Elena's Guide to Girls (WNBA RPS, 18/100)
Title: Elena's Guide to Girls
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Bunny acquired from my boyfriend and expanded whilst on the train home. Why is he my supplier for cracked out Elena bunnies?
Disclaimer: People real, story fake, so very fake.
Characters: Elena Baranova, with cameos by a few teammates.
Prompt: 25. Strangers
Wordcount: 900 (in 9 drabbles)
Elena was tall, strong, and stern, with short hair and a habit of being seen among the (mathematically proven) gayest team in the league. People leaped to conclusions, though in their minds it wasn't a leap so much as it was a simple step, and when they leaped to conclusions, it was only logical that they should ask her for advice. After all, someone so obviously butch, and always in the company of lesbians, would know everything there was to know about women, especially finding, wooing, and keeping them.
Unfortunately, there were a lot of things wrong with that idea.
~*~
Her first month in New York, a bearded man with a sleazy smile asked her, "How do you… you know, pick up girls?"
Elena looked at the man strangely. It seemed like an odd question to ask. Her English vocabulary momentarily failed her, and the expectant expression on the man's face required some answer from her. She glanced around and spotted one of the rookies. Gravely, she walked over to the youngster, grabbed her around the waist, and set her on top of a nearby table.
It shut the guy up, but Erin never did forgive her for the stunt.
~*~
Two weeks later, a brunette with cropped hair and hard eyes sidled up to her as she exited the Garden after a game. "So how do you pick up girls?" the woman asked, her voice harsh in the still night air, a Sharpie and a roster card in her sweating hands.
This time, Elena had an answer to give the woman. As she signed the roster sheet, she put her other hand to the small of her back and groaned, "With knees, not back."
The woman snatched her things back quickly, ripping the roster card, and ran like the wind.
~*~
"Is more easy to take her home when she sleep. If she drink, she no want to leave. I must make her."
Jaws, and Tamika's glass, dropped at Elena's casual admission about Oksana. Silence fell. There had been rumors about the skater and the player, but no one thought they'd be confirmed like this.
"I tell her she drink too much, how she go home? Now I must take her to hotel, and will be getting home very late. Boris will be worrying." Elena trailed off cursing in Russian and left with Oksana over her shoulder and her teammates staring.
~*~
Teresa was the only one brave enough to confront Elena the next day. "What happened with Oksana?" she asked in her rusty Russian. "Did you…"
"I put her to bed and drove home with the windows down to get the stink out. That woman can't hold her vodka."
"That was all? You didn't do anything else?"
"Why would I? She's my friend, not my whore. You mean you thought- you should know better!" Elena got up and left in a huff.
"She's weird," Tamika opined.
"Yeah, I knew that," Teresa replied.
"No, I mean she's *weird*."
"Says the python owner."
~*~
At a bar with her teammates just before the Olympic break; the talk was loud and the music louder. One guy for every ten women, which should have been a clue, but not for the redheaded man who walked up to Elena at the bar and yelled, "How do I attract blondes?"
Elena raked her fingers through her bleached hair and looked around for someone who could answer the question. Becky was at a nearby table with Meggan sitting on her lap as if she had always belonged there.
"I think," she said, "you will be needing very big gun."
~*~
In Sacramento, the questioner was slim and pretty, yet indefinably butch. "Got any tips for getting a piece of ass?" she asked Elena at the hotel.
Elena thought about this, then realized the futility. She walked over to Teresa, leaned down, and whispered in her ear. Teresa snickered and replied quietly. Elena returned to the slender, dark-haired woman with the verdict.
"Teresa say I tell you, but then I kill you or she kill me." Elena seemed genuinely apologetic about the whole thing.
The woman backed away. "That's it, I'll stick to the Monarchs," she muttered as she walked away.
~*~
She'd been left to guard the luggage, which was the last place she expected a shy black man to approach her and ask softly, "How d'you… y'know, do it with another gal?"
"Do what?" Elena replied.
He looked down. "Make love," he mumbled.
Elena shrugged. He seemed disappointed; the Staley jersey on his back indicated that he'd seen enough disappointment. She got an idea and started rummaging through suitcases. Finding what she needed, she handed it to him. "This has many answer," she told him.
Crystal would later fret that she had left her girlie mag in the hotel room.
~*~
"Dude! *That's* your girlfriend?" the die-hard fan yelled after the Phoenix game, gawking the whole time at the table.
Elena looked at Kamila. Kamila looked at Elena. Elena looked at Boris. Kamila looked at Martin. All four of them looked at the fan. The fan looked at the four of them. After a few awkward moments, the fan walked away with a knowing smirk and a glint in her eye that suggested that she had just come upon a juicy piece of gossip.
"I'll ask Anna to check the Internet when we return to Phoenix," the Czech said in Russian.
little darn table
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Bunny acquired from my boyfriend and expanded whilst on the train home. Why is he my supplier for cracked out Elena bunnies?
Disclaimer: People real, story fake, so very fake.
Characters: Elena Baranova, with cameos by a few teammates.
Prompt: 25. Strangers
Wordcount: 900 (in 9 drabbles)
Elena was tall, strong, and stern, with short hair and a habit of being seen among the (mathematically proven) gayest team in the league. People leaped to conclusions, though in their minds it wasn't a leap so much as it was a simple step, and when they leaped to conclusions, it was only logical that they should ask her for advice. After all, someone so obviously butch, and always in the company of lesbians, would know everything there was to know about women, especially finding, wooing, and keeping them.
Unfortunately, there were a lot of things wrong with that idea.
~*~
Her first month in New York, a bearded man with a sleazy smile asked her, "How do you… you know, pick up girls?"
Elena looked at the man strangely. It seemed like an odd question to ask. Her English vocabulary momentarily failed her, and the expectant expression on the man's face required some answer from her. She glanced around and spotted one of the rookies. Gravely, she walked over to the youngster, grabbed her around the waist, and set her on top of a nearby table.
It shut the guy up, but Erin never did forgive her for the stunt.
~*~
Two weeks later, a brunette with cropped hair and hard eyes sidled up to her as she exited the Garden after a game. "So how do you pick up girls?" the woman asked, her voice harsh in the still night air, a Sharpie and a roster card in her sweating hands.
This time, Elena had an answer to give the woman. As she signed the roster sheet, she put her other hand to the small of her back and groaned, "With knees, not back."
The woman snatched her things back quickly, ripping the roster card, and ran like the wind.
~*~
"Is more easy to take her home when she sleep. If she drink, she no want to leave. I must make her."
Jaws, and Tamika's glass, dropped at Elena's casual admission about Oksana. Silence fell. There had been rumors about the skater and the player, but no one thought they'd be confirmed like this.
"I tell her she drink too much, how she go home? Now I must take her to hotel, and will be getting home very late. Boris will be worrying." Elena trailed off cursing in Russian and left with Oksana over her shoulder and her teammates staring.
~*~
Teresa was the only one brave enough to confront Elena the next day. "What happened with Oksana?" she asked in her rusty Russian. "Did you…"
"I put her to bed and drove home with the windows down to get the stink out. That woman can't hold her vodka."
"That was all? You didn't do anything else?"
"Why would I? She's my friend, not my whore. You mean you thought- you should know better!" Elena got up and left in a huff.
"She's weird," Tamika opined.
"Yeah, I knew that," Teresa replied.
"No, I mean she's *weird*."
"Says the python owner."
~*~
At a bar with her teammates just before the Olympic break; the talk was loud and the music louder. One guy for every ten women, which should have been a clue, but not for the redheaded man who walked up to Elena at the bar and yelled, "How do I attract blondes?"
Elena raked her fingers through her bleached hair and looked around for someone who could answer the question. Becky was at a nearby table with Meggan sitting on her lap as if she had always belonged there.
"I think," she said, "you will be needing very big gun."
~*~
In Sacramento, the questioner was slim and pretty, yet indefinably butch. "Got any tips for getting a piece of ass?" she asked Elena at the hotel.
Elena thought about this, then realized the futility. She walked over to Teresa, leaned down, and whispered in her ear. Teresa snickered and replied quietly. Elena returned to the slender, dark-haired woman with the verdict.
"Teresa say I tell you, but then I kill you or she kill me." Elena seemed genuinely apologetic about the whole thing.
The woman backed away. "That's it, I'll stick to the Monarchs," she muttered as she walked away.
~*~
She'd been left to guard the luggage, which was the last place she expected a shy black man to approach her and ask softly, "How d'you… y'know, do it with another gal?"
"Do what?" Elena replied.
He looked down. "Make love," he mumbled.
Elena shrugged. He seemed disappointed; the Staley jersey on his back indicated that he'd seen enough disappointment. She got an idea and started rummaging through suitcases. Finding what she needed, she handed it to him. "This has many answer," she told him.
Crystal would later fret that she had left her girlie mag in the hotel room.
~*~
"Dude! *That's* your girlfriend?" the die-hard fan yelled after the Phoenix game, gawking the whole time at the table.
Elena looked at Kamila. Kamila looked at Elena. Elena looked at Boris. Kamila looked at Martin. All four of them looked at the fan. The fan looked at the four of them. After a few awkward moments, the fan walked away with a knowing smirk and a glint in her eye that suggested that she had just come upon a juicy piece of gossip.
"I'll ask Anna to check the Internet when we return to Phoenix," the Czech said in Russian.
little darn table