The Picnic

WITHOUT MEN-fanfic. Just a tiny story about the ladies from the "Without Men" movie.
(Cleotilde/Rosalba)


A brief pause from the "Patching Her Up"-series, because a certain person told me to do it. ^^;

Read The Picnic

Disclaimer: I have no clue who owns the rights to the “Without Men” movie, and I’m just borrowing because a certain person made me do it.




The Picnic
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By Carola “Ryûchan” Eriksson




”We’re here!” Rosalba happily declared to her companion, trotting off to a small patch of grass at least partially shaded by the branches of a large tree, expertly tip-toeing to avoid getting stuck with the high-heel shoes that were just not suited for this environment.

Cleotilde nodded and watched with interest as Rosalba lay out the blanket. She had all but wrestled her lover for the picnic basket, wanting to be gallant and carry their things, but Rosalba was as always stubborn and bossy, so they ended up sharing; Cleo carried the basket and Rosalba the blanket and the bottle of wine.

She’d tried to play off her excitement when Rosalba had asked her out for a picnic, and tried very hard to keep a neutral expression even now, but she could feel the smile breaking through as she sat down and relinquished control of the basket.

Rosalba of course beamed happily, not so secretly charmed by the bashful but happy smile tugging at Cleo’s lips. She was glad she thought of this.

With expert hands she set out the wine and glasses, some cheese, two different types of biscuits, and many different kinds of fruit, all chopped up to pieces she thought would be suitable for feeding her Cleo by hand. Last of all she brought out a special treat, a handful of nice, ripe strawberries and a small bowl of honey.

Cecilia had some very good ideas, she would have to thank her later. Even if hearing the suggestions about the other uses for the honey was a bit embarrassing.

The wine was nice, and they took turns feeding little bits to one another in between kisses. Rosalba was happy and content, and all seemed well with the world.

Cleotilde was lying down on her back with Rosalba straddling her hips, strawberries long gone but another use for what was left of the honey found – although one more innocent than the one Cecilia had suggested – when they heard it.

A buzzing.

A very, very strong buzzing, getting closer.

Abruptly Cleotilde sat up, unintentionally dislodging Rosalba whom with a yelp poured the rest of the honey over herself and rolled away over the blanket and the remains of their romantic meal. With honey still smeared liberally over her face Cleo stared at the large dark and undulating cloud quickly coming their way.

“W-why?” She gasped and scrambled to get to her feet, knocking the wine bottle over in the process and splashing both herself and Rosalba with what was left in it.

Rosalba, recovered enough from her shock to get angry, growled and threw biscuit crumbs and cheese at her lover. Cleo grabbed her hand and yanked.

“Stop it!” Rosalba complained. “What has gotten into you?”

In reply Cleotilde, with a sticky but firm grip, turned Rosalba’s head towards the loud buzzing.

“Honey...” Cleo squeaked as Rosalba gasped. “Run!”

Finally Cleotilde managed to yank Rosalba to her feet, and together the two of them ran screaming at the top of their lungs away from the large and fast-moving cloud that followed them. Rosalba’s high heels sank into the dirt almost immediately, causing her to fall.

Cleotilde stopped and helped Rosalba to her feet, this time abandoning the shoes, but the first of the bees were already upon them. With a speed borne from desperation – and pain – they ran for the water and dove in.

They just hoped they could both hold their breaths until the angry bees had lost interest in them.

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“I just don’t understand why they attacked us.” Rosalba complained as Cecilia applied salve to the multitude of beestings covering her face, arms and legs. On a chair nearby Cleotilde pouted mightily as she was given a similar treatment by Magnolia, only her scant clothing meant that she had suffered even more stings than Rosalba.

Cecilia looked thoughtful. “You said you were going somewhere by the trees on the other side of the river?”

Rosalba nodded morosely, mourning her ruined picnic.

“Was it by the really big tree with the branches that make a parasol?”

Both Rosalba’s and Cleotilde’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at their friend.

“Did you happen to see the large beehive up in that tree?” Cecilia asked cheerfully. “I got the honey from there this morning.”