I Never Promised You a Pepsi Tree, Part 2
By Missy

SERIES: I Never Promised You a Pepsi Tree
PART: Two of ?
RATING: R-ish (For discussion of mature themes)
PAIRING(s): Lenny/Laverne/Fonzie Triangle; Shirley/Carmine/Richie Cunningham conflict; I'm thinking about what I'm to do with Rosie Greenbaum here, believe it or not..
DISTRIBUTION: To Squeaky, LW and FG so far; any other archives are welcome to ask, but disclaimers must be included, my email left intact. send a URL, and provide full disclaimers as well as credit me fully. Please inform me if you are going to submit my work to any sort of search engine. Please do not submit my work to a search engine that picks out random sets of words and uses them as key words, such as "Google"
Please contact me in order for this story to be placed on an archive, or if you want know of a friend who would enjoy my works, please email me their address and I will mail them the stories, expressly for the purpose of link trading. MiSTiers are welcomed! Please do inform me that you'd like to do the MiSTing, however, and send me a copy of the finished product. I'd also love to archive any MiSTings that are made of my work!
CATEGORY: Oh gads; help? Drama, definitely.
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SETTING IN TIMELINE: L&S: Just before the girls are scheduled to move to California. HD: Post Pinky Tuscadaro and pre-Ashley and Heather for Fonzie; we'll pretend that Laurie Beth hasn't nor will happen for Richie. Sort of a WOTIF moment.
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: One of the girls turns up pregnant; the hows, and whys of which are truly shocking. Some white knights run to their rescues, and true colors are revealed.
NOTES: This is somewhat adultish and very, very heavy. No extreme language, but this story's going to tear your guts out
***
Laverne brushed down the front of her dress, feeling painfully awkward. How inadequate her best dress seemed for the meeting she was ready to undertake.

Fonzie smiled at her, winningly, plastically. "Ey, you're gonna love the Cunninghams," He insisted, "An' any friend of mine's gotta be a frienda theirs!"

Laverne bit her lip, remembering her previous encounter with the Cunninghams; her and Fonzie, hiding in the garage from them while poor Richie was discovered with Shirley in the living room near-flagranto..The front door's opening closed off that memory.

Richie Cunningham was still the same kid she remembered from Arnolds' that night; cute, sweet, awkward; sort of like a smarter, cleaner version of Lenny. He stood there with his hands awkwardly tucked into his pockets for a moment, holding onto the "Laverne! Hey, it's Fonzie and Laverne! Well!" he had released into the air.

"Cunningham," Fonzie uttered, "Ya gonna invite us in?"

Richie was instantly all apology; he backed out of Laverne's way, taking off her heavy winter coat and hanging it up quickly, "How are you doing, Laverne? How's Shirley?" She couldn't help but notice that he was engrossed in conversation with her stomach.

"Shirl's fine," Laverne lied. "She's...restin'."

At that moment, she noticed the rest of the Cunninghams sitting at the dining room table, staring at her silently. While this would have earned the average jerk on the street a nasty retort, Laverne knew very well that she couldn't insult Fonzie's second family.

"The baby ain't commin' today." She blurted out, trying to break the ice. Suddenly, simultaneously, the family realized just how it had been behaving and served to correct itself. A flurry of introductions passed; to Howard, the stout but kind-eyed father ("Well, any friend of Fonzie's is a friend of ours...welcome to the family!"); Marion, the sweet-faced mother, ("Do you need anything, dear? Some milk? Some soda crackers?"), and Joanie, Richie's little sister ("Jenny Piccalo says that you're gonna look like a beached wale in six months" "JOANIE! ROOM!").

Still, there was a vauge awkwardness in the air; especially when Chachi, Fonzie's nephew, entered the dining room. Laverne took a deep breath on seeing the youth; he would be the only blood relative of Fonzie's she was ever likely to know.

The introductions were made; the kids' handshake proved firm, somewhat unyielding. There was a vauge spark of anger in those eyes; something accusatory.

The meal commenced and passed in a comfortable silence; Mrs. Cunningham grilling her family for a days's worth of information. Laverne sank into the background, contentedly, not wanting any more attention foccused on her. When Joanie volunteered to clean the dishes, Laverne found herself helping out, carrying the plates behind the fifteen-year old.

"Don't scrape at the plates," Joanie warned, "Mom doesn't want the pattern scratched off."

Laverne nodded her head; the concept of 'good china' was foreign to her, but she knew that it must be handled delicately.

"Joanie," She spoke suddenly, "How do ya feel about me marryin' Fonzie?" She asked. The tiny brunette's eyes lit up and she smiled up at Laverne.

"I think Fonzie likes you." She smiled. But then it faded, "But...I dunno...you kinda look at him funny. But Jenny Piccalo says that girls look at guys funny when they're in love." Laverne allowed the girl to drift away into her daydreams; some part of her still wishing deeply that she could be allowed such dreams once more. She couldn't possibly know that Laverne felt nothing for Fonzie...could she?

"Anyway, you're not the first girl Fonz's proposed to, but he's never gotten a girl...in trouble."

Laverne blushed, "How's a little girl like you know anything about bein' in trouble?" She held up her hand, "Wait, Jenny Piccalo, right?" Joanie nodded, resolutely. "One day, yer gonna find out that Jenny's guessed about halfa the stuff she says ta ya." Laverne laughed, putting the last dish into Joanie's hands, "I know. I used ta be the Jenny Piccalo of Filmore High."

Joanie shook her head, "You're real weird, Laverne, but then again, you're sort of cool. You and Fonzie are almost as good together as him and Pinky."

Laverne winced at the mention of Ms. Tuscadaro's name, "Go ahead and sing with your folks, kid," She gestured out to the living room kitchen, "We're all done here."

Joanie seemed to dislike Laverne taking any amount of authority with her, but still she left the kitchen. In the silence of the kitchen, Laverne stood in solitude. She could hear the Cunninghams as they sang some old, corny tune together. Guilty; that was the correct way to term her feelings. She felt terrible about her position in the family.

She took a deep, composing breath before reentering the living room.

***

Fonzie drove her home in a convertible that night; starless and bitterly cold, it had never felt so long a ride before. He opened the door for her, watching her step onto the curb; more promises were made. Now she had to meet Chachi and Fonzie at Arnolds' later in the week.

"Can't ya come down to the Pizza Bowl?" She asked.

Fonzie frowned, "I dunno; yer Pop still wanna kill me?"

"I ain't told him," Laverne said.

Fonzie shook his head, "We'll tellim togetha. After Arnolds." Laverne's face fell, and she had been ready to argue, at least until Fonzie planted yet another one of his toe-curling kisses on her. She stood, panting in the street, the part of her that hadn't been washed away in a flood of estrogen bitterly wondering at her fate.

Tiredly, she drifted down toward the apartment. But on the stairs, just before her door, she met with the very man she had been avoiding for days.

"Lenny," She muttered.

He looked at her with his innocent, trusting eyes, "Vernie," He said, then rushed headfirst into an obviously prepared statement, "Carmine said that Shirl wants to tell 'im somethin' important, an' he said it hasta do with you..." He looked into her eyes, "Is it...are ya..."

"Spit it out, Len..."

"Are ya...stuck in another 'plight'?"

She looked into his eyes, "I don't know how it's any of your business, Len." She uttered coldly.

He advanced on her, even as she moved to unlock the door to her apartment, "Ya know it is, Vernie."

She shook her head, "Len..I..."

"Ya know that if yer havin' a baby..." He swallowed hard and reached for her shoulders, "Ya know it's mine."


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