If you really hate spandex, don't choose figure skating.
Hi, wow, the elljays are super duper slow today. And it's National Coming Out Day! I was going to picspam, but instead I think I'll write some ficlets in between housework. All in honor of the holiday; all take place today.
This one was supposed to be either Johnny/Ben or Tanith/Brooke, but it decided to be Johnny and Tanith friendship fic. So this is sort of for callmesandy and sort of for jule1122, both of whom made sort of correct song guesses when I last offered ficlets.
National Coming Out Day is the most depressing day of the year. Johnny looks out his window, scratching his sleepy chihuahua between the ears, wishing he could cover himself in glitter and run out into the street and yell, "I am a flaming, sparkly ball of gay, and you all can suck on it, bitches!" He's practiced that line a lot in his head. He gets to say it in late March of 2010.
There's an America's Next Top Model marathon on MTV, and he puts that on in the background while he cleans his apartment. Could he be more of a cliche? He's mopping the kitchen floor when the phone rings, Tanith is halfway to Lyndhurst already, she's having a retail therapy emergency, she knows he isn't doing anything because he always stays home and sulks on October 11. It's weird that she remembers that. She doesn't let him say no, so he says fine, and he races to make himself pretty before she arrives.
October is a bad month for emergency retail therapy. Costumes and choreographer fees have evaporated their bank accounts. They try things on at Barneys but end up going to Brooklyn where they can afford things. Most of the boutiques there aren't really his taste, but he likes seeing people's creativity on display. They do some thrift stores, too, where Tanith is a pro, claiming old prom dresses and vintage men's shirts. "I'm in a remaking phase. After practice, I go home and play with my sewing machine." She tugs at the hem of the strappy backless top she's wearing. "I found this pattern online and I've made, like, ten of them. I've been giving them away to my friends."
It's cute, and he tells her so. He vetoes a couple of shirts made of fabrics that would still be bad if they were cute little tops. "Didn't you tell me you were going to teach me to sew?"
"Yeah, and then we broke up."
"We didn't 'break up.' You left me for another gay." He's feeling mean, so he adds, "How's the Big Lie going, by the way?"
She shrugs. "We're getting along. He's in one of his hypocrisy phases where he's doing guys and refusing to admit it." It's kind of her to save him the effort of sarcasm. She pays, and they go outside, where the sun has begun to sink behind the buildings.
"Maybe you shouldn't hang on until Vancouver. Maybe you should give up and, like, run away with Brooke Castile."
"Johnny, please, not everyone's --"
"Come on, you'd convert for her in a minute."
She doesn't deny it. Instead, she takes his hand and leads him down the street, looking for a sushi place. They're blocking the sidewalk. People probably think they're dating. Johnny smiles at the strangers who pass in single file, letting them think whatever they want.
*
For ariestess, ER, Kerry and Carter, Kerry/Courtney.
Carter writes to say that he's meant to call, but it's difficult to get to a phone in Sudan and he knows she likes letters anyway, the colors of the stamps, the smell of places she's never been. Things are great with him, he says. He's saving lives and making a real difference, and Kem is pregnant again. Kerry can imagine him saying it to her face, with that sadness behind his eyes that means he really is happy but he's also lying a little.
He's still romanticizing Africa, still burning off his white liberal guilt. He has a lot to say about sunsets and the smiling faces of grateful children, the richness of the culture and the way the trees move in the wind. She's glad he feels like he's making a difference, glad he's in love with a place and a woman. But at the same time she wishes he'd grow the hell up and come home.
He's writing because October makes him think of her, he says. He was going to ask her to watch the leaves turn for him, but they don't change color in Miami, do they? They've both escaped those dreaded, dreary winters.
Courtney comes up behind Kerry and laces her arms around Kerry's waist. "Letter from a friend," Kerry says. "He's in Darfur with some NGO, I can't remember which one, he's switched a couple of times."
Courtney kisses Kerry's neck. "Ex-boyfriend?" Kerry stiffens in her arms. "Come on, I know you have them. And you've got that wistful, old-romance look about you."
"More like a friend with bad boundaries."
"Doctors Without Borders?" Courtney teases, squeezing Kerry tighter.
"Yeah, I... don't think that's the one he works for anymore." She smiles and leans back into Courtney's breasts. "And me neither."
*
For dagnylilytable, Women's Murder Club, Lindsay/Jill.
The domestic assault victim's sister comes into Jill's office with a giant tote bag full of rainbow flags. "I have to go right to the community center after this. I'm chaperoning the Coming Out Day Dance. You know, for the high school kids. Want a flag?"
"I'm sorry to make you come in on a Saturday," Jill says. "And, um, thanks for the offer, but I'm, you know. Straight."
"Straight people can have flags." She gives one to Jill, who props it up on her bookcase. She'll take it down when the victim's sister leaves.
Preparing witnesses for court is a rough process. The goal is to help them let their emotions out beforehand so they can give useful testimony, so they're ready for the questions Jill will ask as well as what the defense might throw at them. The victim's sister breaks down. "I should have suspected something, right? I should have guessed he wasn't good for her, I should have warned her away, but -- but he was a really nice guy, and she, you know, she plays rugby, she climbs mountains, she's always a little banged up. I had no idea. What kind of crappy sister does that make me?"
Jill gives her a hug and a box of Kleenex and waits until she calms down. "You should mention the sports so the jury understands why you didn't suspect anything. But don't blame yourself -- I mean, not on the stand, it's not a good idea, but in general. Don't blame yourself. You're helping her now." The victim's sister accepts another hug, and they get through the questions. Jill tells her to have fun at her dance.
Lindsay's been waiting in the hallway for half an hour. She picks up the rainbow flag and waves it. "Oh, the witness gave it to me," Jill says. "I'm -- I mean, it's festive."
"You never told me," Lindsay says.
"Oh, I'm... not. She just, you know, gave me the flag."
Lindsay rubs the little plastic stick that the flag is attached to between her palms. "Would you say that if you were under oath?" There is longing in her eyes, and hope. Jill has just finished telling someone not to blame herself for missing warning signs, and she should probably take her own advice.
"Let's go to dinner." She takes Lindsay's hand and twirls toward the door, not sure what she is encouraging, or preventing.
*
For jengrrrl, South of Nowhere, Spencer/Ashley. I haven't watched the new ep that aired last night.
Spencer is dreaming that her phone is ringing. No, her phone is really ringing, in the waking world too, at seven in the morning on a Saturday, which means it's either Ashley or her grandmother who doesn't get that it's three hours earlier in L.A. than in Ohio.
"WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!" Ashley shouts. "IT'S COMING OUT DAY!"
"Are you on ecstasy?"
"No, I'm -- Okay, I had one bloody mary. But it's Coming Out Day! And you're going to miss the parade!" She sighs like Spencer is systematically popping all of her balloons. "Look out your window."
Spencer rolls her eyes and stretches. Ashley is standing outside her window holding a bunch of actual balloons, pink ones with intertwined female symbols on them. Spencer runs down the stairs and outside in her pajamas.
Ashley is wearing a tank top that says, Sorry boys, I eat pussy."It's Coming Out Day. I thought there should be a parade, but the Pride Parade's in June, so I..."
Spencer tiptoes barefoot across the front lawn to kiss her. "You're a parade of one."
This one was supposed to be either Johnny/Ben or Tanith/Brooke, but it decided to be Johnny and Tanith friendship fic. So this is sort of for callmesandy and sort of for jule1122, both of whom made sort of correct song guesses when I last offered ficlets.
National Coming Out Day is the most depressing day of the year. Johnny looks out his window, scratching his sleepy chihuahua between the ears, wishing he could cover himself in glitter and run out into the street and yell, "I am a flaming, sparkly ball of gay, and you all can suck on it, bitches!" He's practiced that line a lot in his head. He gets to say it in late March of 2010.
There's an America's Next Top Model marathon on MTV, and he puts that on in the background while he cleans his apartment. Could he be more of a cliche? He's mopping the kitchen floor when the phone rings, Tanith is halfway to Lyndhurst already, she's having a retail therapy emergency, she knows he isn't doing anything because he always stays home and sulks on October 11. It's weird that she remembers that. She doesn't let him say no, so he says fine, and he races to make himself pretty before she arrives.
October is a bad month for emergency retail therapy. Costumes and choreographer fees have evaporated their bank accounts. They try things on at Barneys but end up going to Brooklyn where they can afford things. Most of the boutiques there aren't really his taste, but he likes seeing people's creativity on display. They do some thrift stores, too, where Tanith is a pro, claiming old prom dresses and vintage men's shirts. "I'm in a remaking phase. After practice, I go home and play with my sewing machine." She tugs at the hem of the strappy backless top she's wearing. "I found this pattern online and I've made, like, ten of them. I've been giving them away to my friends."
It's cute, and he tells her so. He vetoes a couple of shirts made of fabrics that would still be bad if they were cute little tops. "Didn't you tell me you were going to teach me to sew?"
"Yeah, and then we broke up."
"We didn't 'break up.' You left me for another gay." He's feeling mean, so he adds, "How's the Big Lie going, by the way?"
She shrugs. "We're getting along. He's in one of his hypocrisy phases where he's doing guys and refusing to admit it." It's kind of her to save him the effort of sarcasm. She pays, and they go outside, where the sun has begun to sink behind the buildings.
"Maybe you shouldn't hang on until Vancouver. Maybe you should give up and, like, run away with Brooke Castile."
"Johnny, please, not everyone's --"
"Come on, you'd convert for her in a minute."
She doesn't deny it. Instead, she takes his hand and leads him down the street, looking for a sushi place. They're blocking the sidewalk. People probably think they're dating. Johnny smiles at the strangers who pass in single file, letting them think whatever they want.
*
For ariestess, ER, Kerry and Carter, Kerry/Courtney.
Carter writes to say that he's meant to call, but it's difficult to get to a phone in Sudan and he knows she likes letters anyway, the colors of the stamps, the smell of places she's never been. Things are great with him, he says. He's saving lives and making a real difference, and Kem is pregnant again. Kerry can imagine him saying it to her face, with that sadness behind his eyes that means he really is happy but he's also lying a little.
He's still romanticizing Africa, still burning off his white liberal guilt. He has a lot to say about sunsets and the smiling faces of grateful children, the richness of the culture and the way the trees move in the wind. She's glad he feels like he's making a difference, glad he's in love with a place and a woman. But at the same time she wishes he'd grow the hell up and come home.
He's writing because October makes him think of her, he says. He was going to ask her to watch the leaves turn for him, but they don't change color in Miami, do they? They've both escaped those dreaded, dreary winters.
Courtney comes up behind Kerry and laces her arms around Kerry's waist. "Letter from a friend," Kerry says. "He's in Darfur with some NGO, I can't remember which one, he's switched a couple of times."
Courtney kisses Kerry's neck. "Ex-boyfriend?" Kerry stiffens in her arms. "Come on, I know you have them. And you've got that wistful, old-romance look about you."
"More like a friend with bad boundaries."
"Doctors Without Borders?" Courtney teases, squeezing Kerry tighter.
"Yeah, I... don't think that's the one he works for anymore." She smiles and leans back into Courtney's breasts. "And me neither."
*
For dagnylilytable, Women's Murder Club, Lindsay/Jill.
The domestic assault victim's sister comes into Jill's office with a giant tote bag full of rainbow flags. "I have to go right to the community center after this. I'm chaperoning the Coming Out Day Dance. You know, for the high school kids. Want a flag?"
"I'm sorry to make you come in on a Saturday," Jill says. "And, um, thanks for the offer, but I'm, you know. Straight."
"Straight people can have flags." She gives one to Jill, who props it up on her bookcase. She'll take it down when the victim's sister leaves.
Preparing witnesses for court is a rough process. The goal is to help them let their emotions out beforehand so they can give useful testimony, so they're ready for the questions Jill will ask as well as what the defense might throw at them. The victim's sister breaks down. "I should have suspected something, right? I should have guessed he wasn't good for her, I should have warned her away, but -- but he was a really nice guy, and she, you know, she plays rugby, she climbs mountains, she's always a little banged up. I had no idea. What kind of crappy sister does that make me?"
Jill gives her a hug and a box of Kleenex and waits until she calms down. "You should mention the sports so the jury understands why you didn't suspect anything. But don't blame yourself -- I mean, not on the stand, it's not a good idea, but in general. Don't blame yourself. You're helping her now." The victim's sister accepts another hug, and they get through the questions. Jill tells her to have fun at her dance.
Lindsay's been waiting in the hallway for half an hour. She picks up the rainbow flag and waves it. "Oh, the witness gave it to me," Jill says. "I'm -- I mean, it's festive."
"You never told me," Lindsay says.
"Oh, I'm... not. She just, you know, gave me the flag."
Lindsay rubs the little plastic stick that the flag is attached to between her palms. "Would you say that if you were under oath?" There is longing in her eyes, and hope. Jill has just finished telling someone not to blame herself for missing warning signs, and she should probably take her own advice.
"Let's go to dinner." She takes Lindsay's hand and twirls toward the door, not sure what she is encouraging, or preventing.
*
For jengrrrl, South of Nowhere, Spencer/Ashley. I haven't watched the new ep that aired last night.
Spencer is dreaming that her phone is ringing. No, her phone is really ringing, in the waking world too, at seven in the morning on a Saturday, which means it's either Ashley or her grandmother who doesn't get that it's three hours earlier in L.A. than in Ohio.
"WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!" Ashley shouts. "IT'S COMING OUT DAY!"
"Are you on ecstasy?"
"No, I'm -- Okay, I had one bloody mary. But it's Coming Out Day! And you're going to miss the parade!" She sighs like Spencer is systematically popping all of her balloons. "Look out your window."
Spencer rolls her eyes and stretches. Ashley is standing outside her window holding a bunch of actual balloons, pink ones with intertwined female symbols on them. Spencer runs down the stairs and outside in her pajamas.
Ashley is wearing a tank top that says, Sorry boys, I eat pussy."It's Coming Out Day. I thought there should be a parade, but the Pride Parade's in June, so I..."
Spencer tiptoes barefoot across the front lawn to kiss her. "You're a parade of one."