#also ... i'd feel bad if someone accidentally clicked the read more and had to scroll through a bunch of smut to get to the next post

[samwpmarleau]

fic: simon says

whumptober day 26: communication barrier masterlist: tumblr, ao3 Sometimes, Daisy gets frustrated when Robbie speaks Spanish. In more ways than one. WARNING: Very NSFW.

“¿Por qué siempre eres tan pinche terca?”

The wealth of additional arguments and rebuttals Daisy had intended to choose from fizzles and dies in favor of glaring. The first few times Robbie had begun speaking Spanish during an argument, she’d assumed it wasn’t an intentional thing, that the fraught situation had led him to inadvertently slip into it. She’s gotten better at understanding some of it, studying what she can between missions, but she’s far from all the way there yet, especially when he speaks so quickly.

She knows his intentions now. Now, she’s figured out that most of the time he does it simply to frustrate the hell out of her. Since she can only understand two words in five, she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to be responding to, or be upset with, which means she can’t adequately respond at all, which means by default he wins the argument. The fact that most of the time their arguments aren’t vitally important, and that for the ones that are, he stays in English, is completely beside the point.

She’s hit her limit.

Violating their long-held policy to not use their powers on each other, Daisy extends her hand and quakes him against the wall. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“You know what.”

“If you learned Spanish, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Estoy tratando aprender. I can’t learn it in a day.” She really has been trying. It’s not her fault she rarely gets days off, or that trying to practice with Yo-Yo generally devolves into having to keep straight which rules and slang are Mexican-American and which are Colombian. Not super productive.

“Intentando aprender,” Robbie corrects.

“Aprender whatever. You’re being a dick.”

“I’m not the one using my powers on you.”

“Oh, give me a break. You want to take advantage of me, then I’ll do the same.”

“Take advantage of you? It’s a different language, not kidnapping.”

“I seem to remember you doing that, too.”

“We were enemies. You got in my way.”

“I wanted to talk, you wanted to fight. Some things never change, apparently.”

“You threatened my brother.”

“I wasn’t going to do anything to him. And this is off topic.”

“You started it.”

Daisy drops her hand, releasing him from the quake. Keeping him pinned against the wall isn’t making the conversation less combative. “I can’t discuss something with you if you’re deliberately making it so I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I haven’t been —”

“Yes, you have! And now you’re lying to me about it.”

Robbie scoffs. “So, what, now I’m only ever allowed to speak English around you?”

“Don’t twist my words. That is not what I said.”

“If I can only speak what you understand, I may as well not speak it at all.”

An impasse falls. He’s not entirely wrong; it’s probably frustrating on his end that her mastery of the language is lacking. While English is as much his native language as Spanish, she’s seen how much he enjoys chattering away with Gabe, Yo-Yo, or any given neighbor in the latter. But she’s not asking him to stop doing that, or being illiterate on purpose; she would just like to know when something concerns her, and to not be deliberately kept out of the loop. Is that so unreasonable?

She exhales and wills her blood pressure to lower.

“Amo cuando tú hablas español. Pero no cuando … damn it, ¿cómo se dice ...?” She sighs at running out of vocab. She gave it a shot. “Not when we’re arguing. It’s patronizing, and you do only it to get on my nerves.”

“You don’t need the tú. It’s implied.”

Daisy glares at him. “I am trying to have a conversation with you, not a grammar lesson.”

“Just trying to be helpful.”

“Well, you’re not.”

“The Spanish wasn’t to — it’s not meant to be patronizing, it’s to stop having to argue,” Robbie says. “Half the time I don’t even know why we’re arguing in the first place.”

“It takes two.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t always leave your spy shit at the door, you’re so defensive.” Sensing her indignation, he amends, “I don’t always leave my shit at the door either, and the Rider’s not exactly a pacifist. But I hate fighting with you. So the Spanish, it … it’s usually good at stopping things. If you’re stuck on what I’m saying, neither of us can engage.”

“How convenient that you always come out on the winning side.”

Robbie shrugs.

A headache forming, Daisy drops onto one of the barstools. “If you want a timeout, then just pick a safe word or something, don’t use my illiteracy against me.”

Robbie lets out a surprised laugh. “A safe word?”

“Yes, Robbie, a safe word. Tiempo … something?”

“Tiempo fuera.”

“Yeah, that. We can use that. Okay?”

“Okay,” Robbie says, bewildered. “That doesn’t make up for the quake, though.”

“Come on, it was a baby quake.”

“I don’t care.”

Yeah, maybe that one’s on her. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

“Not good enough. Deals aren’t just things to me. You know that.”

No souls were exchanged in this one, last she checked. But if she’d signed hers over to a demon, she’d probably be finicky about making new ones, too. Argument or no argument, she had promised.

“What do you want?” she asks.

Robbie crosses his arms over his chest as he appraises her. “What did you mean earlier when you said you like when I speak Spanish?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, “it’s a part of who you are, and I kinda like that guy, in case you haven’t noticed. Usually.”

It’s all true — it’s just not the whole truth, technically. But the very last thing she wants to do right now is give him an ego boost, and telling him the other reason she likes it most definitely would. She just prays lie-proof Ghost Rider keeps his goddamn mouth shut.

Robbie hums in consideration. “All right. I’ll let you know.”

She’d been hoping for a quick answer.

“Fine. Just don’t make me vacuum. I hate vacuuming.”

The corner of Robbie’s mouth twitches. “It won’t be vacuuming.”

She almost forgets about that end to the conversation, so long does Robbie go without mentioning it. They return to normal. Even more so, really, considering the lack of even basic disagreements. Robbie’s Spanish is kept mostly positive, and translated if she’s relevant and too lost to guess the context. The benedictions, or declarations, or whatever, that he murmurs in bed are indecipherable, but those she really doesn’t care whether she understands or not. She’ll gladly take ignorance if it means his kisses down her neck, her stomach, her wrists, her clit, will continue.

———

Two months after their blowup, Mack sends the pair of them on a mission to London. They are to accompany some crooked British diplomat to a lively ballet to keep him away from the documents and dirty cash in his office safe, on which May will be planting pinhead-sized trackers.

No problem. It’s an excuse to get a new outfit, which she’s not going to complain about. She brings Simmons along to a boutique that would be far out of her price range if she weren’t able to expense it. She decides on a green velvet number that probably is too low-cut for the mission, and obscenely tight around the bust.

Her tits look fantastic.

Robbie certainly has no objections, judging by the way he unabashedly rakes his eyes down every inch of her at the theatre when she removes her pashmina.

Ambassador Burgess, too, isn’t very subtle about noticing the dress. All the better if he’s a slimeball; it means less chance of suspicion. He kisses her hand, then nods to Robbie. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Martinez.”

“Likewise,” she smiles. “Are you looking forward to the performance, ambassador? It’s been years since my husband and I attended the Royal Ballet, we couldn’t be more excited.”

“Ah, can you repeat that, love? A little louder,” Burgess asks, leaning in closer to her. “I apologize, an old schoolmate of mine and I went for a turkey shoot this morning and my ears are still ringing!”

“Is that right?” Robbie asks with interest.

The three of them make smalltalk until the lights dim, the curtain rises, and dancers leap onto the stage. Daisy and Robbie take their seats behind Burgess, the rest of the box empty but for two security guards at the door behind a privacy screen.

Robbie patiently waits half an hour before revealing his secondary mission.

“Want to have a little fun?” he whispers.

She tears her eyes from the performance to look at him in confusion. “What?”

“I figured out your weakness. I just haven’t had a good time to use it.”

“And what weakness is that?”

“Me.”

———

read the rest on ao3