Fic: Affinity (1/?)
Title: Affinity (Part 1)
Author: textfiend
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me. So sue me.
Summary: A femslash rewrite of the 2001 TV movie The Facts of Life Reunion (which is on YouTube in ten parts, starting here). The gang gathers for a Peekskill Thanksgiving, but an absent member and a few unexpected visitors put a hitch in the plans.
PART ONE
Jo pressed "End" and then stood staring at her cell phone, anticipation and regret warring inside her. After a moment she took a deep breath to steel herself.
"Blair?"
It wasn't hard to find her lover, even in what Jo often thought had to be the largest apartment in Manhattan. ("Oh, please," Blair always said. "It only has one floor!") She just followed the sounds of distress -- murmurs interspersed with familiar, high-pitched whimpers -- into the master bedroom. Blair was sitting at her vanity. Jo paused in the doorway, absently tapping the phone against her open palm, and watched.
The blonde wore a vibrant red dressing gown. Her hair was styled, the smooth locks just brushing her shoulders, and her makeup was in place. She looked for all the world like a woman about to dress for a fancy party or a trip to the opera. But Jo knew that the ensemble waiting in the walk-in closet was not a couture gown -- though there were plenty of those in there -- but a comfortable pair of pants and a light sweater, ideal for a lengthy car ride. It was nine o'clock in the morning. Jo had been dressed and ready -- and waiting -- for an hour.
Judging by the intense gaze Blair had locked on her own reflection, the cause of the whimpering was something she saw in the glass. Any other time, Jo might have rolled her eyes and wondered aloud what she had ever done to deserve the world's most high-maintenance girlfriend. But not today.
Blair met her eyes in the mirror and her brow unfurrowed just a bit. "I have bad news."
Jo blinked. Freaky. "I was just going to say the same thing."
"Me first."
Walking over to sit on the edge of the bed, Jo nodded. Act casual. Don't oversell it. Blair swivelled on her cushioned vanity stool until they were facing each other.
"Guess."
"Okay... We're out of toilet paper," Jo said, knowing full well that was not the problem.
Blair gave her an unimpressed look. "No."
"They're protesting outside Warner headquarters again."
"Worse."
"The inn burned down overnight?"
In the same tone that a normal person might say, "I lost the winning lottery ticket!" or "I spilled chocolate sauce on the Van Gogh!" Blair announced, "I found a grey hair!"
Only Blair. The woman had been worried about wrinkles since she was sixteen. Now here she was, in the prime of her life, more gorgeous than ever, turning heads wherever she went -- and she inspected her scalp daily for turncoats. As with all her conceited little ways, Jo's instinctive response was to provoke her. "Just one?"
Blair pouted. "I'm only 36."
"Yeah, but you've put enough chemicals in your hair for a lifetime. It's probably getting worn out."
"This has nothing to do with beauty products." Blair's eyes narrowed. "If anything is prematurely aging me, it's you. You've practically made it your life's work to give me a hard time."
Jo couldn't help a devilish little grin. "It's a dirty job, but somebody's gotta do it."
"Hmmph." Blair turned back to the mirror, leaned in close and began running her fingers through the blonde locks, tilting her head this way and that as she lifted and parted.
"Hey, you wanna get worry lines from fretting about grey hair, be my guest."
Blair froze. Her hands dropped to her sides. "Good point!" She spun the stool around again, this time fixing Jo with a speculative look. "I knew I kept you around for a reason."
"Mmmhmm."
"Okay, your turn. What's your bad news?"
Jo forced herself not to take another deep breath. This is the hard part, she thought. But you gotta get through the hard part to get to the good part. And the good part's gonna be so good... Just remember that. "You're gonna have to go without me."
"What?" Blair's face dropped. "Why?"
Jo held up her phone. "The precinct called. Third watch is short a guy and they asked me to take his shift."
"Jo," Blair almost-whined.
"I know," Jo said quickly. "It sucks. But I can't leave 'em in the lurch. Everybody's down to skeleton crews because of the holiday -- so many guys asked for time off."
"And so did you. You booked this week off months ago."
"I guess I was the only one still in the city." Jo shrugged. Inside she was cringeing. Lying to Blair was not fun, but it couldn't be helped.
"Why does it always have to be you? Lately you've been filling in for every cop with a court date or a death in the family or a... a... runny nose, for Pete's sake."
Jo felt a familiar stab of guilt. Well, at least a few of those times were actually legit. Then came fear -- was she starting to push her luck? Would this be the time Blair started getting suspicious? So far everything had worked out perfectly. Blair had gone on a decent number of business trips over the last few months, and putting the finishing touches on the inn had her driving up to Peekskill practically every weekend. Jo hadn't even had to come up with excuses half the time. But Blair had obviously noticed that Jo was working more than usual. Could be trouble.
"It's not like you need the overtime."
Actually, she did. Her paychecks went into a private account, one Blair never saw and was also (not uncoincidentally) pitifully small.
"I think this is discrimination," Blair went on. "Do we need to talk to your union rep again?"
"What I get for marrying a lawyer," Jo muttered, as if to a third party. "Blair, nobody forces me to work extra shifts."
Blair waved a hand dismissively. "I'm just saying--"
"I know. I'm disappointed too." That was the truth. She hated that she would lose precious time with their friends. Until the phone call she'd had every intention of spending the week with Blair, Tootie, Natalie and Mrs. Garrett -- the old gang all together again for the first time in years. But someone else's plans had changed and opportunity knocked. Jo couldn't not answer.
Blair seemed about to object again, but after a moment's hesitation, she just sighed.
"You go on and get started without me, and I'll be there as soon as I can," Jo said. "I bet there'll be so much going on no one'll even notice I'm missing."
Blair's expression turned reproachful, even as the corners of her mouth curved upward. "The girls will be livid."
"They'll survive."
Blair stood up, and Jo stiffened. She was suddenly sure that the butterflies in her stomach would show on her face if Blair came any closer. So she pushed up off the bed and turned around, busying herself straightening the comforter -- without being told, even.
"As soon as you can," Blair said, her tone imperious.
Jo kept her head down, feeling Blair's fingers trail across her back as the blonde passed by. "I promise."
When Blair was safely out of range in the closet, Jo straightened. She allowed herself a half-second of relief, then swiftly chastised herself for losing her cool. It'll be crap like that that tips her off! What happened to "act casual"? Shaking her head, she went to take her bag out of the car.
Author: textfiend
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me. So sue me.
Summary: A femslash rewrite of the 2001 TV movie The Facts of Life Reunion (which is on YouTube in ten parts, starting here). The gang gathers for a Peekskill Thanksgiving, but an absent member and a few unexpected visitors put a hitch in the plans.
PART ONE
Jo pressed "End" and then stood staring at her cell phone, anticipation and regret warring inside her. After a moment she took a deep breath to steel herself.
"Blair?"
It wasn't hard to find her lover, even in what Jo often thought had to be the largest apartment in Manhattan. ("Oh, please," Blair always said. "It only has one floor!") She just followed the sounds of distress -- murmurs interspersed with familiar, high-pitched whimpers -- into the master bedroom. Blair was sitting at her vanity. Jo paused in the doorway, absently tapping the phone against her open palm, and watched.
The blonde wore a vibrant red dressing gown. Her hair was styled, the smooth locks just brushing her shoulders, and her makeup was in place. She looked for all the world like a woman about to dress for a fancy party or a trip to the opera. But Jo knew that the ensemble waiting in the walk-in closet was not a couture gown -- though there were plenty of those in there -- but a comfortable pair of pants and a light sweater, ideal for a lengthy car ride. It was nine o'clock in the morning. Jo had been dressed and ready -- and waiting -- for an hour.
Judging by the intense gaze Blair had locked on her own reflection, the cause of the whimpering was something she saw in the glass. Any other time, Jo might have rolled her eyes and wondered aloud what she had ever done to deserve the world's most high-maintenance girlfriend. But not today.
Blair met her eyes in the mirror and her brow unfurrowed just a bit. "I have bad news."
Jo blinked. Freaky. "I was just going to say the same thing."
"Me first."
Walking over to sit on the edge of the bed, Jo nodded. Act casual. Don't oversell it. Blair swivelled on her cushioned vanity stool until they were facing each other.
"Guess."
"Okay... We're out of toilet paper," Jo said, knowing full well that was not the problem.
Blair gave her an unimpressed look. "No."
"They're protesting outside Warner headquarters again."
"Worse."
"The inn burned down overnight?"
In the same tone that a normal person might say, "I lost the winning lottery ticket!" or "I spilled chocolate sauce on the Van Gogh!" Blair announced, "I found a grey hair!"
Only Blair. The woman had been worried about wrinkles since she was sixteen. Now here she was, in the prime of her life, more gorgeous than ever, turning heads wherever she went -- and she inspected her scalp daily for turncoats. As with all her conceited little ways, Jo's instinctive response was to provoke her. "Just one?"
Blair pouted. "I'm only 36."
"Yeah, but you've put enough chemicals in your hair for a lifetime. It's probably getting worn out."
"This has nothing to do with beauty products." Blair's eyes narrowed. "If anything is prematurely aging me, it's you. You've practically made it your life's work to give me a hard time."
Jo couldn't help a devilish little grin. "It's a dirty job, but somebody's gotta do it."
"Hmmph." Blair turned back to the mirror, leaned in close and began running her fingers through the blonde locks, tilting her head this way and that as she lifted and parted.
"Hey, you wanna get worry lines from fretting about grey hair, be my guest."
Blair froze. Her hands dropped to her sides. "Good point!" She spun the stool around again, this time fixing Jo with a speculative look. "I knew I kept you around for a reason."
"Mmmhmm."
"Okay, your turn. What's your bad news?"
Jo forced herself not to take another deep breath. This is the hard part, she thought. But you gotta get through the hard part to get to the good part. And the good part's gonna be so good... Just remember that. "You're gonna have to go without me."
"What?" Blair's face dropped. "Why?"
Jo held up her phone. "The precinct called. Third watch is short a guy and they asked me to take his shift."
"Jo," Blair almost-whined.
"I know," Jo said quickly. "It sucks. But I can't leave 'em in the lurch. Everybody's down to skeleton crews because of the holiday -- so many guys asked for time off."
"And so did you. You booked this week off months ago."
"I guess I was the only one still in the city." Jo shrugged. Inside she was cringeing. Lying to Blair was not fun, but it couldn't be helped.
"Why does it always have to be you? Lately you've been filling in for every cop with a court date or a death in the family or a... a... runny nose, for Pete's sake."
Jo felt a familiar stab of guilt. Well, at least a few of those times were actually legit. Then came fear -- was she starting to push her luck? Would this be the time Blair started getting suspicious? So far everything had worked out perfectly. Blair had gone on a decent number of business trips over the last few months, and putting the finishing touches on the inn had her driving up to Peekskill practically every weekend. Jo hadn't even had to come up with excuses half the time. But Blair had obviously noticed that Jo was working more than usual. Could be trouble.
"It's not like you need the overtime."
Actually, she did. Her paychecks went into a private account, one Blair never saw and was also (not uncoincidentally) pitifully small.
"I think this is discrimination," Blair went on. "Do we need to talk to your union rep again?"
"What I get for marrying a lawyer," Jo muttered, as if to a third party. "Blair, nobody forces me to work extra shifts."
Blair waved a hand dismissively. "I'm just saying--"
"I know. I'm disappointed too." That was the truth. She hated that she would lose precious time with their friends. Until the phone call she'd had every intention of spending the week with Blair, Tootie, Natalie and Mrs. Garrett -- the old gang all together again for the first time in years. But someone else's plans had changed and opportunity knocked. Jo couldn't not answer.
Blair seemed about to object again, but after a moment's hesitation, she just sighed.
"You go on and get started without me, and I'll be there as soon as I can," Jo said. "I bet there'll be so much going on no one'll even notice I'm missing."
Blair's expression turned reproachful, even as the corners of her mouth curved upward. "The girls will be livid."
"They'll survive."
Blair stood up, and Jo stiffened. She was suddenly sure that the butterflies in her stomach would show on her face if Blair came any closer. So she pushed up off the bed and turned around, busying herself straightening the comforter -- without being told, even.
"As soon as you can," Blair said, her tone imperious.
Jo kept her head down, feeling Blair's fingers trail across her back as the blonde passed by. "I promise."
When Blair was safely out of range in the closet, Jo straightened. She allowed herself a half-second of relief, then swiftly chastised herself for losing her cool. It'll be crap like that that tips her off! What happened to "act casual"? Shaking her head, she went to take her bag out of the car.