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collecting-stories · 4 years

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The Formal - ep. 05 - Georgia

Summary: You’re forced to endure the winter formal but you can’t resist cutting out early.

A/N: How are we liking this rewrite so far guys?

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

You had tried in vain, until almost the last possible moment, to get Glenn to take you to the winter formal instead of Aiden. With Maggie only showing up to see you in your dress and then go back home you were stuck with no one to talk to. Aiden had asked you back in September, when you had just broken up with Shane and wanted to appear totally over him, if you would consider going with him to the winter formal.

You had jumped on the opportunity, figuring it wasn’t a big deal. You would go, hang out with Maggie and Glenn, then leave. It would be painless. Now you were stuck in a car with Aiden and his moron friends driving to the banquet hall in Woodbury while they passed around a flask of alcohol one of them stole from their parents.

“Hey,” Aiden nudged your arm with the metal flask and you shook your head. “Aw, come on. Be a good sport.”

“I don’t drink out of strange containers.” You replied.

“More for me!” He was already halfway to sloppy drunk as it was and he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you against him. You nearly cringed. Part of you was seriously considering finding Shane and asking him to bail you out of this dance.

The banquet hall was tacky in its decoration. Giant poster board snowflakes hung from the ceiling along with blue and silver garland. Balloons were everywhere and there was a sparkly silver backdrop outside for couples to get their picture taken. Aiden coaxed you over in that direction with his friends, all of them posing in some obscene way while you stood off to the side, arms crossed over your chest. You knew you looked like a spoiled brat refusing to have fun but you didn’t care. All these guys were stupid and immature and none of your friends had come to the formal and you really wished you were sitting at Daryl’s doing homework while he worked on the car.

“I’m getting punch.” You announced to no one in particular. None of them were paying you even the slightest attention.

The music inside the banquet hall was terrible. Arguably the worst blend of hick country and radio pop that you had ever heard but no unexpected for this part of Georgia. You checked your pager once you got to your designated table. No messages.

“Hey,” Shane’s hands came down on your bare shoulders and you fought off a frown, of all the people to get stuck with while Aiden was in the lobby being a douche with his friends.

“Hey Shane,” you pulled away from him and stood up, crossing your arms. Your lavender colored dress was partially an ode to Footloose and the excitement you’d had when you first bought it was worn down to nothing now. “Where’s your date?”

“Dancing with friends.” He shrugged, “you look great.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, listen-” just as he started to talk you caught sight of Aiden coming into the hall.

“Oh, sorry Shane. I have to go.” You hurried passed him and linked your arm with Aiden’s, fake smile falling into place, “do you wanna dance?”

“Sure babe.”

You danced with Aiden on and off, trying to stay close to him to avoid Shane. You smiled through a painful hour and a half of pretending to have a good time. When Aiden finally headed for the table you used it as an out, excusing yourself to the bathroom. A few other girls were in there, whispering to each other as you entered and sequestered yourself in the handicap stall. You checked your pager again, hoping that someone might have messaged you but no one had.

You didn’t want to go back out there with Aiden and his friends but you knew that your mom would be furious if you came home now. She had put so much time and work into the dance and the decorations and the PTA that leaving would be like telling her you hated it all. Not a rational thought but your mother was never known for rationality. There was a payphone in the vestibule of the banquet hall that you had passed on the way inside and some coins at the bottom of your purse so you called for a ride home, knowing your mom wouldn’t find out as long as Aiden didn’t see you leave.

The familiar black pickup pulled up in front of the banquet hall that you were standing outside of, braving the cold so you didn’t have to go back inside. He’d barely ghosted to a stop when you opened the door and climbed inside.

“Sorry,” you immediately apologized as you pulled yourself up into Daryl’s truck. There was a forgotten sweatshirt on the floor that you pulled onto your lap and slipped your arms through in an attempt to get warm. “I didn’t meant to make you come out I just wasn’t sure who else to call.”

You could’ve probably called Glenn or Tara but then you wouldn’t get to see Daryl looking somewhat like he had just rolled out of bed.

“It’s fine.” He shrugged, “ya weren’t having fun?”

“No. Aiden is a douche, I can’t stand him. My. mom was happy I was going with him ya know, cause his mom is the mayor but I can’t stand him!”

“So ya said.”

“Sorry, it was just a shitty night. I was only looking forward to it because Maggie and Glenn were going to be there but-”

“Maggie’s grounded.” Daryl supplied.

“Yeah.” You nodded and smiled. “I didn’t mean to drag you out of whatever you were doing.”

“Wasn’t doing anything.” He replied, pulling the truck out of the parking lot and heading back toward King County. “Am I supposed to take ya home or ya got somewhere else to go?”

“What time is it? If I leave before the dance is all done my mom will definitely know. She has to come clean up though so if I time it right-”

“I’ll just take ya back to mine.” Daryl cut in, “got something ya can change into.”

“Thank you.”

“Ya look nice, by the way.” He was glad that it was dark in the truck because he could feel how warm his cheeks and ears were getting. He felt stupid for saying anything but he couldn’t help himself. You looked beautiful in your formal dress and it all felt a little surreal, even at 22, that he would be driving a girl home from her prom. Daryl was not the kind of guy that had ever gone to prom or even gone on a date before.

“Thanks,” you nestled further into his sweatshirt as he drove you back to his house.

He pulled in behind the Jeep, covered by a tarp so no one would notice it in his driveway. His dad’s car wasn’t out front so he led you inside the house first, offering up his old room so you could change. Whatever kind of kid Daryl had been you weren’t entirely sure but there was some evidence in his old bedroom. A single bed with plaid covers, stacks of magazines about cars and hunting, old scraps of metal and tools that he had probably used or still did. A far cry from the peach walls and stacks of books and Emory college memorabilia that covered the walls.

“Your room is nice.”

“Ya really like ta bullshit don’t ya?” Daryl called from the living room.

“I’m not bullshitting.” You slipped out of your dress and changed into the sweatpants and King County middle school field day shirt that Daryl had found in the bottom of his dresser. He’d even given up a clean pair of socks for you to wear. You came back out with your dress folded up in your arms. Daryl was sitting on the couch, watching some infomercial on TV. “Thanks for the clothes.”

“Figured ya still owe me a jacket so I’ll just add it ta yer tab.” He replied, shrugging.

“You said ‘keep it’ when I offered to give the jacket back.” You said, trying to imitate his drawl.

“Yeah not for two months.”

“It’s not been two months,” you dropped onto the couch beside him, “it’s like, the second week of December.”

The trouble with having work on Saturday was that anytime you went out on a Friday night you struggled to get yourself out of bed when the alarm went off. But, usually, the alarm went off and you rolled yourself out of bed against your will and you got to work. A routine that wasn’t your favorite but wasn’t entirely unusual. What was unusual was your pager going off instead of your alarm.

And something moving underneath you.

You opened your eyes as you felt your body being shifted around again and only then did you become fully aware of your surroundings. You weren’t home. You weren’t tucked in bed after the dance, waiting for a cursed alarm to remind you that you had agreed to take a shift at 7am. Instead you were on a couch. Or more accurately, on Daryl, on a couch, in his house.

“Shit.” You cursed, sitting up and grabbing your purse off the ground. The pager flashed a call me message from Patricia and you groaned, climbing off the couch and a just waking Daryl to call her back on the phone in his kitchen.

“Patricia’s Diner-”

“Patty, hi.”

“Oh my gosh, sweetie, there you are. I was just about to call your mom!” Patricia shrieked over the phone. “I was so worried about you! Where are you? Your shift started 30 minutes ago.”

“I’m so sorry, I spent the night at a friend’s house after the dance, I’ll be there in like ten minutes.” You promised.

“Are you alright? You aren’t in trouble?”

“No, Patty I swear I’m fine. I will see you in like ten minutes.” You rushed her through the phone call, promising to see her once more before you hung up. Daryl was still laying on the couch, arm slung over his face. You ran back into the living room and nudged him, “Daryl, wake up.”

“Shit,” Daryl grumbled and rolled away from you.

“Daryl, please.”

“Go away,” his words were half obscured by the couch cushions.

“Fine, I’ll walk home barefoot in December back to my house, freezing cold-”

“I’m gettting up.” Daryl rolled back over onto his back and looked up at you the slightest grin on his face as he came further out of his haze.

“Will you drive me home to change and possibly to work?” You asked.

“Didn’t know fixing yer jeep meant I was your chauffer too.” He said, getting up and heading into the bathroom.

“Thank you!”

Daryl did exactly what you asked, driving you first to your house to change out of the sweatpants and t-shirt that he had lent you and then driving you to the diner for work. Neither of you mentioned the position you had woken up in. The ride was usually quiet in fact; even when he dropped you off at the diner you had said a quick goodbye and then gotten out of the truck.

The pager had set you off so much that you hadn’t really gotten a chance to think about the way it felt waking up on the couch with Daryl, tucked in between him the cushions. Your head had been on his chest and the more you thought about it the more your heart raced at the way he had tightened his grip on you just the slightest as you slipped out of his arms to use the phone. While you wished you could’ve stayed there longer you were almost grateful to patty for calling you. At least it gave both of you a quick out so that you didn’t have to embarrass yourself in front of him.

The last thing you needed was to embarrass yourself in front of Daryl.

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Underneath The Mistletoe, Part 1 (Bianca/???) - Albatross

AN: Bianca wakes up with a hangover and limited memories after kissing someone at Alyssa’s holiday party. Although she doesn’t know who it was, it seems someone else (or rather, multiple someone elses), does…and they’re enjoying the free entertainment as she struggles to put the pieces together and find her mystery partner.

Just pretend I released this before the holidays end. Thank you @VeronicaSanders for beta-ing and brainstorming with me.

What. The. Hell. Happened?

Those were Bianca’s immediate thoughts as she came to one very bright, very noisy morning.

The second she opened her eyes, the sun damn near blinded her as the noise outside the house, dogs barking, cars rushing by and the like, assaulted her ears. Pretty much the first thing she noticed was that she was not in her home. No, it looked like she was in…fucking Laganja’s bedroom.

‘Why?’ was her immediate thought as she looked around, completed baffled and dazed. Her mind struggle for a moment but then she finally remembered, ‘Oh, yeah. Last night was their holiday party.’

Alyssa and Laganja always hosted the party two weeks before Christmas and it was always themed. Last year had been tacky, ABC costumes and this year…ugh.

Alyssa had sent out the invitations weeks ago asking everyone to wear something in traditional Christmas colors…and tacked on a suspicious warning at the end; “And none of y’all better be wearing lipstick when you get here. You can just march yourself right to the bathroom and wipe that shit off if you try sneaking in with any!”

The instant Bianca had read that block of text, a red flag had immediately gone up. Hell, a fucking parade of red flags against a backdrop of fireworks went off in her mind.

But still, it was a chance to see her friends before the holidays swallowed up all of her time…and the offer of free booze didn’t hurt Alyssa’s case either. Besides, Bianca figured, how crazy could Alyssa really get with that request?

Well, as it turned out, she had quite the festive and innovative motive for requesting nude lips.

******

Bianca and Adore made plans to arrive at the party together and maybe even carpool on their way home. One might stay at the other’s house depending on how much they drank but that was a concern for much later, Bianca reasoned.

Even before they had stepped inside the tacky, overly decorated house, the party behind its doors sounded to be in full swing. Laughter and mindless chatter echoed onto the front lawn long before they were halfway up the driveway. They barely made it two feet past the door frame before Alyssa flagged them down and held out two tubes of suspiciously unlabeled lipstick before them.

“Take your pick!” she laughed out in excitement.

Far from amused, Bianca asked sarcastically, “What colors are they? Silver and gold?”

“Red and green, smartass! For Christmas!”

“Right. What about Hanukkah?”

“Cute, Miss Thing,” Alyssa remarked with a roll of her eyes. “Now pick one.”

Glancing between the similar tubes, Bianca had to admit there were absolutely no clues about the color each one held. So rather than leaving it chance, Bianca stated flatly, “Red. Which is red?”

Immediately shaking her head, with a Cheshire grin to boot, Alyssa replied, “Uh-uh. Not how it works, baby girl. You gotta pick one.”

“Oh, really?” Bianca sneered as she crossed her arms and stared down her friend. Those ruby red lips of hers had not gone unnoticed, especially given the hard time she was giving Bianca right now. “And you just happened to pick your favorite shade by random chance?”

A flash of guilt swept across Alyssa’s face for just a moment but by the time Adore had started snickering in the background, it was gone and replaced an annoyed pout.

Feeling rather justified, Bianca made a further jab of, “Yeah, that’s what I thought, bitch. Which one is red?”

Alyssa’s response was only to huff but it was easy to see her beginning to try and think of some counter argument or sarcastic remark. Before things could escalate that far, Adore reached over and plucked one of the tubes from Alyssa’s hands.

Quite calmly, she uncapped it and upon seeing the glaring red, promptly handed it over to Bianca.

A smirk was present on both of the women’s faces, particularly when Alyssa grumbled, “Killjoy,” as she handed Adore the remaining tube.

The contents were a bright green, almost too bright for the holidays, and instantly Bianca had a guess as to where it came from.

“Steal that from ‘Ganja?”

Full of indignation at the accusation, Alyssa let out a squawk of, “Borrowed.”

“Like you ‘borrowed’ my green halter last year?” Bianca countered with a scoff at the denial.

“I’m gonna return it!” Alyssa argued even as her voice rose in pitch. Her cheeks were beginning to burn with a light as she mumbled, “Just need to find it again.”

A quick roll of the eyes gave away Bianca’s thoughts on the matter but just in case it wasn’t clear enough already, she added in, “Don’t worry about it. I already snatched it from your laundry basket last month.”

Alyssa was the very picture of beauty and composure as she stared with wide eyes darting back and forth between a smirking Adore and vaguely irritated Bianca. Her mouth was gaping open like a fish as she tried to search the recesses of her mind for some kind of excuse for herself. All she could come up with, however, was a very flimsy and rather grating, “It was an accident!”

“Of course it was.”

Whether it was luck or simply overhearing the chatter of her roommate and not wanting to be left out, Laganja found her way to Alyssa’s side to greet their latest arrivals. She took one look at Bianca and the fresh lipstick on her face and pouted, “Mmph. Wanted to see Bianca with green lips for once.”

“Ha,” Bianca snapped back in a deadpanned tone, “Like I’d be caught dead with that shit on my lips.”

******

Ugh, fucking Laganja .

No doubt she had a hand in choosing this year’s theme. Probably had enough of everyone (mostly Bianca) teasing her for wearing that hideous green lipstick year round.

She was usually a pain to deal with under normal circumstances but last night she was something else entirely, certainly she’d been helped along by the ever flowing alcohol at the party. Even when she greeted Bianca and Adore at the entryway she’d been well on her way to buzzed and probably already high as fuck.

It was a wonder sometimes though; for all that stereotyping about pot smokers being lazy and complacent, little of that seemed to apply to Laganja. The girl was energetic and active as anything, even after smoking whatever productive she could at every given chance. Adore was about the opposite when she smoked; becoming contemplative and almost thoughtful (as much as she could be while high off her ass). But most importantly, she was chill … relaxed.

A little rambly, sure, but nothing so loud or annoying as Laganja was. No whiny, high-pitched voice to grate on her nerves. No overly-emotional outbursts or flaring tempers.

But wasn’t important right now. What Bianca was most concerned about was what happened last night after arriving. She knew she must have drank quite a bit, the fact that she chose to sleep in Laganja’s bed rather than in her own bed was evidence of that. She could only hazard a guess as to what state her hair and makeup must be in…Actually…perhaps it’s best not to think about that right now. Maybe just avoid all reflective surfaces anyway. No, what she needed more than anything, except perhaps coffee, was a nice, hot shower to clean off the paint she slept in last night.

Hopefully, after that and giving herself a chance to wake up a little more, her fucking hangover to end all hangovers would disappear and she’d be able to think clearly once again.

So, with a great effort from her still fatigued body, she pushed herself from the bed and stumbled into the main hallway. It was quiet inside the house and a little unsettling given how late in the morning it was, she expected at least Alyssa to be up and wandering around trying to clean up the mess. But it was damn near silent…apart from a soft snoring coming from the living room.

As stealthily as she could manage, Bianca crept towards the living room to take a quick peek at its state after last night. A quick look around the room confirmed that she was not the only one that had slept over. Adore was nestled on the couch, probably face down and drooling onto the cushions as various examples of Laganja’s hideous throw pillows covered her head and protected her from the sun shining in through the bay window. As for Laganja she was curled up on the other end of the couch, using one arm as a pillow as the other hung off the edge of the couch.

But Adore and Laganja weren’t the only ones sleeping off last night’s drunken escapades in here. After a further glance, Bianca found Willam sprawled out over the loveseat with an arm thrown over her eyes and her messy curls falling across the rest of her face. Even the straps of her dress barely seemed to be holding their place on her shoulders and her heels were missing from her feet. Actually, it seems there was a collection of shoes near the loveseat, Willam’s own likely among them. Adore’s platform boots stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the shiny stilettos and wedges of the remaining guests.

Deep in one of the corners, it seems Raja and Manila had managed to find comfort curled into one another in the constricted space of the recliner. From what Bianca could see, both women’s makeup had been somewhat smeared, particularly their lips. She could only imagine what Willam’s usual glittery mess must look like, especially after her arm had undoubtedly smeared any eyeshadow that was left.

After a quick double-checking to ensure everyone was still fast asleep, Bianca crept out of the house to do her walk of shame in as much privacy as could be managed in broad daylight and a Lyft. To her relief she met no one else aside from her driver as she traveled back to her apartment and proceeded to get ready for a much needed shower. While the water heated up, she finally dared to look in a mirror to begin removing last night’s makeup and it was then that she made a disturbing discovery.

Aside from her own smudged ruby-red lipstick, there was also a very distinct layer of green smeared over top. Not just a small hint of green. No, it was everywhere . It was even fucking extended up her cheek!

Just what the hell happened last night?

Sure, Bianca’s pecked friends on the cheek or lips while drunk before but she’s never made out with anyone!

And who had it been, anyway?

‘Had anyone seen? Taken pictures?’ She wondered.

Oh, god! This is not what she needed to worry about so early in the day. Especially not with a hangover to boot.

‘Okay, just…take a moment,’ she reasoned. ‘Just let everything come back on its own. Don’t force it.’

And of course, what better way to encourage those buried memories to come back than to just let her mind wander in the shower. The warm spray was so relaxing, so calming…It was just what she needed after passing out on a couch.

And sure enough, some of last night’s events did begin to seep into the forefront of her mind.

She remembered…bickering with Laganja a bit more over that hideous green lipstick…mingling with some of her friends for a few minutes and then…

Oh, right! She made her way to the kitchen to grab a drink!

She finished off the first glass of wine alone and then…she poured another before joining the rest of the party again. There was laughing, joking. She was having a great time catching up…But what else?

A number of guests had been wandering around taking photos and videos for Instagram, Facebook and god knows what else. She’d even posed for a few of those and posted one or two herself…and then…

Suddenly a thought flashed through her mind; Raja!

She and Raja had gone around looking for another bottle of wine and stumbled upon Alyssa’s secret stash. The good bottles. The expensive bottles. So of course, they eagerly dipped in and shared what they had found. It was then the party really got interesting and Bianca’s memory began to spread thin.

She remembered laughing, so much harder than before. There were little glimpses but she and the others were having a wonderful time. Someone had their feet up in her lap for a minute before she pushed them off. Probably Adore. But what about after that?

It was foggy…she drank so much but it was fun…

Then there was a vague, thin little memory…Her back was pressed against a doorframe, eyes closed, some kind of… smell …and she was kissing someone…but why?

She tried focusing on what she remembered before the drinking, what she noticed soon after arriving and commented on…what was it?

Mistletoe!

Now she remembered! Alyssa and Laganja had hung that shit all over their house. Bianca had dodged nearly every one of them she found, especially if someone were standing near it. Almost certainly there’d been one above her and whoever she kissed…but why did she let them? Was she really drunk enough to be that messy with one of her friends?

And who the fuck was it?

That was what annoyed her the most. She just couldn’t remember!

But maybe she didn’t have to.

An idea struck her and like a flash, she finished her shower and went to grab her phone. By now most of the photos and video from the party should be posted…maybe someone had caught a snapshot of her without realizing it…But as she looked through all of the updates, she realized this was a tougher challenge than she originally anticipated. Aside from just the pictures, there must have been hours worth of video to watch, thanks to a few of the attendees livestreaming, along with whatever else might posted in their stories.

Ugh…what a pain.

But she had to know.

So for nearly an hour, she sat on her bed in just her towel and scrolled through every picture and video that had been posted by her friends. It was when she came to the sixth profile (Tatianna’s) that she finally struck gold. In the background of one of her stories Bianca caught a glimpse of herself with someone’s hand tucked under her chin. They weren’t kissing just yet but she’d have bet anything that would have come next.

But thanks to whatever stupid filter Tatianna had been using, the background was largely blurry and Bianca could barely make out her own figure, much less someone else’s. Not to mention that annoying habit of Tatianna’s that prevented her from standing still. Her fucking hair blocked out nearly everything that might have made the other woman recognizable. All except that one visible hand. But perhaps the most irritating thing of all was if the story had been just a little longer, Tatianna would have moved just enough to see the other woman’s hair color, something that would be a lot more definitive than just their fucking hand! But no, the universe would have been too kind to allow that.

So frustrating!

Even after playing the story on a loop for five minutes, all Bianca could learn was that the person she kissed had light skin, at least lighter than her own…

‘So Bob’s out,’ she figured.

But…there was something else…She didn’t really remember the person tucking their hand beneath her chin but when she kissed them, she could have sworn they were about her height…she didn’t have to crane her neck too far, she recalled…but also…if her memory could even be trusted, the kiss just felt nice…inviting even. Clearly it was messy judging by the smeared lipstick but there was something just…well, she couldn’t explain it…at least not right now.

But that’s a thought for another time.

‘And when was this posted anyway?’

About 7 hours ago, so…2 AM-ish. Not many people likely to be left at the party by then. She could probably name a few with a little extra effort- Oh!

Alyssa would probably remember. She’d have to text her in a minute. Bianca was certain there was another clue to discover still and sure enough in the next story posted, discounting the one displaying all of the empty glasses and bottles scattered on the kitchen counter, was of Tatianna and Willam . It was still time stamped as 7 hours ago but what caught Bianca’s eye was the heavily smudged green lipstick on Willam’s face…and where certain traces of red could be seen.

‘Oh, god, if it’s her. Fucking Christ, I’ll need to head over to the free clinic.’

But it still wasn’t anything definite. However, it was the best lead Bianca had at the moment until she finds out everyone else who was still at the party. So, as she waited for a response from Alyssa, undoubtedly sleeping in after such a long night, Bianca was going to question Willam on what exactly she remembered of last night’s escapades.

******

Sharon: Biiiitch!

Sharon: You are not gonna believe what I saw last night!

This was the first message Willam saw popping up on her screen after last night’s drunken fiasco; a group text initiated by Sharon including damn near everyone of their mutual friends.

Before anyone could even ask what it was (or why she was texting so early in the goddamn morning), a picture loaded on the screen that undoubtedly had several jaws dropping.

Michelle: Is that BIANCA?!?!

Vanessa: Who’s gonna tell that bitch she got syphilis now?

Jackie: WHORE!

Mariah: When’d she turn into Drinkx?

Jinkx: Fuck you!

Countless messages filled the new chat group, so much that it was almost impossible to read all of them as they came through. Immediately at the sight of the picture, Willam was left doubled over and cackling.

Saving the picture to her phone, she returned her attention back to the chat and found the other members debating on when to tell the involved parties. Some wanted to tell her right away and begin the mandatory teasing, others wanted to wait and keep it as an in-joke for the time being.

The one thing they could all agree on was that this information was, under no circumstances, to be shared with certain people. Alyssa and Katya, first and foremost; two of some of the biggest loudmouths in the group.

And not that ‘rat-snitch Phi Phi’ came another declaration. Otherwise, Bianca would know within the hour.

Further debate went on for nearly an hour until Willam found a new text message alert appearing at the top of her screen. Her eyes lit up with a devilish glint as she returned to the group chat to inform them that Bianca was inviting herself over and of course argued with them on what she ought to do.

Whatever they decide, Willam was intent on having her fun with this.

******

Despite Bianca’s sense of immediacy with her text, Willam did not seem to feel any rush to respond back right away. During the two hours it took for her to reply, Bianca was left stewing in her apartment sending ever urgent messages in the hopes of getting an actual fucking response. So, once the first indication of a reply flashed across her phone, Bianca was off like a shot and racing towards Willam’s home.

In record time, thanks to quite a bit of speeding, she arrived at Willam’s apartment building and began knocking on her door. Nearly the second it opened and she was face-to-face with her exhausted friend, Bianca blurted out, “What do you remember from last night?”

Smirking, Willam shot back, “What? No ‘hello’? No 'Good morning!’ or ‘How about we get some coffee?’”

“Don’t try me, bitch,” she warned as she stalked inside the apartment and made her way to the living room, “I’m not in the mood. What. Do. You. Remember?”

A sense of coy, teasing overlaid itself in Willam’s voice as she asked, “Depends…What do you want to know?”

“Cut the shit, Willam. Do you remember anything from Alyssa’s party?”

“Well…” Willam mocked as she sat down next to her friend, “I remember there was music and food, dancing and drinking. You and Raja raiding Alyssa’s liquor cabinet. Kameron and Asia ducking out early to-”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

Still with a smirk on her lips, Willam taunted her, “Do I?”

The glare shot her way might have intimidated just about anyone else but Willam found it more amusing than anything. It was unusual for Bianca to get so worked up and certainly this wasn’t an opportunity Willam was going to miss, not when it was so enticingly presented before her. But part of her did feel a strange bit of pity for Bianca. Clearly, she must have remembered something about the kiss. Perhaps she was just trying to damage control…for what little good it might do her.

Quickly coming to the end of her patience, Bianca gave a heavy, reluctant sigh before admitted, “I kissed someone last night. I don’t remember who.”

The response, as Bianca expected, was an immediate, loud seal-like laugh that echoed throughout the room. She didn’t think it was meant to be malicious, but it certainly did nothing to relieve the sting of embarrassment she felt following her confession. Nevertheless, a scowl grew across her face as her fingers drummed irritably along the couch’s cushion.

Once she had some control over herself again, minus the snickering that snuck through, Willam asked, “So…you don’t have any idea who was? Seriously?”

Glaring back at her smirking friend, seemingly just for good measure at this point, Bianca replied begrudgingly, “All I know is that they were wearing that stupid green lipstick. It was all over my lips when I woke up this morning…”

With that admission, Willam shrieked with laughter and collapsed onto her side as she threw herself into the couch cushions. A very familiar burn of irritation ran through Bianca’s core and despite herself, she could feel a light blush beginning to rise.

“Fuck off,” she snapped back, “It might’ve been you, cunt!”

At that the laughter doubled and soon Willam was clutching her arms around her sides to keep herself together. “You-” she gasped out between her broken cackling, “You really think-it might’ve been… me?”

Bianca gave an irritable shrug of shoulders and avoided looking directly at Willam for the time. “Might’ve been…There was a picture of you on Tati’s Instagram with your lipstick smudged with someone else’s. Someone that was wearing red.”

Pushing herself up from the cushions, her body still shaking with hidden fits of giggling and that ever present smirk on her face, Willam turned a bit thoughtful as she replied consideringly, “Well…anything’s possible.” It truly was. Her sobriety last night was probably not much better than Bianca’s but at least she remembered some of the events of the party. She knew she probably kissed someone at the party but based on that picture flying around the group chat, Willam knew it wasn’t with Bianca. Still though, this opportunity was just too good to miss. She just had to keep playing along.

“I was drunk and high off my ass most of the night,” she conceded, “I probably could’ve kissed Raven and not remembered it.”

Not exactly the answer Bianca had been hoping for. Ideally, she’d have liked someone to know for sure or at least have evidence. But with Willam and her own shaky memory it seems this might just be left as a mystery.

The disappoint on Bianca’s face was clear to see and before she could really think twice, Willam found herself offering, “Well, we can try it. If you want, I mean.”

The shrug of her shoulders with the suggestion was nonchalant but just maybe, if Willam were honest with herself, the idea did excite her a little. For as long as she could remember, ever since they first met, Bianca’s never really kissed any of their close friends, or at least none too frequently like Willam herself did. It would be an odd night indeed if Willam was drunk around her girlfriends and didn’t makeout with at least one of them. But Bianca was different. She always seemed to turn her nose up at it, or roll her eyes and walk away. Maybe even adding in a snarky comment here and there. All of this behavior left Willam, and probably a few others in the group chat, slightly curious as to what it would be like to kiss her. But certainly they all loved seeing her getting just as messy as them for once.

And with her suggestion, Bianca actually looked to be considering it, to her surprise…though it was taking a bit more time than Willam would have liked. But after a minute of internal debate, Bianca was nodding her head in confirmation.

Seeing the approval on Bianca’s face, Willam leant in closer until their lips were very nearly touching. She stopped just short in case Bianca was going to change her mind at the last second. Both of the women held their breath for just a moment before Bianca closed the gap and let their lips brush together.

It was soft and hesitant at first as Willam let Bianca take the lead. Something in the back of Bianca’s mind worried about crossing a line but deep down she knew that wouldn’t be the case. Not with Willam at least. The situation was strange, Bianca never thought she’d be kissing one her friends while stone-cold sober, but this was actually nice. It wasn’t breath-taking or life altering but it was enjoyable. Willam was really a good kisser but not as forward or domineering as Bianca would have guessed. Perhaps because this wasn’t an effort to take her to bed…just a little experiment to find some answers…and Bianca had to admit, she did find one of them through this kiss.

Pulling away, she noted almost regretfully, “Not you. The kiss last night was just…different from this.”

And it was. She felt comfortable during this kiss alright but not in the same way as what she remembered from the party. Something about that kiss just let her feel totally relaxed, while kissing Willam today, though admittedly fun, still left her feeling tense.

Willam gave her friend a consoling smile and chirped away brightly, “Well, at least you can cross one name off your list.”

“Yeah…”

“Who is on your list by the way?”

Bianca gave a half-defeated sigh of frustration as she pulled out her phone (no new messages of course) and opened her notepad app. Glancing down the list, she grumbled, “I still need Alyssa to get back to me but I know at least there was you…then Manila and Morgan…Trixie…Adore and Alaska…Dela…and Phi Phi. That’s everyone that I know was still at the party after 2 and had that green lipstick.”

“Don’t forget about Laganja,” Willam was quick to add. Bianca shot her very expressive, WTF glare but she reasoned quite soundly, “Well, she does live there and green lipstick is her trademark.”

Wholly unconvinced and even a bit annoyed at the suggestion, Bianca was firm in rebuking the thought, “It wasn’t Laganja. I’d remember that.”

“Not that you remember much.”

“Neither do you, bitch!” she snapped back, growing even more irritable.

Rolling her eyes and letting that particular subject drop for now, Willam moved on to inquire, “So why them? And what’s so special about 2AM?”

“Tati has a story up,” Bianca began with long-suffering sigh as she pulled out her phone and opened up Instagram. Handing the evidence over to her friend, she added, “I can see me just fine but…”

“Just their hand,” Willam murmured, now seeing her problem and murmuring in agreement, “Not much to go on.”

Deciding to throw in her last possible clue, just for the hell of it, Bianca took her phone back and muttered indecisively, “And I think they might’ve been around my height.”

“Then cross off Alaska,” Willam stated brusquely.

Bianca arched a brow at her but Willam was quick to cover for herself with “…She’s too tall.”

Shrugging her shoulders, Bianca deleted the name from the list and immediately another caught her eye that ought to go for the same reason, “Adore’s off, too.”

“And definitely not Morgan,” Willam added in with a shake of her head, “You’d have woken up with a black eye, not green lips if you kissed her.”

And probably true. Raven likely would have decked her if she ever made a move on her girlfriend.

“So that still leaves…Manila, Trixie, Dela, and Phi Phi.”

“And Laganja,” Willam reiterated with a sing-songy tone to her voice and teasing smirk on her lips.

“Not Laganja.”

Another short fit of laughter erupted from Willam at her stubborn insistence. Rolling her eyes, Bianca held her tongue on the matter. She might’ve said something if not for a notification that Alyssa was finally getting back to her. Took her long enough, but then again, it was a late night and she and Laganja were probably cleaning up the mess their guests had left.

But even if Alyssa isn’t able to give her any new information, that still leaves four potential suspects for Bianca to investigate. On a normal day, that might not be so bad, but around the holidays?

Ugh. Who knows when they’ll all get back to her. It’s not like they’re all the greatest at replying promptly anyways. And what if it doesn’t turn out to be any of them? Or if there’s no way to really confirm it? What would she do then?

But like an angel, or maybe devil, coming to her aid, Willam piped up with a cheerful grin and offered, “Hey, let me ask a couple more people and get back to you, okay? I’ll let you know what I find out.”

“Thanks,” Bianca said, feeling a bit more hopeful. Maybe with Willam’s help, she really could figure this out…or maybe it’ll all blow up in her face thanks to Willam’s big mouth.

Well, for now, she’s finally got ahold of Alyssa so she’s off to find out what she knows.

******

The instant Bianca was out of sight, Willam had her phone in hand and was rapidly typing away in the chat.

Willam: Ladies!

Willam: None of you are going to believe what just happened

Within seconds the chat came alive again and Willam basked in the attention as she recalled every little detail of Bianca’s visit for their entertainment and amusement.

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flashhwing · 5 years

Text

oh my god they were roommates

How nice would it be if Steph could just move to Bludhaven? And it could be her and Cass again, and things would be like they used to except they’d be Nightwing and Batgirl insead of Batgirl and Spoiler. Just like old times. Actually ... What was keeping Steph in Gotham? She very well could just up and leave, couldn’t she?

Pairing: StephCass Word Count: 2.2k

(AO3)

Steph peered at her reflection in the mirror and poked at the budding bruise on her cheek with a small harrumph! It didn’t look that bad. It was barely purple and didn’t cover her whole face or anything.

Her ribs, on the other hand, were a whole other story. But Alfred had already wrapped those to the best of his incredibly impressive ability, so she figured that was fine. She was fine. More importantly, Batgirl had been more than fine out in the field, and three arms dealer jerkfaces were behind bars thanks to her, and she definitely didn’t need or deserve the Bitchman bitching about it.

“You’re still reckless,” she muttered in her best mocking tone. It sounded nothing like Bruce, but she thought she got the main (bitchy) essence. “You almost let them get away.”

Steph pulled a face. Almost was the operative word there. Again, three whole jerkfaces! Behind bars! Because of a lead that she found and she followed! And okay, maybe she’d gotten a little ahead of herself, maybe she didn’t notice the crowbar in time, but she still maintained that she would’ve gotten a handle on the situation and finished them off without Batman’s help, thank you very much.

“You are a strong, independent Batgirl,” Steph said, jutting out her chin and pointing exaggeratedly at her reflection. “Who don’t need no Batman.”

But really, it wasn’t even Batman’s interference that ticked her off. It wasn’t Robin’s smug gloating or Alfred’s stern (and only slightly condescending) glances.

No, what really got Steph’s goat was that after all this time, Bruce still didn’t trust her in the field.

Hadn’t she earned that by now? Hadn’t she proved herself, over and over and over again? She had Barbara’s respect, for crying out loud! And Cass — Cass had handed Steph the Batgirl suit herself, and everyone knew Cass was the best of them.

Grumbling, Steph very specifically did not stomp out of the bathroom and very specifically did plop down on her bed (which her ribs immediately informed her was a mistake, but she was sticking by it). She missed Cass. She missed when they were Spoiler and Batgirl, patrolling Gotham and keeping her citizens safe under Oracle’s guiding eye. But now Cass was in Blüdhaven being Nightwing, and yeah, it wasn’t technically far, but it wasn’t like Steph could just pop over to whole other city every night for patrol. Not when she still had classes and exams and papers and all that. They had video chats every couple days like any good long-distance girlfriends, but it just wasn’t the same.

Sometimes Steph thought Cass was lucky. Actually, Steph often thought Cass was lucky. Bruce only cared about Blüdhaven in that one of his kids was there — but Batman himself was never in the city, breathing down Nightwing’s neck. Nightwing had total freedom, a whole city removed from the Family, the benefit of Oracle’s help without Batman’s shadow. Must be nice.

Not that Cass could truly appreciate it, seeing as how she actually liked Batman, the absolute madwoman.

How nice would it be if Steph could just move to Blüdhaven? And it could be her and Cass again, and things would be like they were except they’d be Nightwing and Batgirl, and they’d still have Oracle in their ear but there’d be fewer masked crazies and more casinos.

But Steph still had two years left in her marketing degree. She couldn’t just … up and leave.

Unless …

Steph bolted upright (again? her ribs complained). There were schools in Blüdhaven. Gotham U’s sister school was in Blüdhaven. And it was mid April. She had plenty of time to apply for a transfer for the fall semester.

Steph very well could just up and leave, if she so chose.

And now was the time to choose …

“I have arrived!” Steph declared as she kicked open the door to Cass’s (now hers and Cass’s) apartment, carrying a large box of haphazardly packed clothes. It was the first day of June, the sun was shining, she was enrolled for the fall semester at NJU Blüdhaven, and best of all, she never had to step foot in Gotham again if she wanted. (Of course she’d be back to visit her mother (and Barbara, probably, though she hadn’t actually promised her) from time to time, but that fell under the category of “if she wanted”.)

Except … it didn’t look like an apartment. It looked like a gym. Like a big, empty gym, complete with one mirrored wall, yet no equipment.

“Uhh, Cass?” Steph called over her shoulder and waited for Cass to catch up and give her an inquisitive look. “Please tell me you don’t live in a gym.”

“I don’t live in a gym.”

Steph made a small noise of distress. Why did that sound so sarcastic? Why did Cass choose to infuse that sentence with sarcasm so thick you could cut it with a knife?

Cass rolled her eyes and smiled that cute little half-smile that made Steph’s heart do a flip. “Come on,” she said, tugging on Steph’s wrist gently enough that she didn’t drop her box.

There was a door on the far side of the gym, next to the mirrors, and that is the door that Cass led Steph through. Behind it was a studio apartment complete with a kitchen, a couch, a bed on a platform behind a little half-wall, and a door that Steph hoped led to a bathroom.

“Oh-kay, so this is where you live,” Steph said with an exaggerated sigh of relief. “That makes so much more sense.”

Steph surveyed the space a little closer. There was a row of little cactuses lined up on the kitchen island, and more potted plants in every corner. A bookshelf next to the television held several assorted knick knacks — decks of cards, a toy motorcycle, a few decorated fans, some figures of famous monuments, a couple sketchbooks, a snowglobe of Gotham, a little plush version of Cass as Batgirl — amongst framed photos of Cass with Bruce and her brothers. On the wall above the bed hung a blue and yellow neon sign that said “girls girls girls.”

The sign brought a smile to Steph’s face. She’d bought it for Cass as a going-away present when she first moved to Blüdhaven. It was a bit of a joke really — Cass was never much into the Pride aspect of her sexuality, but Steph maintained that every lesbian needed a piece of Tacky Lesbian™ decor.

“You’re not a lesbian,” Cass had pointed out.

“No, but my girlfriend is,” Steph had replied, giving Cass a peck on the cheek. “So I think I understand their needs.”

In retrospect, it was amazing it took Steph this long to follow Cass to Blüdhaven. Well okay, Cass had moved at the end of February, so really it was only three months, but that was three months stuck in Gotham with Bruce breathing down her neck harder than ever.

And okay, now that she had some distance, maybe she could appreciate the stress Bruce was under. What with Dick leaving, Cass moving out, the drama with Jason (whatever that was, she didn’t want to know), and Tim going AWOL, Bruce was kinda stretched thin.

Didn’t excuse him for being a jerk, though.

Steph strode purposefully across the apartment and up the three stairs to the bed (-room? bed-area?), where she promptly dropped her box.

“So,” she said, sitting herself down at the edge of the bed. There was another Batgirl plush resting against the pillows, only this one had blonde hair and purple accents on the suit. Steph picked it up and fiddled with it. “Pretty nice place ya got.”

“No.” Cass lightly swatted Steph’s arm with a mock-stern look. Or it might’ve been a legit-stern look, but it was probably mock-stern. “Finish unloading, then we can small-talk.”

“Whaat?” Steph whined, even as she started back towards the front door and the truck beyond it (well, the truck beyond the gym beyond it). “But Caaass, I just drove two hours!”

Cass gave her a Look, and dragged her along by the wrist again. “Come on,” she said in a tone of voice that somehow managed to be commanding and soft at the same time.

“Since when did you get so bossy?”

“You’re in my city now.”

And wasn’t that thrilling? Suddenly any complaints Steph had, real or joking, evaporated and she was left with a giddiness that settled pleasantly somewhere below her stomach. She bit her lip and followed Cass with renewed glee.

This was gonna be a good move.

“So, how much of this stuff used to be Dick’s?”

“None of it.”

Steph was sprawled longways on the couch with Cass draped on top of her. All of Steph’s stuff had been unpacked (and it only took four hours!) and now they had Queer Eye marathoning on the TV. They’d finished a half-pint of frozen yogurt between them two episodes ago, and the evidence had long since rolled away under the coffee table.

“Really, none of it?”

“It’s all mine.”

It was nice. Cass was warm, and her weight on Steph’s chest was comforting in a way that no weighted blanket could hope to match. Gosh, how long had it been since they spent some chill time like this?

“So what, he took everything to Central with him, or?”

“I think he doesn’t have any stuff.”

How lucky were they? Where would they be if Nightwing hadn’t decided to move to Missouri (of all places, Missouri) to help the Flash with whatever? Well they wouldn’t be cuddling in their own fully paid-off luxury studio apartment (was that an oxymoron?) in their own city, that’s for sure.

“I can’t decide if that’s inspirational or sad.”

Cass shrugged and snuggled further into Steph’s chest. Her head was tucked underneath Steph’s chin, her arms looped under Steph’s shoulders, her legs tangled up in Steph’s. It hadn’t exactly slipped Steph’s mind how clingy Cass was, but it was easy to forget how nice it felt. Like a puzzle piece slotting right into place.

Carding her fingers through Cass’s hair, Steph pressed a small kiss on her girlfriend’s head. “So … this is nice.”

Cass nodded.

“We should totally do this again sometime.”

Cass flicked the side of Steph’s head, but her smile could be felt through Steph’s tee-shirt.

“Give me your number, I promise I’ll call!”

“I’m leaving,” Cass declared, wriggling out of Steph’s grip.

“You will do no such thing!” Steph lunged for Cass, trying to grab her ‘round the middle, but she’d already vaulted over the back of the couch, landing in a graceful somersault and finishing with a half-pirouette.

“Catch me if you can, sucker!”

Some people (Tim) thought that introducing Cass to 90’s sitcoms had been a bad idea. Those people, of course, were entitled to their wrong opinion.

“Why, I oughta —” Steph gave chase, vaulting over the back of the couch. She did not somersault and came nowhere near performing a pirouette, but the vault served its purpose.

The game was on. Cass led Steph all around the apartment (which wasn’t hard, since it was one room), gliding and spinning and flipping around every surface. And Steph matched her every move — perhaps not with so much grace or fancy moves, but let it never be said that Stephanie Brown couldn’t keep up.

When Cass flipped over the kitchen island, Steph followed suit, sliding over it. When she hand-sprung over the half-wall and onto the bed, Steph vaulted over it moments later. When she leapt over the coffeetable, Steph was right behind her, though she didn’t go over the table. No, she baseball-slid on the hardwood next to it, deftly snatching up something vital as she did so.

“Think fast!” Steph shouted as she threw the empty fro-yo carton directly at Cass’s head.

Cass caught it. Of course she did. She thought faster than anyone; she didn’t need a warning. However, the action did cause her to slow her momentum, giving Steph just enough leeway to catch up —

— and go skidding right into Cass’s outstretched hand.

“Wait,” Cass said, tilting her head towards the open kitchen window. Steph followed the gesture and saw a community garden nestled between this building and the next, lit up solely by a single streetlamp.

The sun had set on Blüdhaven.

A wicked grin spread itself across Steph’s face.

“Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” Cass said, one eyebrow raised.

“Patrol time?”

“Rooftop tag.”

Just like old times. That’s what it always came down to, wasn’t it? You could change their names, move them across cities, hurt them, break them, abuse them, but at the end of the day, this is what they were. Steph and Cass, Spoiler and Batgirl — or Batgirl and Nightwing, as it were. It didn’t matter, so long as they had each other, the open city, a couple of bad guys to beat up. They would always be just fine.

Steph really wasn’t gonna miss Gotham at all, was she?

She held out her arm as if to act as an escort to Cass. “Shall we, Nightwing?”

Cass took the proffered arm, a brilliant smile lighting up her face. “Ready when you are, Batgirl.”

#stephcass #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #femslash february #fic #my stuff #this has been a post

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