Post by PeroxidePirate on Oct 29, 2010 11:10:45 GMT 10
Title: Kinds of Different
Rating: PG-13
Length: about 1000 words
Category: Tortall
Summary: Alanna and Gary talk, the morning after an interesting night.
Peculiar Pairing: Alanna/Gary
Alanna's first thought was that her head hurt. She forced her eyes open, and then closed them again: even through the shades, the morning light was much, much too bright. It was just past dawn, so she hadn't had very much sleep -- not that she remembered what time she'd gotten home, exactly.
The party had been at a posh eating house in Corus, a celebration of... a betrothal, maybe? It was in honor of a knight a few years older than Alanna's friends, someone she didn't know well. The important thing was that all her friends had been there; and one and all, they'd had rather too much to drink.
But... the others had told terrible jokes, and flirted shamelessly with any ladies in the vicinity, and hurled insults at one another.
Only Alanna had wound up standing on top of a table and singing.
She'd have to leave court. There was no way she could face any of them again.
Well... if she was very, very lucky, the others wouldn't remember the night at all. She could barely keep track of what had happened, after all -- and hadn't she been the one to help Jon to his room?
She was quite clear on that part: her arm around his waist, trying to force him to walk in a straight line. His arm over her shoulder, hand grabbing at her chest -- in spite of it being bound flat.
She felt a moment of horror. What if it wasn't, what if she'd loosened her corset, what if..?
She looked. No: she was still bound tight -- Goddess, that was going to hurt, later. She never slept in her bindings. Nothing for it now, though. She had to face this day. She'd just have to endure until night.
Then she'd make Jonathan kiss it better.
She sat up. She didn't want to deal with him first thing this morning. It would be, "Squire, get me this. Squire, do that," nevermind her own headache.
She washed her face, cleaned her teeth, and dressed as quietly as she could. She put on her softest shoes and padded out of the room.
Alanna thought about saddling her horse, but the stableyard was paved. She didn't think she could handle the sound of horseshoes on stone -- not for a while, yet. Instead she detoured through the kitchen, grabbing a full waterskin and a couple of turnovers. She wasn't hungry yet, but she might be later.
After a while, she found herself walking through the Royal Forest, rather aimlessly. The longer she could stay out here, the longer until she had to talk to Jon, or anyone.
Then she turned a corner, just as Gary turned the corner from the other side. They came within inches of crashing into each other. Alanna yelped.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"Same as you, I guess," he said with a smile. "Didn't think you'd be up and about yet."
Alanna's fists clenched by her sides. It was all she could do not to bury her face in her hands. "I don't want to talk about it."
He laughed. "Relax. Alan, everyone there was somewhat worse, or better, for wine."
"Yes, but I'm the only one who..." She stopped herself; if he didn't remember, she wouldn't be the one to tell him.
He grinned wickedly. "You're the only one who climbed on top of a table to sing and dance."
"And dance? I was hoping I imagined all that." She leaned back against a tree, closing her eyes.
"There you go again, thinking you have to be the same as everyone else." His voice sounded very close. "I've said it before, but apparently it didn't stick: maybe we like you because you're different."
"Yes, but there's different, and then there's dancing-on-tables different."
"Alan, look at me."
She opened her eyes. Her large friend was standing close enough to touch, though his arms were crossed nonchalantly over his chest.
"You're not the only one who's different." He stretched out an arm, resting his hand against the tree truck beside Alanna's head. "And you're not the only one who wasn't flirting with the ladies."
She met his eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing in her head enough to parse that statement. Now that he mentioned it, she realized he hadn't been much involved in the revelry.
Could Gary know her secret, then? No; he seemed to be suggesting that they were alike. She could see the roughness to his cheeks -- he hadn't shaved yet that morning -- and the shape of his adam's apple. She looked away. Gary's hand, planted beside her head, was most definitely a man's hand.
When she looked back, he'd moved even closer. He brought his free hand up, tossling Alanna's hair. Then he slid his palm to the back of her head, leaned down, and kissed her.
"Oh." The sound slid out with an intensity she hadn't expected; hadn't meant.
"I've seen the way you look at Jonathan sometimes," he said softly. "Or George, once in a while. Alan, I understand."
"No, you don't," she said fiercely. She reached out, pushing at his chest. "You don't understand at all. This can't happen, Gary. This is not happening. This didn't happen."
He didn't budge. "Don't you like it?" he said, lazily trailing his thumb over her lips. His other arm was still braced against the tree trunk, taking part of his weight. She wondered if she could sweep his legs out from under him; if she could dart past him before he landed and pinned her to the ground.
He kissed her again, his whole body closing with hers. And yes, once or twice she'd looked at him the way she looked at Jon. Yes, she liked kissing him. Part of her wanted to keep kissing, but she knew where that would lead. And quite apart from what she had with Jonathan, she couldn't let anyone else know her true identity.
"Stop it," she hissed, when they broke. "It doesn't matter. This can't happen." This time she didn't try to push; instead she ducked under his outstretched arm, darting out of reach and glaring at his back. "Leave it be, all right? I'm not interested."
He turned to face her, looking disappointed and bewildered. "Alan, I'm sorry."
"No harm done," she said gruffly. "Let it go." She started to walk away.
"Alan?” he called after her, voice tentative but intense.
“It never happened,” she repeated. She kept walking.
Rating: PG-13
Length: about 1000 words
Category: Tortall
Summary: Alanna and Gary talk, the morning after an interesting night.
Peculiar Pairing: Alanna/Gary
Alanna's first thought was that her head hurt. She forced her eyes open, and then closed them again: even through the shades, the morning light was much, much too bright. It was just past dawn, so she hadn't had very much sleep -- not that she remembered what time she'd gotten home, exactly.
The party had been at a posh eating house in Corus, a celebration of... a betrothal, maybe? It was in honor of a knight a few years older than Alanna's friends, someone she didn't know well. The important thing was that all her friends had been there; and one and all, they'd had rather too much to drink.
But... the others had told terrible jokes, and flirted shamelessly with any ladies in the vicinity, and hurled insults at one another.
Only Alanna had wound up standing on top of a table and singing.
She'd have to leave court. There was no way she could face any of them again.
Well... if she was very, very lucky, the others wouldn't remember the night at all. She could barely keep track of what had happened, after all -- and hadn't she been the one to help Jon to his room?
She was quite clear on that part: her arm around his waist, trying to force him to walk in a straight line. His arm over her shoulder, hand grabbing at her chest -- in spite of it being bound flat.
She felt a moment of horror. What if it wasn't, what if she'd loosened her corset, what if..?
She looked. No: she was still bound tight -- Goddess, that was going to hurt, later. She never slept in her bindings. Nothing for it now, though. She had to face this day. She'd just have to endure until night.
Then she'd make Jonathan kiss it better.
She sat up. She didn't want to deal with him first thing this morning. It would be, "Squire, get me this. Squire, do that," nevermind her own headache.
She washed her face, cleaned her teeth, and dressed as quietly as she could. She put on her softest shoes and padded out of the room.
Alanna thought about saddling her horse, but the stableyard was paved. She didn't think she could handle the sound of horseshoes on stone -- not for a while, yet. Instead she detoured through the kitchen, grabbing a full waterskin and a couple of turnovers. She wasn't hungry yet, but she might be later.
After a while, she found herself walking through the Royal Forest, rather aimlessly. The longer she could stay out here, the longer until she had to talk to Jon, or anyone.
Then she turned a corner, just as Gary turned the corner from the other side. They came within inches of crashing into each other. Alanna yelped.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"Same as you, I guess," he said with a smile. "Didn't think you'd be up and about yet."
Alanna's fists clenched by her sides. It was all she could do not to bury her face in her hands. "I don't want to talk about it."
He laughed. "Relax. Alan, everyone there was somewhat worse, or better, for wine."
"Yes, but I'm the only one who..." She stopped herself; if he didn't remember, she wouldn't be the one to tell him.
He grinned wickedly. "You're the only one who climbed on top of a table to sing and dance."
"And dance? I was hoping I imagined all that." She leaned back against a tree, closing her eyes.
"There you go again, thinking you have to be the same as everyone else." His voice sounded very close. "I've said it before, but apparently it didn't stick: maybe we like you because you're different."
"Yes, but there's different, and then there's dancing-on-tables different."
"Alan, look at me."
She opened her eyes. Her large friend was standing close enough to touch, though his arms were crossed nonchalantly over his chest.
"You're not the only one who's different." He stretched out an arm, resting his hand against the tree truck beside Alanna's head. "And you're not the only one who wasn't flirting with the ladies."
She met his eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing in her head enough to parse that statement. Now that he mentioned it, she realized he hadn't been much involved in the revelry.
Could Gary know her secret, then? No; he seemed to be suggesting that they were alike. She could see the roughness to his cheeks -- he hadn't shaved yet that morning -- and the shape of his adam's apple. She looked away. Gary's hand, planted beside her head, was most definitely a man's hand.
When she looked back, he'd moved even closer. He brought his free hand up, tossling Alanna's hair. Then he slid his palm to the back of her head, leaned down, and kissed her.
"Oh." The sound slid out with an intensity she hadn't expected; hadn't meant.
"I've seen the way you look at Jonathan sometimes," he said softly. "Or George, once in a while. Alan, I understand."
"No, you don't," she said fiercely. She reached out, pushing at his chest. "You don't understand at all. This can't happen, Gary. This is not happening. This didn't happen."
He didn't budge. "Don't you like it?" he said, lazily trailing his thumb over her lips. His other arm was still braced against the tree trunk, taking part of his weight. She wondered if she could sweep his legs out from under him; if she could dart past him before he landed and pinned her to the ground.
He kissed her again, his whole body closing with hers. And yes, once or twice she'd looked at him the way she looked at Jon. Yes, she liked kissing him. Part of her wanted to keep kissing, but she knew where that would lead. And quite apart from what she had with Jonathan, she couldn't let anyone else know her true identity.
"Stop it," she hissed, when they broke. "It doesn't matter. This can't happen." This time she didn't try to push; instead she ducked under his outstretched arm, darting out of reach and glaring at his back. "Leave it be, all right? I'm not interested."
He turned to face her, looking disappointed and bewildered. "Alan, I'm sorry."
"No harm done," she said gruffly. "Let it go." She started to walk away.
"Alan?” he called after her, voice tentative but intense.
“It never happened,” she repeated. She kept walking.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!