a lumpy 'i love you'
Title: a lumpy "i love you"
Pairing: Megan/Allison (don't get your Chris Hansen-themed panties in a twist, it's set ten years in the future)
Rating: PG-ish?
Word Count: 1668
Notes: Written for the ontd_ai charity author auction. :D
Thirty-three is how old Jesus was when he died.
Allison isn’t sure quite why she knows that, or remembers it, but it’s one of the first things she thought of when, a week ago, she realised that - oh shit - there was only a fortnight left before her wife’s thirty-third birthday. It’s a fairly useless thing to know; it definitely doesn’t help with finding a present, which she still hasn’t managed to do. She hasn’t even found a card she likes yet. For Allison’s last birthday, back in April, Megan folded a piece of A4 card and drew everything that was important to them on it, which was beautiful and wonderful and perfect. But the only things Allison can reliably draw are giraffes, rabbits and human ears - the three of which are unlikely, unless there’s some winning combination that hasn’t occurred to her yet, to come together to create a masterpiece.
“You should just get her, like, something which shows that you love her,” Ryder says, pulling his zip up so that his jacket covers half of his face. It’s a habit which Allison worries about (what if it means that he feels he needs to hide?), but Megan doesn’t seem to think it’s a problem. Relax, is her line on it, he’s a teenager now, he’s going to change, that’s natural. “Or just buy her something crap, and she’ll still love it because it’s from you. It doesn’t matter.”
It’s probably incredibly pathetic that, after five years, being reminded that Megan is in love with her can still make her smile like an idiot; it does anyway, though, and Allison couldn’t help it even if she wanted to. Ryder sighs, looking embarrassed by her, and wriggles himself even further into the jacket. He isn’t quite at the moody teenager stage yet, because he still says things like You should get her something which shows that you love her, and hugs both her and Megan, but he’s getting there. The only reason he agreed to come shopping with her today is that they’re at the shopping centre out-of-town, where none of his friends or classmates are likely to be. He wouldn’t want to be seen with her otherwise.
She’s fairly sure that it’s all about appearances, though, and that he’s still actually fine with both her and Megan: he still comes down from his bedroom nearly every night to kiss and hug both of them, and when one of them isn’t there to be kissed or hugged, he quite obviously misses them. He misses Megan more than Allison, which is only natural - and which doesn’t bother Allison, who loves seeing how much he adores Megan, how protective he is over her, how he’s still secretly enthralled by her tattoos. (Sometimes Megan draws on his arms in pen, on his request, and he’s always completely delighted by it. He doesn’t say as much, but his smile gives it away, and the way he spends the rest of the day staring at his arm whenever he thinks that no-one’s looking.)
“I want to get her something special, though,” Allison says. They’ve been together for five years now, and it is special, more special than anything else that’s ever happened to her. When she thinks back on the tour now all that she can remember is a series of images of Megan: Megan picking out clothes for her, Megan doing her hair, Megan laughing. Megan wrapping her arms around Allison on the last day, after the last show. When Allison got home after all of it was over she found herself going into the bathroom and crying, despite the record deal, despite everything. She called up Adam the next day, slightly hysterical, and said, I don’t know what to do, three times, until Adam’s reassurances finally managed to push their way past the hysteria and calm her down.
Then her friendship with Megan, after the tour, and all those hugs which she was sure meant more to her than they ever could to Megan, and curling up watching TV with her, and falling asleep on her lap, deliberately, so that she could wake up there later, and then, eventually... Allison smiles.
“Allison!” Ryder complains.
“A woman’s allowed to smile,” Allison says lightly, but Ryder just scowls at her in return. Fair enough, Allison thinks.
“I want to go home,” he says.
It’s funny how that’s probably the most childish thing he’s said all day, but is also the thing his friends would approve of the most.
“I tell you what,” Allison says. “You know that café we had lunch at earlier? I’ll take you back there, and you can have an ice cream or a milkshake while I find a present. Okay?”
“Okay.” The word is non-committal, but Ryder’s eyes are shining. He likes being trusted, even if it’s just to stay on his own for a little while, and he’s glad of the opportunity to have milkshake without feeling young for his age (eating on your own totally cancels that out).
Once Ryder’s settled in, Allison goes back to present-hunting. The truth is, Ryder’s right: Megan will be happy with anything that Allison gets her. But Allison wants to find something amazing. She wants something which will say, I love you so much, I am so fucking lucky, I can’t believe how wonderful you are, and it bothers her ridiculous amounts that she can’t come up with it.
But it’s better to have something not-so-good to give than nothing at all, so she buys a few small things: a belt, some nice earrings, an anklet. (It sounds weird, but Megan has seriously lovely ankles. Allison noticing them has become a standing joke between them - if Allison doesn’t remember something Megan told her, Megan will say, “You were probably too busy looking at my ankles to concentrate”, and Allison will reply, “Who could blame me?”) There’s a sale in one of the clothes shops and for seventeen dollars she buys an elasticated dress with a blue-grey, vaguely peacock-like design. It goes with the belt, and it’s the sort of thing Megan will suit. (Then again, what isn’t?)
Last year, Allison remembers, she bought Megan hair dye for her birthday, the same shade of scarlet as Allison’s is at the minute. She dyed it, too (which was great because she got to wash Megan’s hair, and she loves Megan’s hair), and Megan was a redhead for three weeks. Ryder got horribly embarrassed by that, even then; he took to saying, Isn’t it time to wash it out now, Mom? at least once a day.
The problem with clothes is that Allison thinks Megan looks amazing in pretty much anything (also in nothing, but that doesn’t help with presents either), and so she finds that she wants to buy about three-quarters of the content of every good shop she goes to. It isn’t fair; it isn’t her fault that Megan always looks good, so why should she be punished for it? (On the other hand, she also gets rewarded for it in really quite wonderful ways, so maybe she should stop complaining.)
Bags, then. No - boring. Bath stuff? Make-up? Allison sighs. She’s only looking to buy one more thing, but she’d really like for it to be something that stands out. Something which will make Megan have not the reaction she has always had in the past to Allison’s presents, the excited that’s so lovely! thank you so much!, but an oh my god oh my god I love you so much, you know me like nobody else does kind of one. (Okay, so maybe Allison has been imagining Megan’s reaction to the perfect present every day for the past week. So?)
But she gives up, after a while, mostly because she’s been gone nearly forty-five minutes and she doesn’t want Ryder to get worried. But he just waves at her when she gets back to the café, and says, “Did you find something?”
“I got a couple of things. I’m not sure they’re exactly right, but they’ll do.”
“Right.” Ryder doesn’t seem to be listening any more. “Allison,” he says, nervously.
“Yeah?” She takes in the anxious look on his face. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did you see someone from school?”
Ryder shakes his head. “It’s just that, you know how we usually just say that the presents you get for Mom are from me as well? And I don’t normally choose them?”
“Oh, well,” Allison protests, “I wouldn’t say that. You definitely help with the decisions.”
“Right. But...” Ryder shifts in his seat. “If I wanted to buy a present on my own for Mom, would that be okay?”
“Of course that would be okay.” Allison doesn’t understand why Ryder needs to ask her permission for a minute, and then she realises: “Do you need money for it?”
Ryder nods. “It’s just that I saw these pens which are like, they’re just coloured pens but they’re made to write or draw on skin, and there are about a hundred of them in all different shades. I was thinking Mom might like that.”
“I think she’d love that,” Allison says, smiling. “I really do.”
“Okay. I just saw it earlier and thought it looked good, that’s all,” Ryder says, defending and excusing himself.
Allison gives him the money and he runs off, then comes back twenty minutes later holding a carrier bag. He clutches the bag tight to his chest all the way home, and doesn’t let go until they’re wrapping the presents. He insists on wrapping his own, which means that it ends up lumpy and misshapen, but he looks proud of it. Allison watches him and thinks that even if she couldn’t come up with a present which said I love you, Ryder has, and that’s even better.
When he’s done with his wrapping she puts her arms around him, and he hugs her back for a minute, resting his head against her chest. Then he wriggles away.
“You still have to get her a card, you know,” he says.
Pairing: Megan/Allison (don't get your Chris Hansen-themed panties in a twist, it's set ten years in the future)
Rating: PG-ish?
Word Count: 1668
Notes: Written for the ontd_ai charity author auction. :D
Thirty-three is how old Jesus was when he died.
Allison isn’t sure quite why she knows that, or remembers it, but it’s one of the first things she thought of when, a week ago, she realised that - oh shit - there was only a fortnight left before her wife’s thirty-third birthday. It’s a fairly useless thing to know; it definitely doesn’t help with finding a present, which she still hasn’t managed to do. She hasn’t even found a card she likes yet. For Allison’s last birthday, back in April, Megan folded a piece of A4 card and drew everything that was important to them on it, which was beautiful and wonderful and perfect. But the only things Allison can reliably draw are giraffes, rabbits and human ears - the three of which are unlikely, unless there’s some winning combination that hasn’t occurred to her yet, to come together to create a masterpiece.
“You should just get her, like, something which shows that you love her,” Ryder says, pulling his zip up so that his jacket covers half of his face. It’s a habit which Allison worries about (what if it means that he feels he needs to hide?), but Megan doesn’t seem to think it’s a problem. Relax, is her line on it, he’s a teenager now, he’s going to change, that’s natural. “Or just buy her something crap, and she’ll still love it because it’s from you. It doesn’t matter.”
It’s probably incredibly pathetic that, after five years, being reminded that Megan is in love with her can still make her smile like an idiot; it does anyway, though, and Allison couldn’t help it even if she wanted to. Ryder sighs, looking embarrassed by her, and wriggles himself even further into the jacket. He isn’t quite at the moody teenager stage yet, because he still says things like You should get her something which shows that you love her, and hugs both her and Megan, but he’s getting there. The only reason he agreed to come shopping with her today is that they’re at the shopping centre out-of-town, where none of his friends or classmates are likely to be. He wouldn’t want to be seen with her otherwise.
She’s fairly sure that it’s all about appearances, though, and that he’s still actually fine with both her and Megan: he still comes down from his bedroom nearly every night to kiss and hug both of them, and when one of them isn’t there to be kissed or hugged, he quite obviously misses them. He misses Megan more than Allison, which is only natural - and which doesn’t bother Allison, who loves seeing how much he adores Megan, how protective he is over her, how he’s still secretly enthralled by her tattoos. (Sometimes Megan draws on his arms in pen, on his request, and he’s always completely delighted by it. He doesn’t say as much, but his smile gives it away, and the way he spends the rest of the day staring at his arm whenever he thinks that no-one’s looking.)
“I want to get her something special, though,” Allison says. They’ve been together for five years now, and it is special, more special than anything else that’s ever happened to her. When she thinks back on the tour now all that she can remember is a series of images of Megan: Megan picking out clothes for her, Megan doing her hair, Megan laughing. Megan wrapping her arms around Allison on the last day, after the last show. When Allison got home after all of it was over she found herself going into the bathroom and crying, despite the record deal, despite everything. She called up Adam the next day, slightly hysterical, and said, I don’t know what to do, three times, until Adam’s reassurances finally managed to push their way past the hysteria and calm her down.
Then her friendship with Megan, after the tour, and all those hugs which she was sure meant more to her than they ever could to Megan, and curling up watching TV with her, and falling asleep on her lap, deliberately, so that she could wake up there later, and then, eventually... Allison smiles.
“Allison!” Ryder complains.
“A woman’s allowed to smile,” Allison says lightly, but Ryder just scowls at her in return. Fair enough, Allison thinks.
“I want to go home,” he says.
It’s funny how that’s probably the most childish thing he’s said all day, but is also the thing his friends would approve of the most.
“I tell you what,” Allison says. “You know that café we had lunch at earlier? I’ll take you back there, and you can have an ice cream or a milkshake while I find a present. Okay?”
“Okay.” The word is non-committal, but Ryder’s eyes are shining. He likes being trusted, even if it’s just to stay on his own for a little while, and he’s glad of the opportunity to have milkshake without feeling young for his age (eating on your own totally cancels that out).
Once Ryder’s settled in, Allison goes back to present-hunting. The truth is, Ryder’s right: Megan will be happy with anything that Allison gets her. But Allison wants to find something amazing. She wants something which will say, I love you so much, I am so fucking lucky, I can’t believe how wonderful you are, and it bothers her ridiculous amounts that she can’t come up with it.
But it’s better to have something not-so-good to give than nothing at all, so she buys a few small things: a belt, some nice earrings, an anklet. (It sounds weird, but Megan has seriously lovely ankles. Allison noticing them has become a standing joke between them - if Allison doesn’t remember something Megan told her, Megan will say, “You were probably too busy looking at my ankles to concentrate”, and Allison will reply, “Who could blame me?”) There’s a sale in one of the clothes shops and for seventeen dollars she buys an elasticated dress with a blue-grey, vaguely peacock-like design. It goes with the belt, and it’s the sort of thing Megan will suit. (Then again, what isn’t?)
Last year, Allison remembers, she bought Megan hair dye for her birthday, the same shade of scarlet as Allison’s is at the minute. She dyed it, too (which was great because she got to wash Megan’s hair, and she loves Megan’s hair), and Megan was a redhead for three weeks. Ryder got horribly embarrassed by that, even then; he took to saying, Isn’t it time to wash it out now, Mom? at least once a day.
The problem with clothes is that Allison thinks Megan looks amazing in pretty much anything (also in nothing, but that doesn’t help with presents either), and so she finds that she wants to buy about three-quarters of the content of every good shop she goes to. It isn’t fair; it isn’t her fault that Megan always looks good, so why should she be punished for it? (On the other hand, she also gets rewarded for it in really quite wonderful ways, so maybe she should stop complaining.)
Bags, then. No - boring. Bath stuff? Make-up? Allison sighs. She’s only looking to buy one more thing, but she’d really like for it to be something that stands out. Something which will make Megan have not the reaction she has always had in the past to Allison’s presents, the excited that’s so lovely! thank you so much!, but an oh my god oh my god I love you so much, you know me like nobody else does kind of one. (Okay, so maybe Allison has been imagining Megan’s reaction to the perfect present every day for the past week. So?)
But she gives up, after a while, mostly because she’s been gone nearly forty-five minutes and she doesn’t want Ryder to get worried. But he just waves at her when she gets back to the café, and says, “Did you find something?”
“I got a couple of things. I’m not sure they’re exactly right, but they’ll do.”
“Right.” Ryder doesn’t seem to be listening any more. “Allison,” he says, nervously.
“Yeah?” She takes in the anxious look on his face. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did you see someone from school?”
Ryder shakes his head. “It’s just that, you know how we usually just say that the presents you get for Mom are from me as well? And I don’t normally choose them?”
“Oh, well,” Allison protests, “I wouldn’t say that. You definitely help with the decisions.”
“Right. But...” Ryder shifts in his seat. “If I wanted to buy a present on my own for Mom, would that be okay?”
“Of course that would be okay.” Allison doesn’t understand why Ryder needs to ask her permission for a minute, and then she realises: “Do you need money for it?”
Ryder nods. “It’s just that I saw these pens which are like, they’re just coloured pens but they’re made to write or draw on skin, and there are about a hundred of them in all different shades. I was thinking Mom might like that.”
“I think she’d love that,” Allison says, smiling. “I really do.”
“Okay. I just saw it earlier and thought it looked good, that’s all,” Ryder says, defending and excusing himself.
Allison gives him the money and he runs off, then comes back twenty minutes later holding a carrier bag. He clutches the bag tight to his chest all the way home, and doesn’t let go until they’re wrapping the presents. He insists on wrapping his own, which means that it ends up lumpy and misshapen, but he looks proud of it. Allison watches him and thinks that even if she couldn’t come up with a present which said I love you, Ryder has, and that’s even better.
When he’s done with his wrapping she puts her arms around him, and he hugs her back for a minute, resting his head against her chest. Then he wriggles away.
“You still have to get her a card, you know,” he says.