fic: win-win (the l word: feeling good)
shane/alice, pg-13, ~500
"beginnings" for femslash_land; partially written in my 'feeling good' universe
In hindsight, this will be funny (two and five and especially ten years from now).
But now wide eyes blink at her once, twice, and Alice flexes her fingers around the mangled Styrofoam, smiles nervously. “Hey,” she offers because she can’t do anything else, and barely manages not to pull strands of her hair into her mouth to chew. (“Disgusting habit” or not, it’s not easy to stop.) “I hope it wasn’t that hot, you know… although you are… steaming…”
The woman stares at her like she has an extra head growing out of her neck- or her arm- or-
Something.
Alice stares back, terrified of being broken in half even if the drenched woman in front of her is only, like, a third of her weight and only an inch or two bigger than her because still, this chick is really gay and the really gay ones hate bi’s, Alice has already learned this the hard way-
“I’ve seen you in here before.”
“What?”
“The writer, the bi chick.” Slim fingers pick at wet cloth, drop it; it sticks to the barest curve of nearly non-existent breasts but Alice doesn’t care because, oh boy, maybe she isn’t going to be killed. “Lonnie says you’re sane-”
Someone jostles past her, a flash of a punk pink Mohawk and electric blue nails and a hint of what the hell are you doing on my sidewalk, and Alice hums low in her throat. “So.” The woman watches her, expression such a odd mix of pleasantness and perceptiveness that Alice rubs her nose, blows out a breath. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry about the coffee, you know, uh. Yeah.”
“I didn’t think you were aiming for me.” (In hindsight, she’ll already like the voice, calm and heavy and easy enough to listen to that it’s already dismissed as a danger to her attempts to avoid ending up the younger version of her mother’s life post-marriage.) “Although now I want coffee.”
“I can buy you one.” There’s a glint in the woman’s eyes then, an abrupt tensing in shoulders that shouldn’t be perceptible through the dress shirt, but Alice is suddenly sure of herself and hell hath no terror like a Pieszecki woman sure of herself in the face of her own terror. “I’m the bi chick, yeah, Alice, yeah, that’s me.”
“I can buy my own-”
The woman doesn’t even get to finish before Alice has dragged her down the street and into the coffee shop and, well, that’s that, Alice has found herself a gay guardian while she tries to get used to the area. Shane (the name fits her even if she’s shocked at first when she finds out how young the woman actually is because fuck) doesn’t give a fuck that she likes dick, too (“you like what you like, Al”) and is obviously just as averse to starting any kind of real relationship.
Great, good, and hey, Shane even knows how to make special brownies.
"beginnings" for femslash_land; partially written in my 'feeling good' universe
In hindsight, this will be funny (two and five and especially ten years from now).
But now wide eyes blink at her once, twice, and Alice flexes her fingers around the mangled Styrofoam, smiles nervously. “Hey,” she offers because she can’t do anything else, and barely manages not to pull strands of her hair into her mouth to chew. (“Disgusting habit” or not, it’s not easy to stop.) “I hope it wasn’t that hot, you know… although you are… steaming…”
The woman stares at her like she has an extra head growing out of her neck- or her arm- or-
Something.
Alice stares back, terrified of being broken in half even if the drenched woman in front of her is only, like, a third of her weight and only an inch or two bigger than her because still, this chick is really gay and the really gay ones hate bi’s, Alice has already learned this the hard way-
“I’ve seen you in here before.”
“What?”
“The writer, the bi chick.” Slim fingers pick at wet cloth, drop it; it sticks to the barest curve of nearly non-existent breasts but Alice doesn’t care because, oh boy, maybe she isn’t going to be killed. “Lonnie says you’re sane-”
Someone jostles past her, a flash of a punk pink Mohawk and electric blue nails and a hint of what the hell are you doing on my sidewalk, and Alice hums low in her throat. “So.” The woman watches her, expression such a odd mix of pleasantness and perceptiveness that Alice rubs her nose, blows out a breath. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry about the coffee, you know, uh. Yeah.”
“I didn’t think you were aiming for me.” (In hindsight, she’ll already like the voice, calm and heavy and easy enough to listen to that it’s already dismissed as a danger to her attempts to avoid ending up the younger version of her mother’s life post-marriage.) “Although now I want coffee.”
“I can buy you one.” There’s a glint in the woman’s eyes then, an abrupt tensing in shoulders that shouldn’t be perceptible through the dress shirt, but Alice is suddenly sure of herself and hell hath no terror like a Pieszecki woman sure of herself in the face of her own terror. “I’m the bi chick, yeah, Alice, yeah, that’s me.”
“I can buy my own-”
The woman doesn’t even get to finish before Alice has dragged her down the street and into the coffee shop and, well, that’s that, Alice has found herself a gay guardian while she tries to get used to the area. Shane (the name fits her even if she’s shocked at first when she finds out how young the woman actually is because fuck) doesn’t give a fuck that she likes dick, too (“you like what you like, Al”) and is obviously just as averse to starting any kind of real relationship.
Great, good, and hey, Shane even knows how to make special brownies.