Fic: Gloomy Sunday
Gloomy Sunday
Demi/Selena - Disney RPF
PG-13 | 2,533 words
Of all the gin joints in all the world.
Also: an excellent cover of Gloomy Sunday by Bjork.
(sunday is gloomy, the hours are slumberless)
This is the part Selena dreads most: the waiting.
She spent all Saturday night awake in a depot trying to seem anxious for a coming bus. Really, she didn't want to be on the street at night. This morning was gray and it loomed with stretching clouds. She's got a suitcase stuffed full to breaking and maybe fifty bucks to her name, but this is it. She's here. She's made it.
California sure ain't much to look at from the back of a Greyhound station. Selena's not sure what she was expecting, exactly, but she knows this ain't it. She was maybe hoping for bright lights and marquees. What she's got are scuff marks on her shoes and a smell in her hair like she can only hope will wash out. Her back is sore from trying to sleep on those benches and right now, she's wishing so bad she brought a map.
She knows which way she ought to be heading, though. Hollywood is due South, so Selena hits the road with her thumb out in that direction and waits.
A van picks her up outside the city limits. The door rattles when she pulls it shut and the windows shake something fierce. The man driving looks like he hasn't shaved, or even bathed, in days. Selena's a little sorry she hopped in now, but she gives him a small smile anyway.
“Where you going, sweetheart?” he asks. Selena can smell whiskey on his breath and tries not to shudder at the way he leers. She has a fleeting worry for her virtue. She ain't got much, but she's got that and she's surely wishing she hadn't hopped in now.
“Hollywood,” she says, clear as a bell. She spies the head of a tap and the belly of a keg on the floor behind her. Selena's realizing too late that she's accepted a ride from a bootlegger. She's going to hightail it at the next town, the minute they stop.
(not where the dark coach of sorrow has taken you)
Selena ducks out of the van as soon as Max (that's the driver's name, see) takes a crate into an nameless building. She has to go back when it dawns on her she's left her suitcase, but she gets away clean. She's walking alone now and the streets are dark. There's a chill in the air that's beckoning the end of summer. Selena's thinking she's got to find a place to hunker down pretty soon or she's in trouble.
On the sidewalk ahead of her there's a guy strolling along with his gal. Selena watches them disappear into an unmarked venue, and when they do, she hears voices creep out of the crack in the door. She doesn't think twice about following them. Selena makes it about halfway to the door when the sky opens up with a clap of sudden, rolling thunder. It's so loud and unexpected that she drops her suitcase in surprise and promptly trips over it. Everything she's got left in the world spills into the dirty street.
Her palms are scraped and she's got a run in her stocking now, just below the knee. Selena packs her things back in her bag and kneels on it to get it closed. It's no big thing, but for some reason it weighs on her. The rain has started over her head and suddenly Selena is as sorry as she ever was for leaving home. She's fit to cry, right there in the gutter, but she hears something soft that makes her lift her head. That place the guy and his gal slunk into, it's playing music. Selena pushes herself up from the ground and starts taking steps toward that sound.
(would they be angry if i thought of joining you)
By some coincidence, Selena finds herself in a dimly lit gin joint. She's a bit wet, but not much worse for the wear. She tries to be as unassuming as possible, to blend. There are plenty of empty seats at the bar and Selena takes one at the far end. There's a sign behind her that reads “IITYWYBAD.” What she heard before was a dame singing on stage. Selena watches her now and has a hard time believing her own eyes. The woman-a girl, really; she couldn't be much older than Selena herself-is small. She's got to be about Selena's size, maybe smaller, but she's got grown pipes and is crooning up on that stage like Billie Holiday. Selena can't look away.
She's only catching the tail end of the song, but it's something sweet and very lonely. Selena is very disappointed when it finishes. She's sadder still to see the girl accept her applause and then make her way off the stage like she's done. Selena watches this gal make her way around the room and take folded bills from the folks she passes. Selena only knows she's staring when she realizes the girl is moving toward her and staring right back. Selena spins away so hard that her knees meet the underside of the bar with an audible crack. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the girl standing at her side and watches from her periphery as she slides onto the stool next to Selena's.
“You don't mind if I sit, do you?” she asks. Selena turns to face her and takes in the smokey, kohl-rimmed eyes, the short dress. This is the kind of girl her mama always warned her away from. They're nothing but trouble, you hear?
Selena says as brave as she can, “Not at all.”
The girl flashes a brilliant smile and lifts an eyebrow, “I've never seen you in here before.”
“I've never been in here before,” but Selena thinks it makes her sound like a square, like she'd never been in these kinds of places at all. She hasn't, but she amends anyway. “I just got into town.”
The girl's smile widens impossibly. “Well, then. Consider me your Welcome Wagon. Let me buy you a drink.” She slaps the bar before Selena can refuse and the bartender appears behind with a towel over his shoulder. “What'll you have?”
Selena has never drunk a day in her life. Well, except for Communion wine, but she hardly thinks that counts. She surprises herself and says: “Whatever you're having.”
The girl's smile goes sly and she turns back to the barkeep. “You heard her, Joe.”
Joe produces two glasses of amber liquid from nowhere and sets them on the bar with a grunt. They each take one and down it, and Selena nearly chokes. She can't help but gasp. Her eyes water and her throat burns and she's struggling just to breathe.
“Easy there, darlin',” Selena hears. There's a light hand patting her back, but it irks more than it soothes. “You want another?”
Selena looks up and sniffs. She can't tell if this gal is yanking her chain or not.
“How about a smoke, then? Calm your nerves,” she says. Selena knows she's serious because she's holding out a gilded cigarette case under Selena's nose. Selena's not going to make the same mistake twice.
“No, thanks.” In the back of her mind, Selena's mother's voice is intoning: Smoking is for vagabonds and harlots.
“Suit yourself,” and the girl takes a cigarette between gloved fingers and sticks it between her lips. She leans over the bar where Joe is waiting with a struck match. When she does, Selena sees an obscene amount of skin.
“So, you got a name?”
“Selena.”
“That's real pretty.”
“What's yours?”
The girl leaned back and threw her arm up on the bar. Smoke rings escaped the perfect “O” of her red mouth when she exhaled and vanished into nothing. “Demi,” she says. “Where you from?”
“Texas,” Selena answers. Demi's face lights up.
“No shit? Me, too.”
“You're joking.” She's certain now this Demi is having her on.
“I never,” Demi drawls. She eyes Selena like she knows her. “Let me guess. You going to Hollywood?”
“Yes, actually,” Selena says. She's embarrassed for a reason she can't put a name to. Like she should be so obvious. “How can you tell?”
Demi gives her a smile now that Selena can't understand. “You've got stars in your eyes, kiddo.”
Selena resents that. She ain't no kid. She isn't too sure she much likes Demi and the way she thinks she knows everything. Selena rolls her glass between her palms for something to do. She looks out onto the floor and sees something she can't believe she didn't notice before. Not all the couples dancing are men and women. She turns back to Demi, who's got that same knowing look on her face, and watches her light a new cigarette from her old one.
“Just what kind of place is this?” Selena asks as casual as she can.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, the way people are getting together...” Selena lets the question trail off there, hopes Demi gets her meaning. Selena thinks she does because Demi smiles that sly smile again.
“Sure,” she says, voice lilting. “We're all having a good time here.”
The way Demi's looking at her, Selena doesn't doubt it. She feels a little odd being here, given what she knows now and how close Demi's sitting. Not odd enough that she moves away, though.
“Say, Selena from Texas,” Demi begins. She stubs out her butt in an overflowing ashtray and stands, one hand out. “How 'bout a dance?”
Selena hesitates for a moment, but not for the reason she'd expect. For all her talent, her feet ain't got much rhythm. She's more worried about making a fool of herself or stepping on Demi's toes than she is about being seen dancing with another woman in a seedy speakeasy. That's got to say something.
“Why not?” and she takes Demi's hand and lets Demi lead her to the floor.
It's not as queer as she thought it might be. Sure, it takes some getting used to. Demi is about level with her instead of towering like a boy would. Her body is a lot smaller and Selena can get her arms all the way around. It makes it so they're standing awful close. Selena can smell the perfume Demi is wearing and it makes her head swim. They sway to the music real gentle.
“I've got a room upstairs,” Demi breathes into her ear. Suddenly, Demi's dropping her hand down Selena's thigh and it dips below Selena's knee. Demi snaps the run in Selena's stocking like she's being playful. “I could loan you a new pair. Can't have you runnin' ragged now, can we?”
For the second time tonight, Selena is surprised at the words that come out of her own mouth. “No, we can't. I'll follow you.”
Demi's got no smile for her now, but the look in her eyes is far more promising. She goes back to the bar to retrieve Selena's suitcase and, like a gentleman ought to, she holds out her arm for Selena to take. At the top of narrow stairs, Demi keys open a thick door. She holds it and lets Selena pass.
(soon there'll be prayers and candles are lit, i know)
“'Fraid I don't get power up here,” Demi apologizes. She goes about with a box of kitchen matches and lights up the room. It fills slowly with soft, warm light; her candles are little more than wicks drowning in old wax.
“You missed one,” Selena says. When Demi turns, Selena waves wide at a cluster of wax on the window sill. The silver of the ring on Selena's left hand catches the wan light and glints. Demi sees it as she saunters over.
“You ain't married, are you?” Demi asks. Selena says she's not, but somehow doesn't think it'd make a difference if she were. “But you've got a beau?”
“No, I don't.” Selena sheds her ring then, feeling stupid as ever. Whatever is going on here, it sure ain't pure.
“Well, have a seat.”
Selena sets her suitcase down and sits on the only space she can: Demi's unmade bed. She watches as Demi moves over to a wardrobe and wrenches open the tired door. Without fair warning, Demi toes out of her kitten heels and pulls her dress over her head. She's standing in nothing but a flimsy slip and not caring that Selena can see. Selena has to tear her eyes away. There's footsteps before Selena braves looking again. Demi's voice is low and heavy.
“I 'spose you want what you came for.” She's holding out a pair of stockings, but the way her voice is makes Selena think she's talking about something else. Selena can't make her mouth open to say thank you and she sits there staring, dumb as a post. Demi doesn't respond, either. Selena watches as Demi drops wordlessly to the floor in front of her and takes hold of her ankle to remove her shoe. Selena doesn't pull away and lets Demi's hand slide up the outside of her calf. Under the hem of Selena's skirt, Demi's hand finds the end of Selena's stocking mid-thigh and pulls it slowly off.
There's thunder in Selena's heart matching the thunder storming outside. Demi reaches over to repeat the process on Selena's other side. She says something like, “No good without a pair,” but Selena can't be bothered to listen. When both Selena's legs are bare, Demi makes like she's moving away. Selena's hand flies out and fastens tight to Demi's shoulder. Demi looks up at her through thick lashes.
“Tell me something, Selena,” she says. “You ever see women?”
Selena stammers: “Women? Do you?”
Demi's hand has slid back up Selena's leg; it's cupping right behind Selena's knee. “That's my taste, yes.”
“Oh.” Selena had been sort of thinking Demi was a little sweet on her. She didn't want to assume anything, but now it doesn't feel like quite such a big leap. She'd maybe heard that sort of thing happened, in passing. But it was like drinking: debauched and more than a little taboo. Demi rises up on her knees, though, and draws even with her. When she's leaning close, Selena can't really understand who would say no.
Demi kisses her full on the lips and it's no surprise, but it's still a surprise. She gasps and Demi takes advantage of her open mouth; sneaks her tongue in. Demi embraces her and it's right like nothing else Selena's ever known. When she can't hold herself upright any longer, Selena sinks down to the mattress. Demi is quick to follow.
That hand Demi had on Selena's leg is moving purposefully upward and taking Selena's skirt up with it. Demi breaks away long enough to speak hungry words against Selena's lips.
“You going to let me touch you?” Demi's hand is already working at the waistband of Selena's panties.
Selena's nodding vigorously, eyes blissfully shut. She's thinking: God, am I ever. It's answer enough and Demi's mouth returns to hers.
(my heart is telling you how much i wanted you)
Demi/Selena - Disney RPF
PG-13 | 2,533 words
Of all the gin joints in all the world.
Also: an excellent cover of Gloomy Sunday by Bjork.
(sunday is gloomy, the hours are slumberless)
This is the part Selena dreads most: the waiting.
She spent all Saturday night awake in a depot trying to seem anxious for a coming bus. Really, she didn't want to be on the street at night. This morning was gray and it loomed with stretching clouds. She's got a suitcase stuffed full to breaking and maybe fifty bucks to her name, but this is it. She's here. She's made it.
California sure ain't much to look at from the back of a Greyhound station. Selena's not sure what she was expecting, exactly, but she knows this ain't it. She was maybe hoping for bright lights and marquees. What she's got are scuff marks on her shoes and a smell in her hair like she can only hope will wash out. Her back is sore from trying to sleep on those benches and right now, she's wishing so bad she brought a map.
She knows which way she ought to be heading, though. Hollywood is due South, so Selena hits the road with her thumb out in that direction and waits.
A van picks her up outside the city limits. The door rattles when she pulls it shut and the windows shake something fierce. The man driving looks like he hasn't shaved, or even bathed, in days. Selena's a little sorry she hopped in now, but she gives him a small smile anyway.
“Where you going, sweetheart?” he asks. Selena can smell whiskey on his breath and tries not to shudder at the way he leers. She has a fleeting worry for her virtue. She ain't got much, but she's got that and she's surely wishing she hadn't hopped in now.
“Hollywood,” she says, clear as a bell. She spies the head of a tap and the belly of a keg on the floor behind her. Selena's realizing too late that she's accepted a ride from a bootlegger. She's going to hightail it at the next town, the minute they stop.
(not where the dark coach of sorrow has taken you)
Selena ducks out of the van as soon as Max (that's the driver's name, see) takes a crate into an nameless building. She has to go back when it dawns on her she's left her suitcase, but she gets away clean. She's walking alone now and the streets are dark. There's a chill in the air that's beckoning the end of summer. Selena's thinking she's got to find a place to hunker down pretty soon or she's in trouble.
On the sidewalk ahead of her there's a guy strolling along with his gal. Selena watches them disappear into an unmarked venue, and when they do, she hears voices creep out of the crack in the door. She doesn't think twice about following them. Selena makes it about halfway to the door when the sky opens up with a clap of sudden, rolling thunder. It's so loud and unexpected that she drops her suitcase in surprise and promptly trips over it. Everything she's got left in the world spills into the dirty street.
Her palms are scraped and she's got a run in her stocking now, just below the knee. Selena packs her things back in her bag and kneels on it to get it closed. It's no big thing, but for some reason it weighs on her. The rain has started over her head and suddenly Selena is as sorry as she ever was for leaving home. She's fit to cry, right there in the gutter, but she hears something soft that makes her lift her head. That place the guy and his gal slunk into, it's playing music. Selena pushes herself up from the ground and starts taking steps toward that sound.
(would they be angry if i thought of joining you)
By some coincidence, Selena finds herself in a dimly lit gin joint. She's a bit wet, but not much worse for the wear. She tries to be as unassuming as possible, to blend. There are plenty of empty seats at the bar and Selena takes one at the far end. There's a sign behind her that reads “IITYWYBAD.” What she heard before was a dame singing on stage. Selena watches her now and has a hard time believing her own eyes. The woman-a girl, really; she couldn't be much older than Selena herself-is small. She's got to be about Selena's size, maybe smaller, but she's got grown pipes and is crooning up on that stage like Billie Holiday. Selena can't look away.
She's only catching the tail end of the song, but it's something sweet and very lonely. Selena is very disappointed when it finishes. She's sadder still to see the girl accept her applause and then make her way off the stage like she's done. Selena watches this gal make her way around the room and take folded bills from the folks she passes. Selena only knows she's staring when she realizes the girl is moving toward her and staring right back. Selena spins away so hard that her knees meet the underside of the bar with an audible crack. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see the girl standing at her side and watches from her periphery as she slides onto the stool next to Selena's.
“You don't mind if I sit, do you?” she asks. Selena turns to face her and takes in the smokey, kohl-rimmed eyes, the short dress. This is the kind of girl her mama always warned her away from. They're nothing but trouble, you hear?
Selena says as brave as she can, “Not at all.”
The girl flashes a brilliant smile and lifts an eyebrow, “I've never seen you in here before.”
“I've never been in here before,” but Selena thinks it makes her sound like a square, like she'd never been in these kinds of places at all. She hasn't, but she amends anyway. “I just got into town.”
The girl's smile widens impossibly. “Well, then. Consider me your Welcome Wagon. Let me buy you a drink.” She slaps the bar before Selena can refuse and the bartender appears behind with a towel over his shoulder. “What'll you have?”
Selena has never drunk a day in her life. Well, except for Communion wine, but she hardly thinks that counts. She surprises herself and says: “Whatever you're having.”
The girl's smile goes sly and she turns back to the barkeep. “You heard her, Joe.”
Joe produces two glasses of amber liquid from nowhere and sets them on the bar with a grunt. They each take one and down it, and Selena nearly chokes. She can't help but gasp. Her eyes water and her throat burns and she's struggling just to breathe.
“Easy there, darlin',” Selena hears. There's a light hand patting her back, but it irks more than it soothes. “You want another?”
Selena looks up and sniffs. She can't tell if this gal is yanking her chain or not.
“How about a smoke, then? Calm your nerves,” she says. Selena knows she's serious because she's holding out a gilded cigarette case under Selena's nose. Selena's not going to make the same mistake twice.
“No, thanks.” In the back of her mind, Selena's mother's voice is intoning: Smoking is for vagabonds and harlots.
“Suit yourself,” and the girl takes a cigarette between gloved fingers and sticks it between her lips. She leans over the bar where Joe is waiting with a struck match. When she does, Selena sees an obscene amount of skin.
“So, you got a name?”
“Selena.”
“That's real pretty.”
“What's yours?”
The girl leaned back and threw her arm up on the bar. Smoke rings escaped the perfect “O” of her red mouth when she exhaled and vanished into nothing. “Demi,” she says. “Where you from?”
“Texas,” Selena answers. Demi's face lights up.
“No shit? Me, too.”
“You're joking.” She's certain now this Demi is having her on.
“I never,” Demi drawls. She eyes Selena like she knows her. “Let me guess. You going to Hollywood?”
“Yes, actually,” Selena says. She's embarrassed for a reason she can't put a name to. Like she should be so obvious. “How can you tell?”
Demi gives her a smile now that Selena can't understand. “You've got stars in your eyes, kiddo.”
Selena resents that. She ain't no kid. She isn't too sure she much likes Demi and the way she thinks she knows everything. Selena rolls her glass between her palms for something to do. She looks out onto the floor and sees something she can't believe she didn't notice before. Not all the couples dancing are men and women. She turns back to Demi, who's got that same knowing look on her face, and watches her light a new cigarette from her old one.
“Just what kind of place is this?” Selena asks as casual as she can.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, the way people are getting together...” Selena lets the question trail off there, hopes Demi gets her meaning. Selena thinks she does because Demi smiles that sly smile again.
“Sure,” she says, voice lilting. “We're all having a good time here.”
The way Demi's looking at her, Selena doesn't doubt it. She feels a little odd being here, given what she knows now and how close Demi's sitting. Not odd enough that she moves away, though.
“Say, Selena from Texas,” Demi begins. She stubs out her butt in an overflowing ashtray and stands, one hand out. “How 'bout a dance?”
Selena hesitates for a moment, but not for the reason she'd expect. For all her talent, her feet ain't got much rhythm. She's more worried about making a fool of herself or stepping on Demi's toes than she is about being seen dancing with another woman in a seedy speakeasy. That's got to say something.
“Why not?” and she takes Demi's hand and lets Demi lead her to the floor.
It's not as queer as she thought it might be. Sure, it takes some getting used to. Demi is about level with her instead of towering like a boy would. Her body is a lot smaller and Selena can get her arms all the way around. It makes it so they're standing awful close. Selena can smell the perfume Demi is wearing and it makes her head swim. They sway to the music real gentle.
“I've got a room upstairs,” Demi breathes into her ear. Suddenly, Demi's dropping her hand down Selena's thigh and it dips below Selena's knee. Demi snaps the run in Selena's stocking like she's being playful. “I could loan you a new pair. Can't have you runnin' ragged now, can we?”
For the second time tonight, Selena is surprised at the words that come out of her own mouth. “No, we can't. I'll follow you.”
Demi's got no smile for her now, but the look in her eyes is far more promising. She goes back to the bar to retrieve Selena's suitcase and, like a gentleman ought to, she holds out her arm for Selena to take. At the top of narrow stairs, Demi keys open a thick door. She holds it and lets Selena pass.
(soon there'll be prayers and candles are lit, i know)
“'Fraid I don't get power up here,” Demi apologizes. She goes about with a box of kitchen matches and lights up the room. It fills slowly with soft, warm light; her candles are little more than wicks drowning in old wax.
“You missed one,” Selena says. When Demi turns, Selena waves wide at a cluster of wax on the window sill. The silver of the ring on Selena's left hand catches the wan light and glints. Demi sees it as she saunters over.
“You ain't married, are you?” Demi asks. Selena says she's not, but somehow doesn't think it'd make a difference if she were. “But you've got a beau?”
“No, I don't.” Selena sheds her ring then, feeling stupid as ever. Whatever is going on here, it sure ain't pure.
“Well, have a seat.”
Selena sets her suitcase down and sits on the only space she can: Demi's unmade bed. She watches as Demi moves over to a wardrobe and wrenches open the tired door. Without fair warning, Demi toes out of her kitten heels and pulls her dress over her head. She's standing in nothing but a flimsy slip and not caring that Selena can see. Selena has to tear her eyes away. There's footsteps before Selena braves looking again. Demi's voice is low and heavy.
“I 'spose you want what you came for.” She's holding out a pair of stockings, but the way her voice is makes Selena think she's talking about something else. Selena can't make her mouth open to say thank you and she sits there staring, dumb as a post. Demi doesn't respond, either. Selena watches as Demi drops wordlessly to the floor in front of her and takes hold of her ankle to remove her shoe. Selena doesn't pull away and lets Demi's hand slide up the outside of her calf. Under the hem of Selena's skirt, Demi's hand finds the end of Selena's stocking mid-thigh and pulls it slowly off.
There's thunder in Selena's heart matching the thunder storming outside. Demi reaches over to repeat the process on Selena's other side. She says something like, “No good without a pair,” but Selena can't be bothered to listen. When both Selena's legs are bare, Demi makes like she's moving away. Selena's hand flies out and fastens tight to Demi's shoulder. Demi looks up at her through thick lashes.
“Tell me something, Selena,” she says. “You ever see women?”
Selena stammers: “Women? Do you?”
Demi's hand has slid back up Selena's leg; it's cupping right behind Selena's knee. “That's my taste, yes.”
“Oh.” Selena had been sort of thinking Demi was a little sweet on her. She didn't want to assume anything, but now it doesn't feel like quite such a big leap. She'd maybe heard that sort of thing happened, in passing. But it was like drinking: debauched and more than a little taboo. Demi rises up on her knees, though, and draws even with her. When she's leaning close, Selena can't really understand who would say no.
Demi kisses her full on the lips and it's no surprise, but it's still a surprise. She gasps and Demi takes advantage of her open mouth; sneaks her tongue in. Demi embraces her and it's right like nothing else Selena's ever known. When she can't hold herself upright any longer, Selena sinks down to the mattress. Demi is quick to follow.
That hand Demi had on Selena's leg is moving purposefully upward and taking Selena's skirt up with it. Demi breaks away long enough to speak hungry words against Selena's lips.
“You going to let me touch you?” Demi's hand is already working at the waistband of Selena's panties.
Selena's nodding vigorously, eyes blissfully shut. She's thinking: God, am I ever. It's answer enough and Demi's mouth returns to hers.
(my heart is telling you how much i wanted you)