Birthday Dreams Come True
May. 25th, 2015 11:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katleeptTitle: Birthday Dreams Come True
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Golden Girls
Character/Pairing: Blanche/Dorothy
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge: This is for a challenge at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tv_universe. If you join, be sure to tell them Kat Lee of Team Bunny Ears sent you!
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,877
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
Dorothy squirmed in bed and punched her pillow before pulling down further underneath her gray head. She was another day older and still no closer to being satisfied with her life or settled down. She sighed into her pillow. The day hadn't been all that bad, she reflected. She'd had a pretty decent birthday, but she still just wasn't happy.
Perhaps, she mused, as much as she hated to admit it, it was because her bed was lonely. Her marriage to Stan had not at all been a happy one, but at least she had always known he would be there with her eventually. He might have spent more nights on the couch than in their bed, but if she had ever called him, he would've come almost running to be beside her. Of course, he would've wanted something, but then, what man ever did anything worthwhile for free?
She sighed again and tossed onto her other side. Being with Stan had never been worthwhile, she reminded himself sternly. She might want some one with whom to share her nights, and her news, and the moments when she just wanted to be with some one even if they weren't saying anything, but she wasn't crazy or stupid enough to ever again think that person should be Stan.
She knew who she wanted to be closer in her life, if she was honest with herself, but it did no good. At least she had Ma and her room mates, but as much as she secretly enjoyed their talks over cheesecake, gossip about men and work, and just generally being with them, it still didn't resolve this need. A monstrosity loomed in the shadows beyond her bed, and Dorothy sneered at it. Blanche had had some nerve giving her a gift that was supposed to take care of her "boyfriend" problem!
Dorothy flipped over again, purposefully pointing her back to the enormous pillow. It was supposed to be soft and cushiony. It had been made to alleviate the problem of wanting some one with whom to sleep, but she'd be damned if she'd ever be desperate enough to actually use the thing. First thing in the morning, she was going to find out just where Blanche had purchased the gag gift and send the blasted thing back there. Hopefully, she would be able to get a refund on it and buy her own self a better gift, but at least the thing would be out of the house.
As she lay there, trying hard to fall back asleep, she almost felt as though eyes were upon her body, trailing down her back to where her body rose with the curve of her hips. She hit her head onto her pillow. She knew she was being ridiculous, but at last, she got up to move the boyfriend pillow.
She hesitated, however, when she touched it. It was a ridiculous idea, a cruel gag gift that was not unlike Blanche's many other presents given to remind the other women around her how they needed men but she could easily have any one she chose, but it was soft. Dorothy's fingers curled into the soft material, and she gazed down at the pillow as she considered just how genuinely soft it was.
It was tempting to take it back to bed with her, after all. It could never replace the warm body of an actual living person sharing a bed with her, but maybe its soft texture would help to alleviate some of her tension. If nothing else, she could use it for a punching bag.
"You win," she muttered, feeling heat creeping up her neck from the fact that she was talking to an inanimate object, "but just for tonight." She hauled it back to bed with her and tried resting her head on the pillow. It was too big to be comfortable for her head, but after a few more times of flipping around in her lonely bed, Dorothy at last came to rest with the pillow in her arms. The way she held it was much like she might hold an actual boyfriend, but she would not give the pillow Blanche the gratification of actually considering her position.
She closed her eyes instead and tried to shut out all other thoughts. A smiling face loomed into her mind. Dorothy sneered unconsciously and squeezed the pillow. Blanche would surely laugh at her if she could see her now. She pushed the thought away and tried again to find a better dream, any other dream, really, than the ones that haunted her every night.
Her fingers smoothed the pillow's surface. She slowly threaded into its soft material. She leaned forward and caught a scent of perfume. She pushed the thought away. She didn't want to know why Blanche's perfume was on her new pillow or what she might have used her present for before actually giving it to her. Blanche and her men did crazy things of which Dorothy wanted no part.
She leaned closer into the pillow still, her hands running up and down the soft fabric, and finally began to drift toward sleep. Her thoughts and memories ceased. She no longer thought of Blanche laughing at her, but that alluring smile was still there. Her body stilled, the motion of her hands slowing. She was almost asleep when she touched something hard in the pillow.
She frowned but moved her hands higher up the pillow without opening her eyes. She was so close to sleep, and she did need to sleep. Tomorrow was Monday, and she wasn't looking forward to meeting the new group of students she was about to begin teaching. They had an unsavory reputation, but Dorothy had dealt with worse. They wouldn't find her as easy or gullible a target as the poor teacher who they had already sent to the hospital.
Her fingers, however, as though with a mind of her own, trailed back down and again found purchase on something hard within the pillow. It was a small, hard knot that shouldn't be there, but Dorothy continued to ignore it until her fingertips found the stitches sewn into her new pillow. It was only then that, with a sigh of surrender, she sat up and looked at her pillow again.
She flipped on the lamp beside her bed, and in its soft glow, she was able to make out where stitches had indeed been sewn into her pillow. They were loose and pulled apart easily. Dorothy's entire face frowned with her confusion as she popped open a secret hole on her pillow. Gold glimmered up at her in the pale light, and she worked the pocket open until she was able to retrieve the key.
Her heartbeat quickened even as her frown deepened. How had a key gotten into her pillow? There was only one person who could've placed it there, but surely she would not. She might dream of Blanche every night, but Blanche didn't return her attention. She could have any man she wanted. She would never choose to spend her valuable time with a woman of whose wrinkles and age she never ceased to make fun.
Still, there was the key, and the only person who could have possibly sewn it into her pillow was Blanche. It must be for something else, Dorothy told herself, but then why had Blanche forgotten to mention it? She knew her friend was probably still up (she very rarely went to bed early unless she had company) and decided to go find out about the key. She knew very well she'd never get to sleep as long as she was pondering its existence.
She left the opened pillow on her bed and tip toed from her room. The night was quiet, and although Blanche was certainly still up reading one of her steamy romances, Dorothy knew the others were in bed. If she woke Ma, she'd never get to sleep, and she really wasn't in the mood to tolerate one of Rose's stupid stories. Her curiosity continued to build as she crept to Blanche's room.
She hadn't gone out except when they had gone to dinner. She hadn't rubbed Dorothy nose in the fact that she didn't have a date for her own birthday and had instead insisted that her own date bring along a friend. Dorothy expected her date had been gay, but it hadn't really mattered. At least she hadn't been alone when everybody else had their hands on a man's arm.
She paused just outside Blanche's room, remembering. Blanche hadn't spoken much that evening, but she had caught her watching her several times. She had tensed every time, expecting some teasing comment to poke at her defenses, but Blanche had only smiled and diverted her own attention. Damn, but the woman was beautiful when she smiled! One look like some of the ones she had given Dorothy that evening always reminded the older woman why her friend could have the pick of any man in Miami, or quite possibly, the world.
But she had come home along. She had gone early to her room, and she wasn't sick. She had looked Dorothy again long and thoughtfully before retiring. And then there was the key which Dorothy still held in her hand. It couldn't possibly fit anything belonging to Blanche, but there alone in the hallway, Dorothy could no longer resist giving it a try.
Her heart leapt into her throat when the door swung soundlessly open at the key's touch. Candles flickered in the room. She could smell the salt on the air from the ocean as the wind fluttered the curtains through the open window. And there on her bed of white, satin sheets lay Blanche, like the Queen she knew she was, looking at her and . . . Dorothy's heart thundered. Waiting??
Blanche smiled, and Dorothy thought her knees might give way beneath her. She patted the empty side of the bed, and Dorothy noticed there was no book anywhere to be seen. "It's about time," she drawled, the tip of her tongue touching her shining, white teeth in invitation. "Ah've been waitin'."
"W-Waiting?" Dorothy's questioning voice was a shocked whisper. This was too good to be true! She had dreamed of this moment so many times, but she'd never once dared to expect her dreams could stand any chance of ever coming true. After all, Blanche couldn't want her -- old, ugly her --, but yet the alluring look on her beautiful face told her she had indeed been waiting for her hand to open her door.
She now quickly shut and locked it behind her. "B-Blanche?"
Blanche patted the open side of her bed again and jiggled her breasts at her. It was a wonder her negligee didn't fall off right then and there, but the look with which she fixed Dorothy was demanding. She was not a woman accustomed to waiting or being declined, not that Dorothy would have ever done either knowingly. "Ah've nevah asked a man twice, Dorothy Zbornak, an' Ah'm not about to ask you again."
Dorothy grinned, despite her shock. "You don't have to," she said and hurried forward to make her dreams come true.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Golden Girls
Character/Pairing: Blanche/Dorothy
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge: This is for a challenge at
tv_universe. If you join, be sure to tell them Kat Lee of Team Bunny Ears sent you!Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,877
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
Dorothy squirmed in bed and punched her pillow before pulling down further underneath her gray head. She was another day older and still no closer to being satisfied with her life or settled down. She sighed into her pillow. The day hadn't been all that bad, she reflected. She'd had a pretty decent birthday, but she still just wasn't happy.
Perhaps, she mused, as much as she hated to admit it, it was because her bed was lonely. Her marriage to Stan had not at all been a happy one, but at least she had always known he would be there with her eventually. He might have spent more nights on the couch than in their bed, but if she had ever called him, he would've come almost running to be beside her. Of course, he would've wanted something, but then, what man ever did anything worthwhile for free?
She sighed again and tossed onto her other side. Being with Stan had never been worthwhile, she reminded himself sternly. She might want some one with whom to share her nights, and her news, and the moments when she just wanted to be with some one even if they weren't saying anything, but she wasn't crazy or stupid enough to ever again think that person should be Stan.
She knew who she wanted to be closer in her life, if she was honest with herself, but it did no good. At least she had Ma and her room mates, but as much as she secretly enjoyed their talks over cheesecake, gossip about men and work, and just generally being with them, it still didn't resolve this need. A monstrosity loomed in the shadows beyond her bed, and Dorothy sneered at it. Blanche had had some nerve giving her a gift that was supposed to take care of her "boyfriend" problem!
Dorothy flipped over again, purposefully pointing her back to the enormous pillow. It was supposed to be soft and cushiony. It had been made to alleviate the problem of wanting some one with whom to sleep, but she'd be damned if she'd ever be desperate enough to actually use the thing. First thing in the morning, she was going to find out just where Blanche had purchased the gag gift and send the blasted thing back there. Hopefully, she would be able to get a refund on it and buy her own self a better gift, but at least the thing would be out of the house.
As she lay there, trying hard to fall back asleep, she almost felt as though eyes were upon her body, trailing down her back to where her body rose with the curve of her hips. She hit her head onto her pillow. She knew she was being ridiculous, but at last, she got up to move the boyfriend pillow.
She hesitated, however, when she touched it. It was a ridiculous idea, a cruel gag gift that was not unlike Blanche's many other presents given to remind the other women around her how they needed men but she could easily have any one she chose, but it was soft. Dorothy's fingers curled into the soft material, and she gazed down at the pillow as she considered just how genuinely soft it was.
It was tempting to take it back to bed with her, after all. It could never replace the warm body of an actual living person sharing a bed with her, but maybe its soft texture would help to alleviate some of her tension. If nothing else, she could use it for a punching bag.
"You win," she muttered, feeling heat creeping up her neck from the fact that she was talking to an inanimate object, "but just for tonight." She hauled it back to bed with her and tried resting her head on the pillow. It was too big to be comfortable for her head, but after a few more times of flipping around in her lonely bed, Dorothy at last came to rest with the pillow in her arms. The way she held it was much like she might hold an actual boyfriend, but she would not give the pillow Blanche the gratification of actually considering her position.
She closed her eyes instead and tried to shut out all other thoughts. A smiling face loomed into her mind. Dorothy sneered unconsciously and squeezed the pillow. Blanche would surely laugh at her if she could see her now. She pushed the thought away and tried again to find a better dream, any other dream, really, than the ones that haunted her every night.
Her fingers smoothed the pillow's surface. She slowly threaded into its soft material. She leaned forward and caught a scent of perfume. She pushed the thought away. She didn't want to know why Blanche's perfume was on her new pillow or what she might have used her present for before actually giving it to her. Blanche and her men did crazy things of which Dorothy wanted no part.
She leaned closer into the pillow still, her hands running up and down the soft fabric, and finally began to drift toward sleep. Her thoughts and memories ceased. She no longer thought of Blanche laughing at her, but that alluring smile was still there. Her body stilled, the motion of her hands slowing. She was almost asleep when she touched something hard in the pillow.
She frowned but moved her hands higher up the pillow without opening her eyes. She was so close to sleep, and she did need to sleep. Tomorrow was Monday, and she wasn't looking forward to meeting the new group of students she was about to begin teaching. They had an unsavory reputation, but Dorothy had dealt with worse. They wouldn't find her as easy or gullible a target as the poor teacher who they had already sent to the hospital.
Her fingers, however, as though with a mind of her own, trailed back down and again found purchase on something hard within the pillow. It was a small, hard knot that shouldn't be there, but Dorothy continued to ignore it until her fingertips found the stitches sewn into her new pillow. It was only then that, with a sigh of surrender, she sat up and looked at her pillow again.
She flipped on the lamp beside her bed, and in its soft glow, she was able to make out where stitches had indeed been sewn into her pillow. They were loose and pulled apart easily. Dorothy's entire face frowned with her confusion as she popped open a secret hole on her pillow. Gold glimmered up at her in the pale light, and she worked the pocket open until she was able to retrieve the key.
Her heartbeat quickened even as her frown deepened. How had a key gotten into her pillow? There was only one person who could've placed it there, but surely she would not. She might dream of Blanche every night, but Blanche didn't return her attention. She could have any man she wanted. She would never choose to spend her valuable time with a woman of whose wrinkles and age she never ceased to make fun.
Still, there was the key, and the only person who could have possibly sewn it into her pillow was Blanche. It must be for something else, Dorothy told herself, but then why had Blanche forgotten to mention it? She knew her friend was probably still up (she very rarely went to bed early unless she had company) and decided to go find out about the key. She knew very well she'd never get to sleep as long as she was pondering its existence.
She left the opened pillow on her bed and tip toed from her room. The night was quiet, and although Blanche was certainly still up reading one of her steamy romances, Dorothy knew the others were in bed. If she woke Ma, she'd never get to sleep, and she really wasn't in the mood to tolerate one of Rose's stupid stories. Her curiosity continued to build as she crept to Blanche's room.
She hadn't gone out except when they had gone to dinner. She hadn't rubbed Dorothy nose in the fact that she didn't have a date for her own birthday and had instead insisted that her own date bring along a friend. Dorothy expected her date had been gay, but it hadn't really mattered. At least she hadn't been alone when everybody else had their hands on a man's arm.
She paused just outside Blanche's room, remembering. Blanche hadn't spoken much that evening, but she had caught her watching her several times. She had tensed every time, expecting some teasing comment to poke at her defenses, but Blanche had only smiled and diverted her own attention. Damn, but the woman was beautiful when she smiled! One look like some of the ones she had given Dorothy that evening always reminded the older woman why her friend could have the pick of any man in Miami, or quite possibly, the world.
But she had come home along. She had gone early to her room, and she wasn't sick. She had looked Dorothy again long and thoughtfully before retiring. And then there was the key which Dorothy still held in her hand. It couldn't possibly fit anything belonging to Blanche, but there alone in the hallway, Dorothy could no longer resist giving it a try.
Her heart leapt into her throat when the door swung soundlessly open at the key's touch. Candles flickered in the room. She could smell the salt on the air from the ocean as the wind fluttered the curtains through the open window. And there on her bed of white, satin sheets lay Blanche, like the Queen she knew she was, looking at her and . . . Dorothy's heart thundered. Waiting??
Blanche smiled, and Dorothy thought her knees might give way beneath her. She patted the empty side of the bed, and Dorothy noticed there was no book anywhere to be seen. "It's about time," she drawled, the tip of her tongue touching her shining, white teeth in invitation. "Ah've been waitin'."
"W-Waiting?" Dorothy's questioning voice was a shocked whisper. This was too good to be true! She had dreamed of this moment so many times, but she'd never once dared to expect her dreams could stand any chance of ever coming true. After all, Blanche couldn't want her -- old, ugly her --, but yet the alluring look on her beautiful face told her she had indeed been waiting for her hand to open her door.
She now quickly shut and locked it behind her. "B-Blanche?"
Blanche patted the open side of her bed again and jiggled her breasts at her. It was a wonder her negligee didn't fall off right then and there, but the look with which she fixed Dorothy was demanding. She was not a woman accustomed to waiting or being declined, not that Dorothy would have ever done either knowingly. "Ah've nevah asked a man twice, Dorothy Zbornak, an' Ah'm not about to ask you again."
Dorothy grinned, despite her shock. "You don't have to," she said and hurried forward to make her dreams come true.
The End
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Date: 2015-05-25 06:45 pm (UTC)