Chapter Text
To be fair, Marianne knew she was quite the site to behold. Decked out in a studded black leather jacket, jeans so tight they appeared to be painted on, and a dark purple bandeau top that showed off her pierced belly, she was the recipient of many curious looks. Her bright purple mohawk and equally stunning eye shadow were pretty much the definition of attention getting. She radiated an angry energy, barely contained by her 5’ 2” form.
The final piece of her commanding appearance were the six baby ducks that followed along behind her stomping combat boots. As part of her final psychology thesis Marianne had purchased and hand raised a batch of Ancona ducks, imprinting them on herself and documenting their growth and personalities. Out of the 8 eggs she had gotten, one didn't hatch, and one baby didn't survive the first night, leaving her with a half dozen peeping bundles of yellow fluff that followed her every step. At 3 weeks old parts of their downy yellow fluff were replaced with white feathers, black spots all over their adorably small bodies.
As she walked to school, looking like some goth punk Disney Princess, Marianne endured the amused stares and not so subtle photos. She didn't even mind when people stopped her to ask questions, as long as they were polite about it. It was only once she got to her campus that Marianne felt herself tense. More than one idiot had thought it would be ‘funny’ to mess with her ducks, and Marianne had wasted no time in protecting her fluffy children with an effusive amount of violence. The odd parade made it through the quad and into the building her first class was in before the cruel mistress name Fate made herself known.
Roland, star quarterback for the university's football team, ideal image of nearly every straight girl's wet dream hero, and douche bag ex-fiance extraordinaire popped out of an adjoining hall and blocked the small brunettes path. Other members of his team, most notably the triplets who followed him everywhere, appeared behind him. The whole group dressed in their jerseys, a garish bright green with golden accents. Anger coursed through the duck queens veins before the irritating blonde even opened his mouth.
“There ya are darlin’. I've been looking everywhere for you. And I see you still have your, uh, pets.” Smarmy and overconfident, Roland leaned ‘seductively’ against the wall, curling a lock of his hair with his fingers. The rest of the football team fanned out, trying to look like they weren't blocking her in whilst doing exactly that.
“Roland. How many times do I have to say ‘get lost’ before it gets into that bleached skull of yours?” Her hiss was viscous, punctuated by ‘ooh’s from the small audience they had. Other students, seeing the chance for drama to spice up their dull days, loitered in the halls to watch. Marianne spared the crowd a brief glance, checking for any signs of authority, before returning her attention to the man in front of her.
“Now buttercup, there's no need to be like that. I came all the way out here to accept your apology, you know. I've got a busy day ahead, but I'll always take time for my special girl.” His speech caused some of his backup to look at each other in doubt. This was not what he'd told them, and was not going how he'd said it would.
Marianne, for her part, did an amazingly good job of keeping her anger in check as she listened. If Dawn was here there would have been a round of applause for her composure. Her anger management therapist would be weeping in joy. It also helped that while her father was dean of the University, there was only so many fights she could get in before expulsion happened. Instead of launching herself at him like an angry tigress, Marianne took a deep breath and tried to will her hands out of the tight fists they had made.
“Go stick a fork in a toaster Roland, some electroshock might get rid of those delusions you have. There is no power on earth that would have me apologize to a cheating, power-hungry, lying, son-of-a-bitch like you.” If glares could kill Roland would be dead five times over from the one she gave him. Since that didn't happen, Marianne hitched her backpack higher on her shoulder and pushed her way past the blonde.
What happened next was prime viral video entertainment, though the students smart enough to be recording this would have to slow down the playback so nothing was missed. As Marianne passed by, Roland whipped his hand out, catching her arm and swinging her into the wall. It was supposed be romantic, him protecting her from the world with his manly man body, and her swooning at his display. Instead, Roland managed to kick one of her ducks during his maneuver, the winged entourage having been hiding at their mothers feet.
Marianne saw red as one of her precious babies was knocked over, and released an inhuman screech as she leapt at Roland. The unexpected attack knocked him down, and though he was a good half foot taller than her he was no match for her blind fury. Or her swinging fists, which met his face with a very satisfying noise. The ducks, used to their mothers behaviors and having learned well from her, joined in the fray, biting and clawing at her opponent.
A very high pitched squeal sounded from her victim as his nose went ‘crack’ before Marianne was knocked off him. Roland turned and crawled away, crying about his broken nose while his teammates picked him up and carried him off. A few cheers sounded from the peanut gallery, but Marianne ignored them as she turned to her small charges. Five of them had joined in the fight, and she found the sixth being held by the tallest man she had ever seen.
Fore-brain Marianne recognized him as Bogen ‘Bog’ Kings, third year vet student in the same program as her younger sister, going off his appearance alone. Dawn had always described ‘Boggy’ as tall and lanky, with a sharp nose and the prettiest blue eyes ever, ‘like seriously Marianne they're so perfectly bright and even though he's always grumpy you can see how much he cares by looking at his eyes.’ Marianne appreciated the description, and had to admit her sibling was right about the eyeballs/caring ratio. He was holding her duck with gentle hands, checking it over for injury.
Hind-brain Marianne did not notice or care about any of the things fore-brain spewed out in the millisecond they took to take in the situation. No, all hind-brain saw was another threat to her charges, someone who had no right to hold her duck and there was hell to pay for his transgression. In one smooth movement her fist shot out, tiny in comparison to him, but meeting his chin with a force so great that he released the duck he'd been holding hostage (caring for) and dropped to the ground stunned.
Marianne caught her bird without hesitation, tucking the small fowl in her arms as she glared down at the sprawled man. He looked up at her in shock, one hand going to his chin.
“Don't touch my ducks!” Her roar was venomous, punctuated by her agitated brood hissing behind her. Little known fact, ducks don't have teeth but instead serrated bristles that run along their beaks, and do in fact look quite menacing when 5 angry jaws are pointed at your face. Bog appeared to be appropriately cowed by the small avian intimidation, so Marianne twirled with a dramatic flourish and stalked off the way she came. Students tripped over each other in their haste to make way for the small bundle of anger and her waddling entourage, and a good amount of money was passed between hands as those who were smart enough to bet on her collected their winnings.
The animal studies wing was on the other side of the campus, but with rage on her face and angry birds at her heel Marianne made quick time getting there. It only took her a few minutes to track down her sister, courtesy of a few scared first years who happened to be crushing on her, the young blonde was in one of the labs doing who-knows-what when Marianne barged in.
“Huey’s been hurt.” She spoke over her sisters gasp of fright and completely ignored the other students in the room, holding out her bird urgently. Dawn, bless her bubbly soul, didn't hesitate in taking her new patient and giving him a thorough examination. With all the patience of a caged lion Marianne paced back and forth while she waited. Accustomed to her antics the remaining brace settling down under one of the tables to wait. It wasn't a long wait.
“He's fine Marianne. A bit shook up, might have a bruise on his side, but nothing bad.” Dawn reassured her sibling, plopping the duck on question down with his. Of all the important people in Marianne's life, which amounted to Dawn, their father, and childhood friend Sunny, Dawn was the only one to understand her older sisters attachment to the ducks. She knew that Marianne wanted kids, had planned on marrying the love of her life and raising a swarm of mini-Mari. That dream was suitably crushed when the fiery woman had caught Roland cheating on her, all hopes of love and marriage gone with it.
So Dawn had encouraged Marianne's idea of raising the ducks. She was there when Marianne ordered the eggs, helped her build the incubator and wait for the precious cargo, took an incredible amount of pictures as the eggs were candled daily, and cried with her sister when two didn't make it. Dawn knew the ducklings meant the world to Marianne, the bond between mother and child that transcended species and could not be betrayed. Dawn understood.
“What happened?” The vet-to-be questioned gently as Marianne dropped to ground with a groan. The ducks immediately swarmed her, pressing their small fluffy bodies together for some adorable cuddles. Which Dawn totally wasn't jealous of. At all.
“Roland.” It was a curse and an explanation all in one, and Marianne knew she wouldn't have to elaborate. A snarl of anger flashed across the perky girls face, as rare as a twenty foot crocodile and equally deadly. When angered there was no doubt Dawn was her sibling, and woe to whoever managed to incur her wrath. The look didn't stay long, as the younger girl took in her sister appearance and noticed her bloodied knuckles.
“Marianne! Your hands!” Dawns want to become a vet had stemmed from taking care of the many injuries Marianne obtained growing up, being something of a wild animal herself. She was an old hand, pun very much intended, at doctoring her sister and so wasted no time in grabbing the first aid kit from her bag and cleaning out and taking care of the wounds. Neither sister bothered to move from their positions, both comfy where they were.
“You should see the other guys.” Marianne boasted, ignoring the flare of guilt that accompanied the thought. Without the adrenaline and anger, Marianne knew she Messed up. Capital M, for mucho grande on the ‘You done wrong’ scale. Attacking Roland was one thing, the bastard deserved it, but there was real regret for her second victim. Her anger management therapist would be very disappointed.
“Yeah? And wait, guys? As in plural? As in you fought more than one?” Now Dawn was loving and supported her sister no matter what, and she knew Marianne had that black belt in karate and took kickboxing and judo and did MMA, but she still worried about her getting in fights.
“Only two. I think I broke Rolands nose. Assbutt tried to kiss me, and kicked Huey.” Marianne took a second to give the injured duck some love. “Then I maybe punched another guy who was probably only trying to help.” The words were pushed out in a rush, and Dawn had to take a second to decipher what was said.
Whatever Dawn might have retorted with was lost as the main lab door was slammed open. A very angry Bog Kings entered, raking the trembling students with his eyes before settling them on Dawn and marching forward. Marianne watched from the ground, hidden by the slatted wall that ran along the tables legs, as Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grumpy made his way to her baby sister. She took a moment to appreciate the way his dark jeans hung low from his waist, the cool autumn air blocked by his baggy grey sweater and black leather jacket. The man had the shoulder to hips ratio of a dorito, but it looked damn good on him. His almost-black-but-actually-brown hair was messed, looking like he'd ran his hands through it a few times, and a large bruise was forming in the stubble on his jaw.
“Wha’ tae bludy hell is wrong wit yer family?” Bog growled out he slammed his hands onto the table that was Marianne's hiding spot and Dawns workspace. Marianne bristled at his tone, whereas Dawn completely ignored it. His Scottish brogue was unfairly attractive, thickened as it was with his anger, and Marianne did her best to ignore that.
“Oh Boggy! What happened?” Even his death glare was no match for Dawns compassion, as her slender hand reached out to feather over his bruise.
“Yer sister.” His snarl was punctuated by him grabbing the tiny wrist before it could come in contact with his face. Dawn flinched at the sudden move, and that was all it took for Marianne to spring up from the floor.
“Don't touch my sister!” Her threat, so similar to the one given not ten minutes ago, caused the fully grown man to yelp and jump back, releasing his prisoner as if burned. There was a healthy dose of fear in his eyes, but anything either of them were going to say was cut off by the shortest of the odd trio.
“Marianne Sebille! Tell me the guy you ‘maybe punched who was only trying to help’ wasn't Boggy!” The dreaded mom voice, though Dawn barely had any memories of her mother, combined with the full name tactic was enough to make Marianne step back. Both girls ignored the boys mumbled ‘Bog’ correction.
“Um.” A quick glance around the room told her everyone else had cleared out, knowing they wouldn't get any work done while this was going on. There would be no one to save her. “He was holding my duck?” That wasn't supposed to be a question. Marianne ran her hand across the back of her neck awkwardly, the other gesturing vaguely between Bog and the ducks shuffling at her feet.
“Boggy is the sweetest, he would never hurt your ducks!” Another ‘Bog’ was ignored as the indignant blonde glared at her big sister. The two inches of height difference did nothing to diminish her anger.
“I am very disappointed in you for hurting my friend. You are going to apologize to Boggy. And you're going to take care of that bruise for him.” Dawns tone was no nonsense as she quickly packed up her bags. This time the ‘Bog’ was resigned and a bit confused, but still ignored by the female population of the room. All two of them. A silent staring contest was waged between the two sisters, an argument done with the eyes that Dawn won easily.
“Bye Boggy!” The Scot was ambushed with a light kiss on his cheek, the blonde using the rungs of a stool to give her the height necessary before she flounced from the room. His cheekbones flared with a blush, his final attempt at correcting his name lost with a choke. Marianne, watching the whole exchange, found it oddly adorable.
Awkward silence reigned in the lab, Marianne tucking a stray lock of her mohawk back to vertical while Bog found something incredibly interesting on the floor.
“I'm sorry. For punching you. In the face.” Good job Marianne, A for effort but F for execution. It was probably one of the worst apologies she'd given. The recipient seemed shocked by it, his holy shit those are really blue eyes darting to hers before looking away.
“A’m fine. It's fine.” Obviously not, with the dark purple splotch that graced his jaw, but Bog lied anyways. It wasn't that he was scared of the little spitfire in front of him. No, it was a healthy appreciation of the fact that she could easily kick his ass. Bog was no slouch in fighting, he'd had over 30 cousins growing up in Scotland, where affection was shown in a very physical way, and had been in his fair share of pub brawls. Still, he recognized a trained fighter when he met one, and had felt the power she kept hidden in her small body.
And what a body it was. Bog had long since resigned himself to a bachelor's life, due to his gangly height and hideous appearance, but he could still appreciate a beautiful woman. Which Marianne certainly was. Even though she was short, like the top of her head just came up to his collarbone short, she was lithe and curvy in all the right places. Scottish beauty favored those with a bit more weight on their bones, and Bog himself sure appreciated that over the stick-thin style of America. What drew him in most though were her eyes, bigger than the norm and a warm golden honey, so expressive on her face.
“Is yer duck alright?” He covered up his gaping and wandering thoughts with his blurted out question, blushing slightly at her raised eyebrow. Curse his fair Gaelic skin for showing his flush so easily. It was a useless question, as Bog had checked out the bird before he'd been decked, and knew the answer already.
“Yeah. He's fine.” Marianne gestured to the gaggle of wandering waterfowl around her feet, watching with amusement as Bog carefully skirted the table to look at them. She got a good look at his bruise, and felt her hands twinge in sympathy. Luckily there was no broken skin, but it probably hurt something fierce.
“Let me see your face.” Blunt and to the point, Marianne reached out and grabbed his chin, ignoring personal boundaries as she manhandled him. Bog froze in place, stooped down to give her better access and blushing like a tomato at how close her face was to his. It was the closest he'd been to a woman in years, not counting the overly friendly but still innocent affections Dawn gave.
Marianne didn't notice his inner turmoil, instead pushing him onto the closest stool and rummaging through her bag. She had a lengthy and intimate relationship with bruises and since she planned on going to the gym later had come prepared. After a few seconds of foraging she managed to produce a box of instant ice packs, a large bandage, and a tube of cream
Again, personal boundaries completely forgotten, Marianne snapped one of the ice packs before pouring some of the cream onto her hand. She was gentle, as gentle as she'd been with her newborn ducks, and very carefully started to massage the goo onto her victims face.
“This is a vitamin K cream, mixed with St. Johns wort oil. Kinda smells, but it's full of tannins to shrink the capillaries and stop the bleeding, and the vitamin K helps with clotting. Should help prevent it from growing too big, and make it hurt less.” Her voice was barely a whisper, so concentrated on her task she didn't notice his bright red face.
Once she was pleased with the coverage she covered the area with the bandage, and then placed the ice pack against it. With a wince at the sudden cold Bogs hand came up and took control of the offending object. Their hands overlapped momentarily, Marianne to focused to notice and Bog unable to notice anything else.
“Keep it cold for at least 24 hours, and put the cream on 3 times a day, until it goes away.” She tucked the cream into his jacket pockets, and only then noticed her transgressions. With an awkward laugh she backed away, snapping another ice pack and laying it over her abused knuckles. Bog watched, noticing the blush that graced her cheeks with astonishment.
“Why do ye have ducks?” This time it was Bog who broke the awkward silence, though he regretted the delivery. She rewarded him with a giggle, which seemed to surprise her as much as it did him, and sank to the ground near her charges. They immediately swarmed her, peeping happily, and she gestured for him to sit beside her. Bog did so hesitantly, remembering the sight of their snappy little beaks close to his face.
“I got them for my psychology thesis. I'm writing about imprinting, nature versus nurture, and how parenting can change a child.” While she spoke she picked up the recently battered Huey, placing the mostly white duck on Bogs lap.
“These guys are a rare-ish type of domesticated duck, called Ancona ducks. They're generally calm and timid, make good pets. But when they're raised by me they're a bit more, uh, aggressive. They copy me.” She was rewarded with a snort of humor at that understatement. Aggressive was one of the nice descriptions she'd had used for her.
“So ye made yerself an army of ducks.” His tone was teasing, and he lightly tapped the duck on his lap with a finger. Said duckling snapped his bill weakly at the offending digit. Marianne giggled again at the mumbled ‘bad duck’ Bog gave, watching as his blush came back. The man made awkward look adorable.
“Huey.” She took pity on him, taking the attention of his blundering.
“Bless ye?” His eyebrow quirked with confusion, which looked unreasonably good on him. Marianne decided that she wanted to see what else his expressive face could look like.
“No, that's his name. Huey.” She bopped the duck on his lap on the head, laughing as she was snapped at too.
“Ye named him Huey.” Bogs voice was filled with dry wit, and Marianne added ‘amused’ to the list of expressions she got from him. So far she had anger, awe, confusion, and fear. A good mix.
“Yep. Huey, Dewey, Louis. My boys.” Marianne pointed to the ducks as she named them. “Then there's Danger, Darkwing, and Scrooge. My girls.” Those three were braver than their brothers and had wandered away a bit, but still within sight.
“Yer very different.” Both of them winced at that, but for completely different reasons. Bog couldn't believe he had just said that out loud, his verbal filter apparently knocked out by her punch.
“Yeah, I get that alot.” Her shoulders hunched in, making herself seem even smaller. Which shouldn't have been possible. Bog could recognize the signs of self depreciation, and was quickly to jump in.
“That's what A like. Uh, A mean.” He coughed, feeling the heat of his blush race across his face and reach his ears. It would be more efficient if the blush just stayed there permanently, with the frequency it came in her presence.
“Better than being hideous like me.” He meant it to be a joke, but it fell flat. Marianne looked in confusion, seeing the sadness in his eyes. Windows to the soul and all that, she could see a kindred spirit.
“You're not hideous.” Truth, but probably a bit to blunt, even for her. Soon they both had matching blushes, neither able to look at the other. The duck queen looked at her people, watching them climb over the tall man like he was a plaything, and noticing how even in his embarrassed state Bog was still taking care of the small fluffy piles.
“My ducks like you, so you can't be all bad.” She stood up, brushing downy feather from her pants and offering Bog her hand.
“C’mon you overgrown pine tree. I'm already skipping class, might as well do something fun. I'll buy you a coffee. As an apology. For the whole punching thing.” She rushed to add that last bit on, realizing last second that it sounded really close to a date invitation. And while she wouldn't mind it being a date, which was terrifying in its own right, she figured it would be better to go a bit slower
Bog took her hand, letting her pull him to his feet and looking down at the girl. The girl who mothered ducks, punched douche bag blonde jocks, and didn't seem to care that he hadn't let go of her hand. A shy smile grew on his face, lighting up his eyes and making Marianne forget to breathe. New favorite expression right there.
“A’d like that, Tough Girl.”