Title: Valentine

Author: Aeryn Sun

Email: willowrose_98@yahoo.com

Feedback: Yes, please

Archiving: Ask, and ye shall receive. Just ask first.

Rating: G-ish. A little language. OMG, Aeryn wrote a G-fic! Ayup, there's angst ahoy!

Spoilers: None, really

Series/Universe: None.yet.  teehee

Summary: It's Valentine's.

Couple: Heh, heh.heeheehee. Not S/B but give it a shot anyway.

Warning: If the idea of two women involved in a romantic relationship together disturbs you, run, run far far away and never look back. If it's illegal where you live, move quickly. If you're under the legal age, age quicker, it's fun here. Other than that, enter at your own risk, and enjoy.

Author's Notes: This is all the fault of one line, one visual that I could NOT get out of my head.  So, unable to resist, I thought I'd write it and share.  And I know I butchered the quote in there, but considering the character, I figured it was no big.

Disclaimer: I own a lot of DVDs, over 400 CDs, but sadly, not the rights to Popular.  Touchstone, WB, and Ryan do.  I'm making no money with this effort, I'm just amusing myself and hopefully anyone who reads it.  Please don't sue me, my CD collection isn't worth the legal fees it would take to get it.

She quietly walked down the hall trying to conceal her nervousness from any onlookers.  It wouldn't do for someone of her social stature to appear as anxious as she was currently feeling.  And inside, she was a wreck.  She felt like a bowl of lime jell-o being tossed around inside an industrial strength dryer, banging around helplessly.  And `lime' would accurately describe her complexion despite her prowess with a make-up brush.  She was jittery, antsy, scared, excited, and numerous other things she wasn't entirely sure of.

She hadn't felt like this since that time when she was seven and her mother had taken her along on a business trip.  It'd been an ill-fated business trip, not that that should have surprised anyone.  How could it not have been?  With a hyper-excited seven-year-old bouncing off the walls on a sour straw induced, sugar enhanced power trip there was no way her mother could regain control of the situation.

Until later, when she'd given her daughter quite the beating for the experience.

"You have to teach them young, train them right," her mother had declared in between swings and slaps to her backside. "Let them know their place early on."

And she'd learned her place fast.  To be quiet, subservient, and obedient.

"Children should be seen and not heard," her mother would say as warning. "If you have to look at them at ALL."

So to keep her mother happy, she tried to be as quiet as possible, which wasn't always easy.  But, being a somewhat silent observer let her study the way people behaved; their patterns, habits, body language, and the such.  She felt as though she had special insight as to the inner working of most people.  And that helped her a lot of times to manipulate them to get what she wanted, to get her own way.

Not that any of that was helping her right now.  If anything, the harder she tried to use that knowledge, that skill to her advantage in this situation, the more confused and out-of-control she seemed to feel.

For all her learning as a child, her observing and quiet contemplation, as a young adult there were certain things, specific people she still didn't understand.  Her own emotions were the biggest enigma of them all.  Even she didn't always understand her own motivation for the things she did; she just acted.  And as such, she was often branded as impulsive, reckless, and her least favorite, psychotic.

It wasn't that she wanted to act so rashly; it was just that sometimes she couldn't help herself.  Somewhere deep down she was still that hyper, over sugared seven-year-old.  And it repeatedly got her into trouble. While on one hand she liked the unpredictability of it, on the other, she hated the sometimes-fearful looks she was on the receiving end of.  She wasn't crazy.  A little left of center maybe, but not crazy.

Besides, the outlandish things she was known for doing kept people from actually taking a closer look at her.  Because if they were to indeed take that intimate glance, she was afraid that they'd see the carefully hidden flaws, the painfully concealed truths that she would never admit to anyone.  It took a long time for her to admit them even to herself.  The last thing she wanted was for her somewhat tenuous hold on her `popular' status to be destroyed because someone discovered the truth.  If that happened, she'd lose everything.  Not only would her social climbing mother look down on her and berate her for it, but she'd be ripped away from the one thing in her life that made her truly happy.  HER.

"Aye, there's the rub," she breathed still walking down the hall.  Several other students shot her alarmed looks but she was beyond caring.

The hidden truth.  Buried deep beneath the expensive clothes, the designer labels, the layers of make-up, the social caste, the money and the expectations lay the truth.  She was in love with her best friend.  A best friend who also happened to be a female.  Two complications she was neither prepared for nor expected to happen.

But it did, much to her chagrin.  She'd fought it, and herself for a long time.  As `in' as the whole lesbian chic seemed to be, it was an entirely new thing if it turned out to be yourself you were referring to instead of `Who's Who in Hollywood'.  And she somehow doubted that if she suddenly switched her Prada heels for a pair of Birkenstocks and her Gucci for American Eagle that her `friends' would be entirely supportive.

`Besides, I hate rainbows,' she thought morosely.  Although flannel held an odd attraction.

Her feelings were so confusing that she sometimes acted SO off the wall she scared herself.  She had thought if maybe she just distracted herself that it would go away but it didn't.  And it was driving her, well, insane.

She'd never felt this way about anyone before.  The way her heart raced and the way her whole body seemed to come alive when the other girl was around was both frightening and at the same time exhilarating.  She felt so alive, free, and aware when she was around her that it was like the rest of the time she was blindfolded and there were no colors, no sounds.  Everything was dull and grey. 

She desperately wanted to let her know how she felt and to hell with the consequences.  And because of her impulsive nature, she'd almost done so several times in less than favorable circumstances.  There was little doubt in her mind that, honestly, it wasn't going to go well and she was probably going to become a social leper but there was a small but powerful hope that maybe, just maybe it would all work out OK.

`Besides,' she decided. `If I keep on pining the way I am, I WILL go crazy.  And second, I can't live like this anymore.  I HAVE to tell her.'

So this time she worked hard at not acting impulsively.  She put a lot of thought, consideration, and effort into planning her actions.  Thankfully, it was that time of year when people could act sentimentally and not have the same repercussions as usual.  She wasn't normally a fan of Valentine's, not usually having someone to share it with.  To a single person, Valentine's day is nothing more than a commercially motivated excuse to sell more candy, cards, and disgustingly cute teddy bears.  Well, at least in her opinion.

So she thought about how she was going to do this and settled on her current course of action.  It wasn't brash, outlandish, over-the-top, or what would be expected.  It was out-of-character simple.  And she liked the thought of that. 

When she woke up that morning it'd all seemed so clear, so simple.  Now that she was faced with doing it, she could feel her resolve crumbling.

She clutched the pink envelope in her fingers a little tighter as her object of affection came into view a few feet away, standing at her locker.  As usual, she felt her breath catch in her throat at the sheer beauty of the other girl and her heart fluttered in her chest.  Her formerly confident stride faltered and she found herself standing idly at the opposite end of the hall frozen.

`I can't do this!  What the hell was I thinking?' she screamed at herself. `She's not going to feel the same way.  I'm just going to end up making an ass of myself, as usual.  I thought I could handle her rejection but now I don't know.  It might break me.  Shit.'

The envelope suddenly felt heavy, like a cartoon anvil in her hands and she looked around desperately for a garbage can.  That way she could dispose of the `evidence' and no one would ever know of her moment of `weakness'.  But all she could see were `Recycle' bins and there was too much of a chance that someone would find it in there and open it.

"Shit shit shit shit," she muttered.  Again she received odd looks from random people passing by.

`Note to self: stop talking to self out loud.'

She sighed.  This was getting her nowhere except maybe on the fast train to a stomach ulcer.  She glanced down at the pouch in her hands and was filled with a new resolve.

`Oh the hell with it,' she decided, her feet restarting the trek over to her intended.  Each step seemed to echo in her mind like a gunshot but she didn't stop until she reached the row of lockers.  She stood beside the other girl and that was when she paused.

Nicole looked up at the silent girl, her crystal blue eyes coming to a sharp focus.

"What's up with you?  Did you eat in the cafeteria today because you look sick?" she asked the new arrival.  The other girl thrust a light pink envelope into her hands, trembling as she did so.

"He...here." she stammered, her mouth suddenly dry. "Op...open it." Nicole arched a pale eyebrow and used a nearly talon sharp fingernail to rip open the packet across the top.  She took out the card and read it silently with no reaction until both her eyebrows hit the ceiling of Kennedy High School.  She closed the card and looked back to her friend.

"Mary Cherry?" she asked, her voice small and confused.  Mary Cherry's eyes were wide and hopeful as she asked:

"Nic, will you be mah Valentine?"

The End?...