Wrinkles, Egos, and Love

[katleept]

Title: Wrinkles, Egos, and Love
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Golden Girls
Character/Pairing: Blanche/Dorothy
Rating: Strong PG-13/T
Challenge/Prompt: story_works: Harvest of Sweet Fruit
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,232
Date Written: 16 May, 2016
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.




Dorothy stops in her tracks as she exits their bathroom and sees Blanche staring at her reflection through big, sad eyes. Her beautiful face has gone pale, and she suddenly looks both exhausted and sorrowful. "Blanche," Dorothy asks slowly and dreadfully, "what's wrong?"

"Dorothy . . . "

She's almost sobbing, and Dorothy hurries to her side. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Ah'm . . . Ah'm old!" Blanche wails, and Dorothy stops for a second time already tonight.

She has to fight the grin that her lips are trying to form. Of course, she's old. They've been old since they first met. She herself has been old for so long that sometimes she can no longer remember what it used to feel like to be young. Was she ever carefree? she wonders idly. She can't remember a time in her life when she wasn't serious. Too serious for her own good, her mother used to say and still sometimes does to this day.

But, for her beloved Blanche, being old isn't an easily accepted fact of life. She's denied her true age for as long as Dorothy's known her. She used to try to say she was in her thirties when Dorothy first moved in to her home. Gradually, she moved into her proclaimed forties, but the truth is, none of them have seen their thirties or forties in a very long time. Fifty is even a good couple of decades away.

Still, her girlfriend is obviously horrified by the realization. She must have finally found a gray hair, Dorothy thinks, still trying not to smile. She's still trying to figure out how to respond in a way that won't upset Blanche further when her girlfriend turns back to her reflection and proclaims in horror, "Ah have wrinkles!"

Dorothy lets herself smile. This one, she knows how to handle. She gently places her hands on Blanche's shoulders and smiles at her love's reflection. "Yes," she admits, "you do, but do you know what I see when I look at you, Blanche Deveraux? I see the most beautiful woman ever, regardless of your wrinkles."

"But -- But -- They're horrible!" Blanche wails, and Dorothy notes there are actual, real tears forming in her beautiful eyes.

"No, they're not," she says, switching tactics and shaking her head. "They're life lines."

Blanche pouts up at her. "What are you talkin' 'bout now, Dorothy?" she drawls. "They're not life lines. They're horrible, little lines that betray me an' make me look older than Ah am!"

Dorothy again shakes her own, grey head. "No, they're not horrible, and they're not betraying you, Blanche. They're telling the story of your life."

"A story that doesn't need t' be told unless it's told by me!" Blanche exclaims, stomping her foot underneath her dresser.

Dorothy has to bite her bottom lip to keep from laughing aloud at her childish antic. Her girlfriend may be only a few years younger than herself, but she certainly still acts like a spoiled brat sometimes, perhaps too often even. Still, she keeps her cool and responds with patience, "They're not doing you an injustice, Blanche. I actually like them."

"You would!"

"Yes, I would, and I do," Dorothy counters carefully. She traces a couple of the wrinkles around the outside of Blanche's eyes. "I love the way these crinkle up when you laugh. I think it's cute."

Blanche glowers at her, but she continues, "And this one?" She trails her finger softly up a wrinkle in Blanche's cheek. "I like to kiss this one every time we make love."

She notes the way Blanche presses her lips together and knows she's slowly beginning to win her over. "I remember when we made this one," she says, trailing her fingers just as softly over Blanche's chin which is still jutting out in determination.

"You do?"

"Yeah." Dorothy's eyes sparkle at Blanche's reflection. "I do very fondly." She beams. "It was the holiday weekend we stole away from here and spent all three days in our hotel room loving each other. I've never been loved like that in all my life."

Blanche laughs and finally smiles. "Yes, you have," she challenges. "Ah loved you like that last night."

"Yeah," Dorothy admits but continues, waggling her eyebrows, "but not for three full days and nights."

"Ya have me there," Blanche admits with a giggle. "Ah didn't know ya had such stamina, Dorothy, until that weekend!"

Dorothy grins at her as she turns her around and away from her mirror. "I learned it from the best." She stoops down to gaze directly into Blanche's face, her hands still propped on her lithe shoulders. She can feel her soft flesh beneath the sheer fabric of her nightgown, but loving will have to wait. There's more important things with which to deal first. She almost smirks, but bites her lip again, as she realizes that soothing her girlfriend's ego has become important to her.

But then, they've both grown. Blanche's wrinkles really are a statement to that fact. They've grown in much more than age. They've grown more mature and more in love with each other with every passing day. Blanche no longer teases her for being plain as she once did, and her head no longer turns constantly when they're out with each other. She no longer worries who sees them together or what man whose company she might miss out on because she's with Dorothy. They've chosen each other, and that means choosing to love each other completely, wrinkles, egos, and all the rest of their faults.

"I really do love your wrinkles, Blanche," Dorothy speaks sincerely. She leans forward and kisses three in a row. "Every one of them tells a story, and they're all a part of you. Your age is, too, you know. We wouldn't have half the stories we have, and I bet you wouldn't know half the tricks you know," she adds with a meaningful wink, "if we hadn't lived as long as we have. And I hope to live twice as long as we already have, loving you every step of the way."

"Oh, Dorothy!" Blanche cries, melting. She shakes her head in utter amazement. "Ah swear, sometimes, ya know just th' thing t' say t' make a gal feel good about yoahself! Ah nevah would've thought ya have such a silver tongue!"

"You like my tongue," Dorothy counters with another wink.

Blanche laughs and blushes lightly. "Ah do, shugah," she admits, shaking her head again in wonder at her girlfriend who's become so open with her when they're alone. "Ah really do!"

Dorothy pulls her to her feet and up into her arms. "And I," she vows, "really love your wrinkles." She rains sweet, heated kisses over each of Blanche's wrinkles on her beautiful face, making her giggle and thrill all at the same time as she leads her, backwards, to their water bed. She lays her down gently and crawls onto the bed beside her.

"And now," she announces, "it's time to show you how much my tongue loves your wrinkles." She licks at Blanche's wrinkles. Blanche wriggles beneath her, and the fit of giggles Dorothy's tongue produces shrieks throughout their home. Dorothy grins, and slowly, her tongue goes lower . . . and lower . . . and lower still until Blanche's giggles become shrieks of delight and she carries her lover to elation once again.

The End

Comments

[kattrip033.livejournal.com]

Very sweet. Only Dorothy would know how to tame a Blanche tantrum.