Fic: We Saved the World From Pink Pony Gay Bombs (And Also Averted the Fashion Apocalypse) [3/3]
Title: We Saved the World From Pink Pony Gay Bombs (And Also Averted the Fashion Apocalypse) [3/3]
Author: shadowings
Fandom: RPF
Pairings: Bleighton (of course), Penn/Jessica, Ed/Chace, and a cameo from Emily/Jordan from Criminal Minds
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7471
Summary: Blake is the Gayest Mcgay chick you can imagine. Leighton is a dorky nutjob who likes to cast people in movies. They clash together at San Francisco Pride in search for a vanished float! Shenanigans! (Featuring a supporting cast of Penn, Ed, Chace, Jessica, and Taylor, and guest starring Michelle)
Parts: One || Two
We Saved the World From Pink Pony Gay Bombs (And Also Averted the Fashion Apocalypse) [3/3]
“Why do we have to go to the strip club?” Leighton asked Blake, as they pulled up to the strip club. It looked incredibly tacky, with neon coconut trees flashing against the wall. A sign in white at the top said 'Tropical Lei.' “Why couldn't your friend Frosty come himself?”
“Foster is scared of vaginas,” Blake answered bluntly, opening the door.
“Well I don't like vaginas either, and I'm here,” Chace said from the backseat. Of course, he had come strictly for the promise of free alcohol. Foster would pay for everything; it was nice to have a rich friend once in a while.
“I don't think you understand,” Blake said. “Foster would rather support the Republican party than get personal with a girl's snatch.”
“That's...” Chace trailed off, searching for the word. “Harsh,” he settled for.
They walked towards the entrance, two bombshells in miniskirts and one incredibly gay looking man. The man at the door took their money with a quizzical eye, but did nothing sleazy.
The strip club was small, dark, tables with poles through them encircled by a couch, a semicircle stage with shoddy lighting. The trio took a seat on the left side of the room after they'd buffered themselves with rum and cokes.
A woman was dancing, writhing on the floor. Dark brown hair, almost black. Her legs stretched on forever as she rolled her skimpy shorts off. She locked ice gray eyes with them as she danced, and they stared right back, mesmerized. The number ended; the next girl went on, some adorable blonde who couldn't be older than fifteen. The brunette that just danced made the table rounds, giving personal lap dances to the tune of dollar bills.
Eventually she rolled around to them, her hips swaying as she tucked money into her bra.
“Fancy a dance?” she asked, flicking her tongue out teasingly.
“How much?” Blake choked out.
“Pony up $20 and I'll make you feel pretty special,” the woman said.
All of their eyes widened, causing a barely perceptible smirk on the woman's face. She was their contact. Blake thrust out a fistful of money enthusiastically at her, but it was Leighton's she took, gently grabbing her hand as she searched in her purse for the cash.
“This will do,” she said, though Leighton had only found ten dollars.
She began to dance, moving sensuously to the beat, her entire body swaying in front of Leighton's glazed eyes. Blake watched on, seething, oblivious to Chace's whimpering as she clenched his hand in a death grip. She felt herself getting wet as the stripper straddled Leighton, which only made her angrier.
“I'm off after this, we can meet out back,” she murmured into Leighton's ear as she ground against her, just loud enough for Blake to hear.
“B-blake and Chace too?” Leighton gasped out, as the stripper guided one of Leighton's hands up and down her body.
The woman paused for a moment, before saying, “Whoever you want, babe.” She tossed her head back, hair following in a dark cascade, her throat bared and creamy white against the light.
She touched Leighton on the cheek lightly when she stopped dancing.
“See you soon,” she said, winking.
“Wait,” Leighton said. “What's your name?”
The woman bit her lip for a moment before saying, “Vanessa.”
And then she was gone.
---
Forty or so minutes later, when the little blonde had finished and (to Chace's happy surprise) a buff and tanned man with curly brown hair and green eyes had also taken the stage - the group would have been gone in thirty, but Chace had wanted to pay for a lap dance from the man - they discreetly trotted out the door and around to the back of the club.
No one was there. At the moment. They sat on the steps and waited.
“You think she's coming?” Blake asked.
“Maybe she got distracted,” Chace suggested.
“No, I'm pretty sure Vanessa will show up,” Leighton said. Blake felt a stab of jealousy run through her at the mention of the woman's name.
They all paused as they heard distant sounds. Tinny, like it was played on a bad audio system. Upbeat and poptastic.
“Love, love me,” it screeched.
“Is that a guy's voice?” Leighton asked, confused.
“This music is really fucking gay,” Chace said, shaking his head.
It was the sound of hooves that caused their heads to turn towards the alleyway. A pink pony stood at the end, stamping along to the beat. A real one, not the fake plastic float they'd been on the search for.
“What the fuck, guys, I may be gay but I'm not this fucking gay,” Chace said, waving his hands in the air in flamboyant panic.
The pony approached, snorting. Its glassy brown eyes didn't look happy in the slightest. Behind it they saw the shadow of another pony, this one with a person on it. Dark hair, gray eyes.
“Vanessa?” Leighton called out.
The second pony emerged into the light, revealing it, indeed, to be Vanessa. She grinned, not unkindly, but with the definite air of a predator catching their prey. A rifle rested in her hands. Blake and Chace turned to Leighton as her mouth fell open and she glanced between them. A trap.
They sprinted away as the ponies charged. One second, two, and the horses were on them. Blake dove and rolled away as the first pony attempted to trample her. Leighton found herself snatched up by Vanessa as the second pony rode past, intent on killing Chace. She screamed and punched Vanessa in the nose, causing Vanessa to drop her to the ground with a painful crunch, but also causing the pony to swerve off balance, narrowly missing Chace's terrified face.
Blake was still rolling around, trying to dodge the pony's hooves. It clipped her in the side as she struggled to get up, causing her to careen backwards but stay upright on her feet. With a tremendous effort she leaped up onto the pony, holding on for dear life as it tried to buck her off.
“Blake!” Leighton screamed in terror. “Blake!”
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Vanessa regain control of the pony, one hand covering her bleeding nose, her eyes glaring at Leighton. She readied the horse for another charge, and she and Chace instinctively moved closer to each other, as if having two people be run over was better than one. Then Vanessa seemed to think better of it, and with a gleam in her eye rode away, throwing the middle finger at them as she did so.
The first pony remained, still attempting to throw Blake off. Its rage seemed even greater than a bull's, and foam spurted from its mouth. Its eyes went from glassy brown to burning, flickering, red.
Red, Leighton noted. All of a sudden the horse calmed, and what reigned was a deathly silence. Red; she furrowed her eyebrow, something striking her as incredibly obvious about the pony's eyes. The pony's eyes were a blinking red.
Oh fuck, she thought.
“Blake,” she screamed, “Blake get off, get away, it's a bomb!”
Blake's eyes widened, and she practically jumped off the pony, falling into a heap. She rolled and tried to clamber away as the pony suddenly exploded in a burst of light. Leighton and Chace hit the ground. A piece of shrapnel grazed against her arm as she held her hands over her head, and she felt the heat singe her side, but she squeezed her eyes shut and stayed put. Only when the ringing in her ears subsided somewhat did she peek around, still flat on the ground.
Chace was on the ground next to her. A slight trickle of blood dribbled from his nose, but otherwise he seemed alright, if dirty. She looked the other way and saw a wall of flames. She thought she could spot Blake's silhouette through them, but she wasn't sure, everything looked so fuzzy and clouded with smoke.
“I'm going to call 911,” someone yelled. She nodded, then passed out.
---
“So let me get this straight,” the police officer said, frowning into his notebook. “The explosion that hit you guys was caused by a pink pony. There was a stripper who works in Tropical Lei riding on a second, also pink, pony that tried to run you guys over. She was carrying a gun.”
Leighton nodded solemnly.
“And you expect me to believe this?” he groaned. The other two people who were at the scene, Blake Lively and Chace Crawford, had given the exact same answers. Did he think they were lying? Not exactly. Blake Lively had been pulled in for 'disturbing the peace', aka being an activist, Chace Crawford had been fined for marijuana possession, and Leighton Meester had terrifying crime-a-holic parents, but none of them were huge troublemakers. Besides, if they were really collaborating a story for an explosion he was pretty sure it wouldn't have involved pink ponies. Still. His rational mind wouldn't let him actually believe the story. More likely they were three stupid adults who still thought they were teens and tried to set off fireworks gone horribly wrong or something. And now they were trying to see how far they could stick bullshit up some poor cop's ass.
Well, it ain't gonna be mine, he thought. No homo.
“Alright,” he said to Leighton, sighing heavily. “You can go.”
He'd just write it off as an accident, yeah?
---
“He doesn't believe us,” Leighton said as soon as she walked out. Blake handed her a coffee, which she chugged down viciously.
“Um, well,” Chace said. “I don't know how much I believe it myself. Are you sure we weren't like, high on shrooms or something?”
“Shut up, Chace,” Leighton said, irritated for once at his drug abuse. He flinched; she felt guilty for a second, but didn't apologize. This whole thing was dragging her down.
“Still think this would make a great movie then, you talentless monkey,” he shot right back, and Blake had to jump in before they started attacking each other physically.
“Hey, hey, fighting isn't going to help anything,” she said. Those words, of course, never helped anything either. All it resulted in was both Leighton and Chace turning on Blake, teeth bared. They went back from the station the rest of the way home in an angry silence.
“I've got it!” Blake leaped into the air, waving around wildly. Leighton and Chace remained on the couch, still glaring murderously at her, then at each other.
“We,” and here she paused for dramatic effect, “Will go after them ourselves!”
“Like hell we will,” Leighton growled. “And why are you both in my apartment anyway?”
Chace mumbled something about his sister staying at his apartment and how he was really not in the mood to deal with her. Leighton accepted his excuse; she'd met Candice just once, but that was enough to give her nightmares for weeks. Blake remained silent, and it wasn't until Leighton threatened to kick her out that she said red-faced that she had been hoping to get laid again. Leighton almost kicked her out anyway.
“At least hear me out with my plan?” Blake pleaded.
Leighton grumbled, but stayed put on the couch, arms folded.
“Guys,” Blake said. “It will work, I promise.”
She didn't wait for them to disagree with her again before continuing.
“They are clearly up to something, so we'll just disguise ourselves and try to join them!”
“Join who?” Chace said. “We don't know who they are. How do we even contact them? Where is your friend Foster, who sent us on this lovely let's-get-killed mission, by the way?”
“This is a retarded plan,” Leighton agreed.
Blake pouted, her feelings hurt. She continued pouting, adding sad puppy dog eyes for extra emphasis, until Leighton glanced guiltily away.
“It's... less retarded than jumping headfirst into a meat grinder,” Leighton conceded.
“Weakling,” Chace muttered, but even he was squirming from the force of Blake's pout.
“Awesome!” Blake squealed. “I'll call Foster immediately.”
Foster answered with a chipper, “Blakester! How went the exchange?”
“You mean you don't know?” Blake asked into the phone.
“About what?”
“We... were attacked.”
“No way. What the fuck? Are you and the kittykat, Leighton Meesterkatsup or something okay?”
“I've got stitches on my sides and arms and Leighton was scraped up a bit, but we're all alive.”
“Hey, what about me?” Chace whined in the background. Leighton shushed him while reminding him that his nosebleed wasn't even caused by the explosion.
“Oh god, I'm so sorry - hang on, someone's coming in through the door - “ Blake heard Foster yell out, “I'm sorry, could you come back in a few minutes,” then the sound of pop music, the same song as the one they'd heard at the strip club. Then the sound of horse clops, Foster asking, “What is going on?” Silence for a second. An ear-splitting boom; Blake pulled her head away from the phone. Then a steady monotone beep. Blake hung up.
---
Foster had been hospitalized with second-degree burns. His secretary had been hurt as well, having been trampled by the pony. Shards of glass from the explosion had struck a few civilians walking outside too. He told them he'd been charged at by a pink pony, but that was all he remembered. On the news they saw the aftermath of the explosion, a burning building, along with rainbow confetti and candy littering the ground. Witnesses said that shortly after they saw the pink pony enter the building the explosion happened. Soon after that two rockets went off into the air and produced the confetti and candy.
“We're getting to the bottom of this,” Blake said grimly after they left the hospital. Leighton and Chace didn't argue.
They decided to go with Blake's plan, retarded as it was, because no one else felt like coming up with a better idea. Chace, who had a growing suspicion about Ed's whereabouts, logged into his e-mail, where they found out why Ed had up and disappeared. Though Ed's inbox was clean, in his trash they found one e-mail about a remote location in Oregon.
'PPP Commences' the subject line said. All the e-mail said was, 'Remember the signal. If you miss it, MR, OR.'
It was dated 29 days ago, before Pride. Two more days and it would have been deleted forever.
Leighton found out through her l33t searching skills (80% of computer repair was Googling the damn problem) that MR was an abbreviation for the Mika Ranch, which had recently been acquired by a Michael “Mika” Penniman. It was a four hour drive.
With Penn's help, Leighton Meester became Blair Waldorf, Blake Lively became Serena van der Woodsen, and Chace Crawford became Nate Archibald. Penn himself became Dan Humphrey, although he didn't technically need a disguise, having not been present at the attack in the first place. He just liked to play makeup.
They headed off for Mika Ranch, a ragtag group of queers (and one suspicious straight man), bent on solving the mystery.
---
Security at the ranch was surprisingly lax. There were a total of three people to guard the three entrances into the ranch. They simply walked up to one of the gates, knocked the guard out, and walked in.
“So what does PPP actually stand for?” Penn whispered as they walked through the ranch. Outside pink ponies cavorted around, a sight that startled Penn, but not so much the others.
“Penn Prefers Penis,” Blake responded promptly.
“That'll be the day,” Penn laughed.
“You mean you don't?” Chace asked. He looked a little stunned. He'd been flirting with Penn the entire trip.
“Staunch lover of the vajay-jay here,” Penn said with a shit-eating (or was that muffin-eating?) grin.
Chace looked crestfallen.
“Probably Pink Pony something, judging by the number of ponies running around and by previous experience,” Leighton said, to change the subject.
“We'll find out soon enough,” Blake said, right before a loudspeaker announced, “TONIGHT'S MEETING AT EIGHT.”
They milled around, smiling at people politely until the clock hit eight. Then they realized they had no idea where the meeting actually was. Luckily everyone seemed to be filing towards one central location, so they fell in step with the other people, arriving at a large grass field some ways off.
Everyone sat cross-legged in an oval around a campfire, so they followed suit.
“What is this, a commune?” Chace muttered. Three people walked around, pulling a cart piled high with boxed meals, which they handed out to each individual. Another person held a giant rainbow candy cane; presumably she was the leader, or at least the person with the talking power.
“Friends,” she announced; everyone hushed up. It seemed Chace was right.
“A few days ago, we sent the first Pink Pony prototype into action. Yesterday, we sent the second. The time is close approaching. No longer will we be oppressed by straight people! No, we refuse!”
“We refuse,” the crowd chanted.
“We will strike fear into their straight hearts!”
“We will strike fear,” the crowd chanted.
“What about them bisexuals?” Leighton asked mockingly.
“I changed my mind, they're a cult,” Chace muttered, which earned him a cuff from the random man sitting next to him.
“In exactly four days,” the woman said, “The ponies will go out through the entire country. Our pop music, Mika, will play all throughout the country. Explosions will rock the world. Rainbows and candy will rain from the sky everywhere. We will let them know that we will not be silenced! Are we ready?”
“We are ready,” the crowd chanted.
The woman nodded, satisfied, then handed off the cane to the man to her right. The crowd fell silent and nodded to themselves, satisfied as well. He didn't actually have anything productive to say, and the discussion quickly turned to a comparison of different types of lube, the cane going around the circle. They slipped away to discuss what had just gone down, with the exception of Chace, who stayed behind to correct everyone's misinformed opinion that ID was the best kind.
Halfway through the field someone stepped out from behind a tree.
“Blair Waldorf, huh?” he said. “The rich New York Upper East sider? So, she's joining the Pink Pony Progressives now instead of going to Yale or NYU?”
“Ed,” Leighton said through gritted teeth.
“Wait,” Blake said, “Blair Waldorf is a real person? Is Serena one too?”
“No,” Leighton said, though she didn't elaborate.
“No, they're not real,” Ed said in mild agreement. “Leighton likes to do this whole 'cast people in a show or movie of her own making' and her favorite is this idea she came up with called Gossip Girl, where everyone is absurdly rich and goes to prep school in New York. She's Blair Waldorf. I got cast as the greasy asshole Chuck Bass, and Chace was dreamboat pothead Nate Archibald. We were in some ugly love triangle. Speaking of which, where is Chace?”
“Discussing the merits of lube,” Leighton said, still guarded.
“Chace and his lube,” Ed said, rolling his eyes, which at least earned a chuckle from Leighton.
“Why are you here, Ed?” Leighton asked. “Talking? To us?”
Ed frowned.
“I want out,” he said curtly.
“Why?”
“I know about you guys,” he said. “They sent the first pony after you because you'd been asking around on the internet about the missing float, Leighton, or Blair, whatever. The rest of you,” he nodded at Blake and Penn, “were collateral damage.”
“Actually, not me,” Penn said, “But hey, whatever. I'm sure I would have earned the honor of being trampled over too.”
“What about Foster?” Blake asked.
“They sent the second one after Foster because he'd sent Leighton.”
“Shit,” Leighton muttered under her breath.
“I don't like the idea of my friends getting hurt,” Ed said. “I want out.”
“Then why'd you join in the first place?”
“Tired of being run over, treated like shit,” Ed said. “Figured it was time for another Stonewall, but a lot more badass.”
“Pink ponies, rainbows and candy is not my idea of more badass,” Penn said drily. “That is my idea of gaaaaaaaaayyyyyyy.”
“Besides, explosions and an insignia from a group called the PPP? That's not a revolution, that's basically terrorism,” Leighton said.
“PPP is only one syllable away from Peepee,” Penn said, grinning. Blake smacked him.
“Which is why I want out,” Ed said, ignoring Penn. “Do I have to repeat myself again?”
“No,” Leighton said, sighing. “Alright, we'll get you out. Somehow.”
“Tell me something though,” she continued. “What did happen to the giant pony float? Foster told us you guys stole it, but I don't see a giant pony anywhere, and I imagine it would be pretty conspicuous.”
“Oh, that?” Ed said. “There never was an actual float. It was just a signal for us to meet up at Pride and steal away.”
“Are you serious?” Leighton asked, gaping. “But I wanted to see it, so bad!”
Ed shrugged, clearly unconcerned with this stab to Leighton's heart. Chace showed up then, a giant box of ID lube in his hand.
“They made me take it to try it out, refused to believe me that Swiss Navy is better,” he said glumly.
“That's because Swiss Navy is foul, Nate Archibald,” Ed said. “Even Crisco is better than that vile shit.”
“Hello, by the way,” he said as Chace started.
“Ed is gonna help us,” Leighton said.
“Be a cracked-out trio like old times, yeah?” Ed said. His smile slid off his face when Chace set his mouth in a thin line, then crossed his arms and turned away.
“No,” Chace said to the air next to him.
“...Why?”
“We were supposed to be best friends,” Chace brooded. “You weren't supposed to just up and leave.”
Penn tapped Blake on the shoulder.
“Better bust out of here for a while,” he whispered. “They're gonna be at this drama for a while, man.”
They stole away. Blake brushed Leighton's arm as they left, signaling her to follow, but Leighton just grabbed her hand and squeezed it briefly before letting go, not moving. Chace and Ed were Leighton's friends too.
They walked towards the ranch, deciding to observe the pink ponies a bit.
“How do you think they made pink ponies in the first place?” Penn asked Blake. “I mean, even if they do make me want to hurl, it must have taken some genius to get them to be pink.”
“I don't know,” Blake said. “I failed science in school.”
“Along with every other subject,” Penn said. “You were so bad at school, man. It's a damn good thing you were born into money.”
“Don't remind me about it,” Blake muttered.
“Ooh, look, hottie at 3 o'clock,” Penn said.
Blake turned to look in the direction Penn indicated, and quickly turned back away.
“Penn, no,” she hissed, but Penn was already walking away from her, towards the beauty that was riding bareback atop a pink pony.
The beauty, unfortunately, was none other than Vanessa. Blake faced the other direction, hoping she wouldn't be spotted while Penn chatted her up.
“You ride well,” Penn called out at her, oozing with self-confidence. He glanced behind his shoulder, but Blake was still where he'd left her, facing away. He shrugged. Her loss.
“Thanks,” Vanessa said with a grin, the pony galloping up next to him.
“I'm Dan,” he said, reaching out a hand.
“You do know that most people here are gay, right, Dan? Not possibly a straight spy, are you?” Vanessa said, smirking.
Straight? Check. Spy? Check. Liar? A billion checks. “There gotta be some bisexuals,” Penn said, shrugging.
“Pegged me pretty well then, Mr. Bisexual Dan,” Vanessa said. “I'm Jessica.”
Blake whipped around. Jessica, not Vanessa. She locked eyes with Jessica, whose face suddenly hardened.
“And I suppose that over there would be Blake Lively?”
“Hm?” Penn looked back at Blake. Her cover had been blown, but not his. He kept up the charades. “No, that's Serena.”
“Huh. How'd you meet her?”
“Um,” he bit his lip, “We got to the ranch here at about the same time. She introduced herself Serena van der Woodsen.”
Jessica raised an eyebrow. “And I suppose she might have had a Leighton Meester traveling with her, along with a man with floppy brown hair and brown eyes?”
“Well, she had a Blair Waldorf and a Nate Archibald who fits your description, but no Leighton Meester that I can recall.”
“I see. Well,” she ran her hand down Penn's arm, “You're a big sweetie, Dan. We should get to know each other better later. Can I meet your friend Serena?”
“Ok,” Penn said, internally wondering how he was going to get them out of here, then turned to yell out to Blake. “Hey Serena! Over here!”
Blake froze, then walked as slowly as was possible without seeming too reluctant over to where Penn was waving.
“I'd like you to meet an absolutely stupendous being,” he said to Blake. “Serena, Jessica.” He turned to Jessica. “Jessica, Serena.”
“Hi,” Blake said stiffly. She didn't stick out her hand.
“Sweetie, how nice to meet you,” Jessica said, sticking out her hand enthusiastically.
Blake shook the hand, a frown creasing her features.
“I don't bite,” Jessica said. She held up her hands up in the air. “Won't try to kill you or nothing. Just want to talk.”
Jessica's glance flicked to Penn, and Blake said, “Dan's with me, actually. So you can talk.”
“Oh,” Jessica said, a little annoyed. “And here I thought I might actually like you.”
“Sorry?” Penn said. “Bros before hos? Or I guess in your case, my best friend before the person who tried to murder my best friend. A little more compelling than bros before hos anyway, since I don't care much for the bros.”
“How did you know that?” Blake and Jessica asked Penn simultaneously.
“I, unlike my lovely friend Blake here, didn't actually fail out of school, and was and am still quite smart,” Penn said.
“Oh. So,” Jessica asked. “Is your real name actually Dan?”
“Why don't you talk first,” Penn suggested, not unkindly. The crunch of leaves signaling Leighton standing behind them only reinforced his suggestion, although Jessica was still standing next to the pony...
“Alright,” Jessica said. She took a deep breath. “I'm sorry.”
“You're sorry,” Leighton said blankly.
“About... trying to kill us?” Blake asked, half mocking and half genuine confusion.
“Pretty much,” she said, then fell silent.
“Do you... do you have anything else to say?” Penn prompted.
“Nope. That's it.”
“So, given the choice,” Leighton said, “You'd still stick with the PPP and go on setting off explosions?”
“I'm bitter,” Jessica said. “Aren't you?”
“Right,” Leighton said. “Well, I hope you don't mind if we go all police on your ass.”
“We're calling the police?” Blake asked in surprise.
“Easiest way to end all of this,” Leighton said. She turned to walk away.
“I don't want to get arrested!” Jessica wailed.
Blake grabbed Leighton's arm. “Hey. Maybe uh, maybe we could think this over.”
Leighton stared at Blake's hand, then brushed it away angrily.
“No, I don't think so.”
She walked away.
Penn blinked at the entire exchange.
“So uh, what now? I think we better haul ass outta here before the popo shows up and crucifies our gay asses.”
“Penn, you're not gay,” Blake said.
“Fine, queer, resist labels, whatever,” Penn said, rolling his eyes. “I'm pretty much gay by association anyway.”
“I thought you were bi?” Jessica asked. “I like the name Penn, by the way. Much better than Dan. The name Dan Humphrey makes me think of a coffee-addicted emo.”
“I am bi,” Penn said brightly, “Except for the part where I don't like cock. And thanks, I like Penn better too.”
“Guys,” Blake said. “I am all for you two getting it on, but we need to do something here. First about the fact that pink ponies are gonna be exploding all over the nation soon, and second about the fact that Leighton is gonna throw all like, five-hundred powerhouse gays in this area into jail, which means California is gonna fail the next fight for Prop 8 even harder than it already did.”
“I am thoroughly unconcerned,” Penn said. “They're terrorists. They deserve to go to jail.”
“Hey wait,” Jessica objected. “We haven't really done anything yet, and most of us aren't actually fully WITH this plan.”
“Yeah, well,” Penn started, only to be silenced by a glare from Jessica.
“Penn,” Blake said. “Think of the fashion. It needs the gays. You put them in jail, everyone in the world will be dressed like me within a year.”
Penn didn't respond. Jessica seemed to be frozen as well. It wasn't until Penn started shaking and whimpering that Blake realized she had horrified them into silence.
It was at that moment that Ed and Chace popped up. Evidently they hadn't heard about the impending doom of the fashion world, as they were both bright and cheery.
“What's up my homos?” Ed quipped.
“Where's Leighton?” Chace asked. “And what's wrong with these two?”
“Better not tell you,” Blake said. “You might end up like them too. I see you guys made up?”
“And then some,” Ed said, looking sneakily away and whistling.
Blake noticed Chace blushing in response to Ed's statement. She grimaced. “Spare me the details.”
“Anyway,” she continued. “We have a problem.”
“Excellent, I love all these problems,” Chace said, rolling his eyes. “Why couldn't I just have been a normal, All-American, straight boy from Texas?”
“Because then you would have married the homecoming queen and popped out a billion babies and ended up fat and in a trailer park, which is classist, I know,” Ed said as Chace began to frown at him, “But more importantly, you would not have been able to experience the mind-blowing uh, administrations of the one and only Ed Westwick.”
“Ok, guys?” Blake yelled. “Problem, still here.”
“Alright, alright,” Ed said, sighing theatrically. “What is it?”
“Leighton's like, calling in the cops on us right now.”
“Oh,” Ed said. “Well that is a problem. Maybe we should start running out of here?”
“No!” Blake said. “Don't you get it? If you two both stopped wanting to do this, maybe we could convince everyone else to give up on this plan and find a peaceful resolution too!”
Chace groaned. “That sounds as retarded as jumping headfirst into a meat grinder.”
“That's what you said about my first plan,” Blake said, frowning.
“Mhm,” Chace chirped.
“But my first plan worked.”
Chace waved his hand, wrist limp. “An anomaly.”
Blake threw her hands up in the air. “Whatever, guys, I'll go do this myself. Chace and Ed - it is Ed, right? - can you make sure that Penn and Jessica eventually snap out of their coma?”
Chace and Ed glanced at each other.
“Um, alright,” Chace said uncertainly.
“We'll just stay here the entire time, yeah?” Ed said.
“Okay, I'll be back soon,” Blake said.
---
Lucky for Blake and her retarded plan, Leighton was having trouble finding a signal in the ranch. She was having trouble finding a signal, of course, because there was none. This meant she had to travel to the nearest pay phone, which was about three miles away.
“Fucking hell,” she muttered to herself.
Blake, having found out the same thing, was also running towards the pay phones as Leighton stalked along. As such, she reached Leighton just as she was inserting quarters.
Leighton turned around, blinking.
“Blake, what -”
That was all she had time to say before Blake knocked her out.
“Step one of retarded plan, finished!” Blake yelled triumphantly to herself, pumping her fist in the air. She lowered it when she noticed a blonde passerby gaping at her.
“Did you uh, did you see all of that?”
“Unfortunately,” the blonde said grimly. “What the hell?”
“I did it for a good reason, I swear,” Blake said. “I'm Blake.”
“Taylor.”
“Oh, you were at the strip club!”
“Gold star for you, now again: why the hell did you just knock that chick out?”
Blake pointed at Leighton's prone body. “She was gonna call the cops on this entire place. I had to stop her.”
Taylor rolled her eyes. “Don't you think we would've prepared for the event of defectors? The pay phones are all rigged. Also, who's gonna believe a story about a pink pony explosion operation?”
“Oh,” Blake said. “That um, that makes sense.”
“Anyway,” Taylor nodded towards Leighton. “Thanks for doing that, I guess. She'll be taken care of.”
“Wait wait wait no. I don't want her taken care of. I want you guys to stop this.”
“Stop?”
“Yeah, like, this so is not worth it. There are peaceful resolutions out there. A boycott, protests, something? You don't have to go around blowing up people to make a point.”
Taylor put her hand on her hip and glared at Blake. “And how much progress do you think we've made since Stonewall, anyway? I think a fucking riot and some anger is exactly what we need.”
“But this isn't a riot anyway, it's just attacking innocent bystanders! Who probably sympathize with us!” Blake cried. “I mean, you attacked us, me Leighton and Chace, who are probably the gayest people on this planet! Besides Foster, who you also happened to attack.”
Taylor rolled her eyes again. She seemed to enjoy doing that a lot. “Well, what if we moved to Arkansas instead? Hit up all the people who voted against gay adoption?”
“I... would feel slightly better about that,” Blake admitted. “But still, this is wrong! We don't have to stoop to violence.”
“Blake, my friend,” Taylor said. “You seem like a nice person. But I don't think you're going to convince many people here about this. You're welcome to try, but I really don't think it will work.”
Blake was on the verge of crying. Her plan was failing epically. She couldn't even convince a little blond girl who looked like she was fifteen to stop the madness; how was she going to convince a legion of gays?
In the midst of hyperventilating the idea came to her. She thought of Jessica and Penn, standing there in shell-shock, and smiled darkly.
“Taylor,” she said sweetly. “If you all run off and start blowing up people for a career instead, no one will be left to pioneer fashion.”
Taylor examined her manicured nails, completely unconcerned. “Why?”
“Well, because there will be no powerhouse gays left.”
Taylor scratched her head. “And your point is...?”
“Well,” and here Blake paused for effect, “This means that everyone in the world will pretty much be dressed like me.”
Taylor's mouth dropped open in horror. She stared at Blake for a good long time, oblivious to the drool that began to trickle out of her mouth.
“I imagine that would be pretty horrifying,” Blake finished.
“You're damn right it would be,” Taylor said when she had recovered her senses, shuddering. “Ok, you've got me convinced. I won't run around blowing up people on pink ponies anymore.”
Blake clapped her hands together in glee. “Just what I wanted to hear!”
“Can you imagine no Marc Jacobs, Isaac Mizrahi? We'd all be reduced to wearing mom jeans from Wal-Mart!” Taylor exclaimed, shuddering.
“Not at all,” Blake said, “But I'm overjoyed that the fashion world means so much to you and everyone else. Makes saving the world so much easier.”
---
In the end, Blake won over all the queers with the reminder that they were responsible for the foundation of fashion. Without them, everything crumbled, and people started looking like Blake. The mere idea of it was, for the most part, exactly the kick in the ass people needed to give up their nefarious ways. It did turn a few people into blubbering idiots, but Blake was assured by the resident doctor that a few Valium pills would cure that in a hurry. A few others were still staunchly resistant, especially the woman who had been leading the cult meeting, but the mass exodus seemed to drain them of their passion. It was easy to persuade them after to let go of the violence and make the world a more forgiving place through peaceful means.
Blake was disappointed that her arguments about peace and non-violence had not received the same welcome, but at least she had saved the world from pink pony gay bombs. That was what mattered, right?
It took about two days to clear most everyone out of the ranch. Some people didn't want to integrate back into society still, so they opted to stay behind and form a gay commune at the ranch instead. They promised to be peaceful.
During those two days, Blake didn't see Leighton at all. It wasn't for a lack of effort - Blake swore she had walked the entire ranch at least three times, but no kitten-like brunette with signature dorky glasses showed up anywhere on her radar. If she didn't find Leighton after tomorrow, she would just have to return to San Francisco alone.
(Well, not entirely alone. Sometime during the past two days, Blake had discovered she was quite fond of Taylor, and decided to adopt her as a little sister. Taylor, actually being fifteen and having no other connections, cheerfully agreed. But it wasn't the same.)
At the end of the second day, Blake saw Ed, Chace, Penn and Jessica away. They filed out hand in hand, Ed with Chace and Penn with Jessica, reminding Blake of just how badly she wanted Leighton to be by her side.
“Hope you find Leighton here,” Chace said as they hugged. “We'll let you know if she's already fucked back to her apartment too.”
“Thanks.” Chace patted her on the shoulder when they separated, and Blake smiled weakly back.
“Aww, don't be so sad, Blakey Blake,” Penn pinched her on the cheek. “If you don't find her in these green and pink pastures, well... that sucks. But like you always say, there are other fish in the sea!”
“Right,” Blake said flatly.
“Seriously, she'll be missing out on a...” Penn stepped back and appraised her critically. “Well, I wouldn't say prize exactly, that's me, but something pretty damn fucking close to one, a miracle considering how badly you dress yourself.”
“I get it Penn,” Blake said, cheerful despite herself. “You're the best. I'll see you soon?”
“Definitely. Love you, Blakey Blake.”
“Love you too.”
Penn walked away, his arm around Jessica. Blake watched as they piled into the van they had driven up to Oregon. A cough from the engine as the van started up, and it was gone.
As Blake watched the van become a point on the horizon, she felt someone tap on her shoulder.
“Taylor, not now -” she stopped midsentence as she turned around.
She almost didn't recognize the person standing before her. A striking, if horribly short, cowboy stood before her. He sported a nine-o-clock shadow, with a wide-brimmed rodeo hat perched perfectly on his head.
“Leighton,” Blake breathed.
“Couldn't have you stealing all the transvestite fun,” Leighton said. “You like it?”
“Like it?” Blake almost shouted, as if indignant Leighton even asked her the question. “I love it. Leighton, I love it. I love you.”
Leighton turned pink. A small smile tinged her features, ruining the stern countenance she had been striving for.
“Really?”
“Yes,” Blake said. “God, yes.”
Leighton giggled a little to herself. “Well. I was going to stay angry at you for a little longer, for you know, knocking me out and then not being there when I came to, and also for saving the world without me. But I'm thinking I've punished you enough by disguising myself for the last few days... So. Take me back home with you.”
“A little control bitch now, aren't you?” Blake asked, raising an eyebrow. A wide grin split her face though, revealing just how elated she was.
“You know you love me,” Leighton said, grabbing her hand and marching her purposefully towards... well, nothing.
“Leighton, I have a car over there,” Blake said, pointing in the other direction. A white sedan sat there, alone in its glory. She smirked.
Leighton clapped her hands together. “Oh, excellent!” She grabbed Blake again and marched towards the sedan.
“How did you come by this car anyway?”
“Oh, it belongs to Taylor. She's in the car right now. We're taking her home with us too.”
Leighton frowned at Blake, but once they actually reached the sedan began squeeing.
“Is this Taylor? Ohmygod! She is so cute, can we keep her?”
“Yeah,” Blake said, laughing. “It will be like a happy family!”
They clambered into the sedan. Blake started the ignition, and then started off on the dirt path, humming cheerfully to herself. Life was complete.
---
Leighton jerked awake. Her cowboy hat was tipped over her face so that all she could see was darkness. She could feel Blake's hand stroking her arm, slow and comforting. She yawned and shifted away from Blake to stretch. The cowboy hat fell off.
“Hey cutie,” Blake said, glancing at her and smiling.
“Hey yourself.”
“Sleep well?”
“Like a drugged cat,” Leighton said, sagging down in her seat.
“You weren't one of those who took Valium pills, were you?” Blake asked, concerned.
“Well,” Leighton said, “I wasn't exactly traumatized by your speech, considering you dress like... you, and I think you're hot anyway, so I didn't need the pills. But I may have stolen a few.”
She reached into her pocket and took a small baggie out, shaking it happily. Five purple pills clattered against each other in the bag.
“I wonder what they feel like mixed with weed,” Leighton mused.
“Leighton!” Blake hit her lightly.
Leighton giggled so hard that she almost didn't hear Blake's next words.
“Hey, Leighton. Is it okay if I ask you a serious question?”
“I mean, like, yeah.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Blake shaking.
“I, do - do you love me too?”
Blake looked almost comical, lower lip trembling in anxiety. Leighton almost burst out laughing. Instead she just rolled her eyes.
“Blake. What are you, retarded?”
She saw Blake flinch and smile simultaneously in the mirror.
“One, two, three four,” she started, “You're the one I adore. Five, six, seven, eight, don't run from me cause this is fate.”
Blake perked up.
“That's from But I'm A Cheerleader! Hey, this trip has been kind of crazy like that!”
Leighton grinned.
“You know what, Blake? I think our family will get along fabulously.”
Author: shadowings
Fandom: RPF
Pairings: Bleighton (of course), Penn/Jessica, Ed/Chace, and a cameo from Emily/Jordan from Criminal Minds
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 7471
Summary: Blake is the Gayest Mcgay chick you can imagine. Leighton is a dorky nutjob who likes to cast people in movies. They clash together at San Francisco Pride in search for a vanished float! Shenanigans! (Featuring a supporting cast of Penn, Ed, Chace, Jessica, and Taylor, and guest starring Michelle)
Parts: One || Two
We Saved the World From Pink Pony Gay Bombs (And Also Averted the Fashion Apocalypse) [3/3]
“Why do we have to go to the strip club?” Leighton asked Blake, as they pulled up to the strip club. It looked incredibly tacky, with neon coconut trees flashing against the wall. A sign in white at the top said 'Tropical Lei.' “Why couldn't your friend Frosty come himself?”
“Foster is scared of vaginas,” Blake answered bluntly, opening the door.
“Well I don't like vaginas either, and I'm here,” Chace said from the backseat. Of course, he had come strictly for the promise of free alcohol. Foster would pay for everything; it was nice to have a rich friend once in a while.
“I don't think you understand,” Blake said. “Foster would rather support the Republican party than get personal with a girl's snatch.”
“That's...” Chace trailed off, searching for the word. “Harsh,” he settled for.
They walked towards the entrance, two bombshells in miniskirts and one incredibly gay looking man. The man at the door took their money with a quizzical eye, but did nothing sleazy.
The strip club was small, dark, tables with poles through them encircled by a couch, a semicircle stage with shoddy lighting. The trio took a seat on the left side of the room after they'd buffered themselves with rum and cokes.
A woman was dancing, writhing on the floor. Dark brown hair, almost black. Her legs stretched on forever as she rolled her skimpy shorts off. She locked ice gray eyes with them as she danced, and they stared right back, mesmerized. The number ended; the next girl went on, some adorable blonde who couldn't be older than fifteen. The brunette that just danced made the table rounds, giving personal lap dances to the tune of dollar bills.
Eventually she rolled around to them, her hips swaying as she tucked money into her bra.
“Fancy a dance?” she asked, flicking her tongue out teasingly.
“How much?” Blake choked out.
“Pony up $20 and I'll make you feel pretty special,” the woman said.
All of their eyes widened, causing a barely perceptible smirk on the woman's face. She was their contact. Blake thrust out a fistful of money enthusiastically at her, but it was Leighton's she took, gently grabbing her hand as she searched in her purse for the cash.
“This will do,” she said, though Leighton had only found ten dollars.
She began to dance, moving sensuously to the beat, her entire body swaying in front of Leighton's glazed eyes. Blake watched on, seething, oblivious to Chace's whimpering as she clenched his hand in a death grip. She felt herself getting wet as the stripper straddled Leighton, which only made her angrier.
“I'm off after this, we can meet out back,” she murmured into Leighton's ear as she ground against her, just loud enough for Blake to hear.
“B-blake and Chace too?” Leighton gasped out, as the stripper guided one of Leighton's hands up and down her body.
The woman paused for a moment, before saying, “Whoever you want, babe.” She tossed her head back, hair following in a dark cascade, her throat bared and creamy white against the light.
She touched Leighton on the cheek lightly when she stopped dancing.
“See you soon,” she said, winking.
“Wait,” Leighton said. “What's your name?”
The woman bit her lip for a moment before saying, “Vanessa.”
And then she was gone.
---
Forty or so minutes later, when the little blonde had finished and (to Chace's happy surprise) a buff and tanned man with curly brown hair and green eyes had also taken the stage - the group would have been gone in thirty, but Chace had wanted to pay for a lap dance from the man - they discreetly trotted out the door and around to the back of the club.
No one was there. At the moment. They sat on the steps and waited.
“You think she's coming?” Blake asked.
“Maybe she got distracted,” Chace suggested.
“No, I'm pretty sure Vanessa will show up,” Leighton said. Blake felt a stab of jealousy run through her at the mention of the woman's name.
They all paused as they heard distant sounds. Tinny, like it was played on a bad audio system. Upbeat and poptastic.
“Love, love me,” it screeched.
“Is that a guy's voice?” Leighton asked, confused.
“This music is really fucking gay,” Chace said, shaking his head.
It was the sound of hooves that caused their heads to turn towards the alleyway. A pink pony stood at the end, stamping along to the beat. A real one, not the fake plastic float they'd been on the search for.
“What the fuck, guys, I may be gay but I'm not this fucking gay,” Chace said, waving his hands in the air in flamboyant panic.
The pony approached, snorting. Its glassy brown eyes didn't look happy in the slightest. Behind it they saw the shadow of another pony, this one with a person on it. Dark hair, gray eyes.
“Vanessa?” Leighton called out.
The second pony emerged into the light, revealing it, indeed, to be Vanessa. She grinned, not unkindly, but with the definite air of a predator catching their prey. A rifle rested in her hands. Blake and Chace turned to Leighton as her mouth fell open and she glanced between them. A trap.
They sprinted away as the ponies charged. One second, two, and the horses were on them. Blake dove and rolled away as the first pony attempted to trample her. Leighton found herself snatched up by Vanessa as the second pony rode past, intent on killing Chace. She screamed and punched Vanessa in the nose, causing Vanessa to drop her to the ground with a painful crunch, but also causing the pony to swerve off balance, narrowly missing Chace's terrified face.
Blake was still rolling around, trying to dodge the pony's hooves. It clipped her in the side as she struggled to get up, causing her to careen backwards but stay upright on her feet. With a tremendous effort she leaped up onto the pony, holding on for dear life as it tried to buck her off.
“Blake!” Leighton screamed in terror. “Blake!”
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Vanessa regain control of the pony, one hand covering her bleeding nose, her eyes glaring at Leighton. She readied the horse for another charge, and she and Chace instinctively moved closer to each other, as if having two people be run over was better than one. Then Vanessa seemed to think better of it, and with a gleam in her eye rode away, throwing the middle finger at them as she did so.
The first pony remained, still attempting to throw Blake off. Its rage seemed even greater than a bull's, and foam spurted from its mouth. Its eyes went from glassy brown to burning, flickering, red.
Red, Leighton noted. All of a sudden the horse calmed, and what reigned was a deathly silence. Red; she furrowed her eyebrow, something striking her as incredibly obvious about the pony's eyes. The pony's eyes were a blinking red.
Oh fuck, she thought.
“Blake,” she screamed, “Blake get off, get away, it's a bomb!”
Blake's eyes widened, and she practically jumped off the pony, falling into a heap. She rolled and tried to clamber away as the pony suddenly exploded in a burst of light. Leighton and Chace hit the ground. A piece of shrapnel grazed against her arm as she held her hands over her head, and she felt the heat singe her side, but she squeezed her eyes shut and stayed put. Only when the ringing in her ears subsided somewhat did she peek around, still flat on the ground.
Chace was on the ground next to her. A slight trickle of blood dribbled from his nose, but otherwise he seemed alright, if dirty. She looked the other way and saw a wall of flames. She thought she could spot Blake's silhouette through them, but she wasn't sure, everything looked so fuzzy and clouded with smoke.
“I'm going to call 911,” someone yelled. She nodded, then passed out.
---
“So let me get this straight,” the police officer said, frowning into his notebook. “The explosion that hit you guys was caused by a pink pony. There was a stripper who works in Tropical Lei riding on a second, also pink, pony that tried to run you guys over. She was carrying a gun.”
Leighton nodded solemnly.
“And you expect me to believe this?” he groaned. The other two people who were at the scene, Blake Lively and Chace Crawford, had given the exact same answers. Did he think they were lying? Not exactly. Blake Lively had been pulled in for 'disturbing the peace', aka being an activist, Chace Crawford had been fined for marijuana possession, and Leighton Meester had terrifying crime-a-holic parents, but none of them were huge troublemakers. Besides, if they were really collaborating a story for an explosion he was pretty sure it wouldn't have involved pink ponies. Still. His rational mind wouldn't let him actually believe the story. More likely they were three stupid adults who still thought they were teens and tried to set off fireworks gone horribly wrong or something. And now they were trying to see how far they could stick bullshit up some poor cop's ass.
Well, it ain't gonna be mine, he thought. No homo.
“Alright,” he said to Leighton, sighing heavily. “You can go.”
He'd just write it off as an accident, yeah?
---
“He doesn't believe us,” Leighton said as soon as she walked out. Blake handed her a coffee, which she chugged down viciously.
“Um, well,” Chace said. “I don't know how much I believe it myself. Are you sure we weren't like, high on shrooms or something?”
“Shut up, Chace,” Leighton said, irritated for once at his drug abuse. He flinched; she felt guilty for a second, but didn't apologize. This whole thing was dragging her down.
“Still think this would make a great movie then, you talentless monkey,” he shot right back, and Blake had to jump in before they started attacking each other physically.
“Hey, hey, fighting isn't going to help anything,” she said. Those words, of course, never helped anything either. All it resulted in was both Leighton and Chace turning on Blake, teeth bared. They went back from the station the rest of the way home in an angry silence.
“I've got it!” Blake leaped into the air, waving around wildly. Leighton and Chace remained on the couch, still glaring murderously at her, then at each other.
“We,” and here she paused for dramatic effect, “Will go after them ourselves!”
“Like hell we will,” Leighton growled. “And why are you both in my apartment anyway?”
Chace mumbled something about his sister staying at his apartment and how he was really not in the mood to deal with her. Leighton accepted his excuse; she'd met Candice just once, but that was enough to give her nightmares for weeks. Blake remained silent, and it wasn't until Leighton threatened to kick her out that she said red-faced that she had been hoping to get laid again. Leighton almost kicked her out anyway.
“At least hear me out with my plan?” Blake pleaded.
Leighton grumbled, but stayed put on the couch, arms folded.
“Guys,” Blake said. “It will work, I promise.”
She didn't wait for them to disagree with her again before continuing.
“They are clearly up to something, so we'll just disguise ourselves and try to join them!”
“Join who?” Chace said. “We don't know who they are. How do we even contact them? Where is your friend Foster, who sent us on this lovely let's-get-killed mission, by the way?”
“This is a retarded plan,” Leighton agreed.
Blake pouted, her feelings hurt. She continued pouting, adding sad puppy dog eyes for extra emphasis, until Leighton glanced guiltily away.
“It's... less retarded than jumping headfirst into a meat grinder,” Leighton conceded.
“Weakling,” Chace muttered, but even he was squirming from the force of Blake's pout.
“Awesome!” Blake squealed. “I'll call Foster immediately.”
Foster answered with a chipper, “Blakester! How went the exchange?”
“You mean you don't know?” Blake asked into the phone.
“About what?”
“We... were attacked.”
“No way. What the fuck? Are you and the kittykat, Leighton Meesterkatsup or something okay?”
“I've got stitches on my sides and arms and Leighton was scraped up a bit, but we're all alive.”
“Hey, what about me?” Chace whined in the background. Leighton shushed him while reminding him that his nosebleed wasn't even caused by the explosion.
“Oh god, I'm so sorry - hang on, someone's coming in through the door - “ Blake heard Foster yell out, “I'm sorry, could you come back in a few minutes,” then the sound of pop music, the same song as the one they'd heard at the strip club. Then the sound of horse clops, Foster asking, “What is going on?” Silence for a second. An ear-splitting boom; Blake pulled her head away from the phone. Then a steady monotone beep. Blake hung up.
---
Foster had been hospitalized with second-degree burns. His secretary had been hurt as well, having been trampled by the pony. Shards of glass from the explosion had struck a few civilians walking outside too. He told them he'd been charged at by a pink pony, but that was all he remembered. On the news they saw the aftermath of the explosion, a burning building, along with rainbow confetti and candy littering the ground. Witnesses said that shortly after they saw the pink pony enter the building the explosion happened. Soon after that two rockets went off into the air and produced the confetti and candy.
“We're getting to the bottom of this,” Blake said grimly after they left the hospital. Leighton and Chace didn't argue.
They decided to go with Blake's plan, retarded as it was, because no one else felt like coming up with a better idea. Chace, who had a growing suspicion about Ed's whereabouts, logged into his e-mail, where they found out why Ed had up and disappeared. Though Ed's inbox was clean, in his trash they found one e-mail about a remote location in Oregon.
'PPP Commences' the subject line said. All the e-mail said was, 'Remember the signal. If you miss it, MR, OR.'
It was dated 29 days ago, before Pride. Two more days and it would have been deleted forever.
Leighton found out through her l33t searching skills (80% of computer repair was Googling the damn problem) that MR was an abbreviation for the Mika Ranch, which had recently been acquired by a Michael “Mika” Penniman. It was a four hour drive.
With Penn's help, Leighton Meester became Blair Waldorf, Blake Lively became Serena van der Woodsen, and Chace Crawford became Nate Archibald. Penn himself became Dan Humphrey, although he didn't technically need a disguise, having not been present at the attack in the first place. He just liked to play makeup.
They headed off for Mika Ranch, a ragtag group of queers (and one suspicious straight man), bent on solving the mystery.
---
Security at the ranch was surprisingly lax. There were a total of three people to guard the three entrances into the ranch. They simply walked up to one of the gates, knocked the guard out, and walked in.
“So what does PPP actually stand for?” Penn whispered as they walked through the ranch. Outside pink ponies cavorted around, a sight that startled Penn, but not so much the others.
“Penn Prefers Penis,” Blake responded promptly.
“That'll be the day,” Penn laughed.
“You mean you don't?” Chace asked. He looked a little stunned. He'd been flirting with Penn the entire trip.
“Staunch lover of the vajay-jay here,” Penn said with a shit-eating (or was that muffin-eating?) grin.
Chace looked crestfallen.
“Probably Pink Pony something, judging by the number of ponies running around and by previous experience,” Leighton said, to change the subject.
“We'll find out soon enough,” Blake said, right before a loudspeaker announced, “TONIGHT'S MEETING AT EIGHT.”
They milled around, smiling at people politely until the clock hit eight. Then they realized they had no idea where the meeting actually was. Luckily everyone seemed to be filing towards one central location, so they fell in step with the other people, arriving at a large grass field some ways off.
Everyone sat cross-legged in an oval around a campfire, so they followed suit.
“What is this, a commune?” Chace muttered. Three people walked around, pulling a cart piled high with boxed meals, which they handed out to each individual. Another person held a giant rainbow candy cane; presumably she was the leader, or at least the person with the talking power.
“Friends,” she announced; everyone hushed up. It seemed Chace was right.
“A few days ago, we sent the first Pink Pony prototype into action. Yesterday, we sent the second. The time is close approaching. No longer will we be oppressed by straight people! No, we refuse!”
“We refuse,” the crowd chanted.
“We will strike fear into their straight hearts!”
“We will strike fear,” the crowd chanted.
“What about them bisexuals?” Leighton asked mockingly.
“I changed my mind, they're a cult,” Chace muttered, which earned him a cuff from the random man sitting next to him.
“In exactly four days,” the woman said, “The ponies will go out through the entire country. Our pop music, Mika, will play all throughout the country. Explosions will rock the world. Rainbows and candy will rain from the sky everywhere. We will let them know that we will not be silenced! Are we ready?”
“We are ready,” the crowd chanted.
The woman nodded, satisfied, then handed off the cane to the man to her right. The crowd fell silent and nodded to themselves, satisfied as well. He didn't actually have anything productive to say, and the discussion quickly turned to a comparison of different types of lube, the cane going around the circle. They slipped away to discuss what had just gone down, with the exception of Chace, who stayed behind to correct everyone's misinformed opinion that ID was the best kind.
Halfway through the field someone stepped out from behind a tree.
“Blair Waldorf, huh?” he said. “The rich New York Upper East sider? So, she's joining the Pink Pony Progressives now instead of going to Yale or NYU?”
“Ed,” Leighton said through gritted teeth.
“Wait,” Blake said, “Blair Waldorf is a real person? Is Serena one too?”
“No,” Leighton said, though she didn't elaborate.
“No, they're not real,” Ed said in mild agreement. “Leighton likes to do this whole 'cast people in a show or movie of her own making' and her favorite is this idea she came up with called Gossip Girl, where everyone is absurdly rich and goes to prep school in New York. She's Blair Waldorf. I got cast as the greasy asshole Chuck Bass, and Chace was dreamboat pothead Nate Archibald. We were in some ugly love triangle. Speaking of which, where is Chace?”
“Discussing the merits of lube,” Leighton said, still guarded.
“Chace and his lube,” Ed said, rolling his eyes, which at least earned a chuckle from Leighton.
“Why are you here, Ed?” Leighton asked. “Talking? To us?”
Ed frowned.
“I want out,” he said curtly.
“Why?”
“I know about you guys,” he said. “They sent the first pony after you because you'd been asking around on the internet about the missing float, Leighton, or Blair, whatever. The rest of you,” he nodded at Blake and Penn, “were collateral damage.”
“Actually, not me,” Penn said, “But hey, whatever. I'm sure I would have earned the honor of being trampled over too.”
“What about Foster?” Blake asked.
“They sent the second one after Foster because he'd sent Leighton.”
“Shit,” Leighton muttered under her breath.
“I don't like the idea of my friends getting hurt,” Ed said. “I want out.”
“Then why'd you join in the first place?”
“Tired of being run over, treated like shit,” Ed said. “Figured it was time for another Stonewall, but a lot more badass.”
“Pink ponies, rainbows and candy is not my idea of more badass,” Penn said drily. “That is my idea of gaaaaaaaaayyyyyyy.”
“Besides, explosions and an insignia from a group called the PPP? That's not a revolution, that's basically terrorism,” Leighton said.
“PPP is only one syllable away from Peepee,” Penn said, grinning. Blake smacked him.
“Which is why I want out,” Ed said, ignoring Penn. “Do I have to repeat myself again?”
“No,” Leighton said, sighing. “Alright, we'll get you out. Somehow.”
“Tell me something though,” she continued. “What did happen to the giant pony float? Foster told us you guys stole it, but I don't see a giant pony anywhere, and I imagine it would be pretty conspicuous.”
“Oh, that?” Ed said. “There never was an actual float. It was just a signal for us to meet up at Pride and steal away.”
“Are you serious?” Leighton asked, gaping. “But I wanted to see it, so bad!”
Ed shrugged, clearly unconcerned with this stab to Leighton's heart. Chace showed up then, a giant box of ID lube in his hand.
“They made me take it to try it out, refused to believe me that Swiss Navy is better,” he said glumly.
“That's because Swiss Navy is foul, Nate Archibald,” Ed said. “Even Crisco is better than that vile shit.”
“Hello, by the way,” he said as Chace started.
“Ed is gonna help us,” Leighton said.
“Be a cracked-out trio like old times, yeah?” Ed said. His smile slid off his face when Chace set his mouth in a thin line, then crossed his arms and turned away.
“No,” Chace said to the air next to him.
“...Why?”
“We were supposed to be best friends,” Chace brooded. “You weren't supposed to just up and leave.”
Penn tapped Blake on the shoulder.
“Better bust out of here for a while,” he whispered. “They're gonna be at this drama for a while, man.”
They stole away. Blake brushed Leighton's arm as they left, signaling her to follow, but Leighton just grabbed her hand and squeezed it briefly before letting go, not moving. Chace and Ed were Leighton's friends too.
They walked towards the ranch, deciding to observe the pink ponies a bit.
“How do you think they made pink ponies in the first place?” Penn asked Blake. “I mean, even if they do make me want to hurl, it must have taken some genius to get them to be pink.”
“I don't know,” Blake said. “I failed science in school.”
“Along with every other subject,” Penn said. “You were so bad at school, man. It's a damn good thing you were born into money.”
“Don't remind me about it,” Blake muttered.
“Ooh, look, hottie at 3 o'clock,” Penn said.
Blake turned to look in the direction Penn indicated, and quickly turned back away.
“Penn, no,” she hissed, but Penn was already walking away from her, towards the beauty that was riding bareback atop a pink pony.
The beauty, unfortunately, was none other than Vanessa. Blake faced the other direction, hoping she wouldn't be spotted while Penn chatted her up.
“You ride well,” Penn called out at her, oozing with self-confidence. He glanced behind his shoulder, but Blake was still where he'd left her, facing away. He shrugged. Her loss.
“Thanks,” Vanessa said with a grin, the pony galloping up next to him.
“I'm Dan,” he said, reaching out a hand.
“You do know that most people here are gay, right, Dan? Not possibly a straight spy, are you?” Vanessa said, smirking.
Straight? Check. Spy? Check. Liar? A billion checks. “There gotta be some bisexuals,” Penn said, shrugging.
“Pegged me pretty well then, Mr. Bisexual Dan,” Vanessa said. “I'm Jessica.”
Blake whipped around. Jessica, not Vanessa. She locked eyes with Jessica, whose face suddenly hardened.
“And I suppose that over there would be Blake Lively?”
“Hm?” Penn looked back at Blake. Her cover had been blown, but not his. He kept up the charades. “No, that's Serena.”
“Huh. How'd you meet her?”
“Um,” he bit his lip, “We got to the ranch here at about the same time. She introduced herself Serena van der Woodsen.”
Jessica raised an eyebrow. “And I suppose she might have had a Leighton Meester traveling with her, along with a man with floppy brown hair and brown eyes?”
“Well, she had a Blair Waldorf and a Nate Archibald who fits your description, but no Leighton Meester that I can recall.”
“I see. Well,” she ran her hand down Penn's arm, “You're a big sweetie, Dan. We should get to know each other better later. Can I meet your friend Serena?”
“Ok,” Penn said, internally wondering how he was going to get them out of here, then turned to yell out to Blake. “Hey Serena! Over here!”
Blake froze, then walked as slowly as was possible without seeming too reluctant over to where Penn was waving.
“I'd like you to meet an absolutely stupendous being,” he said to Blake. “Serena, Jessica.” He turned to Jessica. “Jessica, Serena.”
“Hi,” Blake said stiffly. She didn't stick out her hand.
“Sweetie, how nice to meet you,” Jessica said, sticking out her hand enthusiastically.
Blake shook the hand, a frown creasing her features.
“I don't bite,” Jessica said. She held up her hands up in the air. “Won't try to kill you or nothing. Just want to talk.”
Jessica's glance flicked to Penn, and Blake said, “Dan's with me, actually. So you can talk.”
“Oh,” Jessica said, a little annoyed. “And here I thought I might actually like you.”
“Sorry?” Penn said. “Bros before hos? Or I guess in your case, my best friend before the person who tried to murder my best friend. A little more compelling than bros before hos anyway, since I don't care much for the bros.”
“How did you know that?” Blake and Jessica asked Penn simultaneously.
“I, unlike my lovely friend Blake here, didn't actually fail out of school, and was and am still quite smart,” Penn said.
“Oh. So,” Jessica asked. “Is your real name actually Dan?”
“Why don't you talk first,” Penn suggested, not unkindly. The crunch of leaves signaling Leighton standing behind them only reinforced his suggestion, although Jessica was still standing next to the pony...
“Alright,” Jessica said. She took a deep breath. “I'm sorry.”
“You're sorry,” Leighton said blankly.
“About... trying to kill us?” Blake asked, half mocking and half genuine confusion.
“Pretty much,” she said, then fell silent.
“Do you... do you have anything else to say?” Penn prompted.
“Nope. That's it.”
“So, given the choice,” Leighton said, “You'd still stick with the PPP and go on setting off explosions?”
“I'm bitter,” Jessica said. “Aren't you?”
“Right,” Leighton said. “Well, I hope you don't mind if we go all police on your ass.”
“We're calling the police?” Blake asked in surprise.
“Easiest way to end all of this,” Leighton said. She turned to walk away.
“I don't want to get arrested!” Jessica wailed.
Blake grabbed Leighton's arm. “Hey. Maybe uh, maybe we could think this over.”
Leighton stared at Blake's hand, then brushed it away angrily.
“No, I don't think so.”
She walked away.
Penn blinked at the entire exchange.
“So uh, what now? I think we better haul ass outta here before the popo shows up and crucifies our gay asses.”
“Penn, you're not gay,” Blake said.
“Fine, queer, resist labels, whatever,” Penn said, rolling his eyes. “I'm pretty much gay by association anyway.”
“I thought you were bi?” Jessica asked. “I like the name Penn, by the way. Much better than Dan. The name Dan Humphrey makes me think of a coffee-addicted emo.”
“I am bi,” Penn said brightly, “Except for the part where I don't like cock. And thanks, I like Penn better too.”
“Guys,” Blake said. “I am all for you two getting it on, but we need to do something here. First about the fact that pink ponies are gonna be exploding all over the nation soon, and second about the fact that Leighton is gonna throw all like, five-hundred powerhouse gays in this area into jail, which means California is gonna fail the next fight for Prop 8 even harder than it already did.”
“I am thoroughly unconcerned,” Penn said. “They're terrorists. They deserve to go to jail.”
“Hey wait,” Jessica objected. “We haven't really done anything yet, and most of us aren't actually fully WITH this plan.”
“Yeah, well,” Penn started, only to be silenced by a glare from Jessica.
“Penn,” Blake said. “Think of the fashion. It needs the gays. You put them in jail, everyone in the world will be dressed like me within a year.”
Penn didn't respond. Jessica seemed to be frozen as well. It wasn't until Penn started shaking and whimpering that Blake realized she had horrified them into silence.
It was at that moment that Ed and Chace popped up. Evidently they hadn't heard about the impending doom of the fashion world, as they were both bright and cheery.
“What's up my homos?” Ed quipped.
“Where's Leighton?” Chace asked. “And what's wrong with these two?”
“Better not tell you,” Blake said. “You might end up like them too. I see you guys made up?”
“And then some,” Ed said, looking sneakily away and whistling.
Blake noticed Chace blushing in response to Ed's statement. She grimaced. “Spare me the details.”
“Anyway,” she continued. “We have a problem.”
“Excellent, I love all these problems,” Chace said, rolling his eyes. “Why couldn't I just have been a normal, All-American, straight boy from Texas?”
“Because then you would have married the homecoming queen and popped out a billion babies and ended up fat and in a trailer park, which is classist, I know,” Ed said as Chace began to frown at him, “But more importantly, you would not have been able to experience the mind-blowing uh, administrations of the one and only Ed Westwick.”
“Ok, guys?” Blake yelled. “Problem, still here.”
“Alright, alright,” Ed said, sighing theatrically. “What is it?”
“Leighton's like, calling in the cops on us right now.”
“Oh,” Ed said. “Well that is a problem. Maybe we should start running out of here?”
“No!” Blake said. “Don't you get it? If you two both stopped wanting to do this, maybe we could convince everyone else to give up on this plan and find a peaceful resolution too!”
Chace groaned. “That sounds as retarded as jumping headfirst into a meat grinder.”
“That's what you said about my first plan,” Blake said, frowning.
“Mhm,” Chace chirped.
“But my first plan worked.”
Chace waved his hand, wrist limp. “An anomaly.”
Blake threw her hands up in the air. “Whatever, guys, I'll go do this myself. Chace and Ed - it is Ed, right? - can you make sure that Penn and Jessica eventually snap out of their coma?”
Chace and Ed glanced at each other.
“Um, alright,” Chace said uncertainly.
“We'll just stay here the entire time, yeah?” Ed said.
“Okay, I'll be back soon,” Blake said.
---
Lucky for Blake and her retarded plan, Leighton was having trouble finding a signal in the ranch. She was having trouble finding a signal, of course, because there was none. This meant she had to travel to the nearest pay phone, which was about three miles away.
“Fucking hell,” she muttered to herself.
Blake, having found out the same thing, was also running towards the pay phones as Leighton stalked along. As such, she reached Leighton just as she was inserting quarters.
Leighton turned around, blinking.
“Blake, what -”
That was all she had time to say before Blake knocked her out.
“Step one of retarded plan, finished!” Blake yelled triumphantly to herself, pumping her fist in the air. She lowered it when she noticed a blonde passerby gaping at her.
“Did you uh, did you see all of that?”
“Unfortunately,” the blonde said grimly. “What the hell?”
“I did it for a good reason, I swear,” Blake said. “I'm Blake.”
“Taylor.”
“Oh, you were at the strip club!”
“Gold star for you, now again: why the hell did you just knock that chick out?”
Blake pointed at Leighton's prone body. “She was gonna call the cops on this entire place. I had to stop her.”
Taylor rolled her eyes. “Don't you think we would've prepared for the event of defectors? The pay phones are all rigged. Also, who's gonna believe a story about a pink pony explosion operation?”
“Oh,” Blake said. “That um, that makes sense.”
“Anyway,” Taylor nodded towards Leighton. “Thanks for doing that, I guess. She'll be taken care of.”
“Wait wait wait no. I don't want her taken care of. I want you guys to stop this.”
“Stop?”
“Yeah, like, this so is not worth it. There are peaceful resolutions out there. A boycott, protests, something? You don't have to go around blowing up people to make a point.”
Taylor put her hand on her hip and glared at Blake. “And how much progress do you think we've made since Stonewall, anyway? I think a fucking riot and some anger is exactly what we need.”
“But this isn't a riot anyway, it's just attacking innocent bystanders! Who probably sympathize with us!” Blake cried. “I mean, you attacked us, me Leighton and Chace, who are probably the gayest people on this planet! Besides Foster, who you also happened to attack.”
Taylor rolled her eyes again. She seemed to enjoy doing that a lot. “Well, what if we moved to Arkansas instead? Hit up all the people who voted against gay adoption?”
“I... would feel slightly better about that,” Blake admitted. “But still, this is wrong! We don't have to stoop to violence.”
“Blake, my friend,” Taylor said. “You seem like a nice person. But I don't think you're going to convince many people here about this. You're welcome to try, but I really don't think it will work.”
Blake was on the verge of crying. Her plan was failing epically. She couldn't even convince a little blond girl who looked like she was fifteen to stop the madness; how was she going to convince a legion of gays?
In the midst of hyperventilating the idea came to her. She thought of Jessica and Penn, standing there in shell-shock, and smiled darkly.
“Taylor,” she said sweetly. “If you all run off and start blowing up people for a career instead, no one will be left to pioneer fashion.”
Taylor examined her manicured nails, completely unconcerned. “Why?”
“Well, because there will be no powerhouse gays left.”
Taylor scratched her head. “And your point is...?”
“Well,” and here Blake paused for effect, “This means that everyone in the world will pretty much be dressed like me.”
Taylor's mouth dropped open in horror. She stared at Blake for a good long time, oblivious to the drool that began to trickle out of her mouth.
“I imagine that would be pretty horrifying,” Blake finished.
“You're damn right it would be,” Taylor said when she had recovered her senses, shuddering. “Ok, you've got me convinced. I won't run around blowing up people on pink ponies anymore.”
Blake clapped her hands together in glee. “Just what I wanted to hear!”
“Can you imagine no Marc Jacobs, Isaac Mizrahi? We'd all be reduced to wearing mom jeans from Wal-Mart!” Taylor exclaimed, shuddering.
“Not at all,” Blake said, “But I'm overjoyed that the fashion world means so much to you and everyone else. Makes saving the world so much easier.”
---
In the end, Blake won over all the queers with the reminder that they were responsible for the foundation of fashion. Without them, everything crumbled, and people started looking like Blake. The mere idea of it was, for the most part, exactly the kick in the ass people needed to give up their nefarious ways. It did turn a few people into blubbering idiots, but Blake was assured by the resident doctor that a few Valium pills would cure that in a hurry. A few others were still staunchly resistant, especially the woman who had been leading the cult meeting, but the mass exodus seemed to drain them of their passion. It was easy to persuade them after to let go of the violence and make the world a more forgiving place through peaceful means.
Blake was disappointed that her arguments about peace and non-violence had not received the same welcome, but at least she had saved the world from pink pony gay bombs. That was what mattered, right?
It took about two days to clear most everyone out of the ranch. Some people didn't want to integrate back into society still, so they opted to stay behind and form a gay commune at the ranch instead. They promised to be peaceful.
During those two days, Blake didn't see Leighton at all. It wasn't for a lack of effort - Blake swore she had walked the entire ranch at least three times, but no kitten-like brunette with signature dorky glasses showed up anywhere on her radar. If she didn't find Leighton after tomorrow, she would just have to return to San Francisco alone.
(Well, not entirely alone. Sometime during the past two days, Blake had discovered she was quite fond of Taylor, and decided to adopt her as a little sister. Taylor, actually being fifteen and having no other connections, cheerfully agreed. But it wasn't the same.)
At the end of the second day, Blake saw Ed, Chace, Penn and Jessica away. They filed out hand in hand, Ed with Chace and Penn with Jessica, reminding Blake of just how badly she wanted Leighton to be by her side.
“Hope you find Leighton here,” Chace said as they hugged. “We'll let you know if she's already fucked back to her apartment too.”
“Thanks.” Chace patted her on the shoulder when they separated, and Blake smiled weakly back.
“Aww, don't be so sad, Blakey Blake,” Penn pinched her on the cheek. “If you don't find her in these green and pink pastures, well... that sucks. But like you always say, there are other fish in the sea!”
“Right,” Blake said flatly.
“Seriously, she'll be missing out on a...” Penn stepped back and appraised her critically. “Well, I wouldn't say prize exactly, that's me, but something pretty damn fucking close to one, a miracle considering how badly you dress yourself.”
“I get it Penn,” Blake said, cheerful despite herself. “You're the best. I'll see you soon?”
“Definitely. Love you, Blakey Blake.”
“Love you too.”
Penn walked away, his arm around Jessica. Blake watched as they piled into the van they had driven up to Oregon. A cough from the engine as the van started up, and it was gone.
As Blake watched the van become a point on the horizon, she felt someone tap on her shoulder.
“Taylor, not now -” she stopped midsentence as she turned around.
She almost didn't recognize the person standing before her. A striking, if horribly short, cowboy stood before her. He sported a nine-o-clock shadow, with a wide-brimmed rodeo hat perched perfectly on his head.
“Leighton,” Blake breathed.
“Couldn't have you stealing all the transvestite fun,” Leighton said. “You like it?”
“Like it?” Blake almost shouted, as if indignant Leighton even asked her the question. “I love it. Leighton, I love it. I love you.”
Leighton turned pink. A small smile tinged her features, ruining the stern countenance she had been striving for.
“Really?”
“Yes,” Blake said. “God, yes.”
Leighton giggled a little to herself. “Well. I was going to stay angry at you for a little longer, for you know, knocking me out and then not being there when I came to, and also for saving the world without me. But I'm thinking I've punished you enough by disguising myself for the last few days... So. Take me back home with you.”
“A little control bitch now, aren't you?” Blake asked, raising an eyebrow. A wide grin split her face though, revealing just how elated she was.
“You know you love me,” Leighton said, grabbing her hand and marching her purposefully towards... well, nothing.
“Leighton, I have a car over there,” Blake said, pointing in the other direction. A white sedan sat there, alone in its glory. She smirked.
Leighton clapped her hands together. “Oh, excellent!” She grabbed Blake again and marched towards the sedan.
“How did you come by this car anyway?”
“Oh, it belongs to Taylor. She's in the car right now. We're taking her home with us too.”
Leighton frowned at Blake, but once they actually reached the sedan began squeeing.
“Is this Taylor? Ohmygod! She is so cute, can we keep her?”
“Yeah,” Blake said, laughing. “It will be like a happy family!”
They clambered into the sedan. Blake started the ignition, and then started off on the dirt path, humming cheerfully to herself. Life was complete.
---
Leighton jerked awake. Her cowboy hat was tipped over her face so that all she could see was darkness. She could feel Blake's hand stroking her arm, slow and comforting. She yawned and shifted away from Blake to stretch. The cowboy hat fell off.
“Hey cutie,” Blake said, glancing at her and smiling.
“Hey yourself.”
“Sleep well?”
“Like a drugged cat,” Leighton said, sagging down in her seat.
“You weren't one of those who took Valium pills, were you?” Blake asked, concerned.
“Well,” Leighton said, “I wasn't exactly traumatized by your speech, considering you dress like... you, and I think you're hot anyway, so I didn't need the pills. But I may have stolen a few.”
She reached into her pocket and took a small baggie out, shaking it happily. Five purple pills clattered against each other in the bag.
“I wonder what they feel like mixed with weed,” Leighton mused.
“Leighton!” Blake hit her lightly.
Leighton giggled so hard that she almost didn't hear Blake's next words.
“Hey, Leighton. Is it okay if I ask you a serious question?”
“I mean, like, yeah.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Blake shaking.
“I, do - do you love me too?”
Blake looked almost comical, lower lip trembling in anxiety. Leighton almost burst out laughing. Instead she just rolled her eyes.
“Blake. What are you, retarded?”
She saw Blake flinch and smile simultaneously in the mirror.
“One, two, three four,” she started, “You're the one I adore. Five, six, seven, eight, don't run from me cause this is fate.”
Blake perked up.
“That's from But I'm A Cheerleader! Hey, this trip has been kind of crazy like that!”
Leighton grinned.
“You know what, Blake? I think our family will get along fabulously.”