Ice Ice (Closed)

It was midday of a summer dream and Iva had finally finished her English classes. She trudged through the hall into the main room, tired and angry. Why did she have home classes? Couldn't other peope learn different languages over the break too, just to be fair? Probably not.

Her shorts, a casual change, clung to her skin. She wasn't good in the heat. She peeled off her top shirt, leaving her white cami. In the kitchen, she opened the ice box and pulled out a popsicle.

She noticed something was off in the house. No one should be home at this time; Papa had work, Pieter and Vin were playing rugby.

That ony left one person.

"Treshawn, you really shouldn't sneak in," she rolled, her Russian sounding oddly English. She had nwrapped the ice cram and started to suck on it, "It's not polite,"

Tre waltzed into the kitchen, shirtless, his jeans the only clothing on him except for his black socks. He'd been doing yardwork since he'd gotten back with the Popov's, the work revealing itself in his form and muscles. He was only one pack short of a six pack, and if he kept it up, he would be strong enough to even surpass Papa in strength.

The heat was extreme.They were in Russia, shouldn't it be colder? It was reminding him of his time in California with Markie.

"I didn't sneak in." He said, brushing past her and going into the fridge for a water. Instead, he resurfaced with a water bottle in each hand and a popsicle between his lips. He held one of the waterbottles out to Iva, placing his on the counter and pulling the popsicle out of his mouth. "Have you finished all your work for the day, Rusalita?"

Iva raised an eyebrow at Tre's appearance, but otherwise ignored it. She'd seen boys shirtless before; her brother's seemed to prefer to be shirtless. She lifted herself on to the marble counter, tongue tracking down a drop of liquid fom her popsicle.

"Oh, yeah. You 're Papa's dog now. I forgot," she teased, kicking off a flip flop. She took the water and pressed it against her forehead with a leased sigh.

"Yeah, I'm all done with school work," she frowned, "What is a Rusolita? An insult?" She huffed, sticking out a hand, "That's my popsicle! Papa bought them for me! Give it back, Angel!"

Tre chuckled. "Papa's dog, indeed. Aren't we all?" He watched her tongue along the popsicle, trying to ignore what it did to him. He took the top off of his own water bottle, gulping down the water.

"Rusalita." He corrected impishly, winking at her. "It means 'Little Russian' in Spanish."

His eyes sparkled as he held the popsicle between his teeth, grinning at her. "Then take it." He said around the ice, not believeing for a moment that she would. He leaned toward her, the popsicle an offer, though there was no way to get it without brushing their lips together.

Iva ran a hand through her wavy hair, giving her head a shake. "I'm Papa's favorite. Not a dog. More of a princess," She bit off the tip of her pop, a bit of red juice collecting on her lower lip. Placing the bottle down and wiping the juice off, she let out a snort.

She extended a leg, pretending to kick the boy. She was not little! It was just... she was going to grow eventually. "You're Russian too, loser,"

The Russian leaned forward, seemingly taking the bait. Her nose brushed his, lips quivering- as she grabbed the Popsicle stick with her hand and yanked it out of his mouth.

"Nice try," she leaned back again, crossing her legs "Papa may like you, but I don't,"

Tre's eyes lingered a little too long on the drop of red juice on her bottom lip before he forced his eyes away. "Yes, Papa's little princess."

"I know I'm Russian. That makes me a Ruso, not a Rusalita." He smiled teasingly at her, his eyes sparkling.

He could barely believe she was this close to him. She hated him, didn't she? He glanced down at her lips, his parting and therefore loosening his bite on the popsicle.

Then they were both gone.

"Ha-ha." Tre mocked, his voice a bit husky. He was a player, and he was used to getting whatever he wanted. Iva was, and always had been, hard to get. That's what he liked about her.

He shrugged his shoulders, moving closer to her before snatching the popsicle away and standing with it just beyond her reach, returning it to his mouth after licking the juice that had dripped when she'd taken it. "Well, you never liked me." He said with a shrug.

Iva gasped, hopping off of the counter with an arm extended for the sweet. "Give it!" she demanded, pressing against him for a better reach. "Te Quiero, Ruso! I want! Give it to the princess!" A giggle escaped her lips.

Her ice had began to melt, so she paused to lick her sticky fingers. A devilish glare filled her eyes as she remembered things she had hear about the boy.

"It doesn't matter if I like you, not with all the girls you have back in America," she grinned, "Why don't you marry one of them instead of wasting Papa's time?"

Tre liked the way she was pressing against him a little too much. He put the stick of the popsicle in his mouth, grinning at her around it. He almost dropped it when he heard what she said.

Te quiero Ruso.

He shook his head both to clear it and in obvious denail. "None for Princess." He teased back, trying and failing to push the huskiness from his tone.

"I don't want an American. They're beautiful, sure, but their accents annoy me."

Iva pouted, pushing him backwards and herself away. "Fine," she crossed her arms, "Keep it. Your voice is all weird anyway; you probably need it more than me,"

She looked out the window into the yard, pushing her treat past her lips. "Americans are so tall and skinny though. You don't have to hear them talk the whole time, you know," she paused, "You probably like Spanish girls, anyway,"

It really didn't matter what he liked; Iva wasn't it. She was small and child-like- un-womanly. Even if they were to be married (maybe), he wouldn't be attracted to her.

And, for some odd reason, that bothered her.

Tre flushed as he turned his back on her, clearing his throat a few times. Damn it. She always got him like this.

He frowned and turned toward her and studied her. "Being tall and skinny means nothing if you've got nothing up here." He tapped her on the forehead. "Spanish girls?" He asked teasingly. "They're a bit smarter, I suppose, but their hair's the wrong color." His eyes softened. "I like blondes."

Iva leaned against the counter, biting off another chunk of the popsicle. She should really start working on homework soon, but she'd rather talk with Tre. She had missed that goof.

"Blondes? Oh, Germans then," she decided, skating around the fact she herself was blonde. Her blues traced his face, looking for something that she couldn't find.

"What is it like to be an angel?" she asked softly, "Papa never wanted me to ask because it was rude or something... but..."

Tre frowned at her. "Germans?" he asked. "Everyone knows Russians taste best." He murmured.

He looked back at her, flushing at her scrutinizing. He took a bite of his own popsicle, the one he'd commendeered, and moved it around his mouth frantically in an attempt to cool himself off.

He almost choked, before returning his golden eyes to her. "You want to know what it's like being half angel?" He asked, purely shocked. He stuck the popsicle back in his mouth, swallowing the coolness. "I don't find it rude, I thought no one asked because no one wanted to know."

Iva blushed, scrunching up her face angrily. "Why does every one say that!?" she moaned, "Karma and Arsen say it to me too!" She didn't think about why Tre would be drinking blood- Angels didn't do that, right?

Iva propped a leg on the cabinets, more relaxed then usual. Her treat was finished and she resorted to sucking the juices off her fingers. "I always cared," she responded, "You're one of my friends, of course I care.

"As a kid, you're eyes freaked me out. Gold is so... weird. I don't like it,"

It took Tre a few moments to realize she was angry, distracted by the blush she wore. "I... I mean..." He shook his head. "Karma and Arsen?" He asked blankly. "Well, it's true." He said. "But I'm not talking about eating you..." he shoved the popsicle back into his mouth to shut himself up.

He blushed again. What the hell was going on? "Uh. Okay... It's not all that though. I haven't come onto many of my powers yet..." At least, not on purpose.

He narrowed his eyes at her, their depths transforming into molten swirls of jealousy. "Oh, but you're fine with red eyes. So unstrange, I bet."

Iva raised a brow and cocked her head to the side in confusion. "I do not understand. Why else would you taste me? Licking?"

She pointed at his nose, standing on her tip toes to get closer. "They are weird because they do that!" she declared, "They move and swirl!" and crossed her arms, backing away again, "And I don't like red eyes either,"

She took her water bottle and pressed it to her chest with a sigh. Too hot. And she wasn't talking about the weather. Sure, she had Dame, but, hey, she could still notice other boys.

"What kind of powers?"

Tre flushed redder. "Uh. I suppose." He stuttered. "I mean... I meant kissing." He smiled shakily. "Russians are the best kissers." He really had to stop talking about this. Now.

He tried his best to keep his face neutral, but every time she got close to him, his heartbeat skyrocketed. What was going on? He grew up with this girl! His reactions should not be like this! "I can't control it!" He said. "I'm sure you'd much rather marry some blue-eyed normal human, who doesn't have all the extra powers." He muttered, looking away from her.

"Well, I can only do a few things right now... but... uh..." He looked around before going to the sink, looking over his shoulder once to make sure she was watching. "Look." He turned on the facet and put one of his hands under the stream.

He closed his eyes.

The water began to run against gravity and up his arm, where he pulled his hand away and let the water pool in his palm. Instead of falling, it gathered there, and his eyes narrowed in concentration, he shaped it into a heart with his hands. Holding the little water heart, he brought it close to his lips and blew gently on it, turning it to ice.

He held out the little ice sculpture to her, smiling gently. "I've practiced this one a lot when I'm bored. I'm not that good at it."

"Of course we do," she agreed automatically, "It's because we can roll our tongues. And it gets so cold, we like to cuddle," She grinned, trying to show it was a joke.

She noticed his on edge behavior and placed a hand on his arm to calm him. She rolled her eyes, using her other hand to flip her hair over her shoulder. "Please, normal boys are boring. I like boys with spunk," she let the statement sit there for a second, thinking about Damian. Spunky, indeed.

Reaching for the ice, eyes wide with amazement, she let out a giggle. "Not good? You're..." she placed her hands over his, her smile warm and hands cold. "Amazing. Absolutely amazing."

Tre nodded, looking down at her and trying to push all his emotions away. "Yeah. Exactly." He said softly.

He felt as if a spark of electricity came from where her hand rested on his arm, and it was... nice. "Spunk?" He asked. Whatever the hell that was, he probably didn't have it.

He shivered at her touch, looking into the simple happiness made him warm all over. "You're not so bad yourself." He said softly, slipping the heart into her hand. "It will never melt, you know." He said. "I usually just smash all of mine, or they'd go back to normal."

Iva nodded softly, taking the heart from his hands. "Spunk." she pressed it into her chest, savoring the coolness of the ice. She wished she could keep it forever. Wear it as a necklace, even.

Stupid Tre. He used to be so annoying...

"I'm still trying to convince Papa not to marry us," she blurted, "I mean, how silly would our wedding be? Weird!"

Tre reached out and touched the heart, smiling softly as he closed his eyes again. Frosty thin lines spread from the edges of the heart and twisted around each other until they came together at the back of her neck, forming a cord. "There." he said softly, finally noticing how close they were to each other. They were almost nose to nose.

He stepped away from her quickly, his eyes filled with hurt. "Would it really be that bad?" he demanded. "Marrying me? Am I not good enough for you, Princess?"

Iva reached after him, grabbing on to his shoulder to keep him close. Her eyes were reflecting his hurt, as pale as the eyes around her neck. "No! It is not that!"

She paused, leaning against him. "I don't want to be forced into a marriage. I want to choose someone, not be my father's play toy. " she rested her head on his bare chest, upset. "I've imagined us together. When we were kids. It was an odd marriage ceremony... didn't work out,"

Tre gazed, hating the hurt in her eyes. And he'd caused it. Again.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him and loving the bittersweet feel of her against him. "You aren't being forced it you want to." He said softly, gently pulling her chin upward so that he could see her face. "That was when we were kids. It'll be better than that. I promise." He met her eyes, finding himself quite suddenly drowning in blue. He leaned closer to her, not being able to help himself, bringing them nose to nose.

Eyes fluttering, Iva leaned against his touch, now utterly confused about the boy. "Okay," she whispered, rubbing her nose against his softly. A hand went on his shoulder, ready to push him away if someone crossed the line, then, slowly, placed a kiss on his forehead.

"Thank you, Tre,"

Tre rubbed his nose gently against hers, closing his eyes. He sighed. "Anything for you, Rusalita." He mumbled. "Now and forever." He opened his eyes slowly, meeting hers. "Even if you don't choose me, in the end."

Iva let her hand fall, brushing away from him. She grabbed her waterbottle with a sigh, not wanting to face him.

"Stop confusing me. I love Damian, I really do." she lifted her shoulders, giving off a dejected air, "But, I like you too. Differently. I just... don't know,"

She headed towards the door, footsteps heavy.