FF: Back to School pt. 1
Title: Back to School pt. 1
Fandom: The Facts of Life
Pairing: Jo/Blair
Summary: It's the twentieth anniversary of Jo and Blair's graduation from Eastland and although much has changed, some things will forever remain the same. Part one - where nothing much happens.
Author's note: Happy Birthday to anomalys (it's tomorrow on my side of the pond and I'm very impatient). I'm just sorry I couldn't get it finished it time, but the darn thing grew on me.
Thank you: To darandkerry for the beta.
It was the day of the Eastland class reunion. Reunions had been held for former Eastland girls for years as the women in their twenties, thirties, forties and beyond gathered together to reminisce about the good old days; days which were decidedly more 'good' than when they'd suffered through them as teenagers. Horror stories involving late night exam preparation and the social stigma of being date-less for the spring formal were all told with a forgetful smile, from the vantage point of careers and marriages that made those fretful days appear idyllic. For two former Eastland girls, attending their twenty year anniversary, there was no need to colour their memories with rose-tinted glasses; for their time together at Eastland and beyond truly had been the best times of their lives.
"If one more of these rich bitches tells me I've blossomed, I'm not gonna be held responsible for my actions," Jo said as she wove her way through the throng of eager women, who at a mean age of thirty-seven, she felt should have outgrown the urge to squeal and gush like overactive school children. "I'm not one of Mrs. G's petunias."
Blair waved a greeting to someone on the other side of the school dining room, her nose crinkling in a manner she knew to be totally adorable, and therefore, a good cover for her inability to remember the woman's name. She turned back to Jo just in time to hear the last of her little diatribe, but her concern for the health and well-being of her fellow graduates was quickly overshadowed by the concern for her Italian leather suitcase which Jo was using as a shield to force her way through the melee. "Jo! That suitcase was hand crafted in Milan!" Blair got the distinct impression that her words had been purposely ignored as Jo used the flat side of her case to sideswipe Milly Catleton, a particularly unpleasant former teen, who had once spread an especially vicious rumour about Jo and one of the boys from Bates. "Couldn't you at least use your own case?"
"Soft-sided," said Jo.
Blair gave her a withering look. "I hope you're not going to spend the entire weekend in a bad mood." She had been looking forward to the reunion for months, especially the surprise she'd arranged for Jo, and she refused to let her joy be ruined because Miss Chip-on-her-Shoulder was being difficult. "I had entirely too much of that while we were here the first time around."
Jo's glare made Blair's look positively tame by comparison. "I'm not in a mood," she said. "I just don't like crowds."
"This is nothing," Blair scoffed, an imperious wave encompassing the entire dining room. "You should try Saks on the first day of winter sales."
The thought made Jo shiver, but she was saved any further comment by her expulsion into the relative peace and quiet of the corridor. Most of the other women had, sensibly, made arrangements to stay in the local hotel and guest houses but, for reasons she still couldn't fathom, Jo had let Blair talk her into staying at the school over the weekend. "I still say we should have booked an hotel room," she muttered.
"This'll be fun," Blair assured her and, now free of the crowd, led Jo towards the stairs and their former home away from home. "It'll give us time to catch up and talk about the old days."
"We could have done that in a hotel." It was usually Blair who insisted on top quality accommodation whenever they went anywhere; admittedly, they hadn't vacationed together in nearly a decade, but Jo couldn't understand the sudden desire for lumpy single beds and dodgy plumbing. "You haven't gambled away the family fortune, have ya?"
"Don't be silly."
Blair's chic outfit and designer luggage certainly didn't give the impression of someone who was down on her luck. The Warner heiress had long since ascended to the pinnacle of corporate America, taking her place at her father's side as the deputy CEO of Warner Industries. The days of being her father's little tax deductible had long since past, and despite the board's early misgivings, based solely on her youth, beauty and charm, she had firmly established herself as someone to be reckoned with in the business world. Not that Jo was about to take any of her stock tips; she had a long memory and heavily guarded savings.
"I'd forgotten the smell," Jo grumbled as she manoeuvred the cases up the first flight of stairs. "It's like strawberries and gym socks."
"Max Factor's new line in strawberry lip gloss for the teen who wants to be seen," Blair corrected, "and the oh-so recognisable scent of sweat-soaked-roommate."
"We can't all be plastic wrapped," Jo shot back.
Blair stopped her ascent and turned to let loose her own rejoinder, but the need for alacrity forced her to curtail the verbal sparring, at least for the moment, and continue her trek up the stairs to their former landing.
It took Jo a moment or two to realise her salvo had been ignored, but before she could launch another and tempt Blair into a decent sparing match, the blonde was flinging open the door to their old room and beaming at her like the damn Cheshire Cat. Jo was about to make a blistering comment about Blair's new-found ability to open doors for herself when she was assaulted by twin screams of delight.
"Surprise!"
Blair scowled as her new Italian leather suitcase hit the floor, but she had little time for remonstration as she was pulled into a four person hug by a very enthusiastic Natalie Green.
"Nat? Tootie?" Jo's voice was muffled; somehow she'd ended up with her face full of Blair's hair, but the confusion was evident. "What are you doing here?"
"It's a reunion, silly," said Tootie as the hug came to an end and she got her first good look at Jo's confused but happy face. "Where else would we be?"
"But, you weren't in the Class of '83," Jo insisted in a misguided attempt to insert logic into the conversation. "You're younger than us."
"And people said you'd never make a good detective," Natalie joked.
"It was Blair's idea," Tootie started to explain. "She said it wouldn't be the same without us."
"You arranged this?" Jo accused, the laughter and joy dropping from her voice.
Blair took a step behind Natalie. "Don't get mad."
"I'm not mad." Jo gently pushed Natalie to one side. "You arranged all this behind my back?"
"I made a few calls." Blair's next step left her flush against the wall with nowhere left to run. "I thought you'd be pleased," she said. "The old gang back together again." Jo moved menacingly forward. "In the same old room." Blair signalled for help, but neither Natalie nor Tootie moved to intercede. "Talking about the old times."
"Blair?"
"Yes, Jo?"
The brunette leaned impossibly close, her hands placed possessively against the wall on either side of Blair's head as she whispered, "It was a good idea."
"Oh, you!" Blair's outraged tone provoked a bout of good-natured laughter, and the women all proceeded to pile into their old room. The younger women, as in the past, settled themselves on the bunk-beds, but they soon came to realise that they weren't teenagers anymore.
"I'm getting claustrophobic in here," Natalie complained. "Did these beds shrink?"
"You think you've got it bad?" Tootie's legs dangled precariously into view before she managed to haul herself into a sitting position, her clothes all askew and hair in disarray. "And, for that matter, when was the last time you saw Meryl Streep in a top bunk?" she added. "I don't think so."
"Come on, it's not that bad," Blair cajoled. "Right, Jo?"
"Don't bring me into this."
"Not that bad? Not that bad, she says!" Natalie was off her bunk and striding the room before she'd finished her sentence. "I don't see you squeezed into one of those coffins!" She looked to Tootie for back up, but the other woman was too busy trying to descend from her top bunk to offer much more than a grunt. "In fact, you and Jo always got the best beds."
"Don't bring me into this," Jo repeated.
"Even when we converted the attic into a second bedroom at Mrs. Garret's, you still managed to swing the biggest room, with the en-suite bathroom I might add." None of these things had ever mattered to Natalie before, but she was on a roll, and if it meant she had even a ghost of a chance of making the other women guilty enough to surrender their beds, she was willing to try every trick in the book. "You'd think, just this once, you'd want to do the right thing."
"The right thing?"
"Blair, don't listen to her."
"You take the bunks, and we'll take the beds," Tootie explained, having finally mastered her re-entry.
"Bunk-beds?" Blair looked confused. "You want me to sleep on... Is this a joke? Jo, did you put them up to this?"
"It's only fair," said Natalie. "We spent three years crammed into these bunks because of you, and now it's your turn."
"It's only for two nights," Tootie added helpfully.
For a moment, it looked as if the guilt had worked its trick on Blair, but whatever she'd been about to say was cut off by Jo's adamant, "No way in hell."
Natalie shrugged. "Well, we tried."
"It was worth a shot," agreed her cohort.
Their coup having failed, Natalie and Tootie began unpacking their bags while Jo lay back and watched as Blair began to take over the closets, arranging her various outfits into some sort of order. If she hadn't known Blair for most of her life, Jo would have questioned the need for that many dresses, but she had long come to accept the fact her friend carried a small boutique's worth of clothing with her on every trip. It was even oddly reassuring.
Tootie plopped down on the end of Jo's bed. "I spoke to Nancy before you arrived," she said. "And apparently, they're holding the reunion luncheon at this new place on McCaine." She lowered her voice. "Did you know that she and Roger got a divorce?"
"Really?" Natalie flopped down on the opposite bed. "They always looked so happy."
"Another woman," Tootie guessed. "It had to be."
"Or another man," Jo suggested.
Natalie sat up straighter. "You think Roger's gay?"
"No. I meant Nancy."
"You think Nancy's gay?" Tootie asked in confusion.
"No." Jo wished she'd kept her mouth shut. "I meant Nancy might have met another guy."
"She wouldn't."
"No way."
"Marriages fall apart for plenty of reasons other than adultery," Blair reminded them. "Maybe they just fell out of love."
"It happens," Jo agreed.
Natalie was about to say more, but one look at Jo's down turned face was enough to convince her the subject was closed. The brunette had always been tight-lipped about the exact cause of her own failed marriage, at least to anyone other than Blair, but Natalie had always assumed it had been Jo who'd ended things. Not that she hadn't been affected by the divorce, but there had been a relief mixed with her sadness that made Natalie think she wasn't as devastated as people assumed, and, as Jo was about as likely to commit adultery as accept a handout from Blair, falling out of love was the only thing that made sense.
"I'm starving, what time's the luncheon?"
"Nat, we just had breakfast an hour ago."
"A breakfast she calls it. Two iddy-biddy crackers and some carrot juice." Natalie shuddered. "I don't care if Susan Sarandon swears by it; it's not a proper breakfast without waffles."
"I can't eat waffles! The camera puts on at least ten pounds, and I have that guest spot on ER next week."
"So, you watch me eat." Natalie got up and pulled her protesting friend along behind her. "I'm sure I saw a plate of cookies in the kitchen when you rushed us through." She turned to Jo. "You two coming?"
"We'll be down in a minute, once Princess Di over there has finished unpacking."
As the sound of her friends' good-natured banter faded away, Jo turned her attention back to Blair. The blonde was carefully straightening every fold and wrinkle that had dared to take up residence on her clothing, affording Jo the rare pleasure of watching her unimpeded, without the need for explanations. The years had been good to Blair; her hair was still as luscious and full as it had always been and, thanks to the wonders of Clairol, it had never lost its vibrant colour. Her clothes were expensive, as was to be expected, and highlighted a body already blessed with enticing curves. Jo looked away, her jaw set as she berated herself for the observation; seeing and noticing were two different things, and she refused to cross the line.
Blair turned around. "Have you unpacked yet?"
"You mean there's room?"
"I left you space." She pointed to the two unadorned hangers on the far edge of the rail. "And there's more room in Nat and Tootie's closet if you need it."
Jo didn't. "It's good to be back," she said.
"You mean that?"
"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't."
"You don't mind? About the others?"
Jo had been looking forward to spending time alone with Blair; they talked on the phone all the time, but lately whenever they got together, someone else always seemed to be tagging along. If it wasn't Nat or Tootie, it was Bailey or one of their mothers; Jo had started to think there was a conspiracy to keep them from being alone together. "It wouldn't be an Eastland reunion without them," she conceded, her smile just a little forced. "Come on, let's get down there before Nat eats all the cookies."
TBC
Fandom: The Facts of Life
Pairing: Jo/Blair
Summary: It's the twentieth anniversary of Jo and Blair's graduation from Eastland and although much has changed, some things will forever remain the same. Part one - where nothing much happens.
Author's note: Happy Birthday to anomalys (it's tomorrow on my side of the pond and I'm very impatient). I'm just sorry I couldn't get it finished it time, but the darn thing grew on me.
Thank you: To darandkerry for the beta.
It was the day of the Eastland class reunion. Reunions had been held for former Eastland girls for years as the women in their twenties, thirties, forties and beyond gathered together to reminisce about the good old days; days which were decidedly more 'good' than when they'd suffered through them as teenagers. Horror stories involving late night exam preparation and the social stigma of being date-less for the spring formal were all told with a forgetful smile, from the vantage point of careers and marriages that made those fretful days appear idyllic. For two former Eastland girls, attending their twenty year anniversary, there was no need to colour their memories with rose-tinted glasses; for their time together at Eastland and beyond truly had been the best times of their lives.
"If one more of these rich bitches tells me I've blossomed, I'm not gonna be held responsible for my actions," Jo said as she wove her way through the throng of eager women, who at a mean age of thirty-seven, she felt should have outgrown the urge to squeal and gush like overactive school children. "I'm not one of Mrs. G's petunias."
Blair waved a greeting to someone on the other side of the school dining room, her nose crinkling in a manner she knew to be totally adorable, and therefore, a good cover for her inability to remember the woman's name. She turned back to Jo just in time to hear the last of her little diatribe, but her concern for the health and well-being of her fellow graduates was quickly overshadowed by the concern for her Italian leather suitcase which Jo was using as a shield to force her way through the melee. "Jo! That suitcase was hand crafted in Milan!" Blair got the distinct impression that her words had been purposely ignored as Jo used the flat side of her case to sideswipe Milly Catleton, a particularly unpleasant former teen, who had once spread an especially vicious rumour about Jo and one of the boys from Bates. "Couldn't you at least use your own case?"
"Soft-sided," said Jo.
Blair gave her a withering look. "I hope you're not going to spend the entire weekend in a bad mood." She had been looking forward to the reunion for months, especially the surprise she'd arranged for Jo, and she refused to let her joy be ruined because Miss Chip-on-her-Shoulder was being difficult. "I had entirely too much of that while we were here the first time around."
Jo's glare made Blair's look positively tame by comparison. "I'm not in a mood," she said. "I just don't like crowds."
"This is nothing," Blair scoffed, an imperious wave encompassing the entire dining room. "You should try Saks on the first day of winter sales."
The thought made Jo shiver, but she was saved any further comment by her expulsion into the relative peace and quiet of the corridor. Most of the other women had, sensibly, made arrangements to stay in the local hotel and guest houses but, for reasons she still couldn't fathom, Jo had let Blair talk her into staying at the school over the weekend. "I still say we should have booked an hotel room," she muttered.
"This'll be fun," Blair assured her and, now free of the crowd, led Jo towards the stairs and their former home away from home. "It'll give us time to catch up and talk about the old days."
"We could have done that in a hotel." It was usually Blair who insisted on top quality accommodation whenever they went anywhere; admittedly, they hadn't vacationed together in nearly a decade, but Jo couldn't understand the sudden desire for lumpy single beds and dodgy plumbing. "You haven't gambled away the family fortune, have ya?"
"Don't be silly."
Blair's chic outfit and designer luggage certainly didn't give the impression of someone who was down on her luck. The Warner heiress had long since ascended to the pinnacle of corporate America, taking her place at her father's side as the deputy CEO of Warner Industries. The days of being her father's little tax deductible had long since past, and despite the board's early misgivings, based solely on her youth, beauty and charm, she had firmly established herself as someone to be reckoned with in the business world. Not that Jo was about to take any of her stock tips; she had a long memory and heavily guarded savings.
"I'd forgotten the smell," Jo grumbled as she manoeuvred the cases up the first flight of stairs. "It's like strawberries and gym socks."
"Max Factor's new line in strawberry lip gloss for the teen who wants to be seen," Blair corrected, "and the oh-so recognisable scent of sweat-soaked-roommate."
"We can't all be plastic wrapped," Jo shot back.
Blair stopped her ascent and turned to let loose her own rejoinder, but the need for alacrity forced her to curtail the verbal sparring, at least for the moment, and continue her trek up the stairs to their former landing.
It took Jo a moment or two to realise her salvo had been ignored, but before she could launch another and tempt Blair into a decent sparing match, the blonde was flinging open the door to their old room and beaming at her like the damn Cheshire Cat. Jo was about to make a blistering comment about Blair's new-found ability to open doors for herself when she was assaulted by twin screams of delight.
"Surprise!"
Blair scowled as her new Italian leather suitcase hit the floor, but she had little time for remonstration as she was pulled into a four person hug by a very enthusiastic Natalie Green.
"Nat? Tootie?" Jo's voice was muffled; somehow she'd ended up with her face full of Blair's hair, but the confusion was evident. "What are you doing here?"
"It's a reunion, silly," said Tootie as the hug came to an end and she got her first good look at Jo's confused but happy face. "Where else would we be?"
"But, you weren't in the Class of '83," Jo insisted in a misguided attempt to insert logic into the conversation. "You're younger than us."
"And people said you'd never make a good detective," Natalie joked.
"It was Blair's idea," Tootie started to explain. "She said it wouldn't be the same without us."
"You arranged this?" Jo accused, the laughter and joy dropping from her voice.
Blair took a step behind Natalie. "Don't get mad."
"I'm not mad." Jo gently pushed Natalie to one side. "You arranged all this behind my back?"
"I made a few calls." Blair's next step left her flush against the wall with nowhere left to run. "I thought you'd be pleased," she said. "The old gang back together again." Jo moved menacingly forward. "In the same old room." Blair signalled for help, but neither Natalie nor Tootie moved to intercede. "Talking about the old times."
"Blair?"
"Yes, Jo?"
The brunette leaned impossibly close, her hands placed possessively against the wall on either side of Blair's head as she whispered, "It was a good idea."
"Oh, you!" Blair's outraged tone provoked a bout of good-natured laughter, and the women all proceeded to pile into their old room. The younger women, as in the past, settled themselves on the bunk-beds, but they soon came to realise that they weren't teenagers anymore.
"I'm getting claustrophobic in here," Natalie complained. "Did these beds shrink?"
"You think you've got it bad?" Tootie's legs dangled precariously into view before she managed to haul herself into a sitting position, her clothes all askew and hair in disarray. "And, for that matter, when was the last time you saw Meryl Streep in a top bunk?" she added. "I don't think so."
"Come on, it's not that bad," Blair cajoled. "Right, Jo?"
"Don't bring me into this."
"Not that bad? Not that bad, she says!" Natalie was off her bunk and striding the room before she'd finished her sentence. "I don't see you squeezed into one of those coffins!" She looked to Tootie for back up, but the other woman was too busy trying to descend from her top bunk to offer much more than a grunt. "In fact, you and Jo always got the best beds."
"Don't bring me into this," Jo repeated.
"Even when we converted the attic into a second bedroom at Mrs. Garret's, you still managed to swing the biggest room, with the en-suite bathroom I might add." None of these things had ever mattered to Natalie before, but she was on a roll, and if it meant she had even a ghost of a chance of making the other women guilty enough to surrender their beds, she was willing to try every trick in the book. "You'd think, just this once, you'd want to do the right thing."
"The right thing?"
"Blair, don't listen to her."
"You take the bunks, and we'll take the beds," Tootie explained, having finally mastered her re-entry.
"Bunk-beds?" Blair looked confused. "You want me to sleep on... Is this a joke? Jo, did you put them up to this?"
"It's only fair," said Natalie. "We spent three years crammed into these bunks because of you, and now it's your turn."
"It's only for two nights," Tootie added helpfully.
For a moment, it looked as if the guilt had worked its trick on Blair, but whatever she'd been about to say was cut off by Jo's adamant, "No way in hell."
Natalie shrugged. "Well, we tried."
"It was worth a shot," agreed her cohort.
Their coup having failed, Natalie and Tootie began unpacking their bags while Jo lay back and watched as Blair began to take over the closets, arranging her various outfits into some sort of order. If she hadn't known Blair for most of her life, Jo would have questioned the need for that many dresses, but she had long come to accept the fact her friend carried a small boutique's worth of clothing with her on every trip. It was even oddly reassuring.
Tootie plopped down on the end of Jo's bed. "I spoke to Nancy before you arrived," she said. "And apparently, they're holding the reunion luncheon at this new place on McCaine." She lowered her voice. "Did you know that she and Roger got a divorce?"
"Really?" Natalie flopped down on the opposite bed. "They always looked so happy."
"Another woman," Tootie guessed. "It had to be."
"Or another man," Jo suggested.
Natalie sat up straighter. "You think Roger's gay?"
"No. I meant Nancy."
"You think Nancy's gay?" Tootie asked in confusion.
"No." Jo wished she'd kept her mouth shut. "I meant Nancy might have met another guy."
"She wouldn't."
"No way."
"Marriages fall apart for plenty of reasons other than adultery," Blair reminded them. "Maybe they just fell out of love."
"It happens," Jo agreed.
Natalie was about to say more, but one look at Jo's down turned face was enough to convince her the subject was closed. The brunette had always been tight-lipped about the exact cause of her own failed marriage, at least to anyone other than Blair, but Natalie had always assumed it had been Jo who'd ended things. Not that she hadn't been affected by the divorce, but there had been a relief mixed with her sadness that made Natalie think she wasn't as devastated as people assumed, and, as Jo was about as likely to commit adultery as accept a handout from Blair, falling out of love was the only thing that made sense.
"I'm starving, what time's the luncheon?"
"Nat, we just had breakfast an hour ago."
"A breakfast she calls it. Two iddy-biddy crackers and some carrot juice." Natalie shuddered. "I don't care if Susan Sarandon swears by it; it's not a proper breakfast without waffles."
"I can't eat waffles! The camera puts on at least ten pounds, and I have that guest spot on ER next week."
"So, you watch me eat." Natalie got up and pulled her protesting friend along behind her. "I'm sure I saw a plate of cookies in the kitchen when you rushed us through." She turned to Jo. "You two coming?"
"We'll be down in a minute, once Princess Di over there has finished unpacking."
As the sound of her friends' good-natured banter faded away, Jo turned her attention back to Blair. The blonde was carefully straightening every fold and wrinkle that had dared to take up residence on her clothing, affording Jo the rare pleasure of watching her unimpeded, without the need for explanations. The years had been good to Blair; her hair was still as luscious and full as it had always been and, thanks to the wonders of Clairol, it had never lost its vibrant colour. Her clothes were expensive, as was to be expected, and highlighted a body already blessed with enticing curves. Jo looked away, her jaw set as she berated herself for the observation; seeing and noticing were two different things, and she refused to cross the line.
Blair turned around. "Have you unpacked yet?"
"You mean there's room?"
"I left you space." She pointed to the two unadorned hangers on the far edge of the rail. "And there's more room in Nat and Tootie's closet if you need it."
Jo didn't. "It's good to be back," she said.
"You mean that?"
"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't."
"You don't mind? About the others?"
Jo had been looking forward to spending time alone with Blair; they talked on the phone all the time, but lately whenever they got together, someone else always seemed to be tagging along. If it wasn't Nat or Tootie, it was Bailey or one of their mothers; Jo had started to think there was a conspiracy to keep them from being alone together. "It wouldn't be an Eastland reunion without them," she conceded, her smile just a little forced. "Come on, let's get down there before Nat eats all the cookies."
TBC