Fandom: Popular

Series: Three Times Table

Title: What I See

Author: Carla

Pairing: Brooke/April

Rating: R (overall)

Disclaimers: Not mine don’t own ‘em. Though I admit I am not sure if they are, in fact, still owned by Ryan Murphy and the folks at Touchstone Television. I’m betting that they still are; hence this little disclaimer. This original work of fiction is of a not for profit nature.

Archiving: This and all my other delusions of grandeur can be found at http://realmoftheshadow.com/carla.htm

Feedback: I find it helpful and instructive so if you are inclined to please let me know how I’m doing. I can be reached at cmfloresfd@yahoo.com

Author’s Note 09/08/03: totally unbeta-ed so any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone. I take full credit for them. Thank you to HL, Paul and Louise for the small nudges, the great ideas and wonderful encouragement.

Author's Note  09/29/03:  Sorry this took me so long but I wavered between the fabled fade to black and the down right smutty. What follows is I don’t know what. There is no excuse for this except to say it’s what came to me. That and well I didn’t really want to deal with anybody’s overt hostility, so this is a preemptive strike of sorts. There is a much more hard core NC-17 version in progress and if I ever finish it to my satisfaction (no pun intended) I’ll post it directly to the Realm. Other than that it’s business as usual…this hasn’t been beta-ed any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone. I take full faith credit for them.

Enjoy

T3: What I See 

Mom, Dad and Mac are out the door, finally. A whole week, Sam and I have the entire house for a week. We even got permission for a small party New Years Eve. Which really just means Sam’s vacating the premises. This way we can ring in the New Year together, alone.

But first there’s tonight. The first time I’ll get to sleep with you all night, wake up next to you and go back to sleep next to you so that I can wake up next to you all over again.

Let’s see it is 8:30 AM…Think I’ll start with my room.

Okay I’ve cleaned my room. Put out some candles, massage oil (three types, one unscented), CD player loaded. TV, VCR/DVD player and the video camera Kelly sent me for Christmas are all locked away in my closet.

Now clothes…

I can feel Sam watching me from the door. I might not have eyes in the back of my head but I know she’s smirking.

God I’m nervous, more even, than when I kissed you for the first time, in the ‘How To’ section at Barnes and Noble.

Time check 4:11 PM.

I get this tingly sensation, excitement at seeing you. It’s been four days. I hope you like my outfit. Sam obviously does, if I didn’t know any better I’d swear she was checking me out.

Ewwww…Bad visual very bad visual.

Doorbell rings. You’re early. I’m still a nervous wreck. Can’t wait to kiss you hello. Now I’m a horny nervous wreck. Great.

Nic?! What’s she doing here? Okay the outfit must work she looks like a thirsty man in the desert eyeing his first glass of water.

Oh shit I forgot. Tonight’s her first night back. We’re supposed to go to dinner and a movie. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

God she looks devastated. Christ now what do I do? You’re on your way here already, you called before you left, and I don’t think Nic will be to keen on the idea of playing second chair. Shit how could I have forgotten our Christmas tradition? Why does she have to have this ridiculous crush on me?

Sammy to the rescue! Yes great idea Sam.

Wait that sounded suspiciously like Sammy asking Nic out on a date, that won’t work. No there’s the clarification. Not a date ‘date’ but a hanging out with friends date. I can tell Nic’s thinking on it, this is good.

Saved by the bell. You’re here! I notice Nic flinch as I brush past her. Just before I open the door to let you in I hear her accept Sam’s offer.

Okay fluff hair, check makeup.

Open door and…practically weep in frustration. Your parents are watching us from the car. May is seemingly leaving slobber marks on the window where she’s got her face pressed to the glass.

Wave to the family. Step aside to let you in. Close door behind you.

Kiss you. Finally. Your lips taste faintly of strawberry. You must be using the lip-gloss I bought you last week when we were shopping at the mall. Yummy.

Oww!

Hop around on left foot as right has been crushed when you drop that fucking heavy ass book bag you always carry with you on it. What the hell do you have in there we’re on vacation for Pete’ sake.

We go upstairs so that you can leave your bag and I can change shoes, open toe sling back does not provide enough protection. Though of course that is really just an excuse to get you in my room alone.

Kiss you again and again and again.

People can say what they want about you, about how you’re this big loser dork with no fashion sense and they can go on and on about how weird you are but that’s not what I see.

I see red hair falling softly to frame your face. I see freckles dusting your nose and cheeks and the most gorgeous green eyes. I see luminescent porcelain skin. I see the curve of your neck, the slight beating of your pulse where the collar of your shirt is open and the flush creeping across your skin as I stare at you. I see the most intelligent and honest person I know. I see one of the few people at our school strong enough to be her self, to be an individual in a pen full of sheep.

I see this incredible person.

I see the girl I fell in love with.

God I missed you.

Sam

Brooke is a nervous wreck. Mom and Mike left with the Spudling this morning for Boston. The Princess spent the morning cleaning her room with the fervor of an obsessive-compulsive. A remarkable feat since her room is pristine to start with unlike my own where an entire ecology is starting to evolve independently. This makes me feel guilty but not enough to actually do something about it. Besides like Horton says ‘A person’s a person no matter how small’ and there’s no smell so why bother.

The highlight of this afternoon has been watching the preening rituals of the Above Average American Teen. Brooke must have tried on every outfit in her closet finally settling on a pair of low riders and a belly shirt that shows her toned flat stomach off to perfection. Mike would be pleased to know that far from starved Brooke looks quite hot.

Did I just think that?

Oh well it’s true. Plus no harm in appreciating beauty is there and Brooke is beautiful.

The doorbell rings. Brooke achieves some sort of land record racing to answer it. Must be April. I follow slowly. Last thing I want to see is them kissing. Not because of the girl-girl thing, not even because it’s April, who I admit does actually clean up well, but because they’re so damned happy together. I want something like that but I’m just too scared to reach for it, to put myself out there like that. I can never forget Ray.

But it’s not April, it’s Nicole looking happy and relaxed, excited to see you. Very excited, so excited she barely manages to speak, though she does an admirable job of not drooling openly. At least not much.

Brooke says something I can’t hear and Nicole looks crestfallen. Obviously I’m missing something but what I don’t know. Nic brushes past Brooke and into the living room. She heads straight for the tree like she’s looking for something. Reaching up Satan plucks an ornament from a branch. It’s a Hallmark keepsake type ornament, the kind with the year etched in it. The photo inside is of the two of them; they’re eight or nine. I notice that there are others like it all over the tree, ten in all. I never realized how long they’ve known each other. This sheds a new light on things somehow.

Nicole’s voice when she speaks again is plaintive and almost as close to begging as I have ever heard from her. It is painfully clear that she needs Brooke to remember, needs the affirmation of her place in Brooke’s life. Equally clear yet unspoken, is that Brooke, so focused on April these days, has forgotten their Christmas Tradition. It is Nicole’s first day back from wherever she goes for the holiday. They are supposed to go to the mall to have their picture taken for this year’s ornament then a movie followed by dinner.

I don’t know why but I open my mouth before Brooke has time to make excuses or apologies. They would be empty, well meant but ultimately shallow and for some reason I just don’t have it in me to watch what they would do to Satan.

I swear I don’t know where that came from, the meds are supposed to help with impulse control. Two blonde heads whip around so fast it’s reminiscent of Linda Blair in the Exorcist.

The doorbell ringing gives an added edge of urgency to the question and Nicole reluctantly agrees. The look she gives me once Brooke is gone is an odd mix of gratitude, pain and fury. Perhaps I should have kept my mouth shut and allowed Satan to make a gracious exit from what will undoubtedly be an awkward situation for all.

Nicole presses the heels of her hands to her eyes. I can see her throat swallowing convulsively as she struggles to keep tears at bay.

In the silence that follows the sound of Brooke’s bedroom door echoes like a canon boom.

April

"April stop daydreaming we’re almost there."

May’s Wonder Twin power must be bad timing. Mine is the superhuman restraint I used in not throttling her.

/ / / / / / / /

Nicole and Sam are waiting for us downstairs. In between kisses you’ve managed to explain what the Anti-Christ is doing here. Christmas traditions or something like that. Mostly I’m only able to concentrate on your lips, your tongue your heat. You. Finally you. I’ve missed being able to see you, speak to you whenever I want. I love my family but I would have gladly missed Christmas at my Aunt’s this year just to be able to talk to you.

Once you’ve changed into less hazardous footwear and we’ve kissed some more we head downstairs to join Satan and Sam. Satan and Sam that has a nice ring to it actually. This ought to be an interesting and fun evening for all. Bad enough I always feel awkward around Sam, the way she watches and never says anything is kind of creepy, add to that the presence of Nicole and…Well it’s a good thing you changed into sneakers. Odds are that by the end of this little adventure I’ll have stomped on your feet or the back of your heel more than once. Nervous-anxiety-ridden April is not a pretty sight.

At the mall watching the two of you clown together while you were waiting for your picture to be taken, watching how Nicole is with you, I wondered how you could have missed it all these years. It’s so obvious that Nicole is head over heels for you. Maybe that’s why it almost felt wrong, like you were throwing me in her face, when you kissed me while we were waiting in line for the movie. I could feel her eyes on us, feel her pain, her longing and her confusion a confusion I share as well sometimes.

Why me? Why not her?

And why am I thinking about this now when I am standing here in the middle of your room waiting for you to finish getting ready for bed. Because I am a nervous wreck and when I get nervous it’s like I can’t turn my brain off.

I wasn’t even this nervous with Charlie and I thought I was in love with him. I know I’m in love with you. Maybe that’s why I’m this nervous, like a virgin. I wonder if you’re just as nervous as I am. The thing is that even if we don’t do anything tonight, I’d still be nervous.

Something’s different, missing…the TV that’s it. And the VCR/DVD player, wonder where they are, where you put them? In the closet most likely that thing is huge. There’s some massage oil on your bedside table and about a bazillion candles burning around the room. Now I’m really nervous. Everything is adding up to "The Big Night" and I’m wearing a Marvin the Martian T-shirt with matching boxers. You know doubt will be wearing the latest in Victoria’s Secret. Dammit the silk boxers I bought the other day would have been nicer. Why the Hell do I always…My God but you’re beautiful. The Aurora Borealis has nothing on you.

The candlelight bathes your skin a honeyed caramel, a rich contrast to the deep blue of your robe. Your legs go on forever, the robe barely comes to mid-thigh perhaps those tanning sessions you insist on have some merit. I can barely breath much less speak. My hands are trembling. Your breath hitches and you shiver as my finger traces the line where silk and the flesh of your cleavage meet.

Your skin is so soft, softer than I remember it even. I feel like I’m floating, like I’m watching everything outside of myself. I can’t believe that I’m here, touching you. And I can’t believe that it’s my touch making your breath come faster, harsher. An image of me straddling your waist as I massage your back flashes in front of my eyes. Good thing there’s massage oil.

What’s that sound? Is that you or me?

Me.

Your arms are around my waist, your face is buried in the crook of my neck your breath is hot against my skin. Definitely me making that noise. Wait! Where are you going, come back please?

Oh that’s where you’re going, to lock the doors. Locked doors are good, very good. I’d die if Sam were to inadvertently walk in on us tonight. The last time was bad enough but tonight….

You walk towards me slowly, hips swaying. The air reeks of lust the tension in the room is almost unbearable. When your robe falls open to reveal a pearl white camisole with matching thong it’s all I can do to breathe.

"Like what you see," the quaver in your voice betrays a nervousness that matches my own. My, oh-so-intelligent, ‘Gah!’ is unfortunately not what you need to hear.

I refuse to let you finish the question. It’s a ludicrous one anyway. You are not now nor have you ever been too fat, quite the opposite in fact. This is the one thing I truly hate about you, the thing I understand least about you, this obsession this disease you wrestle with daily.

I pull you towards me with a gentle tug. Reach up to brush your face with the back of my right hand as my left arm wraps around your waist.

How do you do that? How do you always know the right words to say? How do you know what I’m thinking? Because while ninety-eight percent of me is definitely in the here and now, enthusiastically so in fact, the other two percent is thinking about Charlie and the differences between you; how love really feels. The things someone who loves you does for you, like shoving every scrap of video equipment they have in their closet. And tomorrow morning, will there even be a tomorrow or will I have garnered only your disdain? And Charlie.

Charlie who secretly taped us having sex. Charlie who let his frat buddies watch us through a live feed to the basement rec room. To Charlie I was just a fresh piece of ass desperate enough to let him do anything he wanted. But at the time I thought I loved him, thought he loved me or at least cared about me. I thought he’d be there the next morning. And he was…in the basement of his frat house showing a tape of us to all his buddies. He said my only redeeming feature was my lack of a gag reflex. God knows I gave him enough blowjobs to prove it. At any rate, the end result of my little misstep with Charlie is that I have major trust issues. Mainly I don’t trust that I am indeed worthy of your attention, your heart and of your honorable intentions.

"If you insist." Those things make me gag but if it means you’ll eat I’ll make them for you every day of my life.

"And what if I want you?" Your voice has a teasing lilt to it that makes my heart flutter and leaves my panties moist.

Once again you pull away from me but this time your hand stays in mine and you lead me to your bed.