Lucyloo (Mona, Reggie)
Mona sat quietly over her computer, putting the latest finishing touches on her latest story. Another Voyager series. She'd been on a roll, lately, and the only names he muse had been whispering had been Tom and Chakotay's. Which was fine by her. She ~liked~ the boys. They played nicely, even when they ~didn't~ play nicely. She remembered the "Balance" series, and a dark shudder whispered down her spine. Make that ~especially~ when they didn't play nicely. She sighed and saved the disk; she considered uploading the story now, but decided against it. She was pretty tired, and the last thing she needed to do was accidentally wipe out AiR. When Geo-conformities had done that by accident last year, she'd almost drowned in the resulting flood of e-mail.
Still, she didn't want to go to bed. Her brain was too wired from work, and she knew she was just in that zone where even though she was tired, she'd just lie there and look at the ceiling. A quick impulse had her sorting through her videos. At random she pulled one, and plunked it in the VCR. A few minutes later, she was watching vintage Sentinel. Before the no-hugging rule. Ha. Like that had worked.
She was a little surprised a few minutes later by the brisk rap at her door. She wasn't expecting anyone. She'd scared the last set of Witnesses off by inviting them in to watch Red Dwarf. It was 5 a.m. No, she definitely wasn't expecting anyone.
She peered out through the peephole, getting a goldfish-bowl view of the landing. Two figures, male. One tall, one short. One with military precision hair, one with a mane of curls. Oh my. She glanced at the TV screen, then back out the peephole. OH MY. The chain was off and the bolt thrown so fast that she broke two fingernails. "It's … it's….YOU!" she cried, wincing at the inanity. It was, after all, 5 a.m.
The taller of the two offered a lazy grin, while the short guy almost blinded her with his show of pearly-whites. "Yeah, it's us. Mind if we come in?" The low rasp of the big guy threatened to turn her knees to water. She clutched the door and swayed against it, somehow motioning them in and re-tying her robe in one ungainly motion.
The tall guy sat down on the sofa immediately. The short guy looked around the room a bit before coming to sit on the floor just an inch or two from the other man's knee. "Nice place, " he offered sincerely.
They didn't touch, but the connection between them was palpable. I knew it, she thought gleefully. I just knew it. UST never lies. Out loud, she managed a remarkably calm, "So, I suppose you're going to explain why you're here?"
The big man nodded, but as per expectation, it was the younger man who spoke. "I suppose you know the whole Heinleinian "World as Myth" theory, right? The idea that there are alternate realities created when a story is read enough, written enough, believed enough to instill it with enough energy to become, like ~so~ much more than just a story?"
Mona nodded, vaguely remembering hearing someone mention something about it somewhere. Maybe. At any rate, if she nodded sagely enough, the man would keep talking. That was Canon. He talked. A lot. And it was nice to look at.
He grinned approvingly at her. "Well, we're the proof of that. We are the Jim and Blair that all you fanfic writers created. Or rather, all you slash writers created. We have life, we are sentient, and we are quite frankly, a little pissed with you people."
The big man frowned ominously. "Make that a lot pissed, Chief."
The younger man patted his knee reassuringly. "Okay, a lot pissed. I mean, in the last three years we've been through hell and back. We've deserted each other, overdosed, had affairs, been assaulted, victimized, betrayed, and still managed to … ah…well…." He made a suggestive hand gesture. "It’s not that we don't enjoy that part, I mean that is ~so~ not it, but between everything … we're tired, y'know?" He offered her a winsome smile.
"And raw. Don't forget raw," the tall guy rumbled.
The short guy's smile notched up from winsome to blinding. "Yeah." He blinked and refocused. "And then, to top it all off, we get dumped for a month at a time. All or nothing. It's maddening. So, we were wondering, if like, you could give us a hand."
Mona caught herself mid-nod. "How?"
"You write good stuff. Even the angst has so much style that it hurts ~good~," the big guy offered gruffly.
"Yeah, that 70's piece was, like, inspired. Very "Tales of the City". I was totally down with it, even if the withdrawal sucked harshly," the younger man agreed. "So we were wondering if you could write us something a little lighter? Y'know, mellow?"
"Romantic," the other man added. "But letting us have some time to recover, if you know what I mean?"
"Yeah, romance. But, like buddies, y'know? I mean, none of this crap where he treats me like I'm all fragile, or I go wincing along afraid of my own shadow. I am, like, ~so~ not into that!" the short guy exclaimed.
"I ain't no father figure or leather freak," the big guy agreed. "I just want a nice weekend without psychos, personal upheaval, or totally syrupy pet names. We figured you were the woman to give it to us. When you're not lost in space, that is," he added drily.
Uh-oh. Tom and Chak had obviously been ruffling a few feathers. Hrm. "I'm a little at the mercy of my muse, guys. I've gotta write what comes. You can't force it. But I'll try. Really. You are there, you know, even though it's almost been a month. I've got ideas, but the time has got to be right!" There, it was honest and genuine. A good answer to give. She felt flattered, though, by the fact that they had approached her of all the writers out there. "I ~will~ try … or maybe encourage someone else to!"
The two men exchanged a speaking glance, then shrugged. "That's all we can ask of you. It was good of you to let us in." The big guy stood up and clasped her hand in a hearty shake. She found herself swimming in electric blue eyes. A moment later they were smoke blue, and at her own eye-level.
"Yeah, thanks." the younger man said. "We'd best be going. We hear there's an auction happening. We need to get Gatorade." They paused for a minute by the door, exchanging a long glance. "Hey, just to maybe help kick-start your muse …."
She watched in open-mouthed surprise as the big guy bent down and kissed the smaller man. It wasn't all-out tonsil hockey -- just sweet, and slow, and infinite. All sensation below her neck cut out. Just when she thought her breathing might actually stop, they broke apart and turned to wave.
"Take care of yourself," the big guy said as they moved out of her apartment. He lingered a moment in the doorway. "I wouldn't go up to bed just yet if I were you." He cocked his head a little, like a dog listening to a far away noise. "There' s a couple of guys heading this way. One of them named … Alex? They're talking about coming here to find out if you know what number comes after …nine?" He shook his head, then shot her a last, bone-melting smile before closing the door.
Mona sat down on the floor in a puddle, and waited for the next knock.
END
B