by Erin Griffin
Rating: PG-ish, some naughty thinking, but nothing described
Summary: Set through the movie Miss Congeniality, Gracie's thoughts
Pairing: Cheryl/Gracie, though not really
Author's Note: This is a companion piece or a sequel to Not in the Tubie Things. There may or may not be a third story later.
I couldn't believe what Cheryl told me. How could she think that some creep forcing himself on her was a normal occurance? That it was in any way, shape, or form her fault? And the look on her face when she wasn't sure she had a chance to win the competition... I didn't want to see it. It hurt too much, and I didn't know why. She was sweet. She IS sweet, she didn't die. After bringing Cheryl back to her hotel room after girls' night, I wandered the streets wondering why I felt the way I had when it came to Cheryl. I would have done the pizza and beer thing in my own time, but I must admit, getting some nonexsistant scoop on Miss Rhode Island was a good way for me to do it as a way to repay her for her gestures towards me, even that godawful fat free hot chocolate. I knew I would like her for some reason. I couldn't help it. She was younger than me by a good four or five years, but much younger than that in world experience, and that was refreshing to me. I hadn't ever met anyone who was determined to be my friend before. She insisted on talking to me on the bus even though my 'butch dyke' demeaner that everyone was usually warned about or just SAW a mile away was evident in the way I carried myself. I never really cared that people thought I was a lesbian. Maybe I am. Hell, with the way my thoughts were when I walked alone looking for the perfect... something for Cheryl, something to say that I believed in her, I might as well have been.
I got her flaming batons in -believe it or not- a sex shop. It was late, and I was curious, so I wandered in. Looking at male anatomy in every corner of the wall and feeling almost repulsed by it didn't help convince me that I wasn't a lesbian. But in the far corner of the wall, right next to the penis shaped candles and incense with aromas that were supposed to turn on your lover were the batons, and I thought, how hot would Cheryl be twirling those babies around? The thought, the image wouldn't leave my mind, and when I actually saw that sight, well, reality is sometimes better than fantasy. When I learned that the bomb was in the crown, I had to get her and the other girls out of there. When Miss New York screamed into the crowd about her being a lesbian, I was shocked, but then, I stole a glance at Cheryl. It was her that made me fight so hard to get that crown from her. I couldn't help but think that she was going to die, and I had to save her. I couldn't think of life without her in it. I knew then that I was falling for her. But this... This wasn't normal. That is what they had always said. It just wasn't normal. I had to be sure. I had to find out if what I felt was real before I declared myself abnormal. Then I kissed Eric. That pig of a man, and I kissed him. I felt nothing. Nothing. I wondered what Cheryl's lips felt like, and I longed for her kiss. If loving someone as beautiful inside and out as Cheryl was abnormal, then what is the point of being normal?