ੈ♡˳ SIX
come over

PLATES ABANDONED ON THE side of the table, mugs and glasses beginning to stack up, it was like time ceased to exist inside the little cafe.

how long did dates usually go for? it probably didn't matter when franco finally checked his phone because an important message had rang through do not disturb only to see that it was almost four in the afternoon. five whole hours, and mila's cheeks were aching from how much she had been smiling.

they'd changed spots over time. franco had been sitting on the cushioned bench on the other side of the table, and so at some point mila had gotten up from her own cushioned chair to sit beside him in a close enough proximity so that really they could just mumble out a clear conversation.

"it's been five hours," mila spoke so softly, her fingers trailing up franco's arm, tracing patterns into his smooth skin. "i think i'm going crazy."

"mhm?" he hummed questioningly. his hand had been sitting on the inside of her thigh, just low enough to look appropriate for anyone who may be walking by, but she knew better. he was a fucking tease and he was flaunting it. his head dipped, his free hand coming up to cup her chin, "talk to me."

"for five hours i have sat here staring at you," she pouted, eyes melting into his own. "i've been so fucking patient . . ." she lowered her voice a little more, "but fuck, franco, if you flirt with me one more time i'll kiss you before you can blink."

"aw," franco chuckled, his thumb brushing against her cheek, "in front of all these people?  don't tempt me."

"don't tempt me," she mumbled.

so, franco let go of her chin and glanced at the table for a second. he reached over to the little jar in the centre of the table and picked up a sugar packet, and, with a grin, he slid it across the table until it landed in her lap. "excuse me, i think you just dropped your name tag," he tried his hardest not to burst into a fit of giggles by biting the inside of his cheek.

it took a second for mila to clock it, but the moment she saw the word sugar displayed across the packet in large white font, she couldn't help but snort and place it back on the table. shifting in her seat, she cupped franco's face with both of her hands, and leaned in slightly, "i'm tempted," she murmured.

"mhm, i bet it's killing you," he squeezed her thigh as he spoke, and mila decided that ultimately that was her final straw. she was, after all, just a girl, and she was free to fold quicker than a fucking lawn chair if she wished. she didn't hesitate in closing the gap between them until their lips met, and until she was fighting the urge to practically sit on top of him in the middle of a cafe, which was the more acceptable version than climbing inside his skin to be impossibly close.

franco wasn't one to hesitate, either. he reacted immediately, and though their kiss was anything but gentle, he kept his hands so delicate on her. "might be more enjoyable if i see a camera flash," he joked between kisses, but truthfully that only spurred them both on — what did they care? this was who mila was, and conveniently franco was exactly the same, and together they had nothing to lose. people liked them for them . . . and that included this.

"you're terrible," mila said finally, pulling back from him as if nothing had ever happened. she giggled quietly once she opened her eyes to look at him again, noticing the light pink lipstick stains smudged on his lips and just off it, and on top of a particular glassy look in his eyes, it was all the more tempting. "come here," she mumbled, picking up a clean napkin off the table and gently wiping the lipstick off him, "oops."

"i don't mind," franco couldn't take his eyes off her, following her every move and didn't want to blink to miss a millisecond. "next time wear a darker shade, hm?"

he doesn't hide anything, mila thought to herself, highly amused. she was sure that if she had just straight up asked him what he was into that he'd create a list without a second to waste. perhaps she was more surprised that he was this open with her a few days into knowing her, even though he was well aware that she was a journalist — he had this much trust in her, allowing himself to be so honest even though she could very well just turn around and dish everything to the media. she wouldn't, she kept secrets better than most, but it was nice to see his trust all the same.

"of course, just for you," she answered, "how soon is too soon to place bets on us being on the front page of everything formula one by tomorrow at the latest?"

"why?" he asked with a slight smirk, "are you the one writing the article?"

"wait, why is that lowkey genius," mila laughed, "imagine that: me writing an anonymous article and selling it off, being like 'hey look at these guys! crazy, right!"

franco joined in on her laughter, "but seriously? i think probably in the next few hours," he shrugged like it was nothing, "i am excited to read them, no?"

the thought was entertaining, and so she nodded. the only time she'd seen her name in articles recently was from either her name being cited, her name being printed because she wrote it, or because grumpy old journalists were still trying to throw her name in the mud for not being professional enough. mila was hoping the grumpy old ones would be the writers of the articles about franco and herself, especially if word got out about the two of them in the cafe.

mila marziani may be the one behind the articles, but god did she love seeing her name in bold across the headline.

"i'd be down to read them with you," she agreed, balling up the napkin and dropping it on his empty plate from earlier — the plates hadn't been cleared hours ago because they'd been snacking at the cold pancakes and the blueberries up until maybe an hour or so ago, and they could tell that the staff didn't really want to interrupt them. "but that call from before . . . work call, right?"

"mhm, sadly," franco shrugged, not really wanting to touch his phone again but he tapped the screen to look at the notification anyway. "they want to do a debrief over dinner or something," he read before flipping his phone back over. "i would rather have dinner with you."

"some other time, then," mila placed her hand over his, "but i should let you go get ready for that, yes?" though, neither of them really wanted to move. "so . . ."

"fine," franco said dramatically, his head falling back in annoyance, "i guess i'll go do my job then." with them having paid quite some time ago — split ways, her for the food and him for the drinks — they stood up reluctantly from the cosiness of the cushioned bench and walked around the table. once they waved goodbye to the waitstaff, who grinned and waved back, franco laced his fingers with hers and pulled her outside of the cafe.

he glanced around outside for a moment, and there sitting beside the mercedes he had rented, was a sleek, black motorcycle with bright purple trimming. purple. "yours?" he asked, gesturing to it from across the street.

"mine," she agreed with a smile. "i hid my helmet and stuff under your car, hope you don't mind." glancing both ways, she crossed the street with him once the road was clear from oncoming cars until they made it over to their respective vehicles. "you ever been on one?"

"never," franco admitted, watching as she let go of his hand briefly to kneel down beside the mercedes, digging out her helmet and leather jacket that had been under the wheel. she set the helmet and jacket on her bike before taking off her denim jacket to tie around her waist. "are you offering?"

"one day, sure," mila put on the leather jacket, zipping it up all the way before reaching inside the helmet for her bright purple gloves. "but i have an idea . . . you in a car at cota and me on my bike. i think it would be fun, no?"

the only reason mila didn't race was because it had never interested her as a kid. she was fascinated with talking to people about the vehicles, even as young as four when she'd bother her dad's colleagues before and after races. she'd been given the choice and denied it, and liked to think of it as a relaxing art form instead, one where she could just go for a ride for hours at a time to clear any muddled messes in her head. but she also wasn't one to stay away from race tracks where she didn't have to obey a speed limit.

"deal," franco nodded straight away, "i might pick up a ferrari or something for it." he picked up her helmet as she slipped her gloves on, "hold your hair up."

the butterflies were starting to rattle in their cage with more intensity than they had been over the course of the afternoon. the moths had fizzled out, put to sleep as the anxiety sat at bay far away, and the butterflies wanted out, the lock would surely break. mila fought against them, reaching to pull her hair up into a ponytail as franco picked up her helmet as if it were made of glass, holding it up over her head and slowly easing it down so that her hair stayed tucked up inside. her visor was already up from earlier, and so all mila could do was silently watch as franco got it sitting comfortably . . . his fingers fiddling with the buckle underneath to make sure it was on securely. he was so soft, so gentle, so tender and so, so kind. "thank you," she breathed, head fuzzy as his fingers brushed across her neck.

"no need," he brushed over the pulse point on her neck, and that was mila's cue to step back before she ended up giving in entirely. "get back safe, yeah?"

"yeah," she nodded. it didn't really matter that her hotel was literally around the corner because it was so sweet of him to say . . . the bar was on the floor, apparently. "you too, text me after your dinner?"

"i'll text you during," he promised, "i enjoyed today . . . thank you." he slipped her visor down and reached into his pocket for his car keys.

laughing muffled, mila flipped her visor back up. "you're very fun, you know?" kicking up the stand on her bike, she climbed so she was straddling it. "and not many people would make out with me in a cafe so like . . . bonus points!" she shot him a wink before sliding her visor down once again, starting her bike, and loudly revving it before pulling out into the street.

x

IMESSAGE —

FRANCO 🩷 + MILA 💗

FRANCO 🩷
mila

MILA 💗
thats soooo weird who is that lmaooo

FRANCO 🩷
pretty girl named mila
yknow her??

MILA 💗
no fr who sent you that

that was top secret

FRANCO 🩷
your priv isn't even private

and i don't snitch

MILA 💗
franco.

FRANCO 🩷
ollie

it was ollie

MILA 💗
ofc it was smh

FRANCO 🩷
so im fuckable huh

MILA 💗
have you looked in a mirror???

all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to dining table to
the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the
shower, from the front porch to the balcony,
vertically, horizontally, quadratic,
exponential, logarithmic

FRANCO 🩷
youre all talk

MILA 💗
i wouldnt seem that way
if i was only interested in a
hook up 😊 trust

if thats all youre interested
in id come over rn but smth tells
me you also wanna see
where this goes

so yeah rn im all talk.

FRANCO 🩷
damn ur hot

i mean what

MILA 💗
😳😳

FRANCO 🩷
you should come over

MILA 💗
you really saw "hook up" and
short circuited huh

FRANCO 🩷
NO omfg.

let me finish

MILA 💗
woah okay thats forward.

FRANCO 🩷
you are killing me.

MILA 💗
💋💋

FRANCO 🩷
as i was saying

you should come over
have you watched la casa de papel

MILA 💗
im coming over rn

wait have you never seen it???

FRANCO 🩷
never ever

MILA 💗
send the address youre gonna fall
in love with season 1

FRANCO 🩷
and then u next right 😉

MILA 💗
me first ‼️

x

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?"

turning, mila found herself face to face with paul. she probably looked like an interesting sight — leaving her hotel room in shirt that was too big over her shorts, her shoes thrown on and untied, and only her helmet in her hands. "out," she answered simply. "where are you going?"

"out," he answered in a similar fashion, and so they squinted at each other like they were trying to uncover hidden secrets.

"this feels like that one scene in shameless where fiona and lip come home at the same time," mila fell into step with him as they headed towards the elevator. "i almost want to call you a slut."

paul snorted, "i won't tell," he ignored her either way. the only reason he'd watched that show in the first place was because of her. "i'm guessing your date went well, so . . ."

"he invited me over to watch money heist," she said casually, watching as the elevator door closed. paul hit the button to take them down to the carpark. "so . . . did jemma invite you over?"

he nodded. "we're taking things slow, she's very different to . . ." he didn't need to finish his sentence. mila knew he wanted to say 'different to you', but leaving it unsaid was way better. their past relationship went at the speed of light because that is who she was, and it worked out better for them as people. of course not everyone was the same, but it was similar to how franco was totally okay for them to go at a pace they were comfortable with rather than drawing it out for months and months. mila's patience was quite thin, unlike paul, who could adjust himself to take a relationship at any pace that was suitable for anyone. "sorry."

"why?" mila bumped her shoulder against his. "i am happy that you are happy," she said genuinely. "and i looked her up on instagram, she's so cute."

the elevator hit the underground level with a muffled ding to signal it. as the doors slowly opened, paul and mila stepped out in silence, not uncomfortable but not completely natural either, and faced each other. "ride safe, please," paul gestured to her helmet, "it's dark."

"and you drive safe," which sounded stupid telling a racing driver but he did still have a sore neck from the impact of the crash on the weekend. "is it still too early for it to be weird to tell you to tell jemma i say hi or . . ."

"probably," paul chuckled, "she's still warming up to the idea, but it's not a problem, so," he shrugged. "anyway, i will probably see you in baku next week, i am heading out early."

"okay," mila nodded with a slight smile, "see you next week." heading in opposite directions, the carpark fell into silence once more.

FRANCO was maybe a little eager to open the door to his hotel room. it was a few streets away from the one she was staying in, and so though she could have walked there, taking her motorcycle was heaps easier. he was also quick to take her helmet and jacket from her hands to set on the table by the door, all very gentlemanly. "you look cute."

"so do you," she responded. he was in black shorts and a light blue shirt — nice and simple but he looked good in simple. she had thrown her curls up into a messy ponytail that had been flattened and frizzed by her helmet, but the compliment was still nice.

"aren't you cold?" he glanced down at her shorts that were only really visible now because she'd tucked in her shirt to get here.

"freezing," mila said dramatically, "brrr," she pretended to shiver, "guess you'll just have to warm me up— ah!" in a second she was over his shoulder with her shoes falling to the floor, so she took that as a good sign.

"i can do that," he laughed, walking her through to the bed that was out in the open in the small room. he dropped her down on it in front of his laptop and disappeared to go find some more pillows. "i asked reception if they could bring up heaps of pillows earlier," he raised his voice as he moved to where she could no longer see him. "wi was not sure how many you wanted."

"i'm easy," she promised with a laugh, "but bring them anyway, it'll be nice." even as franco returned back to the room, everything felt good. he dropped the pillows and she arranged them so that they were buried comfortably in a mound of them while he pulled up the show. it didn't feel awkward at all, and even the silence felt nice. that was a good sign alone. "i can't believe you have never watched this. the first heist is the best part."

"i've never had the time," he admitted, nestling into the pillows while it loaded up on his laptop. it was at a quieter volume so that he could talk quietly over it so that she could hear both. "my friends keep telling me to watch it."

"if you like stupid heist stuff this is perfect," mila shuffled closer to him, not enough to be on directly by his side, but to a point where she was close enough that she could feel his body heat radiating. "and most of the cast are hot."

"i don't know . . ." he trailed off, his eyes averting from the screen for a moment to lock with hers. "as hot as you?"

"you flatter me," mila giggled, resting her head on the pillow that franco had his head on. "can you turn the subtitles on, please?" he didn't need to say anything, let alone question it, just turned them on so that the spanish subtitles showed up at the bottom of the screen. "grazie."

"prego," franco replied in a quiet mumble, his italian after the broken italian mishap at the cafe the other day. mila was quite surprised he'd been so normal about using it because the word had transformed into so many different meanings now. "thanks for coming over."

mila shrugged simply, "you're impossible to say no to."

. . .

notes,

updating this bc im not live laugh loving rn but i <3 the comments i get on this fic so hi :) how are we !!!