SERIES: Faith and Energy

PART: 1 of 1

RATING: NC-17 (m/f sexual relations)

PAIRING(s): L/L

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CATEGORY: Drama, Romance

FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!

SETTING IN TIMELINE: Post-show - AU; 20 years post-canon, and is alt-canon for everything after Season 6.

SPOILLER/SUMMARY: It was a typical sort of twentieth-year reunion. 

NOTES: For the Laverne and Shirley Holiday Fic Exchange.

***

It was a typical sort of twentieth-year reunion.  They had all gained weight and lost hair.  Some had been divorced once, the majority twice - others had new grandchildren or teenagers to brag of.  All felt the stigma of being older, as accomplished and semi-successful as they all were.

There was nothing familiar in the bruise-colored darkness of the room - it was a new gym, paid for by a government grant after a shooting.  Pink and white streamers tugged on the hems of dresses and tangled in toupees, and under the cacophonous strains of Dickey Dee and the Midniters an errant pink balloon could be heard popping.

"It looks like a bottle of Pepto blew up."

She managed what hoped to pass for a civil smile as she turned her head and responded to Rosie Greenbaum.  "Everything's the same theme our prom was in."

"Yeah - passion pink, a color only Shirley Feeney could love."

"Shut your beak, Greenbaum!"

"Wanna make me, DeFazio?"

Laverne bit her lower lip, biting back an unrefined remark.  "I happen to be the one who gave the people who put this wing-ding together all of the details about Shirl's theme for the prom, since she can't be in town."  Shirley had phoned Laverne frantically a few hours before the reunion was scheduled to start - she was in an airport, stuck in a blizzard in Buffalo.

"How many rugrats she got on her hands now?"

"Six.  You jealous, Greenbaum?"

"Hell no!  Who wants to spend all day wiping some twerp's nose?"  She looked beyond Laverne's shoulder and lifted her chin in greeting.  "Well!  Speak of the devil..."

Laverne turned around - slowly, as not to show too overtly how the Sloe Gin Fizzes she had been drinking for the past hour had affected her balance.  "Which devil...?” She couldn't stop the smile spreading over her face when she saw the object of Rosie's ire - and when his eyes rose up from the cup of punch he'd been holding; the delight in his expression equaled hers.  He waved at her manically - spilling half the cup down the front of his shirt.

"Still as smooth as ever."

The rest of Laverne's punch found purchase on Rosie's head.  "Get bent, Greenbaum."

As quickly as she could, she sauntered over to the other side of the room, and was instantly swept up in a hard bear hug.

She endured the strength of the embrace for as long as she could.  "Len," she soon scolded, "I can't breathe!"

Laverne was released, and she stepped back to take a good look at her old friend.  Lenny had gained about twenty pounds, giving a fleshy appearance to his normally gawky look, and he sported a very loud blue paisley tuxedo with pink ruffles.  All of the difference in his appearance seemed to be up top and in the crow's feet marking the corners of his eyes.   Simultaneously, they reached out to touch each other's heads.  "What'd you do to your hair?" they asked.

Lenny parted his comb-over gingerly.  "I started thinning out last year, but you don't got an excuse for lookin' like a poodle."

She shook out her frizzy perm.  "I was experimenting.  D'you hate it?"

"Do you?"

Laverne shrugged and winced, then righted the off-the-shoulder strap of her red low-cut blouse.  "Josephine said I look like Leo Sayer."

"That ain't a compliment."

"Nope," she grinned.

"I guess if Norman likes it..."

She averted her eyes.  "Norman's gone, Len."

He winced.  "I'm sorry; no one said you were divorced..."

"We ain't divorced."  Why did it hurt more every time instead of heal over like a scar should?  "He was killed in the line of duty."

Automatically, he took both of her little hands in his.  "I'm sorry.   Squig ain't called in a year, 'cause he and Rhonda are in New Zealand doing a movie, and I don't hear from Shirl or Carmine at all..."

"Who's Rhonda?" she wondered.

"His wife.  Shirl never told you about her?"

"When I talk to Shirl, all we ever mention is our kids," she smiled bitterly.  "She don't wanna talk about my job - worries her too much."

"Where do you work?"

"You wouldn't believe it."

"I believe everything you tell me, DeFazio."

"That's Deputy DeFazio?"

Lenny's eyes widened.  "You're a cop?"

"Yup - for a year now," she shrugged modestly.  "After Norman died, I needed to support the girls - with my LAMP training; it didn't take too much convincing to get me accepted at the academy."

"Wow.  Can I see your gun?"

Laverne shook her head.  "I'm off duty.  The gun's back in my car."

"Aww..." 

"I'll show it to you later," she smiled. 

The band swung into 'Rock Around The Clock'.  "Hey, you wanna dance?"

She shook her head.  "Later, maybe," she leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "Do you think anyone's in the janitor's closet?"

Lenny thought for a moment - old memories resurfaced and he smiled.  The "bad kids" always snuck there to drink, smoke or make out between or during classes.  "Not unless Fonzie's there already."

Together, they snuck out of the gym and found the unoccupied closet.

Familiar in its odor of bleach and disinfectant, Laverne allowed the slightly-warmer confines of the closet to embrace her.  Lenny shoved himself in beside her, and he stood upon a mop a she sat down on an overturned bucket.  She suddenly understood why this was a chosen make-out spot - the dim lighting was nearly atmospheric. 

"You wanna cigarette?" he asked her.

She looked up in alarmed surprise.  "You smoke?"

"Nah.  That's my new pick-up line.  It don't work too well."

She touched the sleeve of his jacket lightly and they met, eye to eye.    "Where're you picking up girls nowadays?"

"At my bar."

"You own a bar?"

"Yep - Lenny's Olde Tyme Tavern.   It's in East Milwaukee."

"You moved back to town?"

"Last year.  When Squig and Rhonda got married..." he shuffled his feet.  "It weren't the same."

She made a comforting sound, knowing that he was revisiting his old wounds, the ancient abandonments he'd been through previously.   "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I kinda broke up the old gang."

Lenny shrugged.  "I knew it was gonna happen for one of us one of these days."  He smiled brilliantly.  "I bet Squig you'd be first and won a dollar!"

She smiled.  "Thanks for having faith in me, Len." 

"Hey," he said softly.  "I miss you."

"I've missed you, too."  Watching him, she wondered why she'd allowed herself to drop out of contact.  "I'm sorry I ain't been in touch for a couple of years, Len.  After Norman died I didn't wanna see no one - I wouldn't even talk to Shirl.  After two months in bed, one of my girls kicked me in the patootie and told me I should get up and make Norman proud of me."

"Lemme guess: Josephine, right?"

She smiled.  "How'd you know?"

"She's the one that's most like you."

She considered his words, then smiled.  "I got new pictures..." she opened her purse and showed him a small brag book.  "This is us at the beach."  She shuddered, noticing who was missing, but went on, pointing to the tallest girl.  "That's Genella."

"Woah, when'd she get so tall?"

"Beats me."  She scanned the twelve-year-old's gawky form and seemed to notice for the first time that she was attaining womanhood.  Her bright gray eyes and freckles seemed to mock her mother's concerns.  "The middle one's Nita."

"Geez - last time I saw her she was three..."

"Six now - makes me feel old every time I see her."  The girl had Norman's smaller frame and her mother's auburn hair.  "That there is your goddaughter."

The girl hanging from her right arm was around four - and the last time she'd seen Lenny had been at her christening.  "That's Josie?"

"Yep."

Lenny gently traced the girl's visage with the tip of his finger.  "Now I feel old."

"You can't be as old as me, the World's Most Unhip Mom."

"There ain't no way you're unhip, Vernie."

"Talk to Genella about that.  I'm the least cool mom ever because I won't let her get a natural."

Lenny pulled on one of her curls.  "She should be mad - you ain't playing fair."

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Yeah?"

"I did this by mistake at home."

Lenny laughed at her confession - giving him ample time to complain as she pulled aside his comb over to reveal a large, shiny bald spot.

"And now ladies and gentleman," a loudspeaker squawked in the distance, "presenting The President of Fillmore High's Class of '56, Genius Jones!"

"Do you wanna hear what that clown's got to say?"

She shook her head.  "And I don't wanna run into Rosie again..."

"Since when do you run from a fight?"

"Since I'm on the force!  Cops can't do stuff like drown a chick's fox in a punchbowl.  When they do, they end up taking classes on How To Act Like an Officer In Public."

He grinned.  "I got an idea."

"Is it disgusting?"

"Nah - you wanna go to my bar?  Kerwin's running it while I'm here."

She considered her options.  "I gotta be back in Duluth by three."

"What time is it?"

"Nine."

He held out his arm.  "It's two blocks up the street."

She looped her limb through his.

***

"Sorry, I didn't see that pothole."

"S'OK," she felt a twinge in her aching big toe, but chose to ignore  it.  She drank up the atmosphere of the tiny pub, and the twinge disappeared.

Lenny's Old Tyme Tavern was a hole-in-the-wall, but it was a nice hole in the wall.  Maybe lived-in was a better way to describe it, with its nicked hard oak bar top, puke-green rug, brass fittings, cracked red leather stools and booths, liquor company posters lining the walls and two TVs.  The one showing the Packers game interested Laverne far more than the one showing Keno, and when Lenny pulled out a stool for her she sat herself down.

"Hey, boss man!" This was Kerwin, the red-headed, green-eyed barman.  He eyes Laverne up and down.  "You want me to make her the usual?"

"Nah," Lenny said.  "Laverne's too classy for a boilermaker."

Kerwin's studying became intent.  "THAT'S Laverne?  THE Laverne?"

"The Laverne?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"Kerwin, get us a couple of Pepsis."

"Uh, sure..." he continued watching Laverne with obvious fascination.

Lenny sat down beside her and tried to look comfortable. 

"You talk about me behind my back," she accused.

"I just talk about you," he confessed. 

"Good things?"

"The best."  Kerwin arrived and disappeared, leaving behind their drinks.  "So, whattya think?"

"It's pretty classy," Laverne confessed. 

"I tried.  It ain't as nice as Otto's Snake Pit..."

"What is?"

"...but I like it."

"I'm proud of you, Len."

"Yeah?  Why?"

She smacked him on the arm.  "Why do you think?  'Cause you got something going here!"

"It's the only thing I got going," he pointed out. 

She tried to paint a sunny portrait.  "I'm sure you've got girls eating out of your hand..."

"Nah," he shrugged.  "Not since California..."

"I thought you left California because Squiggy decided to shut down the talent agency."

"That's half the story, but it's a real long one..."  The sound of the jukebox blaring to life distracted him.  "You still wanna dance?"

She allowed him to avoid the situation.  "Okay." 

He led her onto the tiny parquet dance floor, placing his hand on her waist and his head on her shoulder.  Any momentary discomfort suffered in the beginning of their slow-dance melted away.

It took her a moment to realize why she was so comfortable in his arms.  Because it was LENNY - because his skin felt so warm against hers, because he smelled nice by his collar, almost sweet-sour, like a baby.  Then again, it was just wonderful to have familiar, human contact again, to be held close and to feel a heart beating against her chest.

That it was Lenny who made her feel so at-ease caused her no small confusion.

She blocked out everything but the sound of that heartbeat as she swayed her legs, their torsos kissing and caressing, admitting things they were unable to say.  He held her for a long time after the dance stopped, and when he released her she felt sorry.

"Uh - do you want another drink?"

She shook her head.  "Do you think you could walk me back to Fillmore?"

A sad look crossed his face.  "All Right."

***

They walked, side-by-side, a half a block passing before she decided to probe the wound.  "Who hurt you in California?"

He stiffened a little.  "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Were you together for long?  Did she do something mean to you?"

"Let's just say she left me alone."

"That's kinda how I felt, when you all left for California."

His head came up.  "You wasn't alone.  You had Norman."

"Yeah - and I loved - love him with all of my heart.  We had a good life.  All the stuff I wanted when I was a kid, I got - three kids, a house out in the suburbs, a ring on my finger..."

He smiled.  "Norman was a nice guy, Laverne."

"Yeah, he was."  She shuddered.  "All it took was two shots for some doper to take him away from me.  But at least I learned something.  Life's too short to be wasted when you're lonely."

"I'd rather be lonely than go through what I went through one more time."

"That's the risk of loving someone, Len."

"Then I don't wanna be in love!"  His jaw trembled, blue eyes hazy with tears.

"That ain't the Len I know.  The Lenny I know loves with all of his heart."

"That Lenny's long gone, Laverne.  You're looking at a lonely old man now."

"You don't have to be alone."  She grabbed him by the shoulders, stopping his progress.  "Neither of us do."

He kissed her deeply.

In the moments between their mouths' meeting and his hustling her into a nearby alley, Laverne blocked out every thought and sound but her own fevered wheezing.  She knew she was about to do something crazy, something she hadn't even dreamed about doing when she was a horny teenager.  Lenny's perpetual motion spurred her into action.  Her skirt hiked itself upward, revealing embarrassingly plain white cotton panties.

If Lenny cared, he didn't notice - they were yanked off and looped around his right wrist in a second.

His right hand played with the groomed hair on her pussy as he shoved her bodily backward, against a brick wall.  To her horror, she noticed a blinking sign in the distance - they were in the back alley of Arnolds.  Before she could express her concern, his mouth had closed in on her right nipple, sucking it through her blouse and bra, radiating heat through her body.  She twisted and groaned, suffused with heat and longing.

He played with her unmercifully, for an incalculable length of time.  She writhed and burned and cursed him beneath her breath, until his fingers dripped with evidence of her pleasure.  Rubbing herself against the front of him, she felt the crooked length of his cock, swollen against his fly, begging to be released.

Gently, she shoved him away, backing him into and onto a discarded chair.   Without a fourth leg, it tilted backward and nearly hit the ground - by some stroke of luck, the wall propped it up.

Grinning, she put her index finger to his nose.  "Close your eyes," she instructed - he did as she bade him while she poked around in her discarded purse.

They flew back open when he heard the handcuffs click.

"You brought the cuffs and not the gun?"

"Shh," she teased him.  "Don't make a sound..." She played with the impressive outline distending his fly, taking down the zipper slowly, very slowly. 

Her fingers tickled the heft of his freed meat, groaning at the sensation of it stroking her palm.  It stood up and out when she released it, enough of an excuse to straddle his lap and take him completely into her body.

It was a hard fit - her sheath stretching after years of disuse - but soon they made an easy, snug connection.  She rode him like a champion steer, her eyes half open to see the lust-crazed look in his eyes.

The chair began to rattle - he was struggling to get free of the cuffs, but it was no use.  The closer she got to orgasm, the more vigorously her thrusting form moved, the harder he struggled to get free.  As she neared climax, she regretted the playful move, wanting his hands on her.  Reaching low, behind them, she used the last ounce of rational thought left in her body and found a lever on the cuffs, clicking it open.  Then she lost herself in a

He grasped her just as she came to a climax.  Just in time to follow her to a point beyond the dingy alley where they had satisfied their needs.

***

Neither of them spoke until he had driven her back to his place, and they had stripped naked and crawled between the sheets together.  As she played with the fluff of hair on his pot belly, he said abruptly, "her name was Karen."

Her hand stopped.  "The girl who broke your heart?"

"She was studying dinosaurs at Cal U.  We met at the Tar Pits and hit it off," he continued.  "We were together for six great months, and then she told me she was going to go to school in New York."

Laverne winced, somehow knowing what was coming.

"She said she wanted to stay friends, but I had to know, I couldn't stop myself from wanting to know...  So Squig loaned me money for a plane ticket and I flew up to see her."  He sniffled.  "She had another boyfriend."

Laverne took him into her arms, giving him the benefit of her caresses.  They made love one more time, far more tenderly and simply than before.

***

She shook him awake at four in the morning.  "Len, I gotta go - my sitter's waiting for me."

He came awake and touched her cheek gently.  "You took a shower without me?"

She smiled.   "I was pressed for time.  Gimmie your number?"

For want of a pad - the apartment was woefully cluttered, even in the bedroom - he scribbled the number on her hand with a Sharpie.

"Can you come up to see me this weekend?"

"Don't you wanna be with your kids?"

"Yeah, and I want you to meet them."

"How far is Duluth?"

"A three-hour drive."

He didn't even take time to consider it.  "I'll get a room somewhere."

Shadows danced in her eyes, and he cupped her chin.  "Don't forget - we ain't alone anymore, Vernie."

"Three hours away, Len..."

"We'll make it."

"We ain't even talked about what this is - what we did..."

"We'll figure it out."

She looked into his eyes and felt a wave of comfort.  They would.

He left her with a kiss, and in the predawn light she drove home, thinking of life, and the vitality within herself that seemed to go on and on.

The faith and energy she had in high school seemed to carry on.