SERIES: Ordinary Things

AUTHOR: Missy

EMAIL: lasfic@yahoo.com

PART: 8 of 8

RATING: Overall NC-17; this part PG-13 (thematic material)

PAIRING(s): L/L

DISTRIBUTION: To Myself 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: Romance

FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!

SETTING IN TIMELINE: California - alternate for Mummy's Bride, and canon right up to Lenny's mock-proposal.

SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Laverne takes Lenny's final proposal far more seriously than he intended. When Laverne's mock-wedding starts to take on way more meaning than she intended, Shirley begins to question the validity of her rushed nuptials to Doctor Walter Meaney.

NOTES: From something Kath told me about the proposal scene.  A conclusion!  The author isn't responsible for any deaths that occur due to the cheesy ending contained in this story.

***

Laverne saw Shirley's face go as pale as the lace of her dress as she blindly moved out of Walter's touch and walked down the short gangway.

"What are you doing here?" she wondered, looking at his brown paisley smoking jacket with clear confusion. Laverne's heart lurched as she realized her friend still couldn't think the worst of Carmine, even as the evidence spat in her eye.

"I've been looking for you," Carmine said, a smooth half-lie as he glared up at Walter.  "Who's the twerp?"

Walter drew himself straight and tight, putting his hand on Shirley's arm.  "Her fiance.  Who do you think you are?"

"Fiancé?" Carmine asked, pain entering his tone.

Shirley lifted her chin and looked straight into his eye.  "His name is Walter, and yes, I'm going to marry him, Carmine."

Carmine's mouth drooped open, his shock muting his reaction.  "You can't!" he finally squawked.

Shirley brought her bouquet up protectively.  "You've been gone for so long," unconsciously, her hand pressed to her abdomen as she added, "you never called, you never wrote..."

"I was out in the middle of the wood's til last week.  I've just been busy working up this big deal," he grinned and took her hand, dusting the deck with petals.  "Guess who's in the running to play Rocky Marciano at Paramount!"

A little gasp of delight left Shirley's lungs and she flung herself into Carmine's arms. 

"You mean - all this time you've been trying to make a future for us?  Oh, Carmine!"

Nervously, he looked down at her.  "I've been doing a lot of thinking, Shirl, trying to figure out what I want out of life.  Now that I got a real job, I know that what I really want is you," he sunk down on bended knee, "would you marry me?"

A blush suffused Shirley's cheeks.  "Yes, oh yes!" He jumped to his feet and squeezed her tight against him-over his shoulder Laverne saw her friend's expression changed.  "Carmine," she said out of the blue, "I'm pregnant." 

Laverne didn't need to see Carmine's expression - the sudden stiffness of his shoulders and the chalky cast of his neck spoke a dictionary.

Laverne felt disgust wash over her - why couldn't Carmine be a grown-up and accept responsibility for once in his life?  Why couldn't he admit his own faults?  Be a man and own up!  she urged him mentally, don't go into a marriage with a big lie!  Not like...  Rage ran through her, coursing and turning the fine hair on her arms to bristles - she lept when Lenny's hand suddenly caressed her arm and she turned, her frown so intense that his expression became more submissive.  When he looked at her that way she forgot her deep fury.

"I guess everything's gonna be okay now," Lenny said. 

She jerked a thumb in his Carmine's direction.  "He looks like he's gonna throw up!"

"He'll shake it off," Lenny shrugged.

"Carmine's never scared!  Oh boy, look at him shake!" Laverne worried.  "Len, I don't think he's ready to be a dad..."

"You think we shoulda told Shirl everything?" Lenny wondered.  She didn't indicate her thoughts either way, but he seemed to understand her concern.  He caressed her from elbow to wrist.  "Stop worrying about it.  You didn't want Shirl to get hurt."

"But he can still hurt her," Laverne said.  "She still don't know he's been here the whole time..." 

"She don't ever have to know."  Lenny's voice was the vessel of his romanticism.  "Now they can get married and the baby'll have a name!"

Laverne saw Walter sit down beside the stone-still minister, his expression grim but determined.  "What about him?" Laverne asked. 

Lenny had blocked Walter's existence out.  "Aww, don't worry about Wally.  I'll be his friend!  We can even go to the Lido Des Girls on Friday to soften the blow," Lenny stage-whispered, "that's ice-cube night!"

A smile crossed Laverne's lips as she secretly wondered what the girls did with ice cubes.  Able to see Walter's stricken features and Lenny's hopeful countenance, she was suddenly sick of pain, both inflicting and absorbing it.  Staring at the little diamond ring glinting on her finger, Laverne recalled the selfishness with which she had lived the past few days.  Enlivened, she reached down and twisted the glittering band until it came off her finger.  "Here," she said, placing it in his curled right hand, "I don't got no right to wear this."

Lenny stared at the tiny diamond band glittering on his huge palm.  "Nah, Laverne - keep it," he said, gently closing the ring back into her open hand.  The metal heated between their palms.  "I didn't mean it," he said thickly.  "Those names I called you.  I don't think you're easy, and I don't think you're an old maid."

She didn't posess the will to continue their fight; arguing with Lenny, after all, was like punching a puppy.  "I don't think you're a moron - most of the time," she added, her eyes on the tranquil water of the pool.  "We were both so angry, Len - I coulda ripped your ducktail off right there in the parking lot."

"I coulda yanked off your "L"," he said speedily when her hand tightened on his, "but I wouldn't've."

They laughed about it - a cleansing gesture.  They would fight again but such low words would never be exchanged.  Confessions escaped her slackened lips.  "I think it's 'cause we're confused."

Lenny laughed self-depreciatingly.  "That's me - but you always know what you wanna do, Vernie."

"Yeah - I used to," she said softly, looking into the blue eyes reflected on the rippling surface.  "My brains're all messed up," she confessed.  "I had a really good time with you today - I've been having a pretty good time with you, for longer than I can think back - when we're alone," she added, remembering that wherever Lenny went, Squiggy was usually attached to his thigh.  There was a problem to consider.  

Lenny's smile was tender.  "Nah," he said.  "I know hanging around with me ain't exactly your favorite thing."

 "Len, how many times do I got to tell you?  You're a terrific guy!"

"Terrific," he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, "terrific and dateless."

"Hey," she poked his side, "what about me, the 'future missus Kosnowski'?"

He shook his head.  "But you don't wanna marry me."

"Uh huh - it's a little soon for that.  We just went out on our first real date today, yanno."

He pressed himself against her hip.  "You saying what I think you're saying?"

She pressed her palms to his chest as he boxed her against the gazebo railing with his hips.  "I don't know where this is gonna go.  I don't wanna take what happened and stick it in a box and pretend we didn't do what we done, but I'm still all messed up, Len.  I just know it's new, and I wanna little time to figure out what all of this," she gestured at the space between them, "Is."

Lenny's jaw solidified.  "Maybe ain't good enough, Vernie.  I waited years for you and I ain't gonna twist up my guts for years 'cause I'm afraid you're gonna dump me."

"Maybe I ain't ever gonna dump you," Laverne suggested.  "Maybe someday you and me are gonna be doing this...without all the water."

"I thought friends went on forever."

She smiled.  "Maybe I ain't just your friend," she suggested. 

"Huh huh," he laughed, his grin infectiously huge as he seemed to recall just why they were more than f. 

"LENNY," she said, punching his shoulder.

He rubbed the inch of flesh she'd socked and frowned at her.  "That ain't no way to show it."

"How about this way?" she tilted his chin down and kissed his lips.

The meeting of their mouths was brief but love-blessed; when his palms pressed flat against her back and began to look for her zipper she stepped backward to break the kiss.  Lenny became exuberant, stuffing his palm into his mouth, dancing back and forth.  He jabbed his finger in her direction.  "Laverne, you like me!"

Laverne smiled, her buck teeth poking out unbecomingly as she grinned - and knew he loved it when she smiled that way.

"YOU LIKE ME MORE THAN A FRIEND," he said, astonished.

She just plucked a red carnation from her drugstore corsage and tucked it behind his ear, then walked away to take her place beside the minister.

***

Shirley had felt her boyfriend's form turn to rock against her breast, but the paleness of his olive features made her worry for his health.  "Carmine?"

The words rolled from his lips.  "How?  We were careful..."

The words caused an awful iciness to coat her stomach.  "In May."

She saw his eyes dart as he thought back, then memories flamed to life and his knees turning to Gelatin.   He remembered that night as well as she did, the torn rubber on his couch.  They'd both hoped it was a minor mistake. 

But it's not - he said he loves me, Shirley reminded herself.  He had asked her to marry him before he knew - proof of his faultless devotion.  She grinned and wrapped her arms around his middle.  "Should we do it today?"

"What?"

She pulled away and looked into his tense, pale face.  "Get married!  We have a preacher, Laverne's here - Lenny could stand up for you."

"Shirl," his voice cracked and he cleared it, "we don't got a license.  It won't count."

In her giddiness she'd never realized that.  "It would count in here, Carmine," she pointed to her breast. 

He relaxed visibly.  "Oh,"  he smiled.  "I'm sorry, Shirl, I'm kinda..." He rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustrated muteness.  "Are you really sure?"

Fear squeezed her breast.  "Do you think I would lie to trap you?"

"No," Carmine said sharply, "you ain't doing any trapping.  I asked before you told me..." he looked over her shoulder at Walter.  "You were gonna marry him and not tell me about the baby," he said suddenly.

Shirley flushed.  "No...I was always planning to let you know, Carmine, I swear on Grandma Wilhelmina's soul," she dramatically insisted, which made the corner of his mouth twitch with muffled laughter.  "But I wasn't going to force you to marry me, either."

"Does Walter know?"

"Yes," she said.  "We've never been intimate - it's never mattered."

"Did you ever love him?" His hand pressed strongly on the fine bone of her wrist.

Despite herself, Shirley enjoyed the note of jealousy in his tone.  "Walter's been a good friend, and a comfort to me."

"That's all he can do - comfort you," Carmine snorted.  "He's gotta be pushing seventy."

She couldn't bring herself to insult Walter, who sat watching them with keen, angry eyes.  "He's been a gentleman, and his only crime is his overprotective ness."

Carmine's hand drifted down over her left hand, her red-painted fingertips.  "You didn't answer my question."

"I love Walter in a different way, like you would a favorite uncle."

He smiled triumphantly.  "As a friend."

"Yes," she admitted.  "You have to understand why I did this..."

Carmine pressed himself against her, holding her hand as he did when they slow-danced.  "It don't matter.  I forgive you, Shirl!  Let's just forget all of this happened and go back home."

Exhausted, with Carmine's small diamond on her ring finger, Shirley was ready to agree when she saw a rotund woman push open the pool room's door.

The creature inhabiting the doorframe was at least six feet tall, with an enormous beehive of nuclear-winter-white hair, oversized pink cat's eye sunglasses and a fluffy leopard-print wrap worn over a green off-the-shoulder blouse and black petal pushers several sizes too small for her generous curves.  "CAHHH-Mine," she drawled in a bizarre accent that could only have been conceived in Hollywood, "I found you!  Cummon, the campaign just came."

Shirley felt her stomach tighten, as if the baby were pinching it with it's little fingers.  Carmine, visibly horrified, had turned a livid shade of red.

"Careen," Carmine hissed in a tone that danced the line between intimacy and anger, "you said you had to go back to LA."

She shrugged.  "It's too foggy out there to drive.  And it's much warmer in here...Rocky."

Carmine glowed.  "Yeah?"

Her smile was reptilian.  “Maybe...if you'll come up and give me one of your foot rubs..."

"So this was your fishing trip?" Shirley's voice cut through the conversation.  All of the hope in Carmine's expression drained away.  "You lied to me."

Shirley watched a bead of sweat form on Carmine's forehead and slither down his roman nose.   "We both lied," Carmine attempted,  "for the right reasons."

"To make a future for the baby?  Or for money?" she said bitterly, staring at garish Careen who looked back at the tiny brunette in pity.

Careen turned to Carmine, "I'm upstairs," she smoothly avoided meeting Shirley's eyes as she turned and departed.

"Shirl, you don't know how Hollywood works!" Carmine's voice took on a whine that was so uncharacteristic that she winced.  "Sometimes you gotta grease the wheel."

A chill descended over Shirley as she remembered how often Carmine felt the need to grease that wheel whenever he was short of money.  It dawned on her that he always put the responsibility for his shady choices on wanting to improve life for her - thus squarely on her shoulders and not his. 

"What about the next time?" she wondered.  "What if we run short some odd week and I need formula and you decide to run an 'errand' for someone in a rough neighborhood and end up with a bullet in the back of your head?  Where would that leave me and little Toddy?"

"You've been watching too many soaps, Shirl."

"I'm not being dramatic.  You've worked for mobsters and loan sharks just to get me a box of chocolates and a night at La Fondue - and somehow you still don't understand that I'd rather go hungry than see you get hurt," she said sadly.

He could see the battle was lost but he said desperately,  "I'll promise I'll go upstairs and tell Careen the deal's off.

Helplessly, she lowered her head.  "You've already been with her for a whole week.   The damage is more than done."

"Please!  I'll never see her again..."

"When will you learn that all of the promises in the world mean nothing to me if you're not grown up enough to keep them?"

Walter noted from the gazebo, "speaking of keeping promises, I'd like to keep mine before the license runs out."

Carmine snarled.  "You ain't marrying my girlfriend!"

"She stopped being your girlfriend when you abandoned her.  And may I add, mister Ragusa,  that it's up to Shirley who she marries."

"Don't get your hopes up, Wally, 'cause she's gonna marry me!"

"I think she's practical enough to pick a man with a steady job over a deadbeat gigolo!"

The two men bristled at each other, exchanging further dollops of venom like two junkyard dogs fighting over a bone.  They circled Shirley protectively, and there, she realized, was her future - the baby's future -  boiled down to two options: a life of love with the distinct possibility it would lack trust or a life of stability without passion.  As her scattered thoughts raced to find an answer they drew focus on dusty memories of her parents and a marriage that began in passion but had ended in drunken shame and was continued on as a mockery years after it had stopped functioning.  Her wish formed a bubble deep within her gut, and rose up, spreading a glow of irritation across her pale skin. It formed in her brain and pushed outward, releasing her.  I deserve more.

She had spoken them aloud, she realized, when both men turned and stared at her curiously.

"You'll get it with me, Shirl," Carmine said, taking her right hand. "I'll give you the world, the whole moon, anything you want."

"Shirley," Walter said, standing and walking down the gangway, "stop being unreasonable.  We've got a busy day ahead of us and you know you get cranky on anything less than five hours of sleep..."

 She locked eyes with her best friend, who stood on the tips of her toes ready to enter the fray.  The words she needed appeared.

"I'll never stop you from seeing the baby," she said to Carmine.  "But me being pregnant's changed everything.  We both need time to adjust to what's happened without worrying about marriage."

His features turned downward as Walter's beady little eyes showed triumph.

"And I've appreciated your looking after me," Shirley said to Walter, "but we can only be friends.  And you treat me like a half-wit!  I’m just starting to understand myself, and the important things in life don’t have anything to do with propriety – it’s about making a healthy environment for Carmine Junior. 

“Carmine Junior?” Carmine Senior laughed.

“I'm tired of letting guys make all of the choices in my life when I'm a woman, nearly a mother, and I know what's best for me!"

"All right, Shirl!" Laverne cheered.

"I don't get it," Lenny frowned.  "Which guy're you gonna marry?"

She looked into the hopeful eyes waiting for her choice - she nearly regretted the rush of truth as it set her free. 

"I'm not going to marry either of them."

***

One year and eight months later

***

"Happy birthday dear Meggie!  Happy birthday to you!"  Applause filled Cowboy Bills as the feted child clapped her little hands, a smile of glee on  her lips.  Her mommy knelt down on the floor beside her and showed her how to blow out the little yellow candle in her palm-sized cake.

"Auntie" Laverne had snapped into motion as the song ended, picking up a dull plastic knife and bending over the table.  She carefully sunk the knife into the pony-shaped cake and began to cut it into pieces for the small gathering of guests attending her goddaughter’s first birthday.

The elastic of her pink party cone hat dug annoyingly into her chin as she rued the fact that she wasn't technically Meggie's godmother - the girl hadn't been baptized yet - and she pushed away the dark cloud and handed a slice to her father as he passed by the table, then Edna.

"You look like a monkey and you smell like one too!" Squiggy cheerfully piped in, a lyric that earned him a shove from Lenny.  Everyone else sighed or rolled their eyes, used to Squig's behavior and aware that he didn't mean anything by the comment.

She hacked off a piece of pony and handed it to him on a chinette plate.  "Here you go, Squig - a horses' patoot.  Look familiar?"

"Yeah, he sees it in the mirror every morning," Lenny cracked.

"Hey, shut up your face," Squiggy yelled, "you ain't so great-looking yourself, Romeo."

"I think Len looks great," Laverne said, exchanging a wink and a glance with Lenny.  A chorus of groans went up around the table, followed by a phlegmatic harrumph from her father.  Eh, screw them, she thought impishly, recalling all of the goopy sweet moments she'd played third fiddle to when Shirley and Carmine were hot and heavy, it's my turn now!  Laverne cut a piece of thigh for her Len and handed it to him - their hands touched, and she got goosebumps.

"Laverne?" 

She jumped and nearly dumped the cake into his lap.  "Huh?"

Frank glared down at her.  "I called you three times!"  he yelled.

"What's wrong?"

"Go get the chocolate ice cream out of the freezer!"

She saluted him playfully, "okay, Pop!"

Frank grumbled and sat down at the table to eat his cake.  Since Meggie was so little it was impossible to have her birthday party at night, so they'd arranged for it to start at seven AM before Cowboy Bills opened.  That only put stress on Frank, who was forced to dash between the party and the kitchen as he oversaw his cooks.

Laverne found the drums of ice cream  - twice her size - hidden behind a raft of frozen slabs of hamburger.   "I can't lift that!" she whined to Mary as she looked at the huge drum of ice cream.

"Wait," Mary said, closing the freezer and heading deeper into the kitchen, opening a dishwasher.  "We'll scoop it out here."

"Sounds fine," Laverne agreed, and began helping Mary scoop out the ice cream and place it on a large tray. 

She lifted it onto her shoulder but the weight of the overlarge bowls nearly sent her tipping sideways.  A strong hand helped her upright and nearly made her drop the tray in her shock.

"Can I help?"

The sound of Carmine's voice nearly made her lose her footing.  "You're late!"

"Traffic on the expressway was a killer," he held out a yellow stuffed bunny.  "Think she'll like it?"

Laverne peered at the little rabbit.  "Sure.  You missed her blowing out the candle, but the cake's still out."

"Is Shirl there?" He took two dishes of ice cream from the tray, stuffing the rabbit against her armpit.

Laverne fumbled under the weight of tray and ice-cream; Mary rushed forward and grabbed it from her hand.  Unburdened, Laverne critiqued, "Carmine..."

Carmine paled a little as he thought of Shirley, forcing a smile across Laverne's face.  Their relationship had become, in a word, off-kilter since the birth of their daughter, the world a sea of diapers and toe socks - for Aunt Laverne, too, who often took care of the girl while her mother worked overtime. 

"I dunno if she wants to see me, after what happened the last time I sat for Meggie."

"She's over it."

"That was her favorite sweater."

"Yeah, and purple don't look great on yellow."

Carmine raked a hand through his hair.  "I didn't do it on purpose.  Babies ain't got labels on them that tells you when they ate too much food."

He shook his head sternly, but his expression softened as he looked out into the restaurant.  Laverne stood nearly outside the situation, watching him watch his daughter.  Shirley's greatest concern had always been geared toward the development of a solid relationship between Meggie and Carmine - something she'd been denied as a child.  "Do you think he wishes we didn't have her?" Shirley would often ask on those too-long days when they were all exhausted and frayed to nothingness.  Looking at Carmine's expression, Laverne knew the truth - no matter what happened with Shirley, he wasn't sorry he'd made love with her and created Meggie.  

"Hey!" Lenny said, coming through the kitchen door, "what happened to the ice cream?"

Laverne rolled her eyes, putting the remaining ice-cream bowls in Carmine's hand and giving him a little push out the door.   "Go see your daughter!" she snapped.

Laverne stood aside, allowing Mary to enter with the rest of the ice cream - the bunny rabbit still in her arms.  She hugged it and reflected on the strangeness of this new life.

"Do I get a hug?"

She nearly swatted Lenny with the rabbit and knocked the platter of food he had picked up to the floor - two burgers, two fries and a milkshake.

"Where'd you get this?"

"I had your Pop make it up."

"Pop did this for us?" she muttered - Frank still hadn't approved their relationship, something she struggled to come to grips with daily.

"Well - I kinda put in an order under an assumed name.  Dig in, Misses Ricardo."

They sat down on a prep table, balancing the plates on their knees, Meggie's rabbit between them.  Laverne enthusiastically munched her Bronco Burger, then picked up a French fry.  Before she was halfway through with the plate she noticed Lenny was lapping at the ketchup he'd dotted his fry with.  

"Whatt're you doing?"

"Just practicing my A-B-C's," he smirked.  "I don't wanna get rusty."

A wonderful warmth spread through her.  "The way we go at it you're never gonna forget," she retorted.

"A little extra practice don't hurt...WOAH, LOOK AT THAT!"

She turned around, like a gullible sap, but saw nothing.  "What?  Grease fire?"

"Sorry!  Must've been a big yellow rabbit or something," he smirked and nibbled again at his fry.

Ready to explain to him exactly why rabbits couldn't inhabit the kitchen, Laverne was distracted by something glittering among the sticks of potato. 

A heady rush of pleasure filed Laverne.  She lifted her head and looked into the eyes of the man she loved and waited for the words that would change her life.

He didn't quite say them.  "How about Vegas?" Lenny suggested.

"No 24-hour chapels,"  she said sharply.

He didn't seem to remember the London Bridges but didn't press her.  "Atlantic City  - we can invite your Grandma."

"First you gotta ask me something," she smirked.

He grinned and took her hand.  "No games this time Laverne.  Marry me?"

She teased his fingers with the tips of hers.  "You wanna marry me?  The old maid?"

He picked up the rabbit and, hiding behind it while manipulating it, said, "Pwease, Laverne?"

"hmmm," she pretended to consider.

He was crestfallen.  "Oh - I understand if you wanna marry a big dope..."

She squeezed his hand, mashing the potatoes in his grip.  "You ain't a dope - and I ain't an old maid.  We ain't any of the stuff we called each other - and the way we feel don't got nothing to do with any of the games we used to play."

"Not even the one with the chocolate frosting?"

She cleared her throat.  "Some games are good," Laverne admitted, loosing her hands and picking up the ring.  Lenny slipped it on her finger.

Somehow the word "yes" wasn't a necessity at the moment.  As they kissed in the dim glow of the heat lamps, Laverne realized they were both winners in what had started as a foolish game and ended with a lifetime of joy. 

THE END