probably better suited for having some leftover stains.

Haruka Isumi: Yeah... I'm sure he'll frown at first, but then he'll accept the dirty playset with a smile.

Haruka Isumi: We've always wanted to have some marks on us, anyway.

- - - -

Mitsuki Izumi: Oh, over there! They're lined up all prettily!

Yamato Nikaido: Yeah, you're right.

Nagi Rokuya: How beautiful. It is a very Japanese spectacle.

Mitsuki Izumi: Get in front of them, I'll take a picture.

Yamato Nikaido: I'm good. I can take the picture for you guys.

Mitsuki Izumi: Yeah, right. Send this picture to your old man. I bet you haven't even wished him a happy New Year.

Yamato Nikaido: ...I did wish him a happy New Year. With a RabbitChat message.

Mitsuki Izumi: Haha, well done. What about you, Nagi? You could send a picture to your brother.

Nagi Rokuya: Nice idea. Let us all take the picture together, then. As a selfie!

Yamato Nikaido: A selfie?

Nagi Rokuya: Yes! I have long arms, so it is no trouble at all! C'mon, Yamato, Mitsuki!

Yamato Nikaido: ...Don't hug me so close!

Mitsuki Izumi: Ahaha! Make some room for me!

Nagi Rokuya: Here we go..!

Snap

Mitsuki Izumi: Show me. Ooh, it looks pretty good! Let's take another one with the guys later!

Yamato Nikaido: Sure. We can take another one before we leave.

Nagi Rokuya: I hope our manager, Banri, and TRIGGER will make it into the picture, as well!

Nagi Rokuya: I am happy to have so many new memories.

- - - -

Tenn Kujo: Ah...

Gaku Yaotome: What's up?

Tenn Kujo: There's a target range.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: You're right. Should we test our luck?

Gaku Yaotome: Okay, we're doing this. Let's agree that knocking over a prize is the same as getting an 'excellent luck' fortune.

Tenn Kujo: You must be really upset that you didn't get one.

Gaku Yaotome: Yeah, I was. I shouldn't have said that I didn't need one. I jinxed myself.

Gaku Yaotome: Now's not the time for me to get all soft just because our fans are supporting us. I'm supposed to be the leader here.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Gaku...

Gaku Yaotome: One round on the range, old man.

Man Running Target Range: Sure thing. ...Huh, have I seen you somewhere before..?

Gaku Yaotome: Ryu, what do you want?

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Um... Get me the DVD on the top shelf.

Gaku Yaotome: If I get that, we're gonna stand on stage in Zero Arena this year.

Man Running Target Range: On stage... So you guys really are TRIGGER!?

Gaku Yaotome: That's right. Pray for us.

Man Running Target Range: O-okay.

Tenn Kujo: Time to put your money where your mouth is, Gaku.

Gaku Yaotome: Leave it to me.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Do your best! I believe in you!

Gaku Yaotome: Yeah.

Gaku Yaotome: ...We'll drag our future to us if we have to.

Bang!

- - - -

Yuki: Did you find a good place?

Momo: Totally! The others will be here soon, too!

Yuki: They're so cute. This might be the first and last time we get to do a shrine visit with them. Next year will most likely be too busy.

Momo: Maybe... But we can always build our own shrine to deal with all the fuss.

Yuki: A Re:vale shrine?

Momo: Yep! Let's make that our goal this year!

Yuki: Sounds good. We should buy a plot of land.

Momo: Yeah, definitely!

Riku Nanase: Sorry to have kept you waiting!

Momo: Ah, they're here.

Ryunosuke Tsunashi: Look, Re:vale! This DVD is incredible!

Yuki: Uh, okay.

Momo: Is it X-rated or something?

Gaku Yaotome: No! I'll tell you all about my achievement later.

Nagi Rokuya: We have bought many chocolate bananas! They are so colorful!

Iori Izumi: Let me take a few of them, so they won't fall.

Mitsuki Izumi: How was your fortune, Tamaki?

Tamaki Yotsuba: I got 'small fortune'. I wanted 'excellent luck', but I got the same one as Rikkun, so it's fine!

Yamato Nikaido: Ooh, that's not bad. What about you, Sou?

Sogo Osaka: "Good fortune". It encouraged me to be fearless about my business ventures.

Yamato Nikaido: Good for you. I'm looking forward to your next song.

Tenn Kujo: We should get going. Here, Riku. A souvenir.

Riku Nanase: Wow, bell castellas! Thank you, Tenn-nii!

Tenn Kujo: You're welcome.

Riku Nanase: Oh, right! There's something I forgot to say to Re:vale and TRIGGER!

Yuki: What?

Gaku Yaotome: What is it?

Riku Nanase: Please continue to look after IDOLiSH7 this year!

The End.

#idolish7 #friends meet!#translation #i7 #trigger #re:vale #zool #other translations

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qqueenofhades · 5 years

Note

Ahem. As discussed, a prompt my good lady...Lucy and Flynn + fake married in Dubrovnik + the inevitable shenanigans...

Okay SO. On the plane over, there was something in the magazine about a website where tourists can go to Amsterdam and fake-marry a local for a day, so their new “spouse” can take them around the non-tourist parts of the city, and then they go their separate ways at dusk and it’s fun etc. I immediately decided that this needed a Garcy AU, for obvious reasons.

Lucy Preston wasn’t really planning on going to Croatia. In fact, she wasn’t exactly planning to go anywhere. But it’s been a rough few months to say the least – tenure meeting cancelled at Stanford, breaking up with Noah, Mom has to go back to the hospital for more tests and it isn’t looking good – and in a fit of late-night frustration, she decided to just fly somewhere over Thanksgiving break and forget about the clusterfuck that was her life for a bit. Somewhere warm, she wasn’t picky. She suggested that Amy go with her, but Amy had work and couldn’t get away, and by then, Lucy had already booked a ticket. She’s heard that Dubrovnik is beautiful, there is a university and a state archive there so she can theoretically disguise it as a research trip, and when she was running through the apparently deeply cursed Frankfurt airport to catch her connecting flight, a text popped up from Amy. Something that she thinks Lucy should try, just for shits and giggles. Some kind of app called Untourist.

Lucy took a look at it and decided that it was basically Tinder for tourists, even if the premise tried to be more classy than that. In short, you can pick a European city from the list (More Locations Coming Soon!, promises the popup), fill in some brief preference Q&As, and be matched with a local, who will fake-marry you in a ceremony complete with photos and then take you on a “honeymoon” for a day in the city. The idea is that you get to have a personal guide, explore places off the main drag – and presumably, if you hook up at the end, that’s a nice bonus, but not one that the app strictly advertises. It sees itself as promoting intercultural connections and lived experiences, rather than anything so ignominious as arranging casual sex with a hot foreigner. Apparently it got its start in Amsterdam, though, so this would not be surprising.

The split with Noah is still raw, and Lucy isn’t planning to use the app for that purpose – or indeed, at all. But after she has landed at the surprisingly tiny airport and has boarded the bus for the drive along the coast road to the city, she downloads it on a whim that she shouldn’t think through and decides it might be fun to have someone to travel with, even briefly. After she’s signed up, created a profile, and filled in her details, she is given two options to match with, and ends up going for the latter: Garcia from Dubrovnik. She thought about Marko from Zagreb, but his profile says that he’s a Dinamo Ultra, and she decided that she didn’t want to spend the day getting a crash course in the finer points of Croatian football hooliganism. Garcia it is, apparently.

Dubrovnik is insanely beautiful, with crystalline turquoise water lapping at towering medieval city walls (souvenir shops every few streets will proudly remind you that they filmed Game of Thrones here), palm trees, red-tiled roofs, old golden-stone buildings, winding side alleys, and sunlight that pours down as rich as olive oil. Since it’s November, it’s not quite as hot as in high summer, and the tourist rush is somewhat dimmed. Lucy sleeps late at her Airbnb high on a very steep side street, as the city is spread out over several hills on the side of the tall blue mountains that rise out of the water, and almost forgets that her fake wedding is today. She jumps out of bed, puts on some makeup (just because she’s not actually marrying the guy doesn’t mean she has to look completely trollish), grabs her bag, and heads down into town, following a winding alley of staircases that are probably going to be a pain to climb back up. She hopes this was a good idea. It was mostly to appease Amy, anyway. Can she cancel, or would that count as leaving Garcia at the (fake) altar?

What the hell, she’s here now, and maybe if she shows that she’s receptive to new experiences, the universe will give her a break. Lucy trots along the palm-treed square above the city walls, finds the door with the Untourist logo by the bell, and steps inside. “Dobro jutro,” she says, which is about all the Croatian she speaks, and most people have been happy to use English anyway. “I’m Lucy Preston, I have an appointment today?”

The slick Unreceptionist greets her, gives her a waiver to sign (bad experiences and/or unsatisfactory spouses are not their fault, any meeting beyond the day is done on personal terms, etc) and they await the arrival of her dashing groom-to-be. It is twelve minutes past their scheduled start time, and the Unreceptionist is making apologetic noises, when the door opens with a bit of a crash and a man who must be Garcia ducks in. He’s tall, dark, and craggy-handsome, probably in his forties, wearing aviator sunglasses, and clutching a takeaway coffee. He addresses the Unreceptionist in rapid Croatian, looks up, sees Lucy, and nods shortly. “Ah,” he says, switching to English. “Right, you’re here. Let’s go.”

“Sir,” the Unreceptionist says, looking as if he’s wondering if Garcia himself read the details and/or the release forms before signing up. “You’re supposed to…?”

“What?”

“You’re supposed to have the wedding ceremony first?”

“I’m supposed to have the what?”

At that, Lucy winces. Feeling as if this might be an opportune moment to interrupt the conversation, and wondering if it’s too late to switch to Marko from Zagreb and risk dying at an Eternal Derby game, she stands up. “Hi,” she says. “I’m Lucy Preston?”

“I know.” Garcia glances at her briefly, up and down, and then away. “What’s this about a wedding?”

“That’s the whole point of the app,” Lucy says pointedly. “Fake-married, take me to places that aren’t touristy, then at the end of the day, go our separate ways?”

Garcia looks briefly pole-axed, then seems to decide that right, well, this is on him for failing to read the terms and conditions. “Fine,” he says impatiently. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Lucy’s cheeks sting. Making a mental note to give him a zero of five stars on any feedback form that she might have to fill in to rate her experience today, she follows him into the back, where they are joined in a very non-legally-binding ceremony, have their photo taken (Garcia looks like this is a real funeral rather than a fake wedding) and finally are released into the wild, as Garcia (who is a good foot taller than her) strides ahead without waiting. When Lucy runs to catch up, he says, “Nobody told me there was a wedding involved.”

“Did you even read what they wanted?” Lucy’s tone is slightly waspish, but then, he isn’t exactly showering her in that supposedly famous Slavic hospitality. The sweet lady at the Airbnb was much nicer than this. “It was right there in the entire premise. If you don’t want to spend a day taking me around the city, fine, but maybe next time, try to actually – ”

“No,” Garcia says abruptly. “You’re here now. Let’s go.”

With that, he strides off toward the gate in the towering walls, down into the Stari Grad. Lucy thinks the view from up there must be spectacular, but she’s not actually going to get a chance to find out, because Garcia derides them as too touristy and refuses to pay 200 kuna to go up them. (This is something like $30, so it clearly is a lot, but the city sees no reason not to profit off all the Game of Thrones fans.) Nor does he think much of the main drag, the cathedral square, the rector’s palace, or any of the other usual sights. He says that Lucy can call him Flynn, but doesn’t explain why. She thinks it’s his last name, but honestly, she can’t be sure. He has the social skills of a broken-down dump truck.

Finally, since there isn’t much of Dubrovnik, at least the old town, that isn’t touristy, Lucy persuades Flynn to let them go up the walls, though by the face he makes at the cashier as he pays for their tickets, the poor man might be found floating face-down in the ocean later. They climb up to the winding ramparts, gazing out over the Adriatic to one side and the crowded, tiled roofs on the other, and on one steep section, Lucy loses her footing and nearly falls. She wouldn’t have gone over the edge, there are plenty of barriers, but Flynn flashes out a hand and steadies her. It’s the first remotely human or non-dickish thing he’s done, and she raises an eyebrow. “Thanks.”

Perhaps sensing by her acerbic tone that he has not been the world’s most satisfactory fake husband to date, Flynn has the grace to blush, or at least look somewhat chagrined. “I’d definitely get in trouble if you died.”

“Thanks,” Lucy says again, even more tartly. “Guess it’s a good thing for you that you have good reflexes?”

“I fought in the Homeland War.” Flynn glances away. It’s the first personal thing he’s shared about himself, in a casual, offhand way that makes it sound no more remarkable than getting milk from the store. “Come on, let’s keep moving.”

Lucy glances at him. He’s made it clear that he’s not here for the fake marriage, let alone small talk, but she paid a decent amount of money to be here with this tall idiot and he can just suffer it. “Are you from Dubrovnik?”

“I was born in Šibenik.” Flynn doesn’t break stride, obliging Lucy to trot to keep up with him. “Lived a few places around the country. It was Yugoslavia back then, though. War started in 1991.”

“I know,” Lucy says. “I mean, I’m a historian, so I was recently doing some work on 1989 and the U.S. response to the dissolution of the Iron Curtain. Technically, Yugoslavia wasn’t Soviet, right?”

“No,” Flynn says, with a sort of grim pride. “Tito and Stalin hated each other. It was…. sort of an in-between place, I suppose. We didn’t need exit visas, there was a certain amount of social freedom, and Tito liked to market it as neutral, a third country between East and West, combining the best of both and the worst of neither. Of course, he was a dictator, but supposedly a benevolent one. Most people liked him. My childhood was – ” He stops. “Well, my mother was American, anyway. Maybe that was what drew her here. Running away.”

Lucy glances up at him. She has a sense that Flynn doesn’t often talk much about his past, and decides that since they are, after all, only fake-married, she doesn’t need to pry. However, since the subject of his mother has arisen, she holds back as best she can, not wanting to dump the fraught subject of Carol Preston on a strange man who has only just met her and treated her one step above gum stuck to his shoe, but finally needs to talk about it with someone who isn’t Amy. She still isn’t sure Flynn gives a damn, but too bad for him. She mentions that it’s been hard, with the Stanford legacy and the cancer and the expectations that she would accept Noah’s proposal, and she just – well, she doesn’t know. Maybe Lucy understands a bit of Flynn’s mother, whoever she was, whyever she came here. Maybe she too was, or is, running away. Even if she has to fly all the way back to San Francisco at the end of this week, some part of her would be more than happy to fling all her responsibilities to the wind, move into some picturesque old flat in one of those tiny streets, and stay.

They descend the walls after completing their circuit, and Flynn deigns to buy her lunch at a small cafe where the menu is only in Croatian and a sign informs customers that they don’t take euros, only kuna. Lucy allows him to order something for her, and they sit there eating in semi-awkward silence. Then Flynn says, apropos of nothing, “Maria.”

“What?”

“My mother’s name.” He shrugs. “It was Maria Tompkins. She was from Houston. She moved to Yugoslavia in 1970, after the death of her first husband and son. She was traveling through Europe, I don’t know that she intended to stay here, but she met my father, so she did.”

“Oh.” Lucy wonders what it would have been like here in the seventies. Probably still beautiful, though much less developed. So Maria Tompkins fell in love, that was what made a young American woman go Red, a move that must have been regarded dimly by her friends and family back in Texas. With that sort of tragedy shadowing her past, maybe it was easier to cut all ties, to get a new passport, to learn a new language, and never look back. Lucy feels a sudden pang of sympathy with this other woman, this unknown fellow traveler, who too found herself in this corner of the world wanting to leave it all behind. Lucy has responsibilities at home, not least her job (even if they didn’t give her tenure, or at least it’s very much in academic bureaucracy limbo), her sister, her sick mother, all the encumbrances and trappings of real life. She can’t do what Maria did, no matter how much she wants to. And for some reason completely unknown to her – it certainly isn’t the pleasure of Flynn’s company – she does.

They finish lunch and head out. It’s warm enough for November that Flynn suggests they can go for a dip, though he gives her a no-clearly-not look when Lucy naively thinks this will be at Banje Beach, the main spot just south of the walls. He leads her up to the street, where they find his car and get in. It’s an Audi, and she wonders what exactly he does for a living. He has a habit of scanning their surroudings, casually flicking his gaze at passersby, in a way that she doesn’t think stems from his military service alone. In fact, she’s starting to wonder if he joined the Untourist app to case the city and/or scope out people without it being too suspicious. Maybe it’s better for everyone if she doesn’t ask about his job. He might have to suffocate her and bundle her up in a black plastic garbage bag in the boot.

Flynn, it transpires, drives like a bit of a maniac, a habit he shares with most of the other road users (especially the scooters and motorcycles). Lucy has already noticed that Croatians seem to have a rather laissez-faire attitude toward personal safety, as evidenced by their tendency to stand outside guardrails overlooking steep drops, walk the wrong way along busy highways, dart across roads in front of oncoming traffic, and jury-rig anything that isn’t actively falling apart. When she mentions this to Flynn, he shrugs. “Slavs are like that,” he says matter-of-factly. “Especially Croatians. Though if you think we’re bad, you should meet the Poles.”

Lucy laughs despite herself, since that’s the first time Flynn has loosened up to flash any bit of actual humor. Well, that’s not quite true; he is remarkably sassy, has a sarcastic comment for most occasions and especially anything involving a tourist making a fool of themselves, but this is the first time that his humor has seemed gentler, more like he’s actually enjoying himself and poking a bit of self-deprecating fun rather than lashing out at the world. They drive along the cliff road for several miles in silence, until Lucy asks, “When did you move to Dubrovnik?”

“About…” Flynn hesitates, and she senses that there’s more riding on the answer to that question than he wants to let on. “Well, I lived in Zagreb until 2014.”

“And you moved here after that?”

“More or less.” Flynn adjusts the rearview mirror, which doesn’t really need it. After a long pause he says, “My wife and daughter died in 2014. I came here for – well, I didn’t want to stay there anymore.”

“I’m….” Lucy feels taken aback, almost guilty that she’s been so derisive of his inability to read app terms and conditions, his clear aversion to the whole fake-married part. Not that they’ve really been acting like it, anyway, but still. She can imagine it wouldn’t be easy for her, if that ever happened, to stand up and play-act some stupid charade for an American tourist hiring you like a beast of burden, not when you’d had the real thing, not when it was gone. “Garcia,” she says, the first time she’s used that since he told her to call him Flynn. She has a sense that he prefers that, that Garcia is some place too personal where he doesn’t let people go, not any longer. “I’m sorry.”

He glances at her, and for a moment she thinks he’ll snap at her, but he doesn’t. He keeps his eyes on the road, navigating the tight turns with ease, until at last he says, “I’m sorry I haven’t been very much fun.”

Lucy opens her mouth by polite reflex to say that he has, and settles for a noncommital hum. Flynn seems to sense that while he might have worked his way up from zero stars, he’s still a way off from five, and parks the Audi in a pullout. They descend a narrow cliff path to the sea, he reaches out to catch her arm when her feet skid again on the pebbles, and Lucy decides she should probably warn him that she’s clumsy before she really does accidentally kill herself. But if she fell into the sea from here, she has an unaccountable sense that he’d dive in after her, no matter how odd and brusque and grumpy he is. It’s less clear whether this is because he’s starting to like her a little, or because it would be an insult to his professional competence. Maybe he’s in the Mafia.

They reach a small quay where a catamaran is tied up, Flynn strides to it and produces two life jackets, and once Lucy has climbed aboard, he swings on, undoes the ropes, and angles the sails out into the wide blue water, endless as a reflected sky. It must be a busy harbor in summer, and there’s still a decent boat traffic now: ferries, jet-skis, a few sailboats and pleasure yachts. Lucy holds on tight as Flynn carves an expert white wake. “Is this your boat, then?”

“No,” Flynn says. “But I borrow it from time to time.”

“Did you – ” Lucy gives him a very narrow stare. “Did you steal this boat?”

“No!” Flynn looks miffed that she would ask. “I know the owner, he lets me use it when I want to. What kind of man do you think I am?”

Lucy opens her mouth, starts to answer, and stops. Truth is, she isn’t sure. An hour ago she would have said a raging, self-absorbed dick with no social skills and possibly black-market employment, and parts of that are still true, but the rest, well… she can’t say exactly. He keeps letting slip these odd, vulnerable parts of him, almost in spite of himself. His past in the war, his mother running away from her old life, his dead wife and daughter, everything else. She isn’t certain what she thinks of him, exactly, but she isn’t wishing that she picked Marko from Zagreb anymore. If nothing else, Flynn is complicated, and challenging, and oddly easy to talk to, and he hasn’t told her to shut up about the family/work/life drama that she occasionally returns to venting about. Lucy thinks she’ll take that, at least.

She looks at his hands, large and sun-brown and expertly pulling and tying the knots to trim the sail, as he pulls them to a bobbing halt in the sparkling water and asks if she wants to swim. Lucy didn’t put on her bathing suit under her clothes, but she doesn’t want to go to the bother of making him drive all the way back to the Airbnb. So she strips off her shirt and jeans, and, in just her bra and underpants (hey, they’re married, even fakely), she dives in.

The water is chillier than she expected – this is the southern Mediterranean, it’s never cold no matter the season, but it is November, and she splutters and gasps as she bobs to the surface. Flynn, observing from the high-and-dry comfort of the catamaran, smirks at her, and Lucy gives him the finger. “You dick,” she shouts. “You could have warned me.”

Flynn shrugs, apparently utterly untroubled either by this accusation or by her attitude; indeed, he grins as if he appreciates this feistiness, her willingness to talk back at him and tell it like it is. Lucy spends so much time biting her tongue around absolutely everyone else that this reaction is both unexpected and deeply liberating, and once she’s swum around the catamaran a few times and adjusted to the water temperature, she takes a deep breath and dives down under the pontoons. Then she surfaces on the far side, reaches up, and just as Flynn senses danger and whips around, she grabs him by the back of the shirt and jerks him backward.

He’s wearing a life jacket, of course, so he doesn’t go too far under, but the expression on his face is worth every penny that she paid to the stupid app. He shakes his wet hair like a dog as he surfaces, and she has to say, he looks really good while doing it. “Excuse me,” he says, in a tone of deep umbrage. “Who told you that it was a good idea to start a marriage off by throwing your husband in the drink?”

“Maybe if I’m drowning you for the life insurance,” Lucy shoots back, before she can stop herself. She has no idea who this woman is, who has gone from being exasperated and shut off with Flynn to – well, she did in fact just throw him in the ocean, but there’s definitely something different about their dynamic now. It wouldn’t be a stretch to call it flirty, whether or not this is listed in Untourist’s terms and conditions (and as well established, Flynn did not read them anyway). “After all, I think we can say that you deserve it. Tragic boating accident?”

Too late, she wonders if this is a bad idea to joke about, since she doesn’t actually know how his wife and daughter died (she hopes it wasn’t that, anyway) but Flynn actually laughs, and it transforms his whole face. They spend a very enjoyable forty minutes swimming around, splashing each other, and hanging onto the side of the catamaran and letting their legs sway in the current. They’re close alongside each other as they do, Lucy is conscious of only being in her wet underwear (it’s not like he can see anything while she’s submerged, but still), and something passes between them as their eyes meet. His throat moves as he swallows, and after a moment too long, he looks away.

They climb back on the boat, Flynn looses the sail and steers them back toward land, and they disembark, Lucy once more watching for investigative purposes as he ties up. They dry off and she pulls on her damp clothes, as Flynn decorously turns his back and waits until she is done. Then they tramp up the bluff to the car (Lucy was thinking about retiring here, since it’s warm and sunny and beautiful and all that, but if she is elderly, all the climbing might be too much) and drive back toward the town center. The sun is getting low, her paid-for day is almost done, and despite the total disaster that was it starting out, Lucy is oddly reluctant for it to do so. As Flynn pulls up in front of the Untourist office, she says convulsively, “Maybe we should… I don’t know. I think they’re closed, anyway. You don’t have to drop me off here.”

Flynn glances at her, then considers it. He could offer to just take her back to her Airbnb (those streets really were not designed for sane drivers, and Lucy can see why tiny Smart cars are popular around here, but Flynn would absolutely not fit into one) and he still might. Then he says, “Well, technically, the day isn’t over. Do you suppose I could take you out for dinner?”

“You….” Lucy coughs. “I suppose you could.”

They find parking, and walk down into the old town, as the moon is rising over the walls, the towers are floodlit, the city gleams in the cooling dusk like its nickname, the “Pearl of the Adriatic,” and they find another cafe where the clientele is mostly local. They linger late over dinner, and Flynn says that he will in fact drive her back when they’re finally done, and as she’s about to undo her seatbelt and get out, Lucy hesitates. Then she screws up her courage, leans over, and kisses him very fast on the cheek. “Thank you,” she says. “I had – I really did have a great time.”

Flynn looks as surprised as her to hear it, but somehow and shyly gratifeid as well. A fugitive smile plays at the corner of his mouth, tentative, tender. For a moment, she thinks he might be about to kiss her back for real, but he clears his throat and holds out his hand instead. “Er,” he says. “Thank you, Dr. Preston.”

Lucy hesitates, fighting her disappointment, and shakes it back. Then she steps out of the car and unlocks the door of the apartment, as he waits to see that she gets inside without random Ragusan fiends materializing from the shrubbery. Even when she does step in, the car idles a few more moments, and she glances back, wondering – or perhaps it’s only hoping – that he’s chastising himself for letting her walk away. Then the car starts again, she can see his dark figure sitting too stiff and straight at the wheel, and she watches until the taillights vanish around a steep turn, and fade into the night.

#lucy x flynn #garcy #garcy ff #croatia 2k19 #extasiswings #ask

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