Mythtaken (WNBA RPS)
Title: Mythtaken
Rating: PG, maybe
A/N: Blame Sports Illustrated. 59 minutes, including research time.
Disclaimer: People real, slash fake. Magazine real, delusions of grandeur not so much.
Pairing: Rebecca Lobo/Sue Wicks, ex-New York Liberty. Sue is the one in my user icon.
Summary: Crazy ideas do crazy things to crazy people.
"I am the woman! I am goddess! I am-"
"Obviously smoking something that would have gotten you suspended a year and a half ago," Sue interrupted. "It's only a Sports Illustrated cover, it's not like they repainted the Sistine Chapel and stuck you in as one of the matriarchs."
Rebecca pouted. Most people couldn't identify a pout over the phone, but Sue had gotten used to the texture and length of Rebecca's silences over the last seven years. It was part of what made them so compatible on so many levels. "But they did pick me."
"Yes, they did, and it's the cutest little shot of you. At least you look halfway decent, not like that shot of Chas. She looks like she should be in with the forbidden fruit people with the way that body was painted. Or drawn. Or Photoshopped. Jeez, you can do strange things in so many ways now."
Rebecca's silence this time was more pensive, less affected, punctuated by a 'hmmmm' or a sigh. Finally she said, "It shouldn't have been me. It should have been someone like you, or Spoon, or T Edwards. I mean, I remember when I was a rookie and T was talking retirement, and now seven years later she's still talking retirement."
"They're gonna have to pry the basketball out of her cold, dead hands," Sue laughed. She readjusted herself on the couch, trying to find the least uncomfortable position for someone who was really too tall to be curling up on a couch. "But in all seriousness-"
"Sue, have you ever said anything in *all* seriousness? The first time you said 'I love you', you added in 'even if you're a brunette'."
"I was serious! It's not my fault that you can't interpret what's serious and what's not."
"Maybe if you gave me a little help."
"I've *tried*. But look, that's not the point. We can take up this thread later. Honey, you've earned the right to be one of the matriarchs of sport. You and the rest of that UConn team put women's basketball back on the map. How much attention do you think anyone would have paid to the national team if they didn't already know that maybe broads could ball? It's not always about doing something. Sometimes it's just about being."
"You and your Zen again," Rebecca mock-groaned. "I still stand by my point that someone from the previous generation or two should have represented. You'd make a great mother o' sport."
"Me? I'm not equipped in that direction, remember? What with the not really wanting to find out what men are like in the sack? They'd never allow for a lesbian mother."
"So someone must have made a mistake when they put Martina in one of those corners."
"Okay, one lesbian mother. Two would have been overdoing it."
"I thought the whole point of being a lesbian mother was for there to be two mommies. Isn't that what all the bumper stickers say?"
"Where I came from, most of the bumper stickers say something favorable about Bush. Or they boast about their children being honor students. Or they're sucking up to a radio station in a feeble attempt to be pulled over and given money."
Rebecca knew better than to follow up on that. Whenever Sue talked about Long Island, there was always a sense that she had done quite well in getting out of there and she'd really rather not mention it, thank you very much. Sometimes Rebecca thought that the only reason Sue ever accepted her origins was those few members of her family that she still talked to. Otherwise she might well have reinvented herself as a New Jerseyan, cutting the ties that bound her to a place where she really didn't belong. "It's probably for the best anyway. Imagine what would happen to some poor kid with the two of us as role models. We'd never get him, her, or it to stop talking."
"Oh, like the one you and Steve have in the oven is going to be so quiet and well-behaved. Besides, I plan to do my part in corrupting your child to the best of my ability. Would you expect anything else of me?" Sue grinned, knowing that Rebecca would "see" the expression even if sh ecouldn't really see it.
"No, not really. Spreading your corruption to the next generation, huh? I'm not surprised. You're a sick, sick woman."
"You know it. And you love it."
"Almost as much as life itself," Rebecca agreed genially. "And when you put it all together with the rest of the uniquely weird package that is you, I think I can say that life itself starts to lose out."
"That's one of the most backhandedly romantic things I've ever heard. And considering what we say to each other, that's really going some."
"It's been, what, four years now? Feels like longer."
Sue laughed. "I love you enough that I'm not going to take that further. Don't tell anyone, it'd blow my cover. I'm supposed to be a smartass, but only within certain limits, and sweet-talking a married former teammate falls outside those limits for most people. Except, of course, the ones that know that I called first dibs before Steve."
"Can we get back to talking about my place in sports myth and legend? After all, that's what I originally called you to boast about."
"Is it my fault you can't keep to a single topic of conversation? I just follow your lead, o beauteous one."
Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Oyyyyy..."
"You belong there, and there's no need to feel guilty about it. I'm still scratching my head as to why there's two tennis players on there. You'd think they'd have a gymnast or a figure skater or something."
"Maybe we should redesign our own, just for women's sports."
"And who are we gonna get to do it?"
"Chris said that Schuey draws."
"Uh, Becca, I think this is gonna take a little more than some sketching skill. We're talking about the Sistine Chapel here. Besides, it would involve thinking far too closely about Bible stories, and while that might be your cup of tea, I can do well enough without them. As much fun as it might be to shamelessly mock the Judeo-Christian mythos, and as much fun as it might be to correct that mistake SI made with you..."
"What mistake? Where? How? What?"
"You mean you didn't notice that mini-you is holding a WNBA ball and wearing UConn gear? And that's the most questionable red I've ever seen, looks a lot more like orange."
"Oh, jeez, you nearly gave me a heart attack. I think it's a symbolic sort of thing, that what I did as a Husky was a springboard for the WNBA to exist. I'd have loved for mini-me to be wearing my gold medal, but I can see how it wouldn't have been visible. But that would have combined everything, and that would have been really good. And you're laughing. You're laughing at me!"
"Not exactly, dear... I just got the image of a mini-you- you know, one the size of an ordinary woman- following you around and wearing nothing but your medal."
Rebecca thought about that for a moment and quickly turned around. Fortunately for her sanity, there was no smaller-scale version of herself sitting at the kitchen table buck naked. "You've got to stop doing this to me. They'll ship me off to an institution if we're not careful."
"Who they? The parents who instilled this madness in you, or the husband who can only encourage it with his own insanity? The die was cast the second your parents got together and stayed that way. It's okay. That's why I love you. It's the crazy. It's always the crazy." There was a soft, romantic sort of note to Sue's voice.
"I miss you."
"Miss you too. You know, there's a really simple solution to that. Come and visit me. Even if they tap you for the rest of the playoffs, there's gonna be a break between the Finals and when they start calling you up to do college games. Come back, B. We can do all the crazy things that pop into our heads. I promise not to get locked inside a Chinese bakery this time."
"Good, 'cause Crystal's not here for backup, and after this season I don't think we should give Becky an excuse to pull her gun." Rebecca sighed. "I'd love to, but I don't know if I can get away, not without causing people to talk, and I don't want people to talk that way."
"People are going to talk about a married woman going to hang out with a former teammate? I promise I'll be careful, and I'll call a doctor immediately if your spawn decides to come out early for a look."
"I don't know if I can, but if I can I will, and believe me I'll let you know if I do."
"You better on all counts. Oh, God, Becca, I miss you too, too much."
"You too. Take care of yourself, all right? I don't want to hike all the way down only to find out that you've gone and done something stupid and I have to visit you in the hospital."
"Only if you promise to be careful, and the soon-to-be new arrival promises not to make any unexpected appearances."
"You're getting loopy."
"It's midnight. I live on a real people's schedule now. Besides, I have class tomorrow."
"Good night, Sue."
"Night, B."
Rating: PG, maybe
A/N: Blame Sports Illustrated. 59 minutes, including research time.
Disclaimer: People real, slash fake. Magazine real, delusions of grandeur not so much.
Pairing: Rebecca Lobo/Sue Wicks, ex-New York Liberty. Sue is the one in my user icon.
Summary: Crazy ideas do crazy things to crazy people.
"I am the woman! I am goddess! I am-"
"Obviously smoking something that would have gotten you suspended a year and a half ago," Sue interrupted. "It's only a Sports Illustrated cover, it's not like they repainted the Sistine Chapel and stuck you in as one of the matriarchs."
Rebecca pouted. Most people couldn't identify a pout over the phone, but Sue had gotten used to the texture and length of Rebecca's silences over the last seven years. It was part of what made them so compatible on so many levels. "But they did pick me."
"Yes, they did, and it's the cutest little shot of you. At least you look halfway decent, not like that shot of Chas. She looks like she should be in with the forbidden fruit people with the way that body was painted. Or drawn. Or Photoshopped. Jeez, you can do strange things in so many ways now."
Rebecca's silence this time was more pensive, less affected, punctuated by a 'hmmmm' or a sigh. Finally she said, "It shouldn't have been me. It should have been someone like you, or Spoon, or T Edwards. I mean, I remember when I was a rookie and T was talking retirement, and now seven years later she's still talking retirement."
"They're gonna have to pry the basketball out of her cold, dead hands," Sue laughed. She readjusted herself on the couch, trying to find the least uncomfortable position for someone who was really too tall to be curling up on a couch. "But in all seriousness-"
"Sue, have you ever said anything in *all* seriousness? The first time you said 'I love you', you added in 'even if you're a brunette'."
"I was serious! It's not my fault that you can't interpret what's serious and what's not."
"Maybe if you gave me a little help."
"I've *tried*. But look, that's not the point. We can take up this thread later. Honey, you've earned the right to be one of the matriarchs of sport. You and the rest of that UConn team put women's basketball back on the map. How much attention do you think anyone would have paid to the national team if they didn't already know that maybe broads could ball? It's not always about doing something. Sometimes it's just about being."
"You and your Zen again," Rebecca mock-groaned. "I still stand by my point that someone from the previous generation or two should have represented. You'd make a great mother o' sport."
"Me? I'm not equipped in that direction, remember? What with the not really wanting to find out what men are like in the sack? They'd never allow for a lesbian mother."
"So someone must have made a mistake when they put Martina in one of those corners."
"Okay, one lesbian mother. Two would have been overdoing it."
"I thought the whole point of being a lesbian mother was for there to be two mommies. Isn't that what all the bumper stickers say?"
"Where I came from, most of the bumper stickers say something favorable about Bush. Or they boast about their children being honor students. Or they're sucking up to a radio station in a feeble attempt to be pulled over and given money."
Rebecca knew better than to follow up on that. Whenever Sue talked about Long Island, there was always a sense that she had done quite well in getting out of there and she'd really rather not mention it, thank you very much. Sometimes Rebecca thought that the only reason Sue ever accepted her origins was those few members of her family that she still talked to. Otherwise she might well have reinvented herself as a New Jerseyan, cutting the ties that bound her to a place where she really didn't belong. "It's probably for the best anyway. Imagine what would happen to some poor kid with the two of us as role models. We'd never get him, her, or it to stop talking."
"Oh, like the one you and Steve have in the oven is going to be so quiet and well-behaved. Besides, I plan to do my part in corrupting your child to the best of my ability. Would you expect anything else of me?" Sue grinned, knowing that Rebecca would "see" the expression even if sh ecouldn't really see it.
"No, not really. Spreading your corruption to the next generation, huh? I'm not surprised. You're a sick, sick woman."
"You know it. And you love it."
"Almost as much as life itself," Rebecca agreed genially. "And when you put it all together with the rest of the uniquely weird package that is you, I think I can say that life itself starts to lose out."
"That's one of the most backhandedly romantic things I've ever heard. And considering what we say to each other, that's really going some."
"It's been, what, four years now? Feels like longer."
Sue laughed. "I love you enough that I'm not going to take that further. Don't tell anyone, it'd blow my cover. I'm supposed to be a smartass, but only within certain limits, and sweet-talking a married former teammate falls outside those limits for most people. Except, of course, the ones that know that I called first dibs before Steve."
"Can we get back to talking about my place in sports myth and legend? After all, that's what I originally called you to boast about."
"Is it my fault you can't keep to a single topic of conversation? I just follow your lead, o beauteous one."
Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Oyyyyy..."
"You belong there, and there's no need to feel guilty about it. I'm still scratching my head as to why there's two tennis players on there. You'd think they'd have a gymnast or a figure skater or something."
"Maybe we should redesign our own, just for women's sports."
"And who are we gonna get to do it?"
"Chris said that Schuey draws."
"Uh, Becca, I think this is gonna take a little more than some sketching skill. We're talking about the Sistine Chapel here. Besides, it would involve thinking far too closely about Bible stories, and while that might be your cup of tea, I can do well enough without them. As much fun as it might be to shamelessly mock the Judeo-Christian mythos, and as much fun as it might be to correct that mistake SI made with you..."
"What mistake? Where? How? What?"
"You mean you didn't notice that mini-you is holding a WNBA ball and wearing UConn gear? And that's the most questionable red I've ever seen, looks a lot more like orange."
"Oh, jeez, you nearly gave me a heart attack. I think it's a symbolic sort of thing, that what I did as a Husky was a springboard for the WNBA to exist. I'd have loved for mini-me to be wearing my gold medal, but I can see how it wouldn't have been visible. But that would have combined everything, and that would have been really good. And you're laughing. You're laughing at me!"
"Not exactly, dear... I just got the image of a mini-you- you know, one the size of an ordinary woman- following you around and wearing nothing but your medal."
Rebecca thought about that for a moment and quickly turned around. Fortunately for her sanity, there was no smaller-scale version of herself sitting at the kitchen table buck naked. "You've got to stop doing this to me. They'll ship me off to an institution if we're not careful."
"Who they? The parents who instilled this madness in you, or the husband who can only encourage it with his own insanity? The die was cast the second your parents got together and stayed that way. It's okay. That's why I love you. It's the crazy. It's always the crazy." There was a soft, romantic sort of note to Sue's voice.
"I miss you."
"Miss you too. You know, there's a really simple solution to that. Come and visit me. Even if they tap you for the rest of the playoffs, there's gonna be a break between the Finals and when they start calling you up to do college games. Come back, B. We can do all the crazy things that pop into our heads. I promise not to get locked inside a Chinese bakery this time."
"Good, 'cause Crystal's not here for backup, and after this season I don't think we should give Becky an excuse to pull her gun." Rebecca sighed. "I'd love to, but I don't know if I can get away, not without causing people to talk, and I don't want people to talk that way."
"People are going to talk about a married woman going to hang out with a former teammate? I promise I'll be careful, and I'll call a doctor immediately if your spawn decides to come out early for a look."
"I don't know if I can, but if I can I will, and believe me I'll let you know if I do."
"You better on all counts. Oh, God, Becca, I miss you too, too much."
"You too. Take care of yourself, all right? I don't want to hike all the way down only to find out that you've gone and done something stupid and I have to visit you in the hospital."
"Only if you promise to be careful, and the soon-to-be new arrival promises not to make any unexpected appearances."
"You're getting loopy."
"It's midnight. I live on a real people's schedule now. Besides, I have class tomorrow."
"Good night, Sue."
"Night, B."