Ficlet: Champagne Dream (Ugly Betty, Amanda/Christina, PG)
Title: Champagne Dream
Fandom: Ugly Betty
Pairing: unresolved Amanda/Christina
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The universe and characters in the fic do not belong to me. I'm not making any money off of this.
Summary: Amanda really loves champagne.
Notes: Set immediately after the first season finale, while they're still trapped in the dungeon. Only 800 words. Thank you to thepouncer and kageygirl for looking this over. :)
Amanda loves champagne. Loves it, loves it, loves it, like free Jimmy Choos or Godiva-covered Midol on cramps day. Champagne is bubbly, and light, and makes the whole world sparkle like yellow diamonds under the bright lights at Tiffany's. She'll drink any champagne, truth be told, but she really, really really loves the good stuff.
Of course Fey kept the dungeon stocked with the good stuff.
Amanda tips the bottle back again, but only a lonely drop splashes on her tongue. Not even enough to feel the fizz. She pouts for a second, but a buzz buzz buzz pulls her attention away from her disappointment. It's not a buzz like a fly, buzzing annoyingly around her head while she's trying to eat something gooey and delicious. Actually, it's not really a buzz at all. More of an up-down sing-song ring-rong bell, and it's almost pleasant. Amanda rolls her head to the side, and gets a face full of hair. She knows it's not her own hair, because it smells like cheap strawberry shampoo.
Too bad there weren't any strawberries to go with the champagne.
"You're completely pissed, aren't you?"
Amanda frowns. Oh, right. Christina. No wonder she was confused; the Scottish accent always plays tricks on her ears. Amanda winds her finger in a lock of that strawberry hair, wondering exactly what she missed that she's supposed to be pissed about.
Oh, right.
"I just wish I knew why she didn't want me," she says, propping her head on her hand so she can make more sense out of the fuzzy face next to her. Christina grunts, and then the strawberry hair tightens around her finger wire-tight before slipping completely free. "Nobody ever wants me."
"Oh, bollocks! Whatever reason Fey had for giving you up, it had absolutely nothing to do with you and everything with her." The bed sags and sways as Christina squirms around, so Amanda lets her elbow slide out from under her. There's no real reason to stay upright, after all. "And plenty of people want you."
"Of course they do," Amanda says, running a hand down the curvaceous line of her hot bod. "But nobody wants to keep me. Not really."
Christina sighs, and then suddenly her face is above Amanda's, strawberry hair tickling down against her neck. "There's nothing I can say to derail this pity party, is there? I suppose, all in all, you're entitled."
Amanda nods. "I'm very entitled." She pouts to demonstrate, but the champagne buzz is still in her lips. She rubs them together, then smiles instead. Christina snorts above her, and that makes her remember something from earlier. Something about Christina and scandal and a husband... "Are you a lesbian?"
"Oh, for Pete's sake." Christina reels back, taking her strawberry hair with her. "I should have known you'd have to find some other shoebox to shove me into. God forbid you people see people as people."
They both frown at that; Amanda's pretty sure there was one too many peoples in that sentence, but the champagne fizz is fading enough that she can figure out that Christina is the one who's pissed now.
"I didn't mean it as an insult," she says. "I mean, my best friend is a practically a lesbian."
Christina blinks. "I thought Marc was your best friend."
"Right. But it's not like he keeps it a secret," Amanda says, circling her arm in a big circle to take in the dungeon. "I'm so sick of secrets."
Christina flops down beside her. "I know what you mean. They never do come to anything good."
"And I'm never in on any good ones." Amanda rolls over, so that their hair is a swirl of blonde between them. "So, are you?"
"Why are you so all fired up about that, of all things?"
Amanda shrugs. "I just wondered, if you were a lesbian, would you want me?"
Christina closes her eyes. Her eye shadow is long gone, but her mascara has held up just fine, making her lashes enviously long as they drape over her cheeks. "That doesn't really matter now, does it? Since you're straight."
Amanda considers for a moment. There's something off about that logic, but she can't figure out what. It must not be too important, so she rolls to the other side of the bed and gropes through the empty bottles on the floor. "Are you sure we're out of champagne?"
The bed sags and bucks again, Christina grunts, and then a bottle appears in front of her face. Amanda grins; the bubbles are just as bubbly as she remembers, the world starts to sparkle again, and oh, how she loves, loves, loves champagne.
But she misses the strawberries.
Fandom: Ugly Betty
Pairing: unresolved Amanda/Christina
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: The universe and characters in the fic do not belong to me. I'm not making any money off of this.
Summary: Amanda really loves champagne.
Notes: Set immediately after the first season finale, while they're still trapped in the dungeon. Only 800 words. Thank you to thepouncer and kageygirl for looking this over. :)
Amanda loves champagne. Loves it, loves it, loves it, like free Jimmy Choos or Godiva-covered Midol on cramps day. Champagne is bubbly, and light, and makes the whole world sparkle like yellow diamonds under the bright lights at Tiffany's. She'll drink any champagne, truth be told, but she really, really really loves the good stuff.
Of course Fey kept the dungeon stocked with the good stuff.
Amanda tips the bottle back again, but only a lonely drop splashes on her tongue. Not even enough to feel the fizz. She pouts for a second, but a buzz buzz buzz pulls her attention away from her disappointment. It's not a buzz like a fly, buzzing annoyingly around her head while she's trying to eat something gooey and delicious. Actually, it's not really a buzz at all. More of an up-down sing-song ring-rong bell, and it's almost pleasant. Amanda rolls her head to the side, and gets a face full of hair. She knows it's not her own hair, because it smells like cheap strawberry shampoo.
Too bad there weren't any strawberries to go with the champagne.
"You're completely pissed, aren't you?"
Amanda frowns. Oh, right. Christina. No wonder she was confused; the Scottish accent always plays tricks on her ears. Amanda winds her finger in a lock of that strawberry hair, wondering exactly what she missed that she's supposed to be pissed about.
Oh, right.
"I just wish I knew why she didn't want me," she says, propping her head on her hand so she can make more sense out of the fuzzy face next to her. Christina grunts, and then the strawberry hair tightens around her finger wire-tight before slipping completely free. "Nobody ever wants me."
"Oh, bollocks! Whatever reason Fey had for giving you up, it had absolutely nothing to do with you and everything with her." The bed sags and sways as Christina squirms around, so Amanda lets her elbow slide out from under her. There's no real reason to stay upright, after all. "And plenty of people want you."
"Of course they do," Amanda says, running a hand down the curvaceous line of her hot bod. "But nobody wants to keep me. Not really."
Christina sighs, and then suddenly her face is above Amanda's, strawberry hair tickling down against her neck. "There's nothing I can say to derail this pity party, is there? I suppose, all in all, you're entitled."
Amanda nods. "I'm very entitled." She pouts to demonstrate, but the champagne buzz is still in her lips. She rubs them together, then smiles instead. Christina snorts above her, and that makes her remember something from earlier. Something about Christina and scandal and a husband... "Are you a lesbian?"
"Oh, for Pete's sake." Christina reels back, taking her strawberry hair with her. "I should have known you'd have to find some other shoebox to shove me into. God forbid you people see people as people."
They both frown at that; Amanda's pretty sure there was one too many peoples in that sentence, but the champagne fizz is fading enough that she can figure out that Christina is the one who's pissed now.
"I didn't mean it as an insult," she says. "I mean, my best friend is a practically a lesbian."
Christina blinks. "I thought Marc was your best friend."
"Right. But it's not like he keeps it a secret," Amanda says, circling her arm in a big circle to take in the dungeon. "I'm so sick of secrets."
Christina flops down beside her. "I know what you mean. They never do come to anything good."
"And I'm never in on any good ones." Amanda rolls over, so that their hair is a swirl of blonde between them. "So, are you?"
"Why are you so all fired up about that, of all things?"
Amanda shrugs. "I just wondered, if you were a lesbian, would you want me?"
Christina closes her eyes. Her eye shadow is long gone, but her mascara has held up just fine, making her lashes enviously long as they drape over her cheeks. "That doesn't really matter now, does it? Since you're straight."
Amanda considers for a moment. There's something off about that logic, but she can't figure out what. It must not be too important, so she rolls to the other side of the bed and gropes through the empty bottles on the floor. "Are you sure we're out of champagne?"
The bed sags and bucks again, Christina grunts, and then a bottle appears in front of her face. Amanda grins; the bubbles are just as bubbly as she remembers, the world starts to sparkle again, and oh, how she loves, loves, loves champagne.
But she misses the strawberries.