Alphabet Soup Table - 22. Votive - Golden Girls
Title: Into Their Future Happily Together
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Golden Girls
Character/Pairing: Blanche/Dorothy, past George/Blanche
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge/Prompt: FemSlash100100: Alphabet Soup: 22: Votive
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,299
Date Written: 25 April 2018
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
She stared up at her ceiling, unable to stop her mind from retracing over the night’s events or to fall asleep next to the person she’d awakened to find still in her bed and still wrapped around her. It wasn’t that the arms around her weren’t comforting. They were, and the kisses they’d shared had been the best Blanche had experienced since George.
Blanche sighed again, louder this time. What would George think if he could see her now? Blanche had grown up being told that her dead loved ones watched over her, but if that was true . . . Surely George and Big Daddy both would have become ashamed of her long ago. Surely her grandmother would have found a way to visit her in this world and slap her upside her head long before her current partner. Blanche had never given so much thought to what she did behind closed doors until tonight.
Until sleeping with a woman. She peered down at the woman who snored like a man, the woman who had been her best friend for years, and who had been there for her again and again when men had let her down. She’d never felt the kind of passion she felt when Dorothy touched her at any other time of her life; in some ways, she was even better than her cherished George at knowing what she wanted and giving it to her.
And Blanche had wanted this for a long, long time. Ever since the first time Blanche had noticed what a strikingly handsome man Dorothy would have made, she has wondered what it would be like to be loved by her. Tonight had been even better than she had imagined, and that was saying a lot. Blanche’s imagination was wild and had been helped on by having lovers from all over the world.
Dorothy Zbornak certainly wasn’t the first lover her family would not have approved. There had been the Yank she had dared to date, and the poor boy with whom she had almost ran away and given up all her daddy’s fortune. But still . . . A woman?? Who in all of Miami would dare to believe that Blanche Devereaux had gone to bed tonight making love to a woman? But her body was singing from their good lovemaking. She had not felt this good since George.
“Blanche, darlin’, what did Ah always tell you?”
Blanche sat bolt upright in bed. She blinked rapidly, unable to believe her eyes. “G-George?!” She slipped out of bed and walked closer to him as Dorothy continued to snore.
“Yes, dahling.” He reached out and stroked her cheek, and Blanche knew, from that simple touch, that it was truly him. She closed her eyes as he caressed her again and leaned into his touch.
“God, how Ah’ve missed you!” Tears sprang to her eyes as she reopened them.
“Ah know you’ve missed me, Blanche, an’ Ah know you haven’t been sleepin’ all ovah Miami tryin’ to replace me. You’re a woman full o’ love, Blanche Devereaux. You always have been. That’s part o’ what drew me to you in th’ first place.”
“Really? Not just my unbelievably good looks?” She laughed, but her laughter sounded hoarse and forced even to her own ears.
“Well,” he grinned, “that may have been what drew me in th’ first place, but it’s not what got me to stay.” He looked back at the bed behind Blanche. “An’ it’s not what got her to stay either.”
“About her -- “ Blanche’s lips trembled. Her tears grew but still did not fall.
“You don’t have to make excuses to me, dahling. She loves you, an’ she makes you feel loved, more than any o’ those other men you’ve been with since mah passin’. That’s all that matters really, isn’t it?”
“O-Of course. Ah . . . Ah mean Ah guess so.”
George smiled at her so kindly that her heart felt like breaking all over again. “O’ course it is, Blanche. You need to be loved, dahlin’, an’ she loves you. Ah’m happy if you’re happy.” He walked closer and drew her into his arms. Softly, he kissed her forehead. “But she’s wakin’ now, dahlin’, an’ you don’t want her to find you talkin’ to an old ghost.”
Dorothy was waking, but she wasn’t the only one. “Blanche? Blanche, are you okay?”
Blanche’s eyes fluttered as she returned to consciousness. “Ah . . . “ She frowned. “Ah don’t know.”
“You were crying out in your sleep.” Dorothy looked at her in concern, and Blanche knew she was struggling with something. “Do you want me to leave?” she finally asked.
“No! No, Ah don’t!” Blanche shoved herself back up to a sitting position.
Dorothy peered doubtfully down at her. “Are you sure? I understand if . . . if . . . “ She tried to battle down the tears rising in her own eyes, but her voice shook as she concluded, “ . . . if this was only a one night stand for you.”
“No, Ah don’t want you to leave, an’ yes, Ah’m sure!”
A brilliant smile flashed across Dorothy’s face, but then it turned tender as she gazed deeper into Blanche’s emotional face. “Then what do you want?” she asked her.
“Ah -- Ah want you to hold me.” The words spilled from her before she could stop them. It was what George had done many nights after they’d made love: He had simply laid there and held her until she’d drifted off to sleep. Some nights, the things he had said and the chaste, almost votive kisses he had placed on her shoulders, hands, and the top of her head had made Blanche feel like a Queen more than anything else he had done.
“I can do that,” Dorothy said, her smile growing. She laid down on her side and gestured for Blanche to do the same. Blanche slid down into her bed and felt some of the tenseness drain out of her as Dorothy wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close. She kissed her shoulder. Feeling a new surge of tears welling in them, Blanche closed her eyes.
“What about tomorrow?” Dorothy asked after a long time of simply holding the woman with whom she’d long ago fallen in love.
“What about tomorrow?” Blanche whispered in return, having almost fallen asleep.
“What do you want to do tomorrow? About us, I mean?”
“Ah don’t know,” Blanche answered truthfully. “Ah . . . Ah want to keep goin’ forward.” She reached up and took the hand of the arm Dorothy had wrapped over her side. She squeezed and held it close against her bosom. “Ah want to keep lovin’ you, Dorothy,” she whispered the words of truth at last, “an’ Ah want to keep bein’ loved by you. Wherever that takes us, Ah want to go there. Ah want to go there, to anythin’ we do in th’ comin’ future, togethah. You make me happy, Dorothy.”
“I’m glad,” Dorothy whispered into her ear. She kissed the back of her head. “You deserve to be happy, Blanche Devereaux.”
Blanche closed her eyes with a smile and let herself fall back toward sleep. She’d almost forgotten that, but George and Dorothy were right. Of course she, of all people, deserved to be happy. That was why she had chased all those men on all those fruitless dates, seeking that one person who, after George, could make her happy. She’d been waiting for her all this time, and now that she had her, Blanche wasn’t about to let her loose. She held tightly to Dorothy’s hand as she fell asleep with a smile, dreaming this time not of the past but of her future and how beautiful and full of love it was going to be as long as she shared it with the woman who held her so reverently against her heart.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Golden Girls
Character/Pairing: Blanche/Dorothy, past George/Blanche
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge/Prompt: FemSlash100100: Alphabet Soup: 22: Votive
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,299
Date Written: 25 April 2018
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
She stared up at her ceiling, unable to stop her mind from retracing over the night’s events or to fall asleep next to the person she’d awakened to find still in her bed and still wrapped around her. It wasn’t that the arms around her weren’t comforting. They were, and the kisses they’d shared had been the best Blanche had experienced since George.
Blanche sighed again, louder this time. What would George think if he could see her now? Blanche had grown up being told that her dead loved ones watched over her, but if that was true . . . Surely George and Big Daddy both would have become ashamed of her long ago. Surely her grandmother would have found a way to visit her in this world and slap her upside her head long before her current partner. Blanche had never given so much thought to what she did behind closed doors until tonight.
Until sleeping with a woman. She peered down at the woman who snored like a man, the woman who had been her best friend for years, and who had been there for her again and again when men had let her down. She’d never felt the kind of passion she felt when Dorothy touched her at any other time of her life; in some ways, she was even better than her cherished George at knowing what she wanted and giving it to her.
And Blanche had wanted this for a long, long time. Ever since the first time Blanche had noticed what a strikingly handsome man Dorothy would have made, she has wondered what it would be like to be loved by her. Tonight had been even better than she had imagined, and that was saying a lot. Blanche’s imagination was wild and had been helped on by having lovers from all over the world.
Dorothy Zbornak certainly wasn’t the first lover her family would not have approved. There had been the Yank she had dared to date, and the poor boy with whom she had almost ran away and given up all her daddy’s fortune. But still . . . A woman?? Who in all of Miami would dare to believe that Blanche Devereaux had gone to bed tonight making love to a woman? But her body was singing from their good lovemaking. She had not felt this good since George.
“Blanche, darlin’, what did Ah always tell you?”
Blanche sat bolt upright in bed. She blinked rapidly, unable to believe her eyes. “G-George?!” She slipped out of bed and walked closer to him as Dorothy continued to snore.
“Yes, dahling.” He reached out and stroked her cheek, and Blanche knew, from that simple touch, that it was truly him. She closed her eyes as he caressed her again and leaned into his touch.
“God, how Ah’ve missed you!” Tears sprang to her eyes as she reopened them.
“Ah know you’ve missed me, Blanche, an’ Ah know you haven’t been sleepin’ all ovah Miami tryin’ to replace me. You’re a woman full o’ love, Blanche Devereaux. You always have been. That’s part o’ what drew me to you in th’ first place.”
“Really? Not just my unbelievably good looks?” She laughed, but her laughter sounded hoarse and forced even to her own ears.
“Well,” he grinned, “that may have been what drew me in th’ first place, but it’s not what got me to stay.” He looked back at the bed behind Blanche. “An’ it’s not what got her to stay either.”
“About her -- “ Blanche’s lips trembled. Her tears grew but still did not fall.
“You don’t have to make excuses to me, dahling. She loves you, an’ she makes you feel loved, more than any o’ those other men you’ve been with since mah passin’. That’s all that matters really, isn’t it?”
“O-Of course. Ah . . . Ah mean Ah guess so.”
George smiled at her so kindly that her heart felt like breaking all over again. “O’ course it is, Blanche. You need to be loved, dahlin’, an’ she loves you. Ah’m happy if you’re happy.” He walked closer and drew her into his arms. Softly, he kissed her forehead. “But she’s wakin’ now, dahlin’, an’ you don’t want her to find you talkin’ to an old ghost.”
Dorothy was waking, but she wasn’t the only one. “Blanche? Blanche, are you okay?”
Blanche’s eyes fluttered as she returned to consciousness. “Ah . . . “ She frowned. “Ah don’t know.”
“You were crying out in your sleep.” Dorothy looked at her in concern, and Blanche knew she was struggling with something. “Do you want me to leave?” she finally asked.
“No! No, Ah don’t!” Blanche shoved herself back up to a sitting position.
Dorothy peered doubtfully down at her. “Are you sure? I understand if . . . if . . . “ She tried to battle down the tears rising in her own eyes, but her voice shook as she concluded, “ . . . if this was only a one night stand for you.”
“No, Ah don’t want you to leave, an’ yes, Ah’m sure!”
A brilliant smile flashed across Dorothy’s face, but then it turned tender as she gazed deeper into Blanche’s emotional face. “Then what do you want?” she asked her.
“Ah -- Ah want you to hold me.” The words spilled from her before she could stop them. It was what George had done many nights after they’d made love: He had simply laid there and held her until she’d drifted off to sleep. Some nights, the things he had said and the chaste, almost votive kisses he had placed on her shoulders, hands, and the top of her head had made Blanche feel like a Queen more than anything else he had done.
“I can do that,” Dorothy said, her smile growing. She laid down on her side and gestured for Blanche to do the same. Blanche slid down into her bed and felt some of the tenseness drain out of her as Dorothy wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close. She kissed her shoulder. Feeling a new surge of tears welling in them, Blanche closed her eyes.
“What about tomorrow?” Dorothy asked after a long time of simply holding the woman with whom she’d long ago fallen in love.
“What about tomorrow?” Blanche whispered in return, having almost fallen asleep.
“What do you want to do tomorrow? About us, I mean?”
“Ah don’t know,” Blanche answered truthfully. “Ah . . . Ah want to keep goin’ forward.” She reached up and took the hand of the arm Dorothy had wrapped over her side. She squeezed and held it close against her bosom. “Ah want to keep lovin’ you, Dorothy,” she whispered the words of truth at last, “an’ Ah want to keep bein’ loved by you. Wherever that takes us, Ah want to go there. Ah want to go there, to anythin’ we do in th’ comin’ future, togethah. You make me happy, Dorothy.”
“I’m glad,” Dorothy whispered into her ear. She kissed the back of her head. “You deserve to be happy, Blanche Devereaux.”
Blanche closed her eyes with a smile and let herself fall back toward sleep. She’d almost forgotten that, but George and Dorothy were right. Of course she, of all people, deserved to be happy. That was why she had chased all those men on all those fruitless dates, seeking that one person who, after George, could make her happy. She’d been waiting for her all this time, and now that she had her, Blanche wasn’t about to let her loose. She held tightly to Dorothy’s hand as she fell asleep with a smile, dreaming this time not of the past but of her future and how beautiful and full of love it was going to be as long as she shared it with the woman who held her so reverently against her heart.
The End