Solangelo Oneshots

Amaris and Cupid

Ami closed her eyes, leaning her head against the cold window. She shifted uncomfortably.

Half an hour, she reminded herself. Half an hour and then home.

It wasn't that she didn't like seeing her grandmother. On the contrary. Grandma was one of her favourite people. She was bubbly and talkative and she'd sent Ami home with a large chocolate cake that was currently strapped in next to her.

Seeing Grandma was great. Driving to and from Grandma's was tedious at best and unbearable at worst.

They did have regular pit stops. They were a neurodivergent family. None of them could cope with the six hour drive with no breaks.

Ami sighed, taking out one of her headphones. The last half an hour was always the worst.

"That's some very enthusiastic singing, Dad," she said sarcastically. Her dad caught her eyes in the rear view mirror.

"I have to stay awake," he grumbled. "Don't disrespect my methods."

Ami laughed. "Is Papa asleep?"

Dad glanced over at his husband, grinning fondly.

"Out cold," he said. "At least he doesn't snore like you."

"I do not snore!" Ami protested.

"Of course you do," Dad said. "You inherited that and my winning personality."

"You're so weird," Ami replied, pulling a face. Dad opened his mouth to say something but his face suddenly dropped.

"Fuck!" he yelled, slamming on the brakes.

Ami lurched forward, her seat belt jerking her back.

"Will! Mio dio!" her papa shouted, pushing at the airbag that had burst into his chest.

"What the hell, Dad?" Ami demanded.

Her dad ignored her, reaching for Papa's arm, his eyes never leaving the road.

"Nico, look."

Papa turned his head and the oxygen looked like it was being sucked out of his lungs. He and Dad almost fell out of the car.

Ami tugged her headphones out and yanked off her seat belt, throwing open the car door.

"Guys, what the hell?" she asked.

Her papa stepped in front of her, holding his arm out to keep her firmly behind him.

In front of them stood a young man with dark hair brushing his shoulders. He wore a crop top and shorts. Ordinary except for the fact it was December and except for the large, white wings spread dramatically behind him.

"Fuck off, Cupid," Dad ordered firmly. His face was set in a way Ami didn't recognise. Hatred. Pure disgust and disdain. She shrank back.

"That's rude," Cupid said teasingly, his mouth sloped in a smirk. His voice reverberated through Ami's lungs and very soul. He tilted his head, eyes fixing on hers.

They were blood red. On a better person, they could have been red like unending passion or red like a river of blood. On Cupid, they were red like a stain on a carpet. Unpleasant. Unsightly.

"Well, hello there," Cupid muttered.

"Ami, get in the car," Papa said, quiet and steady.

"But-"

"Amaris Solace!"

Ami hesitated, backing away to the car.

Cupid tsked.