CPR for Concussions (2/?)
Title: CPR for Concussions (2/?)
Author: halfsquat
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairing: Gretchen/ Liz
Rating: R (very soft R), sexual themes
Genre: Comedy/Romance?
Word Count: 3,245 aprox.
Summary: Omniscient 3rd person continuation of “CPR for Concussions (1/?). What would happen if Liz decided to give Gretchen a try?
Spoilers: Ep. 103 “Blind Date” .
Disclaimer: All characters from 30 Rock belong to their creators. I claim no ownership and intend no copyright infringement. All nonsense unrelated to 30 Rock and all divergence from their scripts is my doing.
Author's Notes: I have been the only one to proofread. My apologies for any errors. If anyone wants to volunteer proofreading/etc. feel free. If you see an error, tell me.
***
CPR for Concussions (1/?) - CPR for Concussions (2/?) - CPR for Concussions (3/?)
***
Newly determined as Portia and Ellen, rather than Oprah and Gayle, Liz and Gretchen leave the restaurant and laugh their way onto the sidewalk. People and traffic zip and meander by. It isn’t that late, but Gretchen has to be in early for work tomorrow; so, they agree to leave sooner rather than later.
“So Jack really said that to you? Bicurious shoes?” Gretchen nearly buckles over with laughter. Liz chuckles slightly and shrugs.
“I know. He did. He even had it marked in my file that I was a lesbian…” Liz looks down at her flat-heeled shoes. “Do my shoes really look bicurious?” Gretchen eyes her from head to foot, smiles warmly, and laughs.
“Well, Portia, I certainly hope they are more than just curious.” Gretchen turns, lifts her arm to catch a cabby’s attention. After a while she manages one. Gretchen opens the door and holds it open for Liz to get in. Liz stands there with her mouth slightly open. Nervously, she leans in to whisper something to Gretchen.
“I thought we were taking it slow?” Liz says in almost a hiss, but without the malice. Gretchen can’t help but let out an abrupt little laugh.
“We are. We’re only sharing a cab and going our respective ways.”
“Oh.” Liz stares at her. Gretchen nods and then motions with her head towards the cab. Liz shuffles in and Gretchen shuffles on in after her, but makes sure they are sitting close. They both give their addresses to the cabby and are soon on their way.
While contemplating her latest misstep, Liz stares out the window. ‘I can’t believe I thought she was asking me back to her place. I’m such an ass.’ As she notices a fender bender happen next to them, and thankfully not to them, she feels something- something brushing her hand, which is placed in the space between her and Gretchen. She looks down at it. Gretchen’s pinky lightly rubs hers. Dumfounded, Liz just stares. When nearly half her hand is covered with Gretchen’s, she looks up. Gretchen smiles and twines her fingers into Liz’s.
“I’m glad you wanted to give me a chance. I’m glad I’m not just chasing you. I really like you, Liz.” Liz blushes and is about to say something, when the cabby blurts out her address and the fact that they’ve arrived. She shoves a handful of bills at the cabby and abruptly scrambles from the cab. Gretchen scoots over to say goodbye. Awkwardly, Liz smiles while holding open the door. She readies to close it.
“Goodbye, Liz.” Gretchen leans forward slightly and Liz leans exponentially back. Liz juts out her hand for a handshake. Gretchen takes it, but kisses one of Liz’s knuckles instead.
“Night, Gretchen.” Blushing, Liz turns on her heel and closes the door. As she makes it up the steps of her apartment building, the cab drives away. She mentally kicks herself with every step she takes.
~@~
The following day, Friday, Liz is sitting in her office and tapping her pencil against her desk. She replays the last moments of her “date” from last night. A frown deepens into her face. In about ten minutes, she will be able to leave work. Gretchen’s business card sits next to her hand. She picks it up, sets it down, taps her fingers on the table. Again, she picks it up, and the phone as well this time, but sets them both down again. Repeatedly, this has been happening for the last hour- most of the day, even. She picks up her pencil and begins tapping it against her desk. There is no beat, just a spattering of bangs. Looking up at the clock, she sighs. Somehow, it is still ten minutes until she has to leave work.
She closes one eye, holds her pencil in the air, and pretends she’s moving the new pencil-minute-hand towards her departure. She pulls it away. Still ten minutes. Sighing, she clunks the pencil back into her desk’s penholder.
Slowly, she spins in her chair, as she eyes the clock. Gradually, she goes faster and faster until the whole room blurs. ‘Like a time machine,’ she thinks and smiles, but then she hears a knock at the door. Suddenly, she stops and feels suddenly nauseated. The door creaks open. Jack steps in.
“Were you just,” he starts, but Liz jumps up in an effort to distance herself from incriminating object. She stumbles forward, her legs crisscrossing. As she falls, her arms flail comically about. To finish this epitome of grace, she bonks her head on the nearby wall. Jack eyes her, as she sits in a heap and rubs her head.
“spinning in your chair?” he finishes.
“No!” Liz sounds petulant.
“So drinking on the job?”
“No” she huffs. “Why are you here anyways? This isn’t a courtesy call, I’m sure.”
“I’ve heard you’re considering dating Gretchen?”
“And?”
“I don’t want you to screw it up.” Liz huffs again, crosses her arms, tries to look indignant, but her eyes cross as they try to focus on Jack. “I’m just trying to help you, Lemon.”
“How do you even know about us? Did Gretchen tell you?”
“No, I just know these things.”
“Whatever. Is that all you came here to do? Tell me not to screw up?”
“No. Also, to tell you to call her. Do something with her tonight. I know you’ve been picking up and putting down that phone all day because you haven’t got the courage to call her up. Also, your officemates could hear you reciting what you’d say to her, even with your door closed. At first, they thought you’d gone crazy because you kept repeating yourself.” He pauses. “They’re unsettled. I need to look out for my employees. Call her.” He turns and just before he closes the door he says, “Goodbye Lemon.” Still rubbing her head, Liz slowly gets up. Dusting herself off, she mutters to herself.
“Stupid Jack.” Sitting down, she eyes the business card and phone. She rubs her throbbing forehead a few more times, stops, then rests her head in her hand. ‘Is CPR for concussions? What if I had a concussion? I certainly seem prone to hurting myself.’ she thinks, but soon she’s imaging what it’d be like to get mouth-to-mouth from Gretchen. She’s pretty sure that fondling the concussion victim isn’t part of the method, but, overall, it seems like a good addition. It probably increases blood flow and that is generally a plus.
Liz picks up the phone and dials. Nervously, her fingers tap nonsense-rhythms against her desk. They speed as she hears the receiver pick up.
“Hello?” Gretchen says on the other line.
“Hi, it’s Liz.”
“Hey, Liz, how are you?”
“I’m okay. Are you busy tonight?”
“Nope. What were you thinking?”
“What do you mean, like thinking about right now? Because I wasn’t thinking about mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. I wasn’t thinking at all- just talkin’ on the phone. With you.”
“… no, what were you thinking about doing to tonight? I’m assuming you had something planned for us, which would be why you asked me if I was busy?” Amusement and questioning lace through Gretchen’s voice.
“No. Nothing planned. I was just thinking we could do something.”
“The Neptune, again, then?” Gretchen ventures.
“No… I don’t think I’m ready for P.D.A’s. D.A’s, yes, but very much so minus the public.” Liz slowly says. Gretchen laughs.
“So, a movie perhaps?”
“But, that’s public.” Liz says warily.
“No, at one of our apartments.”
“Oh.”
“Yours or mine?”
“I don’t know.” Liz’s fingers stop tapping.
“Well, where would you be more comfortable?” Gretchen asks. She sounds self-assured and warm. Liz visualizes her own slightly messy, but sparse apartment. She tries to imagine her and Gretchen sitting on her lumpy couch. Suddenly, Gretchen is sucked into the abyss of a couch crease. Liz shifts a little in her seat.
“Um, yours, I think.”
“What will we watch?”
“You can pick.”
“Okay. What time should I expect you?”
“Is seven okay for you?”
“Perfect. See you then, Liz. Bye.”
“Bye.” Liz still holds her phone and stares off in the distance. Soon, she hears crazy tonal beeping.
“Please, hang up and try again,” the pre-recorded voice suggests. Snapping back to the present, Liz hangs up. ‘I did it.’ she thinks and smiles. A pause.
“… I did it.” worry darkens in the creases around her eyes and mouth. “Oh, blerg. I actually did it.”
~@~
Gretchen has been arranging, rearranging, and re-rearranging her apartment for the last hour. Liz Lemon is fifteen minutes late. Right now, she is fanning out the selection of DVDs for tonight’s apartment theatre: Psycho, The Mist, Fingersmith, and more. They are all either scary movies or lesbian romances. That ensured, hopefully, either terrified handholding or regular handholding. Gretchen nods with her hands on her hips as she stares down at the assortment.
While she ponders if lighting a candle will spook Liz, Gretchen hears the doorbell and goes to answer it. She glances back once, decides she can’t rearrange anymore and opens the door.
A Technicolor assortment of balloons, which say everything from “It’s a Girl” to, surprisingly, “You Have Our Condolences”, is the first thing she sees. A large wildflower bouquet and a heart-shaped box of chocolates come next. Liz’s head bumps into a few balloons and then peers through the bouquet jungle.
“Good evening, Gretchen. I’m sorry I’m late.” Liz says. “I’d shake your hand, or hug you, or whatever would be appropriate for a lesbian relationship at this interval, but my hands are full.” With a half-smile, Gretchen gawks at her.
“Come in, come in. Let me take some of these off your hands.” Gretchen grabs the bouquet and the chocolates and starts to walk toward her apartment’s kitchen. “Follow me, okay? I’m going to put these flowers in a vase.” Liz obediently follows. The balloons clamor in through the doorway, bump into the doorframes and walls as Liz walks.
By the time Liz makes it to the kitchen, Gretchen is primping the flowers, which are already in a vase. Next to the vase there is the box of chocolates and a cutting board with little angled snippets of flower stems. Gretchen turns around to face Liz and rests against a counter. Blankly, Liz stands there with a questioning smile. Gretchen looks Liz up and down and eyes her red dress with a plunging neckline; however, the bottom is not plunging, it swishes just below her knees. Gretchen visibly pauses, then opens her mouth to speak.
“Firstly, thank you for all this, Liz. It’s all lovely. You look lovely.”
“You look great, too. I like your shorts. They accentuate your” Liz eagerly injects.
“But,” Gretchen continues from her previous train.
“I was going to say legs, but definitely your butt as well.”
“You were looking?” Gretchen smiles. Liz blushes.
“No, well, a little.” Gretchen smiles even wider but then sighs.
“Anyways, when I said but, I meant however, not butt,” she points toward her own butt for emphasis.
“There’s a but?” Liz’s smile drops and she slightly hunches. The balloons lower and one bumps into her head.
“I wanted to ask, what is the occasion?” Liz looks down and uses her balloon-holding hand to rub her other arm. In the process she manages to let go of the strings and all the balloons press themselves to the ceiling.
“Well, I wasn’t quite sure what happened on a lesbian second date. Or first date, or whatever ever this is. I’m not sure if the last one counted because we didn’t call it a date, and I wasn’t Portia and you weren’t Ellen. We were Oprah and Gayle.” Liz sighs. “Basically, I didn’t want to come unprepared. I guess I’m over-prepared, or wrong-prepared. Maybe under-prepared? I just I didn’t want to insult you. Or disappoint you.” Gretchen walks over to Liz.
“C’mere.” She hugs her tightly. “I’m not disappointed. Not at all.”
“You’re not?”
“No, of course not. Thank you for everything. I’m one special lady.” She pauses, looks up at the balloons. “The balloons’ writings are…questionable. But they’re nice, cute.” Liz rests her head just under Gretchen’s shoulder and Gretchen rests her head against the side of Liz’s head. Liz’s heels did increase her height, but Gretchen is still much taller, even in her socks.
“The place I went didn’t have much, and they seemed appropriate. I am a girl after all. You’re a girl, too.” Gretchen laughs and Liz can feel the vibrations.
“But, the ‘You Have Our Condolences’ one? I didn’t know they had funeral balloons?”
“I didn’t think of it as a funeral balloon. It’s kind of like a less reassuring ‘get well soon’ balloon. The colors were nice and I told you we’d take it slow, so I figured it sort of made sense. Kind of like a ‘sorry’ balloon.” Gretchen pulls back and looks Liz in the eyes.
“Why is that a bad thing, Liz?”
“… I guess it’s not.” Liz gives a small smile and shrugs. She pulls away from the hug. Gretchen leans in and gives her a kiss on the forehead. She had been holding back doing that, but Liz is just so darn cute and so uncertain. Liz freezes from head to two and turns bright red. Smiling, Gretchen grabs the balloons and tugs them into the living room. She ties them to a nearby lamp. Soon after, Liz comes bashfully padding into the room. Her high heels were abandoned at some point. Likely, the kitchen.
~@~
After much debate, they settle on some obscure, foreign horror flick that even Gretchen hasn’t seen yet, but has bought. About a foot away from each other, they settle on the couch. A green-colored bowl of popcorn sits on the coffee table. As customary for a horror movie, all the lights are put out.
As the movie progresses, Liz and Gretchen sit closer at closer. Scantily clad girls run and scream, while a grisly looking murderer chases them around. A few men attempt to brave him, but are now all dead. The acting is atrocious.
Gretchen, with cuddling intentions, edges over; Liz’s jumping at suspenseful movie scenes helps, too, of course. At one point, Liz nearly jumps into Gretchen’s lap. Gretchen is very okay with that, but also very disappointed it doesn’t actually happen. Only just nearly happens. In the words of Liz Lemon, blerg. With especially frightful scenes, their hands clasp and unclasp with Liz’s fear level.
It is mid-movie. Now that Gretchen’s leg is pressed alongside Liz’s, Liz doesn’t seem to jump as much anymore. At all really. Gretchen’s and Liz’s hands lie in their respective laps. Expectantly, Gretchen glances over at Liz. Her skin has a pink tint from the red splattered TV screen and possibly a blush, too. She hasn’t spontaneously grabbed for Gretchen’s hand in a while.
She notices Liz’s pupils darting towards their pressing thighs once or twice. Because Liz is sitting, her dress has pushed up slightly. It leaves a little section above her knees newly uncovered. Since Gretchen’s wearing shorts, their bare knees touch.
Nonchalantly, Gretchen forces a yawn and edges her hand towards Liz. She stops when her pinky rests on the exposed skin above Liz’s knee. Liz lets out a little gasp and blushes, but does not remove her eyes from the television. Some girl on the television screams as a serial killer stabs her in the shower. The blood looks like ketchup and the acting looks even more pathetic than the ketchup.
Five minutes later, Gretchen traces small circles with that same pinky, while watching Liz from the corners of her eyes. Liz stares steadfastly ahead. Gretchen grabs one of Liz’s hands with her own and laces her fingers into Liz’s. With an unsure smile on her lips, Liz looks over at Gretchen.
“How do you like the movie so far?” Gretchen asks.
“… it’s lame, but the company is good. We might as well watch it all. It’s almost funny.” Gathering courage, Liz leans her head onto Gretchen’s shoulder and snuggles closer. As a splash of blood jets across the screen, Liz’s hand tenses in Gretchen’s. Gretchen kisses the top of her head and wraps an arm around her shoulders.
“Don’t worry. I won’t let the bad actors get you.”
“Gee thanks, my dyke in shining armor.” Liz sarcastically says, but she wraps an arm around Gretchen’s middle, anyway.
~@~
The credits roll and spread a moon-like glow over the room. Surprisingly, classical music accompanies them. Slightly snoring, Liz is sound asleep on Gretchen’s shoulder. Gretchen untwines her hand from Liz’s and brushes the hair away from Liz’s face.
“Hey Liz.” she softly says.
“Hmm?” Liz replies sleepily, but does not open her eyes.
“Liz.” Gretchen repeats while she strokes the side of Liz’s face with a fingertip. Slowly, Liz’s eyes flutter half open. Warmly, Gretchen smiles down at her. Liz tilts her head slightly up. As the classical music from the credits patters on, they stare at one another.
Liz leans in, gives her a little peck on the lips, pulls back, and then searches her eyes. Gretchen only softly smiles at her. Liz leans in again and, for this kiss, actually moves her lips. Gretchen rests a hand on the back of Liz’s neck. Liz follows suit as their kissing gradually intensifies. Leisurely, Gretchen runs a hand up Liz’s side, which causes Liz to utter a quiet, short moan. The red fabric bunches slightly up as her hand rises. The hand edges its way towards Liz’s cloth-covered breast, but only brushes the very underside of it. Liz kisses her even more passionately. Gretchen edges her hand onto the breast and gently holds it for a moment. When Liz doesn’t move away, Gretchen lightly rubs the nipple through Liz’s dress. Liz jumps and pulls back.
“I felt that.” she blurts.
“I’d hope so… too fast? I’m sorry.” Gretchen says with the offending hand still mid-air and a guilty look on her face.
“I’m awake aren’t I?”
“… yes, you’re awake.” Gretchen slowly says. Liz buries her face in her hand.
“Blerg. Blerg. Blerg.” She looks up again. “I should go. It’s me, not you.” She lays a hand on Gretchen’s leg. “That sounds bad. Sorry. What I mean is that this is a little fast and I feel funny.”
“Good-funny or bad-funny?”
“Good-funny. I like it. It’s nice, but it’s one thing to dream and daydream about it and another to do it.” A wicked smile spread across Gretchen’s mouth.
“You dream about me?” Liz’s eyes go wide.
“…well, yes. See, and now I feel funnier; So, I should definitely go.” Liz stumbles off the couch and scampers to the kitchen. Gretchen follows closely behind. Liz grabs her purse from the counter and slips a shoe on. Hopping on one high-heeled foot, she attempts to shoe her other foot as she nears the exit door. She finally manages it and rights herself.
“So…” Gretchen says with a bewildered expression on her face.
“Tonight was awesome. Really awesome. We should do it again. Okay.” Hesitantly, Liz pauses. Then, she leans in and gives Gretchen a light kiss. “Good night. Call me tomorrow okay? Or I’ll call you.”
“Okay. Sweet dreams.” The wicked grin returns and causes Liz to blush. Gretchen opens the door and Liz walks out. Leaning on the open door, Gretchen watches her leave.
Blerg.
***
CPR for Concussions (1/?) - CPR for Concussions (2/?) - CPR for Concussions (3/?)
***
Author: halfsquat
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairing: Gretchen/ Liz
Rating: R (very soft R), sexual themes
Genre: Comedy/Romance?
Word Count: 3,245 aprox.
Summary: Omniscient 3rd person continuation of “CPR for Concussions (1/?). What would happen if Liz decided to give Gretchen a try?
Spoilers: Ep. 103 “Blind Date” .
Disclaimer: All characters from 30 Rock belong to their creators. I claim no ownership and intend no copyright infringement. All nonsense unrelated to 30 Rock and all divergence from their scripts is my doing.
Author's Notes: I have been the only one to proofread. My apologies for any errors. If anyone wants to volunteer proofreading/etc. feel free. If you see an error, tell me.
***
CPR for Concussions (1/?) - CPR for Concussions (2/?) - CPR for Concussions (3/?)
***
Newly determined as Portia and Ellen, rather than Oprah and Gayle, Liz and Gretchen leave the restaurant and laugh their way onto the sidewalk. People and traffic zip and meander by. It isn’t that late, but Gretchen has to be in early for work tomorrow; so, they agree to leave sooner rather than later.
“So Jack really said that to you? Bicurious shoes?” Gretchen nearly buckles over with laughter. Liz chuckles slightly and shrugs.
“I know. He did. He even had it marked in my file that I was a lesbian…” Liz looks down at her flat-heeled shoes. “Do my shoes really look bicurious?” Gretchen eyes her from head to foot, smiles warmly, and laughs.
“Well, Portia, I certainly hope they are more than just curious.” Gretchen turns, lifts her arm to catch a cabby’s attention. After a while she manages one. Gretchen opens the door and holds it open for Liz to get in. Liz stands there with her mouth slightly open. Nervously, she leans in to whisper something to Gretchen.
“I thought we were taking it slow?” Liz says in almost a hiss, but without the malice. Gretchen can’t help but let out an abrupt little laugh.
“We are. We’re only sharing a cab and going our respective ways.”
“Oh.” Liz stares at her. Gretchen nods and then motions with her head towards the cab. Liz shuffles in and Gretchen shuffles on in after her, but makes sure they are sitting close. They both give their addresses to the cabby and are soon on their way.
While contemplating her latest misstep, Liz stares out the window. ‘I can’t believe I thought she was asking me back to her place. I’m such an ass.’ As she notices a fender bender happen next to them, and thankfully not to them, she feels something- something brushing her hand, which is placed in the space between her and Gretchen. She looks down at it. Gretchen’s pinky lightly rubs hers. Dumfounded, Liz just stares. When nearly half her hand is covered with Gretchen’s, she looks up. Gretchen smiles and twines her fingers into Liz’s.
“I’m glad you wanted to give me a chance. I’m glad I’m not just chasing you. I really like you, Liz.” Liz blushes and is about to say something, when the cabby blurts out her address and the fact that they’ve arrived. She shoves a handful of bills at the cabby and abruptly scrambles from the cab. Gretchen scoots over to say goodbye. Awkwardly, Liz smiles while holding open the door. She readies to close it.
“Goodbye, Liz.” Gretchen leans forward slightly and Liz leans exponentially back. Liz juts out her hand for a handshake. Gretchen takes it, but kisses one of Liz’s knuckles instead.
“Night, Gretchen.” Blushing, Liz turns on her heel and closes the door. As she makes it up the steps of her apartment building, the cab drives away. She mentally kicks herself with every step she takes.
~@~
The following day, Friday, Liz is sitting in her office and tapping her pencil against her desk. She replays the last moments of her “date” from last night. A frown deepens into her face. In about ten minutes, she will be able to leave work. Gretchen’s business card sits next to her hand. She picks it up, sets it down, taps her fingers on the table. Again, she picks it up, and the phone as well this time, but sets them both down again. Repeatedly, this has been happening for the last hour- most of the day, even. She picks up her pencil and begins tapping it against her desk. There is no beat, just a spattering of bangs. Looking up at the clock, she sighs. Somehow, it is still ten minutes until she has to leave work.
She closes one eye, holds her pencil in the air, and pretends she’s moving the new pencil-minute-hand towards her departure. She pulls it away. Still ten minutes. Sighing, she clunks the pencil back into her desk’s penholder.
Slowly, she spins in her chair, as she eyes the clock. Gradually, she goes faster and faster until the whole room blurs. ‘Like a time machine,’ she thinks and smiles, but then she hears a knock at the door. Suddenly, she stops and feels suddenly nauseated. The door creaks open. Jack steps in.
“Were you just,” he starts, but Liz jumps up in an effort to distance herself from incriminating object. She stumbles forward, her legs crisscrossing. As she falls, her arms flail comically about. To finish this epitome of grace, she bonks her head on the nearby wall. Jack eyes her, as she sits in a heap and rubs her head.
“spinning in your chair?” he finishes.
“No!” Liz sounds petulant.
“So drinking on the job?”
“No” she huffs. “Why are you here anyways? This isn’t a courtesy call, I’m sure.”
“I’ve heard you’re considering dating Gretchen?”
“And?”
“I don’t want you to screw it up.” Liz huffs again, crosses her arms, tries to look indignant, but her eyes cross as they try to focus on Jack. “I’m just trying to help you, Lemon.”
“How do you even know about us? Did Gretchen tell you?”
“No, I just know these things.”
“Whatever. Is that all you came here to do? Tell me not to screw up?”
“No. Also, to tell you to call her. Do something with her tonight. I know you’ve been picking up and putting down that phone all day because you haven’t got the courage to call her up. Also, your officemates could hear you reciting what you’d say to her, even with your door closed. At first, they thought you’d gone crazy because you kept repeating yourself.” He pauses. “They’re unsettled. I need to look out for my employees. Call her.” He turns and just before he closes the door he says, “Goodbye Lemon.” Still rubbing her head, Liz slowly gets up. Dusting herself off, she mutters to herself.
“Stupid Jack.” Sitting down, she eyes the business card and phone. She rubs her throbbing forehead a few more times, stops, then rests her head in her hand. ‘Is CPR for concussions? What if I had a concussion? I certainly seem prone to hurting myself.’ she thinks, but soon she’s imaging what it’d be like to get mouth-to-mouth from Gretchen. She’s pretty sure that fondling the concussion victim isn’t part of the method, but, overall, it seems like a good addition. It probably increases blood flow and that is generally a plus.
Liz picks up the phone and dials. Nervously, her fingers tap nonsense-rhythms against her desk. They speed as she hears the receiver pick up.
“Hello?” Gretchen says on the other line.
“Hi, it’s Liz.”
“Hey, Liz, how are you?”
“I’m okay. Are you busy tonight?”
“Nope. What were you thinking?”
“What do you mean, like thinking about right now? Because I wasn’t thinking about mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. I wasn’t thinking at all- just talkin’ on the phone. With you.”
“… no, what were you thinking about doing to tonight? I’m assuming you had something planned for us, which would be why you asked me if I was busy?” Amusement and questioning lace through Gretchen’s voice.
“No. Nothing planned. I was just thinking we could do something.”
“The Neptune, again, then?” Gretchen ventures.
“No… I don’t think I’m ready for P.D.A’s. D.A’s, yes, but very much so minus the public.” Liz slowly says. Gretchen laughs.
“So, a movie perhaps?”
“But, that’s public.” Liz says warily.
“No, at one of our apartments.”
“Oh.”
“Yours or mine?”
“I don’t know.” Liz’s fingers stop tapping.
“Well, where would you be more comfortable?” Gretchen asks. She sounds self-assured and warm. Liz visualizes her own slightly messy, but sparse apartment. She tries to imagine her and Gretchen sitting on her lumpy couch. Suddenly, Gretchen is sucked into the abyss of a couch crease. Liz shifts a little in her seat.
“Um, yours, I think.”
“What will we watch?”
“You can pick.”
“Okay. What time should I expect you?”
“Is seven okay for you?”
“Perfect. See you then, Liz. Bye.”
“Bye.” Liz still holds her phone and stares off in the distance. Soon, she hears crazy tonal beeping.
“Please, hang up and try again,” the pre-recorded voice suggests. Snapping back to the present, Liz hangs up. ‘I did it.’ she thinks and smiles. A pause.
“… I did it.” worry darkens in the creases around her eyes and mouth. “Oh, blerg. I actually did it.”
~@~
Gretchen has been arranging, rearranging, and re-rearranging her apartment for the last hour. Liz Lemon is fifteen minutes late. Right now, she is fanning out the selection of DVDs for tonight’s apartment theatre: Psycho, The Mist, Fingersmith, and more. They are all either scary movies or lesbian romances. That ensured, hopefully, either terrified handholding or regular handholding. Gretchen nods with her hands on her hips as she stares down at the assortment.
While she ponders if lighting a candle will spook Liz, Gretchen hears the doorbell and goes to answer it. She glances back once, decides she can’t rearrange anymore and opens the door.
A Technicolor assortment of balloons, which say everything from “It’s a Girl” to, surprisingly, “You Have Our Condolences”, is the first thing she sees. A large wildflower bouquet and a heart-shaped box of chocolates come next. Liz’s head bumps into a few balloons and then peers through the bouquet jungle.
“Good evening, Gretchen. I’m sorry I’m late.” Liz says. “I’d shake your hand, or hug you, or whatever would be appropriate for a lesbian relationship at this interval, but my hands are full.” With a half-smile, Gretchen gawks at her.
“Come in, come in. Let me take some of these off your hands.” Gretchen grabs the bouquet and the chocolates and starts to walk toward her apartment’s kitchen. “Follow me, okay? I’m going to put these flowers in a vase.” Liz obediently follows. The balloons clamor in through the doorway, bump into the doorframes and walls as Liz walks.
By the time Liz makes it to the kitchen, Gretchen is primping the flowers, which are already in a vase. Next to the vase there is the box of chocolates and a cutting board with little angled snippets of flower stems. Gretchen turns around to face Liz and rests against a counter. Blankly, Liz stands there with a questioning smile. Gretchen looks Liz up and down and eyes her red dress with a plunging neckline; however, the bottom is not plunging, it swishes just below her knees. Gretchen visibly pauses, then opens her mouth to speak.
“Firstly, thank you for all this, Liz. It’s all lovely. You look lovely.”
“You look great, too. I like your shorts. They accentuate your” Liz eagerly injects.
“But,” Gretchen continues from her previous train.
“I was going to say legs, but definitely your butt as well.”
“You were looking?” Gretchen smiles. Liz blushes.
“No, well, a little.” Gretchen smiles even wider but then sighs.
“Anyways, when I said but, I meant however, not butt,” she points toward her own butt for emphasis.
“There’s a but?” Liz’s smile drops and she slightly hunches. The balloons lower and one bumps into her head.
“I wanted to ask, what is the occasion?” Liz looks down and uses her balloon-holding hand to rub her other arm. In the process she manages to let go of the strings and all the balloons press themselves to the ceiling.
“Well, I wasn’t quite sure what happened on a lesbian second date. Or first date, or whatever ever this is. I’m not sure if the last one counted because we didn’t call it a date, and I wasn’t Portia and you weren’t Ellen. We were Oprah and Gayle.” Liz sighs. “Basically, I didn’t want to come unprepared. I guess I’m over-prepared, or wrong-prepared. Maybe under-prepared? I just I didn’t want to insult you. Or disappoint you.” Gretchen walks over to Liz.
“C’mere.” She hugs her tightly. “I’m not disappointed. Not at all.”
“You’re not?”
“No, of course not. Thank you for everything. I’m one special lady.” She pauses, looks up at the balloons. “The balloons’ writings are…questionable. But they’re nice, cute.” Liz rests her head just under Gretchen’s shoulder and Gretchen rests her head against the side of Liz’s head. Liz’s heels did increase her height, but Gretchen is still much taller, even in her socks.
“The place I went didn’t have much, and they seemed appropriate. I am a girl after all. You’re a girl, too.” Gretchen laughs and Liz can feel the vibrations.
“But, the ‘You Have Our Condolences’ one? I didn’t know they had funeral balloons?”
“I didn’t think of it as a funeral balloon. It’s kind of like a less reassuring ‘get well soon’ balloon. The colors were nice and I told you we’d take it slow, so I figured it sort of made sense. Kind of like a ‘sorry’ balloon.” Gretchen pulls back and looks Liz in the eyes.
“Why is that a bad thing, Liz?”
“… I guess it’s not.” Liz gives a small smile and shrugs. She pulls away from the hug. Gretchen leans in and gives her a kiss on the forehead. She had been holding back doing that, but Liz is just so darn cute and so uncertain. Liz freezes from head to two and turns bright red. Smiling, Gretchen grabs the balloons and tugs them into the living room. She ties them to a nearby lamp. Soon after, Liz comes bashfully padding into the room. Her high heels were abandoned at some point. Likely, the kitchen.
~@~
After much debate, they settle on some obscure, foreign horror flick that even Gretchen hasn’t seen yet, but has bought. About a foot away from each other, they settle on the couch. A green-colored bowl of popcorn sits on the coffee table. As customary for a horror movie, all the lights are put out.
As the movie progresses, Liz and Gretchen sit closer at closer. Scantily clad girls run and scream, while a grisly looking murderer chases them around. A few men attempt to brave him, but are now all dead. The acting is atrocious.
Gretchen, with cuddling intentions, edges over; Liz’s jumping at suspenseful movie scenes helps, too, of course. At one point, Liz nearly jumps into Gretchen’s lap. Gretchen is very okay with that, but also very disappointed it doesn’t actually happen. Only just nearly happens. In the words of Liz Lemon, blerg. With especially frightful scenes, their hands clasp and unclasp with Liz’s fear level.
It is mid-movie. Now that Gretchen’s leg is pressed alongside Liz’s, Liz doesn’t seem to jump as much anymore. At all really. Gretchen’s and Liz’s hands lie in their respective laps. Expectantly, Gretchen glances over at Liz. Her skin has a pink tint from the red splattered TV screen and possibly a blush, too. She hasn’t spontaneously grabbed for Gretchen’s hand in a while.
She notices Liz’s pupils darting towards their pressing thighs once or twice. Because Liz is sitting, her dress has pushed up slightly. It leaves a little section above her knees newly uncovered. Since Gretchen’s wearing shorts, their bare knees touch.
Nonchalantly, Gretchen forces a yawn and edges her hand towards Liz. She stops when her pinky rests on the exposed skin above Liz’s knee. Liz lets out a little gasp and blushes, but does not remove her eyes from the television. Some girl on the television screams as a serial killer stabs her in the shower. The blood looks like ketchup and the acting looks even more pathetic than the ketchup.
Five minutes later, Gretchen traces small circles with that same pinky, while watching Liz from the corners of her eyes. Liz stares steadfastly ahead. Gretchen grabs one of Liz’s hands with her own and laces her fingers into Liz’s. With an unsure smile on her lips, Liz looks over at Gretchen.
“How do you like the movie so far?” Gretchen asks.
“… it’s lame, but the company is good. We might as well watch it all. It’s almost funny.” Gathering courage, Liz leans her head onto Gretchen’s shoulder and snuggles closer. As a splash of blood jets across the screen, Liz’s hand tenses in Gretchen’s. Gretchen kisses the top of her head and wraps an arm around her shoulders.
“Don’t worry. I won’t let the bad actors get you.”
“Gee thanks, my dyke in shining armor.” Liz sarcastically says, but she wraps an arm around Gretchen’s middle, anyway.
~@~
The credits roll and spread a moon-like glow over the room. Surprisingly, classical music accompanies them. Slightly snoring, Liz is sound asleep on Gretchen’s shoulder. Gretchen untwines her hand from Liz’s and brushes the hair away from Liz’s face.
“Hey Liz.” she softly says.
“Hmm?” Liz replies sleepily, but does not open her eyes.
“Liz.” Gretchen repeats while she strokes the side of Liz’s face with a fingertip. Slowly, Liz’s eyes flutter half open. Warmly, Gretchen smiles down at her. Liz tilts her head slightly up. As the classical music from the credits patters on, they stare at one another.
Liz leans in, gives her a little peck on the lips, pulls back, and then searches her eyes. Gretchen only softly smiles at her. Liz leans in again and, for this kiss, actually moves her lips. Gretchen rests a hand on the back of Liz’s neck. Liz follows suit as their kissing gradually intensifies. Leisurely, Gretchen runs a hand up Liz’s side, which causes Liz to utter a quiet, short moan. The red fabric bunches slightly up as her hand rises. The hand edges its way towards Liz’s cloth-covered breast, but only brushes the very underside of it. Liz kisses her even more passionately. Gretchen edges her hand onto the breast and gently holds it for a moment. When Liz doesn’t move away, Gretchen lightly rubs the nipple through Liz’s dress. Liz jumps and pulls back.
“I felt that.” she blurts.
“I’d hope so… too fast? I’m sorry.” Gretchen says with the offending hand still mid-air and a guilty look on her face.
“I’m awake aren’t I?”
“… yes, you’re awake.” Gretchen slowly says. Liz buries her face in her hand.
“Blerg. Blerg. Blerg.” She looks up again. “I should go. It’s me, not you.” She lays a hand on Gretchen’s leg. “That sounds bad. Sorry. What I mean is that this is a little fast and I feel funny.”
“Good-funny or bad-funny?”
“Good-funny. I like it. It’s nice, but it’s one thing to dream and daydream about it and another to do it.” A wicked smile spread across Gretchen’s mouth.
“You dream about me?” Liz’s eyes go wide.
“…well, yes. See, and now I feel funnier; So, I should definitely go.” Liz stumbles off the couch and scampers to the kitchen. Gretchen follows closely behind. Liz grabs her purse from the counter and slips a shoe on. Hopping on one high-heeled foot, she attempts to shoe her other foot as she nears the exit door. She finally manages it and rights herself.
“So…” Gretchen says with a bewildered expression on her face.
“Tonight was awesome. Really awesome. We should do it again. Okay.” Hesitantly, Liz pauses. Then, she leans in and gives Gretchen a light kiss. “Good night. Call me tomorrow okay? Or I’ll call you.”
“Okay. Sweet dreams.” The wicked grin returns and causes Liz to blush. Gretchen opens the door and Liz walks out. Leaning on the open door, Gretchen watches her leave.
Blerg.
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CPR for Concussions (1/?) - CPR for Concussions (2/?) - CPR for Concussions (3/?)
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