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My Frankfort Bitch

Чтобы опубликовать очередной перевод, я даже зарегистрировалась на DeviantArt (давно пора было). Сайт очаровательный: быстрый и дружелюбный. А фанфик фанфик на этот раз посвящен Green Day. Enjoy!

My Frankfort Bitch

The author of this miniature is JustinaMiller. I am just a humble translator.

The evening promised to be pleasant.
“Hey, you, bastards, I’ve brought a pizza!” a girl sporting blue locks in her short hair and wearing a huge T-shirt which definitely didn’t belong to her called out to the jolly company.
A mohawk-coiffured young man - the owner of the T-shirt, by the way - perked up more than anybody.
“I’m the first, I’m the first!” he yelled pulling the girl to him. She slapped his hand.
“No, no, no, babe, leave something for others,” she smiled at him and set the pizza in the center of the circle made of pillows, though only someone blind drunk could call it a circle. Of course, everyone reached for the aromatic pieces.
“What are we gonna watch today?” a green-eyed guy with black hair screwed his eyes up slyly while hugging a girl with a mane of scarlet hair. She obviously liked that.
“I want. . . Adventure Time!” A backcombed man - whose name, by the way, was Frank or Tré, depending on how you communicate with this wonderful man - started jumping.
“For a count of three name the favourite AT character,” exclaimed the T-shirt girl whose name was Sunny.
“Lumpy Space Princess!” Sunny and Frank shouted so that a thin fair boy, Mike by name, smiled affectionately and all others roared with laughter.
“This guy is twenty years old,” Mike sighed watching the amused twosome.
“Look, who’s talking! Weren’t it you begging for a poster with Jake?” Frankie retorted and grimaced at his friend – in this field he was a professional. Mike put on the I-shut-up-and-cleared-off expression and closed his mouth.
“Okay, you, sonuvalump, I am turning it on,” Sunny took the needed DVD and pushed the button. After that she made herself comfortable between warm Tré and Mike feeling absolutely happy. At that moment the second girl, Alex, reached for the pop-corn and felt a pair of burning green eyes stare at her.
“Sweetheart, you aren’t made of glass but I agree to look at you,” he said when Alex returned to him. As usual terribly embarrassed, she just elbowed him and he pressed her to himself and kissed the crown of her head. Mentally she melted in to a puddle; physically she melted in his gorgeous tattooed arms which were fingering her beautiful bright hair.
“Hey, Marceline isn’t so bad…” Tré drew.
“Shut up, Frankie, today you’re only mine or you’re gonna ride home on Billy Jo,” Sunny cuffed her man on the nape. He simply grinned and hugged her.
“You’re so sexy when you’re angry,” he whispered in her ear so that she shivered.
“I’m all about myself, yeah,” she breathed into his ear lightly touching his skin with her lips. Now the boy didn’t really care for the cartoon even though the time wasn’t really appropriate.
Meanwhile the episode continued. Not to feel lonely, Mr. Dirnt, a.k.a. Mike, sat close to the red-haired chick he was rather fond of and, oblivious to Billie Joe’s glares, started sharing comments with her. When the episode was over he hurried to the facilities having whispered to Armstrong: “You’re so sexy when you’re angry.” Sure, the latter was taken aback and barely managed to squeak a not very suitable thank you.
Now was the time for mind-blowing stories. Since Sunny was an expert in telling bogeyman tales Frankie was constantly wanting to go to the bathroom. Others told different stories from their lives which included noodles in the toilet bowl, pathetic walruses and such. Who doesn’t that happen to?
Mike who was usually rather reserved had already drunk the health of everybody present so he was looking around with sorrowful eyes and sighed from time to time like a sad duck although no one really paid attention.
“Hey, why does everyone like Billie Joe?” he finally asked looking at a happy Alex who had nestled in the frontman’s arms.
“I dunno, maybe, coz his curls resemble little black macaroni,” shrugging, Sunny scrambled out of Tré’s tenacious embrace and sat near Mike, wrapping his arms around herself.
“I love you much more than him,” closing her eyes she snuggled up to the man who felt much calmer and flashed a triumphant smile at a stupefied frontman.
“Hey, what the hell?” Mr. Armstrong-Cool-Ass who was used to basking in girls’ admiration was exclaimed.
“You haven’t yet returned my Offspring T-shirt, so in my universe you don’t exist,” Sunny uttered, her eyes closed.
“But I like it!”
“But it’s FEMALE!” now the girl couldn’t stay indifferent. Not that tight T-shirts didn’t suit Billy Jo but definitely not those that hardly covered his precious tits.
In the end they, of course, made it up as Billy Jo agreed to give his friend quite a nifty T-shirt he was wearing just then and go home topless – the idea everyone supported enthusiastically.
And Alex was already falling asleep on the soft body of her boy so Mr. Armstrong picked her up fondly and carried to the bedroom counseled by Sunny’s “No fucking in my house!” There he put her on the bed cautiously and lied beside her cuddling closer to his beloved and putting a hand on her waist.
“Tell me something,” he suddenly heard a sleepy voice and smiled.
“Yeah, sure, honey.”
He was telling her something bright from his childhood tenderly stroking her warm fingers and she was snuffling softly, listening to his dear voice and gradually calming down. His childhood seemed to have been left far behind but with her he didn’t feel like an adult. Being with her was like falling in love for the very first time. She was totally inexperienced and got embarrassed every time he paid her a compliment but he liked that. She was his little flower and he didn’t want to pluck it yet. For ten more minutes he had been listening to her steady breath and soon fell asleep himself trying to seize this happy moment by the tail. His last thought was “What are you doing to me, my little Alexandra?”
Perhaps, quite soon he would legitimate his relationship with his flower because to let her go was more than he could stand.
And in the sitting-room guys were still enjoying themselves. Tré, Sunny and Mike were playing charades for undressing. As Sunny was quite an intelligent girl it was difficult to undress her but Frankie did his best.
“Damn you,” Sunny muttered taking off her glasses.
“Hey, glasses don’t count!” the drummer protested.
“Ah, my little German slut,” the girl sighed taking off one of her socks. “You happy?”
“Don’t worry, honey, soon I’ll come to the T-shirt,” Tré smiled dangerously already undressing his woman with his eyes.
“Baby, then you’ll have to sit here for. . .” she stared at the ceiling calculating. “32388 years. Good luck, cowboy, but I don’t believe in you.”
Already shirtless Mr. Cool scowled and became even more determined to undress this cheeky girl that day – at least, in revenge.
So they played for a few more minutes but even Sunny and Mike started to get sleepy. The girl half-lied on the floor, her head on Mike’s lap, which made Frankie puff in indignation.
At last the girl decided to regard her drummer with favor and suggested everyone staying at her place since it was rather late and no one apparently was too keen on squelch through the mud and rain on their way home. Despite all fooling around she loved her muffin all the same and he paid her back in even better coins.
Having sent Mike to bed, Sunny led her drummer into her room. Well, I mean, come on, did he have to sleep with a man?
Finally they were alone.
“Babe, you owe me a T-shirt,” at last feeling like a dominant Frank pressed the girl to the wall inhaling her warm smell from his clothes.
It should be said that she wasn’t too bent on breaking free. It is also should be noted that she liked it pretty much. She twined her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes.
“You want me to take it off?” Sunny smiled at Frank. Oh, yeah, it was a hell of a game.
He had just moved a little farther and she pulled the T-shirt off herself and handed it to him staying in her bra, shorts and one sock. Frank took the shirt, put it on and went straight to the exit with a nonchalant “Well, bye!”
“Are you nuts?” the girl raised an eyebrow without moving from her place.
“Ah, okay, okay!” the boy grinned and came closer to his lady who was by now quite used to such tricks and they both laughed and hugged.
“I love you, my Frankfort bitch,” Sunny said glancing at Frankie.
He changed. Now his eyes were grave, all tricks left behind.
“I love you, Lilian,” he said emphasizing the seriousness of his words by using her real name.
Even though no proof was needed, Sunny liked to play.
“Show me,” she whispered hotly into his ear, running her fingers through his wheat blond hair that she was so fond of.
As if on command to start Frank stopped to her lips which were already waiting for him and touched them lightly as though he was afraid to scare her off. Having got a response he went on to more decisive actions stroking her tingling skin and then he picked her up and carried to the bed.
There he moved from her lips to her neck knowing it was her favourite. Slowly caressing a throbbing vein he reveled in the moment listening to her uneven breath. At the same time her fingers wandered uncontrollably across his own neck and hair. Soon he went lower making a trail of kisses to her breast and farther. On approaching the shorts small hands stopped him.
“Hey, I told you: no fucking in my house,” she smiled slyly.
“You’re a bitch just like me,” Frank sighed and lied next to his scratch-cat. “What do you want?”
“Hug me,” she said and turned to the wall.
Although it wasn’t exactly what Mr. Wright expected but also had a certain charm. Frank pressed his girl to himself and buried his nose in her neck, feeling her skin tingle again and hiding a smile. He loved this little fool infinitely however insidious she might be.
The evening promised to be pleasant and it kept its word.