#figaroxwillem

[orleans-jester]

Figaro @ Willem

Figaro: I'm like 98% sure I might have a problem dude :(

[orleans-jester]

One bag of luggage and a large tote bag that had been her carry on. That’s what Livvy brought with her when she took the plane from New Orleans to Los Angeles. The taxi driver put the former in the trunk for her, which was super nice, and she had tipped him for it though she didn’t have that much money. It all went to the plane fare. The only sightseeing that she allowed herself was on the ride from LAX over to the hotel that she knew that Willem was staying in. She had gotten all of the information before hand.

She had a moment to go into the public bathroom at the hotel and fix up her hair, touch up her make up, change from lounge clothes into a cute little summer dress that she hoped would impress him. A spritz of perfume and then back into the lobby with her luggage and sit down on one of the plush couches and wait. From movies and TV shows, she knew that the receptionist wouldn’t give her any information on what room people were staying in, and she hardly wanted to make a scene or become a Karen so she would just - wait. He would come down eventually, or come back eventually.

She finally saw him. And heard Figaro. It was impossible not to hear that big mouth. It looked like Figaro was teasing Willem a bit as they walked in, arm around his shoulders, laughing. “I told ya kid,” They said, putting on a husky New York agent’s accent. “-yeh stick with me, I’ll take ya to the stars!”

Livvy stood up and smoothed up her dress and then waved to try to get his attention. “Willem! Over here!”

Figaro thought they must have been dreaming. Some sort of nightmare. They took their arm off of Willem’s shoulders and rubbed their eyes, despite the traces of make up that they had on. Raccoon eyes were still a look, it didn’t matter. Then looked back over and saw that Livvy was still there. “Damn. Uhh - I think I’m hallucinating, Will. I don’t think I’m okay ... oh my god, this was what My Chemical Romance was singing about the whole time...”

[orleans-jester]

Figaro x Willem

Figaro: Red alert.

Figaro: The Mist by Stephen King.

Figaro: The Fog by John Carpenter.

Figaro: Don't come back.

[orleans-jester]

It was Funky Town. After hearing that his kid wanted to have a party, Papa G wanted to help out, and nothing would keep him from doing that. He brought out the Lava Lamps, baby. He brought out his newest creation to open up the doors and greet people. Well, not really greet, he wasn’t a talker, but he could make little whistling noises. He even put on his best suit, and Figaro really wasn’t going to try to dissuade him. They were a different person around their pops, which Willem would soon figure out.

“How do I look, honey?” Papa G would ask, doing up his jacket. Fig had taken him to the barber that very morning for a nice new hair cut and a shave. “Oh, look, it’s Willem! Hi there, my boy,” He’d say, reaching out to shake Willem’s hand - as he did just about every time that they saw each other. It would have taken a couple of mentions that his name was Willem and not William, but he got there eventually.

Figaro was very attentive to their dad, very patient. None of the crazy slang or the weird things that they sometimes said would come out of their mouth because he just didn’t understand anymore. He was forgetting things, slowly and surely, and it hurt their very heart to see it. But! Papa G had spirit in heaps, and was ready to get his party on.

“You look great, Papa G,” Figaro would compliment, and allow him to give her a feminine twirl under his arm, rolling her eyes over at Willem. “I think you’re going to be the life of the party. Did you lock up Punch?”

“He’s entertaining the ladies tonight,” Papa G would grin, and give Willem a little nudge. “Much like you, eh boy?”

A knock at the door. First guests are arriving. The new guy would take care of it. “Now, dad, remember what we practiced? When you’re introduced to new people, say their name three times out loud. That’ll help you to remember. We don’t want another incident.”

“Yes, yes, it’ll be fine,” Papa G said. A ‘whoa, nelly’ and ‘Jesus fuckin’ Christ’ came from the door, and two guys came strolling in, both looking nervously over their shoulder.

“What is that thing?” Ronno asked, balancing a cooler over his head.

Fig bit back a biting remark. They’d come out more when her father was distracted. “My new best friend. Hey rhinestone cowboy. And - jockstrap.”

“Fig,” Iain would laugh, holding up some plastic bags. “Figured since it was mine and Will’s idea, I’d help out by bringing some snacks. Got chips and thangs. Is this your dad?”

“Hi, I’m Papa G, or Geppy,” The old man would introduce. And true to what his kid had advised him on, he’d say each name three times. Iain, Iain, Iain. Ronno, Ronno, Ronno. “Right this way, we’ll get a bowl!”

Fig smiled watching as her pops took the guys into the mint colored kitchen where there were already some snacks and some drinks put out. Not like her dad would remember the difference. He’d probably turn in shortly after dark and sleep through the rest of the party, or work in his studio inspired by some faces that he saw. “So the fun begins.”

[orleans-jester]

The Halloween rush was over and it was time to get back to work. Geppy had asked Willem to run out to the corner store to get him a box of his favorite snacks for the road - he was going to lead a workshop on ball-jointed dolls in Houston over the week. He was very excited. He was bringing young Gep with him, to help him with .. well, you know. Gep two point oh was bringing down the luggage loudly from upstairs when Willem would come back, disguising his entrance back into the house. When young Gep saw Willem, he put a finger to his lips and whispered a shhhh. Fig and Gep were talking in the kitchen and were not to be disturbed - but voices sometimes carried in Funkytown.

“I think he’s ready daddy-o,” Figaro was saying to their father, adjust his best cap on his head for him.

“It’s not something to take lightly. Bringing something to life takes a lot out of you...” Gep said, sounding weary. He was excited to go but he didn’t want to leave at the same time.

“No, I know, I get it,” Figaro soothed. “It’s why you’re never gonna get grandbabies from me. But that’s my choice, and this should be his. Ain’t he proven himself to you?”

“He’s been a very good boy...” Geppy had to admit. “He’s got a lot of talent...”

“Exactly! You ain’t gonna find anyone better than Willem! You’ve already started to call him your boy. Come on Pappy. It’d make a great Christmas present.” They stopped fiddling with his hat and put her hands together in a pleading motion. Giving their best puppy dog eyes. “You know you’re just being stubborn. You took a chance on me after Hans - so why not him?”

“Okay, mi pequena nina, okay,” Gep said, patting the top of their head now like they was a dog.

“Ahh, Master Willem, you have made it back,” Young Gep would say in his usual wooden tone. The conversation stopped in the kitchen and they both stepped out, Fig’s face in a big grin.

“Good, I need my snacks!” Gep said, moseying his way forward to go snooping in the bags. “You find them alright?”

[orleans-jester]

When Figaro heard the tell-tale signs of the door opening, the one that lead to the Pirate Tardis, as they sometimes referred to it, and Willem coming out from visiting his father, they would call out, “YO WILL! Can you come to the studio for a sec, we got some important business to discuss.”

And if he did come through, if he didn’t just go straight to his wall-hide out to hang out with Hansel again, there would be the core four of the house - and finally the fifth with Willem in there. Figaro, sitting on the window sill, painting on themself with Gep’s paints. Gep himself, sitting on his usual stool, a bright and happy expression on his face - he never was good at hiding his emotions. Young Gep, fetching the apprentace stool for Willem and then going to his usual spot in the corner. And Diana, sitting on the floor, legs splayed wide under skirts like a sort of rag doll, going through a bucket of different eye colors trying to decide which ones she wanted for the day.

“Take a seat, my boy! I’ve got an offer for you,” Gep said, pointing towards the stool. The mood in the room was very, very happy. Whether it remained that way would be up to Willem. “Do you have any plans for the summer?”

[orleans-jester]

“Okay uhh - that’s a facial expression. What’s up?”

[orleans-jester]

Figaro @ Willem

Figaro: Guess what I just did