You Never Really Miss Leather Until It's Gone (Sock, Owl, and other assorted things)
((Also noteworthy for this scene is this bit of backstory/character study on Rachel, and this one-shot about Rachel's reaction to the annulments. Enjoy. XD))
No, seriously. Where were my leather pants? Where were any of my pants? I'd come back to my room after taking a shower, wrapped in a fluffy towel and generally feeling pretty decent for the first time in days. The whole 'being a four-year-old' thing, while kind of horrifying and definitely full of moments I wouldn't be reliving anytime soon, had made me feel vaguely content for some unknown reason. Life had been a hell of a lot easier at four, that was for sure.
But now I had a run - my first since the annulment - and in order to go on said run I'd need my leather pants. Or clothes in general. None of which I had at the moment. It appeared that my closet had been cleaned out completely. Most of my drawers stood empty. And my shoes - oh, good, my boots - were conspicuously absent.
"Freaking hell, I've been robbed."
"Not really," a voice chirped from behind me. I whirled around, clutching my towel and stopping myself from falling into a defensive crouch.
"Claire."
The blonde beamed at me. She was sitting on my bed, surrounded by shopping bags. For some reason, this felt ominous to me.
"Hey, Rachel."
My face fell into a scowl that made her smile falter a little. "Don't 'Hey, Rachel' me," I told her. "Where are my clothes?"
Obviously I wasn't too threatening, standing there in bare feet with my hair dripping onto the floor, because she just hid a laugh and shrugged. "Don't know. I, uh, kind of gave them all away."
For a long moment I just gaped at her. Words literally would not come. "You... My... What?"
Standing, Claire walked over to me. "Look, Rachel, I mean, I know we don't know each other very well or anything but... Your clothes were kind of horrible."
Yeah, still no words.
"And you're so not like what the clothes are, you know?" Claire's face was just looking up at me, all shiny eyes and innocent and... Turn it all to hell.
Sighing, I pushed my hair back. "Claire, you can't just...go into people's rooms and What Not To Wear them, okay? It's kind of illegal. And rude. And..." Hey! "My clothes were not horrible!"
Claire wrinkled up her nose delicately and I flushed. "They weren't that horrible," I amended in a mutter. "I looked good in some of them!"
"You'll look better in these," she assured me, pulling some things out of bags.
It was pretty much like my worst nightmare. Soft colors and long skirts and not a piece of leather or lace in sight. Claire was chattering on about something and accessories and good God was that a tunic?
One thing was very certain. Peter was involved in this somehow. And I didn't care if he was the freaking Spongebob Squarepants of abilities, I was going to find him and wring his chicken little neck if one scuff mark appeared on any of my old clothes (which I would find). Freaking Italians. Freaking blondes. Freaking people.
Meeping slightly as she shoved some clothes at me, I grumbled heavily under my breath but pulled them on. Turning, I looked in the mirror.
Oh, Turn me, I looked hideous. Speechless as Claire gave me a necklace and shoes, I started shaking my head.
"Claire. Come on. This isn't me. This is...this is you. Or my grandmother. This is not me."
"Rachel, you look great."
"I look forty."
"You don't look like a hooker."
Scowling at her, I walked over to my dresser, feeling short and stumpy as I rooted around for something to pull my hair back with. "You don't understand."
"I do understand wanting everyone to like you. Trying to fit in. Except I think that you're more trying to fit into some idea you think that people have of what you should be."
Shaking my head again, I gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed and looked balefully at the pile of bags. "It's just--"
"What?" Claire sat next to me, cocking her head as if she were actually trying to understand.
"Maybe with you it's different. I hope to hell it is. But with me... Guys don't see me unless they're attracted. Unless they have a reason to be, you know?"
"What about Peter?" Claire seemed to think mentioning her uncle would make things better. "I mean, you guys haven't, like, gotten together or anything. But he's with you, right?"
"He hasn't talked to me since the annulment," I responded bitterly. "So no, actually. He saw me just as long as he had to. Just like every other guy. Only because he wasn't attracted to me, it just...ended faster."
That seemed to take Claire back and I sighed, feeling bad. "Look, your uncle is...a great guy." My throat was not getting tight, shut up, shut up. "But he just wasn't interested. Not his fault. Can't really blame him."
Sighing again, I squeezed her shoulder. "Thanks for the clothes," I offered grudgingly. "It was..." Horrible. Terrifying. I looked like a shopping bag. "Nice."
She shoulder bumped me and stood. "You looked like you were on a mission, when you walked in."
"Yeah, I was supposed to go on a run." I looked down at my clothes, mouth tugging into a rueful smile. "I think I'll put it off a day."
Nodding, she started to head out the door, hesitating with her hand on the doorknob. "Rachel?"
"Hmm?"
"I think people see you. And I think that if you were just more yourself and less of the...the thing you put up, people might see a you you could be proud of." She gave me a tiny smile. "Embrace your inner freak."
And then she was gone, leaving me with a thousand bags of my grandmother's clothes and far too many thoughts in my head.
Great.
---
After she left Rachel's room, Claire stopped by the owlry. A) She totally needed to get her own bird, because this place stank. And B) Boys were dumb.
Peter,
You're such an idiot.
&hearts
Claire
No, seriously. Where were my leather pants? Where were any of my pants? I'd come back to my room after taking a shower, wrapped in a fluffy towel and generally feeling pretty decent for the first time in days. The whole 'being a four-year-old' thing, while kind of horrifying and definitely full of moments I wouldn't be reliving anytime soon, had made me feel vaguely content for some unknown reason. Life had been a hell of a lot easier at four, that was for sure.
But now I had a run - my first since the annulment - and in order to go on said run I'd need my leather pants. Or clothes in general. None of which I had at the moment. It appeared that my closet had been cleaned out completely. Most of my drawers stood empty. And my shoes - oh, good, my boots - were conspicuously absent.
"Freaking hell, I've been robbed."
"Not really," a voice chirped from behind me. I whirled around, clutching my towel and stopping myself from falling into a defensive crouch.
"Claire."
The blonde beamed at me. She was sitting on my bed, surrounded by shopping bags. For some reason, this felt ominous to me.
"Hey, Rachel."
My face fell into a scowl that made her smile falter a little. "Don't 'Hey, Rachel' me," I told her. "Where are my clothes?"
Obviously I wasn't too threatening, standing there in bare feet with my hair dripping onto the floor, because she just hid a laugh and shrugged. "Don't know. I, uh, kind of gave them all away."
For a long moment I just gaped at her. Words literally would not come. "You... My... What?"
Standing, Claire walked over to me. "Look, Rachel, I mean, I know we don't know each other very well or anything but... Your clothes were kind of horrible."
Yeah, still no words.
"And you're so not like what the clothes are, you know?" Claire's face was just looking up at me, all shiny eyes and innocent and... Turn it all to hell.
Sighing, I pushed my hair back. "Claire, you can't just...go into people's rooms and What Not To Wear them, okay? It's kind of illegal. And rude. And..." Hey! "My clothes were not horrible!"
Claire wrinkled up her nose delicately and I flushed. "They weren't that horrible," I amended in a mutter. "I looked good in some of them!"
"You'll look better in these," she assured me, pulling some things out of bags.
It was pretty much like my worst nightmare. Soft colors and long skirts and not a piece of leather or lace in sight. Claire was chattering on about something and accessories and good God was that a tunic?
One thing was very certain. Peter was involved in this somehow. And I didn't care if he was the freaking Spongebob Squarepants of abilities, I was going to find him and wring his chicken little neck if one scuff mark appeared on any of my old clothes (which I would find). Freaking Italians. Freaking blondes. Freaking people.
Meeping slightly as she shoved some clothes at me, I grumbled heavily under my breath but pulled them on. Turning, I looked in the mirror.
Oh, Turn me, I looked hideous. Speechless as Claire gave me a necklace and shoes, I started shaking my head.
"Claire. Come on. This isn't me. This is...this is you. Or my grandmother. This is not me."
"Rachel, you look great."
"I look forty."
"You don't look like a hooker."
Scowling at her, I walked over to my dresser, feeling short and stumpy as I rooted around for something to pull my hair back with. "You don't understand."
"I do understand wanting everyone to like you. Trying to fit in. Except I think that you're more trying to fit into some idea you think that people have of what you should be."
Shaking my head again, I gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed and looked balefully at the pile of bags. "It's just--"
"What?" Claire sat next to me, cocking her head as if she were actually trying to understand.
"Maybe with you it's different. I hope to hell it is. But with me... Guys don't see me unless they're attracted. Unless they have a reason to be, you know?"
"What about Peter?" Claire seemed to think mentioning her uncle would make things better. "I mean, you guys haven't, like, gotten together or anything. But he's with you, right?"
"He hasn't talked to me since the annulment," I responded bitterly. "So no, actually. He saw me just as long as he had to. Just like every other guy. Only because he wasn't attracted to me, it just...ended faster."
That seemed to take Claire back and I sighed, feeling bad. "Look, your uncle is...a great guy." My throat was not getting tight, shut up, shut up. "But he just wasn't interested. Not his fault. Can't really blame him."
Sighing again, I squeezed her shoulder. "Thanks for the clothes," I offered grudgingly. "It was..." Horrible. Terrifying. I looked like a shopping bag. "Nice."
She shoulder bumped me and stood. "You looked like you were on a mission, when you walked in."
"Yeah, I was supposed to go on a run." I looked down at my clothes, mouth tugging into a rueful smile. "I think I'll put it off a day."
Nodding, she started to head out the door, hesitating with her hand on the doorknob. "Rachel?"
"Hmm?"
"I think people see you. And I think that if you were just more yourself and less of the...the thing you put up, people might see a you you could be proud of." She gave me a tiny smile. "Embrace your inner freak."
And then she was gone, leaving me with a thousand bags of my grandmother's clothes and far too many thoughts in my head.
Great.
---
After she left Rachel's room, Claire stopped by the owlry. A) She totally needed to get her own bird, because this place stank. And B) Boys were dumb.
Peter,
You're such an idiot.
&hearts
Claire