Jainie (spooky_cupcake) wrote in lilpinkfic, @ 2008-03-20 22:58:00 |
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Current mood: | busy |
Entry tags: | jenny, no looking back, shane, shenny, shenny fanfic |
No Looking Back (2/?) - Over and Out
Title: No Looking Back
Chapter: 2 - Over and Out
Summary: Packing and planning and so forth.
Fandom: The L Word
Pairing: Shane/Jenny (AU; Shenny coming eventually!)
Notes: This is set during 4x12, but it's an AU. Jenny never gets into the boat to drift off into nowhere. Here's what I would much rather have had happen. But I never do get what I want. *sigh*
Disclaimer: They're mine until further notice (ie. until Ilene quits fucking their storylines up)!
Clothes, check. Underwear, check. Shampoo, conditioner, socks, toothbrush, toothpaste, mint floss. Oh – comb. Grab that from the vanity. Sounder's leash, on the counter in the kitchen. Cigarettes – we're getting those... somewhere. Lighter? Lighter. In purse.
Everything, mostly my whole life, packed away in my bag. Wallet, keys, checkbook, laptop bag – zipped up with its charger and ready to go – all of it neatly stowed and some of it not so neatly stowed, because I'm in a rush and there's not enough time to find a big enough bag to fit everything in. The bag bulges out on both sides like the stitches are ready to pop and I'd be embarrassed, but ... well, it's a small bag, so I have some kind of an excuse.
If I looked closer at my hands, I'd see that they were shaking. I can't see them right now, but I can feel them and can feel the shaking and that's what makes me feel embarrassed, my face feeling impossibly warm. She's watching me and I can feel it. Watching me as I scurry here and there, trying to get my tiny life fitted into a tiny bag for her.
On my third or fourth trip to the closet to peer into it, I draw one foot up and then the other, slipping my heels off and tossing them into the closet. They aren't going with me. Hands on my hips, I stare into the closet, frowning as I try to think if I've forgotten anything --
“Jenny...”
“Oh! I know, I know... I'm so sorry,” I say, turning to her, covering my mouth with my hand. “We're supposed to be gone by now, aren't we? Oh, my god...”
“No, it's okay,” she laughs, eyes shining and some of the tension in her shoulders gives way and she finally seems to relax a bit. “You want some coffee? I could make us some.”
“Nooo... oh, no, it's – I'm almost done, I swear,” I insist, hurrying back over to the bed and double and triple-checking my laptop bag to make sure I have everything. Pens, highlighters, a wirebound notebook, pencils.
“Did you... want me to feed Sounder?” I hear her voice coming from the doorway and inwardly cringe. She's so anxious to leave and I know it. “Before we --”
“No, no – he's fine,” I say, smiling as I turn my attention to the beach bag I've shoved all of my other possessions into, crawling up onto the bed to squeeze it closed with both forearms as I struggle to get it zipped closed. I can hear her chuckling and I look over at her, mouth hanging open as my hands settle on my hips as I try to look scandalized. I probably do look silly, on my hands and knees on the unmade bed as I fight with the bag that doesn't want to be closed. “Well, you come over here and help me, then!”
“Okay, okay...” she says, holding up both hands yieldingly even as she pushes away from the doorframe and moves over to the bed. She stands there at the foot of my bed, hands on her hips as she considers the overstuffed bag, brows knitted together as she figures out the best angle to approach it. “Okay. Let me hold it and you zip. Okay?”
“Kay,” I say, sitting back on my heels to give her enough room as she leans over the bag, her baggy white t-shirt hanging off of her, giving me a view straight down its crewneck to see the long stretch of smooth skin covering firm muscle from her neck all the way down to the studded belt she's wearing and, miraculously, my face doesn't get hot and I don't blush – at least I don't think I do – and give myself away. I can see the muscles in her arms straining as she grabs the halves of the bag and carefully draws them together, though it takes obvious effort as her muscles along her arms bunch and bulge.
“Jen --” she says expectantly, turning her head to look at me and she laughs. “What's with you, today? Are you okay? You keep zoning out...”
“What? Oh... ohh! Oh, I'm sorry. Here – fuck,” I mumble, leaning in and to one side as I reach my hand between her forearms, feeding it through to reach the zipper tab. Grabbing hold of the end of the zipper, I give the tab a pull and with Shane helping me and still keeping the bag under control, I manage to draw the zipper along, coaxing it over to the other side, over the rebellious bulge of my clothes and my shoes and my life. “There! All done.”
She straightens up and seems pleased, smiling down at me and there's something in the smile that makes me a little self-conscious, but I don't know why. “So you're going in that?”
“What?” I ask, blinking at her in confusion.
“Jen... your dress...” she says, pointing to indicate my clothes.
Looking down at myself, I can see that I'm still wearing the dress I wore to the party. Oh, shit. There's no way I can wear this. “Oh, my god,” I mutter as I crawl off of the bed, arms already curling behind my back to try to reach my zipper. She's right: where the fuck is my head, today?
“No, no – here, let me,” she says, already slipping up behind me, gently brushing my hair to one side, onto my left shoulder. I feel her hand brush against mine and I draw both of my hands away, folding them together in front of me and holding perfectly still as she unzips my dress for me. Biting my lip, a light, aberrant shiver courses through my body, taking me by surprise as I feel the backs of her fingers dragging over my skin as she draws down the zipper.
“Thank you,” I say softly, smiling as I feel the excess energy of the tugging as the zipper reaches the end of its teeth.
Looking back and up, I meet her eyes and she's so close. My throat closes around whatever words I might want to say and I don't look away as I peel the clinging fabric off of my chest, revealing the full slip I'm wearing. She looks back at me and doesn't move. She doesn't move an inch and I'm undressing in front of her and she's not moving.
My dress slithers off and lands in a puddle around my feet and I can feel myself turning around to face her and I'm clutching my hands together between my breasts and I can feel the warmth of her. Familiar and inviting and then her hands are on my arms, dry and warm, sliding up along my biceps to my shoulders and grasping there and I lean into her, my hands still clasped against my chest and my eyes close and I don't know what I'm waiting for. Her lips touch my forehead, pressing there just briefly.
“I'll go make us some coffee,” she whispers and the amused fondness and reassurance in her voice makes something in my stomach curdle. She gives my shoulders a careful squeeze and starts backing away. When she releases me, I feel like a puppet whose strings have just been cut. Something on the inside just slumps and collapses.
“Okay,” I reply, eyes fluttering open as I look up at her and smile my biggest and brightest smile for her. “I'll be ready to go when it's done. I promise.”
“That's okay, take your time,” she says with an understanding chuckle as she heads out of my bedroom, bound for the kitchen, pulling the door to as she goes.
Easing myself down, I settle on the edge of the bed with a dispondent plop, hands landing in my lap as I sigh.
As if things weren't already fucking complicated enough. I'm in love with my best friend in the entire world, in my entire life, and we're going on a road trip together. In close quarters, constant contact, for who knows how long – however long she decides we need to be away. And what's worse, is that I'm in love with her and she doesn't seem to have a clue. No, she just doesn't have a clue at all.
Ahh, fuck.
Smoothing my hands over my hair, wiping at my eyes, I glance around my room one last time. Everything I really need is in two small bags behind me on the bed. It's all there. All the baggage, real and imagined and otherwise.
Sighing to myself, my hands push at my knees as I force myself to stand and cross over to the dresser. The slip and my bra are removed and tossed aside and I dig some ratty, beautifully comfortable old jeans out of one of the bottom drawers, along with a white v-neck t-shirt. The jeans go on over my hose and the shirt goes over my bare breasts and a pair of nubbly old gym socks and my battered black sneakers go over my feet. All the dangerous parts of me covered.
I gather my hair back into my hands, shaking my head to myself as I move over to the vanity to get a ponytail holder. Catching a glimpse of my reflection, I can see the first hesitant orange-gold rays of the sun starting to drip through the window and I can see her there in the glass, too, shaking her head at me, and the exasperation there. “Don't be stupid,” she says to me as she gathers up my hair in a tight tail. Her tiny fingers fan out to open up a ponytail holder and slip it around and around, binding it securely and I can't look away. “She's your best friend. Don't be silly. Okay? Don't. Just don't. The only reason she asked you to go along is because she didn't want to ask Alice, because Alice is going to want to stay with Tasha until she leaves and Shane didn't want to be selfish. She asked you because you were there. That's all. Do not fuck it up.”
“I know,” I say to myself, sighing as I fuss at the mirror, somehow tearing my gaze away. Hands reaching for a bottle of perfume and daubing it at my wrists and throat, the movement reflexive and yet I know I'm just keeping my hands busy so that I can distract my brain from thinking about what it wants to think about. “I know, I know.”
Looking up at the mirror again, I force another smile, but it lasts about as long as my career as a screenwriter. The smile dropping away like overripe fruit off of a tree, I bury my face in my hands with a groan. Is this a good idea? Running off, running away with Shane this way? It couldn't possibly be a good idea. No way could it be a good idea.
The longer I'd tried to put it off, the more I tried to tell myself that it didn't matter and that we were only friends – just friends – and that was all we would ever be, the more my brain and my heart insisted I was wrong and kept trying to get me to play along. I can't let myself think it, can't let my mind entertain the thought for even a second, because... because. It's dangerous. My relationship with Shane is one of – the – most important relationship in my world and it's the deepest, most amazing friendship I've ever known. How the fuck could I fuck it all up just like that? On a whim? I can't. I just can't do it.
Drawing in a deep breath, I push it out of my lungs purposefully and force myself to look up again and meet my own eyes and I'm mortified to see these huge, watery eyes staring back at me with this look in them like a drowning woman. Helpless, terrified. Lacing my fingers together, hands clasped beneath my chin and I'm silently pleading with myself.
Seeing movement out of the corner of my eye, I feel something inside me jump and let out a burst of panicked adrenaline and I look over just in time to see Shane hovering in the doorway, clearing her throat. I must have taken a lot longer in here than I thought. “Um... coffee's ready,” she says, holding up a travel mug, already full and lidded. “Soy milk and a little sugar, right?”
“Yes, thank you,” I say, smiling brightly in thanks as I move to take the mug, taking a careful sip. She has her mug, too, and she looks past me, to the bed. "Mm, it's perfect. Thank you very, very much."
“All set?” She asks, arching her eyebrow as she looks at me.
“Don't sound so surprised,” I pout, swatting at her playfully. “I tried to hurry!”
Shane laughs. “Okay, grab your laptop and Sounder and I'll get the rest.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, frowning at her even as I move to grab my laptop case from the bed.
“Totally. You've got Sounder's travel bag, right?” Shane says, slipping up beside me to grab my overstuffed shoulder bag, muscles drawing taut along her arm from the weight of it.
“Oh, my god! His bag. I forgot all about it,” I squeak as I hurry over to the closet and pull down Sounder's soft-sided kennel bag. “I wonder if I should leave some snacks with him. He's got all of his little beef and salmon chewies that he likes. I'll put those in with him. They'll probably have dog food there already, right?”
“I'm gonna go load the car,” Shane murmurs, sounding amused as I fuss over packing up Sounder's things. He doesn't have much, yet, but he should have some of the comforts of home while we're gone. I make sure to put in his favorite squeaky toy and a reversible coat for outside walks and his tiny puppy pjs and then I'm calling for Sounder as I lug my laptop and his bag and my coffee and my purse out of my room. Skittering tiny paws and he's yipping and bouncing and spinning in hyper orange circles at my feet. “Okay, boy. C'mere, Sounder. You're coming with me and Shane and we're all going for a ride. But not the bad kind of a ride. We'll be dropping you off at a place where a nice lady or a nice gentleman will be taking care of you while Shane and I take a little trip...”
More yipping and he follows after me happily as I shuffle into my writing room, placing my laptop case and coffee on the desk. Kneeling down, I open the travel bag and scoop Sounder up and place him inside, bending over a bit to give him a good scritching and kiss the top of his head. He's panting and whining a little as I reach for the zipper on the bag.
“Aww, I think he's gonna miss you,” Shane says as she comes back into the house, hands stuffed into her pockets. She's put her black jacket back on, her scarf, and she looks on with a worried wrinkle set between her eyebrows.
“I'll miss him, too,” I say sadly, giving him several more kisses and nuzzling his darling orange fur before I close the bag. “But we can either leave him at a kennel or we deal with really cute puppy puke in the car.”
“Point,” she replies with a smirk. “Want me to take him?”
“Oh, would you? Please?” I ask, glancing up at her with a smile as I stand and straighten. “I need to go find the phone book and then we'll be all set.”
“Okay,” she says, lips curving in a warm smile as she stoops, long fingers curling around the handles on Sounder's travel bag and she very carefully stands up straight, holding the bag steady so that he isn't jostled about inside. “Don't forget to lock up,” she calls back as she heads for the door, too preoccupied with trying to keep Sounder steady to look back at me as she does so.
“I won't,” I call back, grinning at her slow progress as I retrieve the phone book off of my bookshelf and tuck it under my arm, snag my laptop, my coffee and my purse and fish my keys out of my bag.
For a second, as I'm shutting the front door and locking it, it occurs to me that I should leave a note, but I think better of it. We're already late getting going and I have the feeling that Shane wants to be gone before anybody else gets back. Before anybody else can stop us from going.
I feel almost like a criminal, running off with some huge bag of money – getting out of town before the police or the mob or whoever realizes that it's gone.
I wonder, just for a moment, if Shane felt like this when she left Carmen at the altar, but I shove the thought away before it can really take hold and take a seat at the forefront of my mind. Locking the door, I schlep my things down to the Jeep and help Shane get everything loaded. When we finish packing and Shane has closed the tailgate, we look over at each other at the same moment. I crack a tiny, meek smile and she grins. It's still quite early – too early for most people in the neighborhood to be up, yet – and it's so quiet, I feel like I'm in a church. There's still a slight chill in the air and everything seems so peaceful. Funny, how the place you're at always appears so welcoming and wonderful right as you're leaving.
Before I know it, we're hopping into the front – Shane, Sounder and me – and backing out of the driveway and the tires squeal against the street as we veer off and pull away from the house.
So long, Spaulding Square. Hello... wherever the hell we're going...
Chapter music: "This is Just the Beginning," by The Reason, as Shane and Jenny burn rubber