Jainie (spooky_cupcake) wrote in lilpinkfic, @ 2008-03-20 22:53:00 |
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Current mood: | busy |
Entry tags: | best two out of three, fanfic, papi, shane |
Best Two Out of Three (1/?)
Title: Best Two Out of Three
Chapter: 1 - The Challenge
Summary: Who'll come out on top in a pick-up rematch between Shane and Papi?
Pairing: Shane/Papi (well, eventually)
Rating: R (for right now ;D)
Fandom: The L Word
Timing: The series starts sometime after ep 4x04 - after Shay breaks his arm and after Shane does the Hugo Boss shoot, but not before the movie premiere. If any forthcoming chapters come at a different point in the timeline, I'll make note of it here.
Notes: I started this (what is going to hopefully become a series of vignettes) a while ago, but I felt inspired to post it after reading Kate's comments that she felt like a Shane/Papi storyline wouldn't work...
Q: Could you ever see Papi and Shane hook up?
Katherine: umm... no i don't think so. seems a bit far fetched.
Far-fetched? Why, that sounds like a challenge, to me. *grins* So! One not far-fetched Shapi fanfic, comin' right up... and, of course, this is dedicated to the beautiful Miss Kate, 'cause I love a good challenge.
Shane should be more surprised than she actually is when Papi throws herself down into a seat at her left elbow one morning, slurping at a tall, cool glass of orange juice, and starts talking to her again like they were old friends. Well, more like talking at her. And the girl talked. A lot. Shane was convinced that she could beat Alice in a motormouth competition without breaking a sweat. Though Papi's brand of motormouth definitely leaned more towards the 'talk shit' department, rather than Alice's 'gossip' brand of motormouthing.
“Yo, so what would you say to a little practice, Vanilla?”
“Practice?” She gives Papi a bleary, heavy-lidded look. It's too early and she hasn't had her coffee and this chick has just got to be kidding.
“Yeah, man!” Papi says, full lips pursing into a no-nonsense frown. “B-ball. I intend to hit you and your girls up for another game and I intend to win, but I want you to bring your A-game, this time. None of this girly, pampered kitty cat bullshit, like last time."
Shane has no idea why she says yes, but she does. Reflecting on the offer – though it feels more like a challenge, now that she thinks about it -- she chalks it up to wanting to get the Latino heartthrob off of her back and out of her face once and for all. She's never been a team player and she's always held the opinion that sports sucked and were a waste of time.
All sports, that is, but tennis. But now she doesn't even have that, anymore. There's no tennis pro that she can find that could ever hold a candle to Dane, even on her worst day.
So she tells Papi she'll meet her at the courts in Echo Park at five on a Saturday and it's there that Shane finds her, dribbling expertly as she maneuvers around the court like a cross between a cheetah and a shark – moving effortlessly and gracefully but at the same time, it's damned obvious this girl's got teeth and when she gets down to business, she gets down. Dressed in her usual jeans, a green t-shirt, a gray hoodie and her Chucks, Shane didn't even bother to change into anything special for this practice. All she wants is to get this done and over with.
Folding her arms over her chest, Shane's face is an inscrutable mask as she watches Papi shuck and dive and dodge all over the court, skirting around invisible opponents, grinning like she has the world cradled in her two hands rather than a simple orange rubber ball. Oh yeah, she has it allllll under control.
Shane's lips purse into a thin line, eyes narrowing slightly as she watches Papi move down the court towards the basket, still making with the quick and fancy footwork, spinning about as if to avoid the reaching arms of an opposing team member trying to swipe the ball away from her, bouncing the ball, smoothly shifting it from hand to hand as she skips and shuffles across the asphalt. She's not like Jenny, though – Papi knows the rules of this game and knows you can't just hug the ball and hope everybody makes way for you. She knows you have to push and fight for every inch you get.
Well, just because she doesn't like sports doesn't mean she doesn't understand the rules of this game. The game's always the same, the only thing that's different is the name it goes by. Whether it's 'b-ball' or 'I see you staring at me across the room', a game's still a game.
At last, Papi reaches the basket at the far end of the court and whips around, braids flying, and shoots just before the toes of her sneakers touch the foul line, the muscles in her right arm bunching and flexing as she gives the ball a strong push with the palm of her right hand. But her aim is off by just a hair and she miscalculates the strength necessary for such a shot and the ball goes sailing through the air, clear over the basket and lands with a soft, harmless thwumpfh in the grass just beyond the old, abused asphalt of the court.
“Shit... man...” Shane can hear Papi groan under her breath as she sucks her teeth, hands settling on her hips as she stares at the ball nestled in the grass. She looks up at the basket and then back down at the ball, as though she's having some strange and silent conversation with the basket – maybe asking it why it didn't jump up to catch the ball from her - communicating disappointment that has an edge of betrayal to it. There's no way Shane can know for sure, of course - she's only guessing - but one thing she does know is that Papi's not pleased.
Shaking her head to herself, Papi trots off the court to retrieve the ball, scooping it out of the thicket of knee-deep grass and tossing it back and forth from one hand to the other and back again and she does it so quickly and so gracefully, Shane can't even see the moments where the ball actually ever touches her fingers.
She's just so... so... Shane doesn't really know a word for what Papi is, but Jenny would. Jenny would know all sorts of words and she can hear Jenny supplying them for her in her head, filling in the blanks...
So... arrogant..?
So...insolent?
Sooo... obnoxious?
SO... completely and utterly full of fucking shit?
The last one causes the corner of Shane's lips to quirk. Not a fifty-cent word or buck-fifty phrase, but Jenny always has a way of putting things and making even the simplest, cliche phrases sound good.
“Ohfuck!” The yelp startles her and Shane looks over to find Papi standing there, slightly wide-eyed, chest heaving as she steps back onto the court. She's been spotted. Shit. “Jesus Christ, man! Fuck you just standin' there like that for? You scared the shit outta me!"
"Sorry, Pops," she murmurs dispassionately. She takes a moment and glances around. "Uhh... so where are all your, uhh... 'homies'?"
"Oh, you know, they, uhh... they had scheduling conflicts, like," Papi says, bouncing the ball from hand to hand, shrugging and looking suspiciously innocent while at the same time appearing especially nonchalant. "You know. Previous engagements and shit." The doubtfulness Shane's feeling at Papi's excuses must show on her face, because Papi is quick to try to change the subject, giving the ball a firm bounce on the asphalt and catching it in both hands. "Yo, so you gonna stand there and stare at my culo all night long or did you come to play some ball, Vanilla?"
Shane makes a face as she unzips her hoodie and tosses it on the bleachers as she moves to step onto the court. Papi, for her part, stares openly and unapologetically, bouncing the ball from hand to hand, and a devilish grin lights up her sultry features.
"What, not wearing your cute l'il jersey this time?" Papi teases, grinning as she deftly bounces the ball through her legs and catching it behind her, bringing it back in front of her to dribble some more. Shane just stands there and crosses her arms over her chest, looking unamused. "Ah, shit. C'mon, gringa, I'm just fuckin' with you," Papi grumbles, sounding exasperated. "Lighten up."