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galaxycosplayart · 3 years

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A Man on a Roof

A simply short story I wrote heavily inspired by a dream I had. I tried my best to do research on 1920's fashion and culture, as well as try to make the New Orleans theme authentic. Constructive criticism is appreciated! (There's also some lgbtqia+ representation in here since I'm basing this off my dream where I was the narrator and I am in fact LGBTQIA+) ---

The sound of jazz resonated throughout the rather extravagant hotel venue, loud and upbeat. People swung along: dancing to the sweet melodies like there was no tomorrow. The band’s performance was booming with energy, passion and life; the colourful music painting a perfect picture of the ‘20s in all of the attendee’s minds. The dance floor was packed of all different shapes, ages and sizes. This gathering was one you wouldn’t forget. The sights, the sounds, the feeling; this 1920s themed extravaganza surely did live up to that title. I would know. I was smackdab in the middle of it all.

I’m going to be honest: I don’t really like parties. Too populated, too loud, too obnoxious – but I can’t say no to some swing. This party really was worth coming to, and for once I have to say I had the time of my life. Something about the general aesthetic, the beaming faces of everyone there, the historical backstory, it just made me swell up with joy (and excitement!). I was on my own, my parents were probably off making friends with other adults. In my hand was a glass of non-alcoholic champagne. I am but 13-years-old, after all. I continued to sway, careful not to spill my drink, when I happened to notice a boy leaving the party. He caught my eye, not for attraction, but intrigue. He looked to be a young man, around 16 or 17, but he was somewhat tall and lanky. Unfortunately, I didn’t get enough time to take a proper gander. Fortunately, nothing stopped my compelled urge to follow.

---- He was going to the roof. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry. No, he trotted nonchalantly to the elevator, his footsteps in sync with the music. He seemed to caper with the pleasant melodies coming from the venue. As he entered the elevator car, he lingered on to the tune with each step. The door closed before I could join him, and I watched the floor-level indicator above the gate gradually flicker to the roof of the building. Now, I know tailing people isn’t very polite, but I had taken a liking to the man’s... energy. Once taking a separate car up and searching a bit, I spotted the man near the edge of the flat roof. He continued to tap, now bathed under the glow of the full moon, illuminating his dancing figure. Since I could finally see his face, I can tell you he certainly was a rather attractive man. His warm amber skin basked splendidly under the moonlight; his eyelids shut. His low-ponytail of curly black hair swayed with him as he stepped, the music taking control of his body and mind. His outfit was truly vintage: a neat white dress shirt beneath some dark brown suspenders, the shirt tucked into his black dress pants. He also wore a dark chocolate-coloured bow tie and a light-grey longshoremen cap. Strong jazz could be heard, slightly muffled from the floors below, but that didn’t stop the young tapper from Charleston-ing his way around the roof. Listen, I’m no professional dancer, but I like to have a bit of knowledge in any given topic. My little knowledge prompted a question in my head, “Aren’t you supposed to have a dancing partner for this particular swing?” I said nothing aloud though, for my focus was on observing this man’s joyous pep. I leaned against the wall, quietly enjoying the stranger’s strut, when the moment was cut short by the sound of giggles. He opened his eyes, revealing mahogany brown irises, only adding to his beautiful appearance. He and I both turned to see a group of young women, looking to be around his age, goggling the boy. I mean, you could say I was too, but I didn’t interrupt or jest at his actions; I merely gazed politely. The nearest girl walked up to him and began to chat, which ceased his dance. This disappointed me, he seemed to be enjoying himself and they decided to throw off his rhythm. He appeared uninterested in talking too, giving the girl a bored look and responding in short answers. From what I heard, she was clearly chatting him up, probably attempting to make a move on him. However, this encounter was also interrupted; for it was his turn to spot me. We made eye contact; his line of sight aimed downwards at my short figure. I immediately panic, thinking, “Crap. How am I supposed to explain why I’m here? ‘Hello sir, I followed you upstairs, I liked the vibes?’ Hell no.” As I ran through all the possible excuses or justifications for why I decided to basically stalk this man up the hotel, I didn’t notice him making his way towards me. Nor did I sight the annoyed look of the girl he just left behind. He comes up to me, and soon realizing I was lost in frantic thought, gently places a hand on my shoulder. I snap out of my frenzied state, jumping at the touch and looking up once more to see him a lot closer than he was a couple of seconds ago. “Hey, you alright? You seemed frozen in time, dere,” he said with a gentle smile. His accent was faintly reminiscent of downtown New Orleans, which explained how his energy matched the parties so perfectly. It was smooth and peppy; an endearing tone. “Oh, yeah, of course,” I say quickly, still trying to find the right words. “I- uh- I liked your dancing,” was all that came out of my mouth, and I mentally facepalmed with the awkwardness that came with the broken statement. Instead of cringing at this display, however, he instead laughed. “Thank you, cher. And what are you doing, all alone on this here roof?” he asked kindly. “Just... exploring. I happened to notice you dancing when I got to the roof, so I kind of... watched for a bit,” I replied sheepishly. I mean, I wasn’t lying. I did explore the roof a bit before I found him, and I did spot his Charleston when I did. I just happened to omit the details of following him up the elevator car. And through the lobby. From the party. No biggie. “That so? Well then, can you dance?” he asked, extending a friendly hand and dishing out a genial grin. I panic again, but this time for a different, more trivial reason. “Oh, no, no I’m not that good at dancing-” “Really? Ya seemed to be enjoying it down there at tha’ party.” “...You saw me there?” “I watched you follow me, sha.” “...” Well, this was incredibly embarrassing. If I wasn’t already blushing from this whole ordeal (which I incredibly doubt – my face felt very hot), I most definitely was now. I should be thankful for his carefree attitude, because when my spluttered apology attempted to vocalize itself into comprehensible words, he simply waved it off and laughed once more. “Oh, it ain’t nothin’. Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he assured light-heartedly. “Still, I wouldn’t mind if you joined me. It’s fun to have a dancin’ partner, ya know?” “I- well... I guess a bit of dancing wouldn’t hurt,” I admitted. He extended his hand once more in invitation. I hesitantly accepted, and as soon as my palm fit into his, the grip strengthened as I was whirled to his side in the open area near the edge. As the next song started to play, and we couldn’t help but get lost in the music, I heard one phrase be exclaimed from the still-anonymous boy beside me, “Laissez les bons temps rouler!" ---- I had easily resumed my cheerful demeanour by dancing with the man, enjoying our time to the fullest. Despite my lack of expertise in cutting a rug, we enjoyed ourselves quite a bit. It was more of feeling out the music and letting the rhythm take you, relishing a fun stranger’s presence. Sadly, this enjoyment was often interrupted by a third party, who continued to loiter around on the roof; each individual taking their turn in attempting to woo the boy. Louis, as I now knew him, also kept up his trend of giving the girls a cold shoulder, and we exchanged a cheeky grin each time one would storm off huffing. However, something did confuse me slightly. Well, the women were exceptionally beautiful. They also didn’t seem rude, or arrogant; they actually seemed rather kind and friendly. Some even referred to Louis by name, meaning he was probably familiar with the ladies. They simply were shooting their shot, and Louis would keep refusing one after the other. Obviously, he wasn’t obliged to humour any of their advances, but it’s like he didn’t even acknowledge the idea of dating them. I am a curious – and frankly, unfiltered – soul, so as the last dame trudge off to the group, I turn to my new friend and say, “Hey, mind if I ask you something?” “Sure, what's on your mind, cher?” he replied smoothly, as we both watch the gaggle of women finally exit. “You know em’? The group there, I mean,” I clarify, though there wasn’t such a need for it anyway. I just have a bad habit of... shedding light on things that aren’t as dark, you feel me? “Yeah, they’re good friends of my brother’s. Why?” “Oh, well, they seem awfully interested in you.” “Yeah, they do that now and then. I’m used to it.” “Can’t take a hint, huh?” “Yeah, you right.” I decide to sit down as the current song begins to fade out, allowing myself a small break before the music resumed. Louis takes a seat beside me, sighing. I press further, while simultaneously pondering why I was so curious about his decision to dismiss these dates. Looking back on it, it was really none of my business, but something about the rejections just felt oddly... familiar. Still, I probably shouldn’t pry into other people’s matters. “May I ask why you constantly say no? I mean, they seem like lovely ladies. Are they just not your type?” He doesn’t reply at first, so I immediately jump to the conclusion that I upset him in some way. He’d be justified in feeling so, but I soon come to realize he was thinking of how to answer. After a few moments, I got the reply. “Sort of. I mean... in a way? They don’t know that though,” he says with a smile, to which I respond by giving him a quizzical look. What was that supposed to mean? I’m pretty embarrassed I didn’t realize it sooner when he sees my expression, and states, “Oh. I’m gay.” I stare at the boy for a few moments, blinking. I then burst out into laughter. What a heteronormative approach I took to my questioning. Me, of all people! He was amused with me, and we share a joyous laughing session to the realization. “Ah... no wonder I related to your rejections,” I say with a cheerful grin. He quirks an eyebrow, and asks me with a curious twinkle in his eye,“Hm? What are you talking about sha?” “I’m bi. And non-binary. That’s partially why I found it so ironic that I didn’t get that sooner.” We chuckled once more, now aware of how hysterical the situation was when the final song of the evening began. He gets up first, helping me up, and we find ourselves dancing our way into the night.

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Galactica, Chapter 67 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Bianca introduced the world to her scandalous new girlfriend (in spite of strong disapproval from her friends, especially Fame), and Violet worried about Sutan’s friends accepting her.

This Chapter: Team Adult gather at Fame and Patrick’s for their annual chosen-family Christmas party.

***

“No, no, not that one!” Fame stepped in front of the catering girl, picking up the wine glass she had just put on the dining room table. Fame held it up, catching the rim of it on the light, a smudge of white haze clearly clinging to the glass.

“Look at this!” Fame handed it to the woman, “Rewash. Now.”

The girl ran off, and Fame sighed, annoyance at the inconvenience of it all crawling under her skin. It was incredible how she always had to go through everyone's work with a fine-tooth comb, the ability to do things right the first time worryingly rare.

The dining room was almost complete, a crisp white table cloth spread out, glittering baubles in silver and glass placed in between plates and cutlery.

They would start the evening in the parlor, the bartender she had hired ready to make drinks for everyone as waiters moved through the crowd with trays of hors d'oeuvres. After that, they’d come here to the dining room for dinner, while dessert would be served in the living room.

Fame had perfected the seating chart, making sure to put Raja and Sutan on separate ends of the table so they wouldn’t speak Indonesian all night, Karl and Raven kept separate as well so they wouldn’t snap at each other, while Bianca had been sat as far away from Detox as possible so he couldn’t question her about anything related to the very unfortunate situation of Courtney.

(Fame had every expectation that it would all crash and burn, and honestly, the sooner it happened the better, Bianca’s newest brain damage doomed to fail from the start.)

She moved a fork with the tip of her finger, making sure it was perfectly straight, another wave of annoyance rolling over her at the thought.

“Having a good time?”

Fame looked over her shoulder, just to see Patrick stand in the doorframe, a smile on his face, his hair still wet from the shower he had taken after Charles’ evening walk. He was wearing the outfit she had put out for him, the blue wool sweater making him look absolutely fantastic, the new chinos she had ordered perfect on his legs.

“Are you giving me attitude too?” Fame fought the impulse to roll her eyes, Patrick always poking fun at her attention to detail, even though he never complained when she made sure their life ran like clockwork.

“Oh never,” Patrick pushed away from the door, the smile still on his face as he walked over. “But you deserve it sometimes.”

“You’re so fortunate I promised for better or worse when we got married.”

“If this is for worse,” Patrick leaned in, placing a sweet kiss on her lips. “I’m sure I can manage.”

***

Karl braced himself from the cold as he pressed down the doorbell, a piece of opera he didn’t recognize playing out because Fame never did anything halfway, ever.

He had come directly from London, only stopping at his hotel for a quick shower and a change of clothes, the catnap he had taken in his first class seat barely enough to tide him over. He’d planned a week in New York to see his friends and get some work stuff done with the American head office of Elite before going home for Christmas with his family.

The door opened, and Karl looked up to see Patrick stand there, a big smile on his face.

“Karl!”

“So good to see you,” Karl smiled, responding to the tight hug Patrick gave him, the man quickly taking his coat and directing him upstairs to the parlor.

It was always exciting to see what theme Fame had gone with, the live string quartet that was seated in a corner promising him one of her more extravagant moods.

In spite of his desire to always play it cool, a smile immediately broke out on his face at the sight of his friends.

God, he had really missed them.

Raja and Detox were standing near an enormous white Christmas tree decorated with silver ribbons and glass baubles, the usual Persian rug exchanged for a pure white one he was fairly certain had been bought just to fit this year's Christmas aesthetic.

“Raja, De!” Karl grinned, his friends greeting him with hugs, Raja pressing a kiss against his cheek, the patchouli scent that always clung to her wonderfully familiar. She was wearing a blue suit with a deep neckline, several golden necklaces hanging from her neck, one of them so long it was tucked between her tits. She was stunning as always, but he loved Raja’s bitchiness most of all. The years had made her more diplomatic,however, the judgemental asshole was still in there--now, it just took a cocktail or three to get her out.

“Love the hair,” Karl raised an eyebrow, trying to convey how sarcastic that compliment was, Detox’s hair a shade of bright, fire-engine red. “Dyed it for the holidays?”

“How’d you know?” Detox smirked. He was reliably the worst-dressed in every room, tonight donning a red velour blazer, white shirt, red bowtie and white pants, hair only slightly more horrible than the entire ensemble. “It’s gone over better than the Halloween green.”

“Much better,” Raja drawled with a grimace, and they all laughed, which drew Fame over.

“Karl!” Fame smiled, opening her arms. “Oh look at you!” She pulled him in for a hug, pressing a kiss against his cheek, her hands as always surprisingly cold.

“Look at you,” Karl took a step back, holding Fame’s hands in his so she wouldn’t run away, Fame constantly fretting and correcting in her evergoing quest to be the perfect hostess. “Fucking stunning.”

Fame giggled, the flattery clearly getting to her, and Karl couldn’t help but love her. She was wearing her signature white, a structured dress ending just above her knees, the neckline classy and sexy, her blonde hair in a curly updo.

“Where’s your drink?” Fame tilted her head, her teeth biting into her red lip.

“I’ll go get one.” Karl released her, making his way across the room, but first stopping when he saw Adore. She was in a black dress and her typical loosely-tied combat boots, hovering over a waiter to snag appetizers from his tray. It was comforting, Karl realized, how much these people never changed.

“It might be time,” Karl slung an arm around her neck, his cufflinks almost catching on her hair, “to start paying a little attention to your diet, hon.”

“It’s the holidays,” Adore grinned, her mouth full, and Karl couldn’t help but laugh.

“You don’t have to listen to me,” Karl released her with a shrug. “But when you’re fat, I will have no sympathy.”

“I just love you fashion people,” Adore rolled her eyes. “Obsessed with superficial nonsense.”

“Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, my dear,” Karl smiled.

“Well that’s a fucking lie,” Adore grinned, pushing her hair over her shoulder as she took his arm and led him towards the couches. “Have you ever had the cheddar biscuits at Red Lobster? Or any form of fried cheese?”

“Oh god,” Juju groaned, already sitting amongst the plush white pillows, her belly basically a perfect ball on her tiny frame. “I would kill for those cheddar biscuits right now. But I guess I’ll settle for you...Hi, stranger!”

Juju reached her arms up towards Karl and he laughed, bending over to kiss her cheek.

“Nice to see you too, Juju. You’re looking...uh…”

“I’m a fucking whale, you can say it,” Juju sighed, shaking her head.

“Nah, it takes all the fun out of it when you say it first,” Karl told her with a cheeky grin.

“Leave her alone, bitch! She’s glowing and gorgeous!” Raven came up behind them, looking exactly like the supermodel she was, not a hair or an inch of fabric out of place. She handed a full plate of appetizers to Juju, adding, “Here you go, love.”

“Really? You didn’t have to!” Juju smiled brightly, taking the plate. “You’re the best.”

“Come on Juju,” Karl grinned, tapping her leg. “You know she’s only doing that in case she ever gets pregnant, so we all have to kiss her ass and wait on her hand and foot.”

“Hey!” Raven exclaimed, a hand on her hip. “I resent that.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Well, no.” Raven laughed, leaning over to give Karl a hug and a kiss.

They chatted for a bit, catching up on everything that had happened since he was last in New York. If anyone had told him twenty years ago that his closest friend group would be mostly lesbian women and straight couples, he’d have laughed in their face. But now, years later, here he was, hearing about Adore’s newest lesbian punk band, Juju’s pregnancy, and Raven’s search for the perfect wedding invitations.

“Karl!” He turned around to see Fame, arms crossed and brow furrowed, voice scolding as she asked, “You still don’t have a drink?”

“Sorry, sorry!” He laughed, making a sweeping gesture towards Adore, Raven and Juju. “I guess I just got distracted by all this feminine grace and beauty.”

“Eat a dick!” Adore retorted, mouth full once again.

“Happily,” he shot back. “Who’s serving?”

Fame wrinkled her nose, taking Karl by the shoulders and gently guiding him towards the bar, where he was met by a bizarre sight, Patrick and Bianca standing side by side and chatting, both smiling and drinking what looked to be schnapps.

Karl had honestly expected Bianca to be public enemy number one of the friend group right now. Raja had caught him up in an email after he saw the pictures of Bianca with her newest blonde, who was apparently Fame’s assistant, Raja always the one to go to if you needed a detailed update on the alliances and altercations in the friend group.

He wouldn’t lie--he was a bit excited to witness the drama of it all. Unfortunately, in this moment, everything seemed disappointingly copacetic.

He was just about to say hello to Bianca when a blood-curdling scream came from upstairs. Detox took off, running up the stairs two at a time to attend to whichever one of his twins was having a meltdown.

When Kelly was little, Karl understood why they had to drag her around to events. But now, both Detox and Juju had established careers and plenty of money to afford child care at home, so it made no sense to him that they were there with the nanny instead of home with the nanny--though at least they knew enough to keep them blessedly out of sight, probably parked in front of a TV upstairs.

“Jesus christ,” Bianca groaned, and Karl nodded, the screams of children surely their own category of horrible.

“I was thinking the same thing,” he chuckled, and Bianca grinned, pulling him in for a hug.

“We need to get him a drink,” Fame said to the bartender, apparently unable to relax until he was properly lubricated.

“You’re been spending a lot of energy trying to get me drunk,” Karl said. “You don’t have any ulterior motives, do you?”

Bianca guffawed. “You two would truly be a match made in hell, huh?”

“You’d know all about matches made in hell, wouldn’t you?” Karl asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Bianca narrowed her own eyes at him for a second, then laughed slightly, shaking her head. “Good one, bitch.”

“Karl,” Fame whined, gesturing towards the bartender.

“Alright, alright. Uh, can I just get a triple tequila on the rocks?” He turned to Fame, asking, “Happy? This’ll catch me up quick.”

Fame gave a satisfied nod, but then Karl was distracted by his name being called from across the room.

“Karl!”

Karl turned around to see Sutan at the top of the stairs and he instantly abandoned everyone at the bar to go greet him.

“It’s so good to see you!” Sutan smiled brightly, pulling him into the tightest hug and holding him close, the two men locked in an embrace.

Karl had really truly missed Sutan, emailing or calling not the same as actually being with his friend, even though they were in contact almost every single day. He was so overjoyed that he almost didn’t notice the dark-haired woman standing at Sutan’s side, a pair of crutches under her arms.

“Violet, this is Karl, one of my closest friends who unfortunately abandoned us to go live in London,” Sutan said, punching him affectionately on the arm. “Karl, meet Violet.”

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Violet said, balancing one of her crutches to shake his hand.

If anything positive could be said about Sutan’s dreadful taste in women, it was that they generally had a strong sense of personal style, and this one was no exception. She wore a deep green dress with a high neck and long sleeves, the cut flattering on her slender frame and hiding her cast.

For a moment, he was almost impressed- until he noticed that she was barely paying him any attention, her eyes all over the room behind him like she was looking for something.

“You too, Violet,” Karl said. “I love this dress. Is it Versace?”

“Yes.” Violet glanced at Sutan, who put an arm around her, looking very proud of the incredibly mediocre first impression his girlfriend had just made. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” After a moment of awkward silence, Karl gave a tense smile.

Good lord, this girl was dull as rocks.

It never failed to astound him how Sutan wound up with such basic bitches. He supposed that it had something to do with how laid-back he was: he almost never chose the girls; they chose him.

Although if his idiotic grin could be believed, he was strangely gaga over this one.

Karl knew he should have told him to just call Violet back in September, being ignored by her clearly terrible for Sutan’s critical thinking skills and decision making.

“Karl, you left without your drink,” Fame said, handing over the glass, and suddenly Karl was grateful for her relentless hounding, taking a huge swallow and letting the tequila burn down his throat.

“So…” Karl looked back at Violet. “I hear you two have been shacking up.”

He loved Sutan with his entire heart, but the man wasn’t easy to live with since he always put work first, wasn’t easy to be around - not even with a broken foot. But if Sutan’s emails were to be believed, there hadn’t been any issues at all, which meant Karl had to do his own digging.

“How’s that going?”

“It’s been great,” Sutan laughed, “Right, lovely eyes?”

Karl had to use all of his strength not to retch at that particular nickname, studying Violet’s reaction. Upon closer inspection, her face was not quite as pretty as she looked at first glance, especially the set of her lips--resting bitch face was an understatement, everything about her mean and distant.

“Yes. Great.”

Karl couldn’t pinpoint it, but her tone was terrible, dry and uninterested, like she’d rather be anywhere else.

“Can I-” Violet looked around the room. “I need to sit down-”

“Right. Sorry!” Sutan looked around, spotting empty seats near the bar. “Come on Karl!”

***

Bianca wandered towards the girls with her drink in hand, dropping a kiss to the top of Juju’s head before gesturing to the sofa.

“Mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead!” Juju smiled up at her, one of her hands resting on her belly, “Although at the rate I’m growing, there may not be room for you much longer.”

“Ha!” Bianca sat down, placing her drink on the side table. “So I guess I shouldn’t ask how you’re feeling?”

“I’m feeling like a cow,” Jujubee complained, though she was rubbing her thumb up and down, gently petting her belly. “Thank God this is the last one, and that there is only one this time. Another set of twins would have killed me.”

“I’m very glad to say I can’t relate,” Bianca laughed.

“Oh, come on, Bianca, you’ve been a mother,” Raven said, her voice silky smooth, lashing fluttering as she continued, “I mean you practically raised Adore and just adopted a new baby, right?”

Bianca knew, of course, that this was Raven’s sad attempt at a joke about Courtney’s age, and she rolled her eyes, asking, “Wanna get to the punchline, cunt?”

“There’s no punchline! I just think you’re a great person for being so generous with today’s youth,” Raven said proudly, and Bianca responded with another eye roll.

“Where is your little conquest tonight, anyway?” Juju asked, sitting up straight as Detox came back down the stairs, thankfully without a toddler on his arm.

“Working.”

“Oh...what a shame,” Raven clucked. “I was really looking forward to having her catch me up on Sesame Street.”

“Princess please, she’s obviously watching a big girl show like Dora the Explorer,” Raja cut in, settling down beside Raven on the loveseat.

“You know what, you’re both assholes.”

“Maybe we just think you can do better, Bibi,” Raja shrugged, putting an arm around Raven.

“Exactly,” Fame piled on, perching delicately in a chair. “I mean for god’s sake, Bianca, I’ve seen her wear neon. You can’t be with someone like that.”

“Yeah, well, neons are back,” Bianca grumbled.

“Neons are great,” Detox grinned, settling beside his wife. “Very in amongst high schoolers.”

Bianca attempted a smile, but it came out more like a sneer. She’d been expecting this, of course, but it was still annoying. She looked around, craning her neck to try and spot her sister.

Where was Adore? Surely she’d be just as annoyed at everyone talking shit about her best friend, but she was probably sneaking a cigarette on the back terrace or hiding upstairs with the kids.

“I think she’s great,” Juju said, and Bianca was grateful for at least one person on her side, ignoring the eye rolls from the peanut gallery as Juju continued, “She’s sweet, smart, spunky, I totally get why you like her.”

“Thank you! See, this is why you’re my favorit-”

“But she’s too young for you,” Juju finished, and Bianca scoffed. She should have known there’d be a ‘but’ coming.

“I’ve always hated you,” she said flatly, taking a swig of her wine as the others laughed. “But come on. She’s in her 20s, what’s the big deal?”

“She’s on the wrong end of her 20s,” Juju said with a light grimace, Detox nodding at her side.

“No, she isn’t. She went to school with Adore. So she’s what, mid 20s? That’s not even-”

“She’s 21,” Adore said, choosing that moment to return, flopping down onto the floor next to the sofa with a full plate of snacks, casually adding. “She graduated early.”

“When are you flying to New Orleans again?” Bianca asked, and Adore laughed.

“Listen, don’t be mad at me. I totally ship it; you know that,” Adore said, handing Bianca a napkin with a mini quiche as an apology.

Bianca took it, chucking her sister on the cheek before barreling on.

“By the way, you’re all a bunch of hypocrites, because nobody gave Tan shit like this when he started dating Violet!" Bianca gestured towards the bar where Sutan and Violet were chatting with Karl and Patrick.

“Wait, we didn't give him shit?” said Juju. “Oh man, I gotta think of some jokes.”

“Bianca, listen,” Fame said. “The real problem is that she’s barely competent-”

“Rude,” Adore muttered, and Bianca rewarded her loyalty with a shoulder squeeze.

“I’m just saying, she already has enough trouble focusing on her work. I don’t need you breaking her heart,” Fame said pointedly.

“Look, she really has improved since she first started,” Raja said, continuing with an arrogant wave of her hand. “I see her growth, as minimal as it is to me. I just don’t think this is the best idea you’ve had regarding relationships.”

“Duly noted,” Bianca snapped, gripping her glass tightly, more than ready to change the subject.

When they finally moved on, she did her best to follow the conversation about everyone’s vacation plans, but found herself still feeling tense and irritated. She excused herself from the group to go get another drink, then instead headed upstairs to have a moment of peace and quiet.

***

Courtney pulled her coat tighter around herself, grateful that at least she now had protection from the freezing cold wind and rain whipping around her. It had been a long couple of days--weather miserably gray, full of stressful end-of-year fire drills. She’d finally finished putting together the long list of Miss Fame’s business contacts so that she could approve gifts and holiday cards, and was anxious to get home.

Her stomach clenched when her phone began to buzz in her handbag, praying that it wouldn’t be some urgent task that required her to turn around and go back to the office. Surely Miss Fame had her hands full tonight with her party.

When she saw that it was Bianca calling, a big smile broke out on her face. She stepped under an awning to answer.

“B! Hi!” Courtney exclaimed, “I figured you’d be busy with your friends all night.”

“I decided to take a break from the festivities,” Bianca said flatly, and Courtney laughed.

“Having fun, huh?” She tilted her head, hand twirling a lock of hair.

“Oh yeah. What about you? Are you still at work?”

“No, I’m walking to the train,” Courtney said.

“How would you feel about hopping into a cab and coming to my place instead?” Bianca asked.

Courtney looked at the time on her phone, confused. There was no way they already ate dinner, it was barely 8.

“Aren’t you gonna be there for awhile?”

“I think I’m gonna skip out early,” Bianca said with a sigh. “I’m just not feeling it tonight. So, whaddaya say? Thai?”

“Are you sure?” Courtney asked, holding her breath. Of course, dinner and an evening with Bianca was about a thousand times better than the night of cup-o-noodles and Netflix on her phone that she had planned, but she also knew how important Bianca’s friends were to her. “I don’t want to take you away from them if-”

“I’m sure. Please come. I really want to see you.”

Warmth filled Courtney’s chest as she took a deep breath, her smile now so big that it threatened to crack her face in two.

“I’m on my way.”

“Great. See you soon, angel.”

***

“Where do you think you’re going?” Fame demanded, a hand on her hip. She’d noticed Bianca slip from the room earlier and had followed her, her friend now coming downstairs, coat on and cell phone in hand.

Bianca looked down at Fame, a slightly guilty expression on her face and Fame instantly felt her stomach clench.

“I’m...I’m sorry, blondie, I’m just not feeling up for the whole thing tonight.” She let out a sigh, adding, “I’m sorry.”

“You said that already,” Fame informed her, brow furrowed. She had no idea why Bianca was being like this. Of all people, Fame would think that she’d be the first one to be able to take a few jokes about her ill-fated relationship.

She’d certainly dished it enough to all of them over the years.

“Well, I am,” Bianca said, but made no move to remove her coat or put it back as she came down the last few steps, still clearly planning to leave.

“Wait Bianca, what about dinner?” Fame exclaimed, finding it easier to focus on food than her feeling of being abandoned by someone she considered her closest friend on such an important night, her stomach in knots. “We haven’t even had the first course!”

“Would you rather I left in the middle of the meal?” Bianca asked.

“No, I would rather you stayed and had a good time and stopped being so...so…” Fame was looking for the words, anger and fear and worry swirling in her guts.

“Please,” Bianca pressed a kiss to Fame’s cheek. “I’ll owe you one, okay?”

“No. No. This is not okay!” Fame burst out, refusing to accept how this conversation was going, how Bianca was being so incredibly selfish, the fact that she already owed her several ‘ones’ clearly forgotten by her friend. “It’s not okay. I really don’t understand this, we’re just looking out for you.”

“I know. But I’d rather skip ahead to the part where you guys are happy for me.” Bianca sighed, rolling her eyes, and it hit Fame like a punch to the stomach. “Which I assume you will be, eventually.”

Fame groaned. It seemed like Bianca was determined to take this little fling way too seriously, daring to prioritize someone completely new over all of them.

Fame only hoped that when it all crashed and burned, she’d have a functioning office. She shook her head, resigned to the fact that Bianca really was leaving early, skipping out on what was usually her favorite night of the year.

“Merry Christmas, blondie.”

“Merry Christmas,” Fame grumbled back, barely patting her on the back when Bianca hugged her goodbye.

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megaphonemonday · 7 years

Text

behind the door

Prompt: Now just imagine Mike and Ginny are fooling around, he can't wait to have his way with her only for Janet to come traipsing through the house and interrupts them. It takes everything in Mike not to snap

An expansion of this ask but not as fun as that makes it sound.

rating: Mature

read on ao3

“Right there! Don’t you dare stop!”

Like there was any chance of Mike Lawson stopping. He shifted his grip on Ginny’s leg, encouraging her to curl it higher up his back. The change in angle had them both panting, striving together.

“C’mon, Gin,” he urged, right against her neck, inhaling her sweet, familiar scent. She arched at the drag of his beard, limbs tightening around him, so Mike raised his head, locking his gaze on hers. “You getting there?” She nodded, swallowing hard, nails raking down his back. Her hips canted up and she loosed a shuddery breath, a flush spreading across her chest.

Jesus, she looked good.

Before Mike could really set about appreciating the woman beneath him, she froze up, every line of her body going taut and tense, but not in the way Mike wanted. Her head cocked to the side, brow furrowing as she concentrated ferociously.

“Did you hear that?” Ginny murmured. Her leg fell from his back.

Frankly, no. He’d been a little preoccupied. “It was probably nothing, Gin,” he tried to assure her, but she shook her head. Before she could push him off her, though, she was proved entirely correct.

“Ginny?” came an all too familiar voice, ringing through the condo. It was Mike’s turn to freeze.

It couldn’t be— Could it?

“Ginny Bean?”

It was.

Mike’s forehead thudded heavily into Ginny’s shoulder. “Did we know your mom was visiting?”

“No!” she hissed back, turning pink in a way that had little to do with how they’d chosen to spend their morning and everything to do with the threat of her mother finding them at it. “Mom?” she called out, making Mike flinch away. Jesus, she was loud. And not even in a way he could be unreasonably smug about.

“Are you still in bed, Ginny? It’s nearly noon!” Janet Baker’s voice floated up the stairs.

Ginny huffed and ignored the dig, instead shouting back, “I’ll be down in a minute!”

That taken care of, she turned her attention back to Mike. She smiled and wrapped her arms back around him. “All right, super star, think you can finish this in the next few minutes?”

She looked and felt so tempting, for half a breath, Mike wanted to oblige her.

Unfortunately, temptation would have to wait. “Ginny, that’s your mom!” he protested, a little horrified. He couldn’t just keep fucking her while her mom was somewhere in the house, waiting for them. Aside from being mortifying on a level he didn’t even want to contemplate, Mike was not above the desire to suck up to his fiancée’s mom.

(Or all moms. All parents, even. But that was a separate issue.)

“Who just showed up without any kind of warning!” she argued back, rolling her hips pointedly and making Mike groan. “Who knows when she’s going to leave?”

Sure she’d won, Ginny tried to wrap her legs back around his hips, but Mike rolled away. “I’ll make it up to you later,” he promised, coming in just close enough that he could press a kiss to her cheek.

Forgive her, but her cheek was really not the part of her that required attention.

"You better,” she muttered, once she’d resigned herself to the fact that her fiancé had really stopped their round of morning sex because her mother of all people interrupted them. Wasn’t that kind of thing supposed to stop after she moved into her own house?

Resigning herself to the fact that this was really happening, Ginny heaved a sigh and then herself out of bed.

Apparently, she had a guest to greet.

If Janet Baker was surprised by Mike and Ginny both descending the stairs from her room, she shouldn’t have been. They’d been dating for three years already, and engaged for the past six months. The fact that her mom maybe knew they weren’t just getting dressed when she arrived was mortifying, but in a slightly distant way. As long as they didn’t ever talk about it, it would probably be fine.

As long as her mom also left soon and Mike got back to blowing her mind, it would probably be even better.

“Mom,” Ginny greeted, tense and annoyed. That didn’t mean she didn’t cross the kitchen to give Janet Baker a hug, Mike trailing behind her. As she embraced her mom, she couldn’t resist probing, “I didn’t know you were coming into town.”

“Well, you haven’t been answering my emails about the wedding plans! What did you expect, Genevieve?”

She definitely didn’t expect her mom to hop on a plane to San Diego to get answers, and was about to say so when her fiancé intervened.

“Did you have a nice flight, Mrs. Baker?”

“Oh, it was fine, Mike. Thank you for asking,” her mom replied, concern and disapproval blooming into a warm smile. Ginny, meanwhile, sent him a dirty look. He just waggled his eyebrows back, like he wasn’t dealing with a serious case of blue balls. “And, how many times do I need to ask? Call me Janet.”

He smiled his boyish, winning grin and Ginny had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. God, he always got like this around her mom. If she weren’t so sure he was a one woman kind of man, Ginny would almost call it flirtation. As it was, she was pretty sure he just acted like this when he wanted someone’s approval.

If we wanted to keep Ginny's approval, he'd cut that shit out.

Halting the Mike Lawson charm train before it could really get rolling, Ginny asked, “So, where are you staying?”

Janet’s head tipped to the side. “I thought I would stay in the spare bedroom rather than spend all that money on a hotel room. You told me you finished decorating the spare bedroom. It is done, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Ginny gritted out.

“It’s even got furniture that’s not just from Ikea,” Mike offered.

What did that even mean? Was that some dig at millennials or her taste? What the hell was wrong with Ikea? Like Mike gave two shits about interior decorating; he’d admitted he’d hired a designer for his house and still didn’t understand half of what’d shown up. Apparently, though, that didn’t matter because he grinned in satisfaction at her mom’s appreciative laugh. Never mind Ginny’s bewildered, slightly hurt expression.

She covered it up quickly, clenching her jaw. Suddenly, the interrupted morning in bed wasn’t the only thing Ginny was regretting.

“All right, so you’re staying here. For how long?”

“How long will it take to get these wedding plans finished?” Janet countered, raising a brow.

“Mom, we’ve still got six months!”

“A wedding doesn’t plan itself, Ginny.”

“That’s what I keep telling her,” Mike grinned, bumping Ginny’s shoulder. He and her mom laughed, leaving Ginny's annoyance to only deepen.

So that was how it was gonna be. Who cared if Mike was more interested in the details of the wedding than Ginny was? She just wanted to marry him; she didn't care how it happened. He was the one with opinions. Of course, he had a basis for comparison. He had told her they needed to start making decisions, but it wasn’t like her mom needed to know that. Where was his loyalty?

While Ginny’d been aware of Mike’s weird thing about parents and even enjoyed it most of the time, she really hadn’t expected him to throw her under the bus because of it. He offered her a slightly sheepish grin and looped his arm around her waist. It wasn’t enough.

She smiled up at him, but inside, Ginny was already plotting her payback.

The next morning, Mike stumbled downstairs, having only barely remembered to pull on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before leaving his and Ginny’s bedroom. It would be hard to score brownie points with Ginny’s mom if she caught him wandering the house dressed only in his boxers. Or less. The only person he was interested in showing off for was his fiancée.

So, though it was still early, he wasn’t taking any chances.

And he wasn’t going to just hole up in bed. Not after waking up alone.

Ginny must’ve gotten up for an early morning run.

At least, that’s what Mike figured when he found her in the kitchen, still flushed and sweaty as she gulped down a glass of water. Miles of glowing, golden brown skin was on display in tight running shorts and a sports bra that did nothing for Ginny’s amazing chest.

Well, Mike could do something about that. (Or so he thought.)

He came up behind her, setting his hands on her hips and his lips on her neck.

“Morning, Gin.”

She hummed a greeting, setting down her empty glass. Her perfect ass pressed back against him and Mike didn’t bother resisting the urge to tighten his grip. Ginny’s palms settled on the edge of the counter and Mike started trying to figure out how quickly he could get both of them off. Probably no time at all, after their interrupted morning yesterday. Naturally, his dick hardened in his sweats, pressing insistently into Ginny.

“Mike,” she sighed.

How many of his best memories started out with her saying his name, just like that?

Unfortunately, this time wouldn’t be added to that list.

Ginny used her leverage to push away from the counter, dancing away from Mike’s grip. “Not now. I have to take a shower and then go take my mom to meet with the wedding planner.”

He tried not to be disappointed. “Then we’ll pick this up later.”

She wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. “I’m gonna be exhausted. After the wedding planner, we have appointments with like seven bridal shops and God knows what else she’s got planned for tomorrow. And for every day she’s planning on being here.”

Every day?

"It’s gonna be a long time ‘til we can pick this up, Lawson,” Ginny said, an odd glint in her eye. Which became positively mischievous when she continued, “But you don’t mind, do you? After all, you were the one who got weirded out about finishing yesterday morning.”

Personally, Mike didn’t think it was strange to feel a little leery about having sex with one, or more, of their moms waiting for them downstairs. Clearly, though, Ginny felt differently.

He rubbed a hand over his beard before smiling placidly. “That’s fine, Gin. I thought you might like to work out a little tension before your long day. With just your mom for company. But I understand.”

Ginny’s jaw worked side to side, her eyes narrowing. “Good.”

“Good.”

“Well,” she drawled, tipping her chin up in defiance, and God, Mike loved the expression on her face, “I’m gonna go shower, then.”

“Have fun,” he offered, turning to the refrigerator to start pulling out breakfast supplies.

“Oh, I will,” she promised, her footfalls punctuated by the soft slap of slightly damp fabric against a hard surface.

By the time Mike turned around, Ginny was already walking up the stairs, her sports bra laying on the floor behind her.

Mike wasn’t at all ashamed when he groaned and slumped until his forehead kissed the cool countertop.

What had he gotten himself into?

Ginny fought down the the smug smirk threatening to break across her face. If she let it grow, there was no way she wouldn’t have to explain herself to her mother. Especially considering the scowl currently gracing her fiancé’s face.

Yeah, try to suck up now, Lawson.

And she really didn’t want to explain to her mother that she was more interested in riling up Mike than this cake tasting. Even if the cake was pretty good.

She’d just leaned into his side and laid her hand on his knee as her mother and Mike chatted with the baker over the relative merits of American versus Swiss meringue buttercream. Of course he took an interest in this, too. Each and every minute detail her mom had brought up had received Mike’s undivided attention. From themes to colors (which, apparently were not the same thing) to the availability of anemones in November. He hadn't missed a beat. Unfortunately, he also hadn’t missed a single one of Ginny’s increasingly indelicate hints about Janet overstaying her welcome, either. Hadn’t missed them, but hadn’t been nearly as receptive. All of them were unceremoniously shot down to her mounting frustration.

If it hadn’t been for him, Ginny could’ve convinced her mom to go home four days ago. She could’ve had her house and peace of mind back four days ago. She could’ve had her fiancé back four days ago.

So, it was only fair to frustrate him in turn.

It was entirely too satisfying when Mike went totally still, his thigh as hard as a rock under her wandering hand. He practically jerked in his seat when her fingers found his inseam.

Now, she pretended to listen attentively as her mom and the baker moved on to potential fillings for the cake, but her fingers continued to trace up and down Mike’s inner thigh.

In retaliation, he draped an arm around her shoulder and leaned in close. Ginny suppressed the urge to shiver when his breath ghosted across her cheek.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Baker.”

“No game, Lawson,” she muttered out of the side of her mouth, and went back to pretending to care about cake decorating.

Ginny didn’t even feel that bad for lying.

The past week, this game of theirs had kept her from wanting to scream with every new task her mother had decided just had to be taken care of. It didn’t beat having actual sex with Mike, but she was sure the payoff would be amazing. Phenomenal, even.

Especially since Mike had joined in on the game, too. He hadn’t just let her murmur suggestive, dirty things in his ear every chance she got, hadn't just watched her flounce around in her skimpiest sun dresses. No, he’d given as good as he got, his customary ass smacks lingering until they were more grabs and caresses than anything else. And everything she’d learned about dirty talk had come from Mike himself. The sheer number of filthy promises he’d made in the past week would take months to fulfill.

Ginny was looking forward to it.

And they’d start today.

After an entire week of nonstop wedding planning, Janet Baker would finally be going home to Tarboro. Her bags were packed and waiting in the car. All they needed to do was finish this appointment and drop her off at the airport and Ginny would have her life back.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her mother and appreciate the spirit behind her visit, but the execution left much to be desired.

So it was with a huge sigh of relief that Ginny finally walked back into her empty house, Mike on her heels. She made her way into the kitchen and pulled down two wine glasses before uncorking the bottle of riesling she’d put in the refrigerator to chill this morning. Ginny knew herself well enough to know she’d want to celebrate.

She guzzled the dry wine down, emptying her glass in no time at all and turning back to refill it.

Mike picked up his own glass and took a more measured sip, evaluating Ginny over the top of the rim.

He looked so good, his button up open at the throat, revealing a few curls of chest hair. All on their own, her fingers came up to comb through them. She grinned up at him, wiggling her eyebrows as she stepped into his space. “You ready for our game to come to an end?”

“So it was a game.”

Ginny rocked back to look at him. “Did you not know that?”

“Honestly, Gin,” he laughed, “I just follow your lead.”

"That sounds like a pretty solid plan,” she smiled, almost every scrap of annoyance she’d hoarded over the past seven days melting away. Who cared if Mike got along with her mom? That was a good thing—some people would kill for their partner and parents to get along. Especially when Ginny knew beyond any doubt that Mike would always be on her side first, last, and always. Even if it didn’t always feel that way. Which was definitely something they’d have to talk about. But later.

Much, much later if she had anything to say about it.

“I like to think so.” Gingerly, Mike took Ginny’s wine glass and set it aside along with his. Their hands free, he picked up her left, thumb stroking over her sapphire engagement ring. Head tipped to the side, he smiled at her and Ginny’s heart fluttered. “It’s why I had to lock you down.”

She had to laugh. And kiss him. And probably get her hands in his pants in the very near future.

After all, the game was over, and even if she hadn’t won per se, having Mike on her side (and very soon in her bed if she played her cards right) was reward enough.

#Bawson #bawson fic #pitch #pitch fic #i wrote something #idk man #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#sorry there's no smut pay off

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