Telling Stories: Speak The Word
By Missy SERIES: Telling Stories:
Title of fic: Speak The Word
RATING: R-ish (L/L naughtyness)
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. Â 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: L&L Romance; Songfic series
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Laverne's determined to tell Lenny she loves him before he can get away...
NOTES: Yes, this is a songfic; and, bear with me, it's also a songfic series, featuring songs that aren't of the era the show is set into -___-. Bear with me, though; I do believe that the song fits very nicely into the setting of this particular series. Other titles in the series will be "Keep The Walls From Falling Down" (Squiggy/Rhonda), "Fiction In The Space Between" (Carmine), "Less Than Strangers" (Shirley), and "Dreams and Visions" (Concluding fic)

Unsettled hearts
Promise what they can't deliver

She was on fire.

The entire day at work had been an exercise in tedium. When working with space-age technology bores you, you know you're lost in a cloud of love-enduced passion.

She wasn't going to swallow down what she felt for him. Not after years of what now proved to be second-best, pale replacements for his touch, his caress. Only now was she learning how much his presence in her life stirred her being.

Maybe it was one too many happy Christmas cards, sent lovingly in Shirley's hands with pictures of her chubby and dove-eyed children. Maybe it was the parade of blond girls Squiggy entertained in his apartment every night. Could it have been the trumpet that heralded Carmine's fame all the way on the East coast?

He was as alone as she was now; both of them almost thirty, both of them miles away from where they had been born. The world felt so alien, while they accomplished things that neither of them had dared to imagine when they were kids sitting on their stoop in Milwaukee, wondering what life would be like when they graduated from the sixth grade, which seemed eons away now.

She'd known him since she was a young child, ever since she'd moved away from Brooklyn; had met him just hours before she met Shirley. Now the dregs of space and time were pulling on her, making everything much more intimate than it had seemed before. Kisses she'd put off as simply being naughty, childish play they'd engaged in seemed like romantic overtures. Suddenly she was aware of how good he was to her. How he had proposed to her TWICE.

Her feet flew at an insane pace, running to get away from the fear of loneliness that now dogged her step at every turn.

Gray matter memory house
Master of this trembling flesh
Steady still my doubts
Let me speak the word that precedes bliss
Let me speak the word
Let me speak the word
Love, Love Love..

Suddenly, she stood at the door of the apartment. Like a religious icon, she pressed her palm to the door, bowing her head; her surefootedness suddenly weakened. She gulped air, seeking some solid sustenance. Marching one foot in front of the other, she entered the unlocked apartment...

The hinges pivoted open to reveal a bare floor, stripped walls; echoing emptiness.

She fell to her knees, her body heaving from the impact of her sobbing, lost. Then she heard a key turning in the lock.

She rose, tear streaked, beyond her ability to hold back her feelings. She approached him and pressed herself to his form, kissing frantically, pulling him inside and trying to rip his shirt off.

He stared down at her in frank amazement, "It's too late, Vernie," He blurted out. "I can't stay here when ya can't...."

She shook her head frantically, "It ain't, it ain't..." He didn't make any effort to pull away from you, "I love ya, Len. I love ya, I know that now...I wanna...I wanna..." He cut off her speech with his tongue as she pulled him, twisting, to the floor...

***

Much, much later, her eyes fell open and came to rest on the apartment's sole window. The ocean...she realized she could see the ocean rolling in far off in the distance under a blanket of stars.

She'd never noticed that before.

Amazin' how yer view changes when ya see everythin over a guy's shoulder She laughed to herself, peacefully, musing at the perfection of their union...how perfectly her fingers fit into in the shallow of his spine.

He stirred and rose up onto an elbow; in the gloomy, guttering light of the pre-twilight hour his Nordic features softened, aided by his childlike expression of dumbfounded wonder.

"Didja mean it, Vernie?" He asked her quietly, "Ya love me?"

Laverne wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him down for a kiss, "Len, I meant it..." She said simply.

Further attempts at speech dissolved in her mouth, unuttered for the remainder of the night.


Move on to "Telling Stories: Keep The Walls From Falling Down"