FIC: "The Fantastically Flawed Adventures of Franny Goren" Prt 3, CI
She's a little late, but Franny's here. For baggers.
Previously, Franny said "freakin'" a lot and generally walked into trouble. Goren and Eames were married and everyone LOLed.
TITLE: The Fantastically Flawed Adventures of Franny Goren [3/?]
FANDOM: Future!Criminal Intent
RATING: I'd say "WTF", but really, PG
DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf's, not mine.
The original fic | First part | Second part
The Fantastically Flawed Adventures of Franny Goren
----
THREE
__
I'm not saying I'm a bad kid. On the contrary - I'm nothing but sweetness and light and try not to give my parents any trouble. I'm home on time after school, I eat my vegetables, I wear my skirts below my knees and don't let boys pull them over my head.
I'm a good kid. No, really.
----
I've never done the pile-of-pillows-moulded-to-look-like-a-body thing, and it kind of shows. One end of my bed is a mess of throw pillows I stole from the hallway cupboard, hidden there because Mom hates a million pillows all over the lounge room and that's pretty much all they got when they got married. The other end, towards the headboard, is something I assume looks more like a sausage than my shape while I'm sleeping, but I pretty much failed sculpture last semester and pillows? Not the most pliable of materials.
"Far out," I mutter, and start pushing more throw pillows under my blankets when, like a gazelle, I hear my parents' footsteps coming up the stairs like a pack of scary, hungry lions.
A soft knock and a "Franny?" isn't the usual soundtrack for manic throwing of pillows and diving under covers, but it'll do. I'm under my blankets, holding a book the right way up when Mom steps into my room.
"Franny?"
"Yeah, Mom?" No panting. Awesome. Innocent eyes? Hopefully.
She comes and sits on the end of my bed that, five seconds ago, was covered in coloured throw pillows, picking off one that I didn't get hidden and looking at it with a typical Mom expression. But she says nothing, throws it on the floor and gestures to Dad, who's standing in the doorway, hovering and rubbing his neck. Uh-oh.
"Are we about to have a serious Goren Family chat, Mommy?" My joke falls flat, as my parents do the non-communication thing and I shut up like a good daughter. For once.
(I blame guilt about what I'm going to do when they leave the room and head to bed, but let's pretend otherwise, okay?)
"Frances." Mom frowns and puts her hands in her lap as Dad sits beside her awkwardly. To say Mom and Dad look like a weird couple? Yeah, understatement. He's like, this huge man - all shoulders and grey hair like an old grizzly bear. He's kick-ass for hugs and quiet time and reads the best stories ever, and he's so gentle with me even though I'm pretty certain he thinks he's about to break me and Mom in half most of the time. Mom's little, petite and tiny, like a China doll who secretly can break you in half if you look at her wrong. She's thoughtful and funny and sarcastic, but I don't get her all that much. Dad says it's because we're exactly the same, but I know that's something Dads say to make their daughters feel better for being born to the wrong mother, which is usually what I am feeling when he says that.
"I know you want to go to this band tonight," she begins, looking at Dad. " But your dad and I just don't think it's a good idea. Bobby?"
Dad looks surprised he has to talk, but covers well.
"Uh, yeah. Your, uh, Mom and I are just worried about you and Dominic, y'know?"
Yeah, yeah, thanks, heard it all before. "I know, Daddy. And I completely understand, and think you're both right."
His face lights up, and I know he's totally thinking his job is done. One look at Mom's face, though, shoots that idea in the foot.
"Frances. We're serious. The city isn't the best place at the moment, and I need you to promise me that you understand, okay?"
75% of the time Mom and I are fine. It's the other 25% that sends me into my room in emo fits and wanting to exchange families with the Swedish kids I talk to online, but I don't have the grades. Suck. It's times like these, when I'm about to sneak out a window and have to pretend I'm the most awesomest daughter ever when I want to just be a bitch and send her out of my room, because I know her buttons and she knows mine. It's easier to just make Mom angry than actually talk to her, sometimes, but for once, I try to pretend I understand her and play nice just for the sake of getting them out of my room.
If only I'd listened. But hindsight's a bitch.
"I do understand, okay? Really. They're bringing it out on DVD anyway, so we can just watch it then, and yeah." I settle back on my pillows and give them both a big grin. Mom's not convinced, but Dad smiles and I know I'm home-free.
"Okay. Okay! Then bedtime, okay?" He stands and touches Mom's back. "Bedtime?"
She's looking at me, like she can read my thoughts. But that's crazy, so I just smile and wish them out of the room because Dom and Ken, her brother, will be downstairs in the car in five minutes.
"I love you, Franny."
I frown a little as she leaves the room, with Dad waving at me as he closes the door.
But the moment I hear their light snap off next door, I'm out that window quicker than you can say "freedom."
----
"WOOOOOO!"
"Shutup, Dom, God!" Dominic's face falls for a second, but then lights up like a Christmas tree when the line we're stuck in moves two inches.
"C'mon, Franster, we're here. We're about to get into the gig and our parents are a million miles away sleeping and oh. My. God, there's Mikey Brendt!" She begins waving over a group of guys, including Mikey who she wants to marry and have a million babies with. I roll my eyes and turn to Ken, who's looking on bemused.
"You're gonna get in so much trouble if we get caught," I shout, as the music from the club gets louder. He shrugs, and we move a little more.
"You guys are the kids of cops. You deserve a little help if you want to go out and party!"
I nod and smile, because, really, I can't hear a freakin' thing he said. Mikey and the boys have moved on, and we're almost at the front of the line and the excitement grows in my chest like a freakin' volcano.
This time, I join Dom in a "wooooo!" and feel like the most invincible teenager in New York City.
---
Later, my mouth tastes like old socks and I can hear Dom whimpering beside me. There's a drip of water, echoing and my head is killing like a bitch.
Needless to say? Not so freakin' invincible after all.
Then, I start screaming.
---
TBC
---
LOL FRANNY.
Previously, Franny said "freakin'" a lot and generally walked into trouble. Goren and Eames were married and everyone LOLed.
TITLE: The Fantastically Flawed Adventures of Franny Goren [3/?]
FANDOM: Future!Criminal Intent
RATING: I'd say "WTF", but really, PG
DISCLAIMER: Dick Wolf's, not mine.
The original fic | First part | Second part
The Fantastically Flawed Adventures of Franny Goren
----
THREE
__
I'm not saying I'm a bad kid. On the contrary - I'm nothing but sweetness and light and try not to give my parents any trouble. I'm home on time after school, I eat my vegetables, I wear my skirts below my knees and don't let boys pull them over my head.
I'm a good kid. No, really.
----
I've never done the pile-of-pillows-moulded-to-look-like-a-body thing, and it kind of shows. One end of my bed is a mess of throw pillows I stole from the hallway cupboard, hidden there because Mom hates a million pillows all over the lounge room and that's pretty much all they got when they got married. The other end, towards the headboard, is something I assume looks more like a sausage than my shape while I'm sleeping, but I pretty much failed sculpture last semester and pillows? Not the most pliable of materials.
"Far out," I mutter, and start pushing more throw pillows under my blankets when, like a gazelle, I hear my parents' footsteps coming up the stairs like a pack of scary, hungry lions.
A soft knock and a "Franny?" isn't the usual soundtrack for manic throwing of pillows and diving under covers, but it'll do. I'm under my blankets, holding a book the right way up when Mom steps into my room.
"Franny?"
"Yeah, Mom?" No panting. Awesome. Innocent eyes? Hopefully.
She comes and sits on the end of my bed that, five seconds ago, was covered in coloured throw pillows, picking off one that I didn't get hidden and looking at it with a typical Mom expression. But she says nothing, throws it on the floor and gestures to Dad, who's standing in the doorway, hovering and rubbing his neck. Uh-oh.
"Are we about to have a serious Goren Family chat, Mommy?" My joke falls flat, as my parents do the non-communication thing and I shut up like a good daughter. For once.
(I blame guilt about what I'm going to do when they leave the room and head to bed, but let's pretend otherwise, okay?)
"Frances." Mom frowns and puts her hands in her lap as Dad sits beside her awkwardly. To say Mom and Dad look like a weird couple? Yeah, understatement. He's like, this huge man - all shoulders and grey hair like an old grizzly bear. He's kick-ass for hugs and quiet time and reads the best stories ever, and he's so gentle with me even though I'm pretty certain he thinks he's about to break me and Mom in half most of the time. Mom's little, petite and tiny, like a China doll who secretly can break you in half if you look at her wrong. She's thoughtful and funny and sarcastic, but I don't get her all that much. Dad says it's because we're exactly the same, but I know that's something Dads say to make their daughters feel better for being born to the wrong mother, which is usually what I am feeling when he says that.
"I know you want to go to this band tonight," she begins, looking at Dad. " But your dad and I just don't think it's a good idea. Bobby?"
Dad looks surprised he has to talk, but covers well.
"Uh, yeah. Your, uh, Mom and I are just worried about you and Dominic, y'know?"
Yeah, yeah, thanks, heard it all before. "I know, Daddy. And I completely understand, and think you're both right."
His face lights up, and I know he's totally thinking his job is done. One look at Mom's face, though, shoots that idea in the foot.
"Frances. We're serious. The city isn't the best place at the moment, and I need you to promise me that you understand, okay?"
75% of the time Mom and I are fine. It's the other 25% that sends me into my room in emo fits and wanting to exchange families with the Swedish kids I talk to online, but I don't have the grades. Suck. It's times like these, when I'm about to sneak out a window and have to pretend I'm the most awesomest daughter ever when I want to just be a bitch and send her out of my room, because I know her buttons and she knows mine. It's easier to just make Mom angry than actually talk to her, sometimes, but for once, I try to pretend I understand her and play nice just for the sake of getting them out of my room.
If only I'd listened. But hindsight's a bitch.
"I do understand, okay? Really. They're bringing it out on DVD anyway, so we can just watch it then, and yeah." I settle back on my pillows and give them both a big grin. Mom's not convinced, but Dad smiles and I know I'm home-free.
"Okay. Okay! Then bedtime, okay?" He stands and touches Mom's back. "Bedtime?"
She's looking at me, like she can read my thoughts. But that's crazy, so I just smile and wish them out of the room because Dom and Ken, her brother, will be downstairs in the car in five minutes.
"I love you, Franny."
I frown a little as she leaves the room, with Dad waving at me as he closes the door.
But the moment I hear their light snap off next door, I'm out that window quicker than you can say "freedom."
----
"WOOOOOO!"
"Shutup, Dom, God!" Dominic's face falls for a second, but then lights up like a Christmas tree when the line we're stuck in moves two inches.
"C'mon, Franster, we're here. We're about to get into the gig and our parents are a million miles away sleeping and oh. My. God, there's Mikey Brendt!" She begins waving over a group of guys, including Mikey who she wants to marry and have a million babies with. I roll my eyes and turn to Ken, who's looking on bemused.
"You're gonna get in so much trouble if we get caught," I shout, as the music from the club gets louder. He shrugs, and we move a little more.
"You guys are the kids of cops. You deserve a little help if you want to go out and party!"
I nod and smile, because, really, I can't hear a freakin' thing he said. Mikey and the boys have moved on, and we're almost at the front of the line and the excitement grows in my chest like a freakin' volcano.
This time, I join Dom in a "wooooo!" and feel like the most invincible teenager in New York City.
---
Later, my mouth tastes like old socks and I can hear Dom whimpering beside me. There's a drip of water, echoing and my head is killing like a bitch.
Needless to say? Not so freakin' invincible after all.
Then, I start screaming.
---
TBC
---
LOL FRANNY.