The Light:
By Missy
Title: The Light
Author: Missy AKA rise_your_dead
Fandom: Laverne and Shirley
Pairing/Characters: Laverne/Lenny;
Rating/Category: NC-17; smut, angst, M/F sexual relations
Spoilers: None
Summary: Laverne seeks comfort in Lenny's arms after she loses both her father and her husband.
Notes/Warnings: Contains explicit M/F sexual relations; Written for Shotzette on the occasion of her birthday.

***

A sense of cold finality settled over Laverne as she curled up into a ball in the center of her oversized mission-frame bed, letting a cool breeze blowing in from the half-opened window to cool her skin.

It was over officially now. Her father rested in peace, after a ten-year battle with dementia that had depleted Laverne's energy and most of her faith in God. As per his request, she had placed him beside her mother in Milwaukee - now she lay upon her Cousin Nunzio's borrowed bed, listening to her daughter's childish babble piping in from the parlor.

A gentle knock sounded upon the door, but the person making the gesture didn't bother to wait for her to inquire about his intention. "Hey Laverne," Lenny whispered, as if she were a baby. He held a small pile of letters and a bowl of fresh minestrone soup.

He lifted her gloomy mood just a little bit, and she sits up. "Hey."

Lenny handed her the bowl, then stood awkwardly beside the bed, dropping the mail onto the bedside table, his hands plunged into his pockets, looking like a gawky teenage and watching Laverne spoon the concoction into her mouth. "It was nice," he said abruptly, idly, without meeting her eyes. "You did a good job with the reading."

Laverne shrugged. "Yeah," she smiled wanly. "When I wrote it I tried to remember all of the stuff Pop taught me when I was little."

"He was a great guy."

Laverne held the warm bowl of minestrone close to her lips. "I don't wanna remember him the way he was," she said, in a small voice. Tears threatened, but she felt too exhausted to give them expression.

Lenny's features twisted; he struggled for a pleasant topic. "Gianna's a good little girl," he remarked. "She made me listen to her say her ABCs. She remembers more than I can."

Laverne smileed. "She's good with her numbers too. The school says she's doing pretty good." She tucked the mug into her lap. "Not good enough to join the regular class, but..."

Lenny grinned. "You just watch, Vernie. One day, Gianna'll have her own place and you'll be visiting her."

"Maybe." She didn't think it would happen. Laverne knew that her daughter would function, according to the doctor treating her, at the mental level of an eleven-year-old. Her case of Downs Syndrome, just severe enough to guarantee that she would eternally posses the mind of a child, earned her stares - but Laverne thought her a beautiful little girl.

Her hands fisted against her lap. Unlike...

"...Have you heard from Sonny?"

Laverne's gaze jolted up toward Lenny's face. His anticipation of her thoughts tended to unbalance Laverne easily. "Not for awhile."

Not since he had stormed out of their Malibu beach house, in a frustrated fury over the latest report on Gianna's prognosis. She had been served with divorce papers three weeks before her father's final decline - those sat on her dresser, dragged to Milwaukee for analysis by Shirley's lawyer cousin Terry. Laverne wish she could say she'd been surprised by that turn of events, but she only felt a dull sense of resignation about them. Their marriage had been rotting slowly from the day of the girl's birth, the pressures of Sonny's high-paying job as coordinating stuntman for a traveling thrill show notwithstanding. Laverne had the guts to believe that her husband would settle down, once he'd landed the lead part of Landsdower, an hour-long hit action drama in which made she and her hubby both famous and wealthy. But all Sonny's success had brought Laverne was a lonely house, a little money, and a broken marriage.

He hadn't handled Gianna's diagnoses well - or the idea that she would never have what he considered a normal life. The strains had turned to cracks, crack to tares.

Now she had nothing but his money, and, outside of the raising of their daughter, a purposeless life.

"He'll come around," Lenny said. His confidence in the goodness of humanity made Laverne's smile widen

"If he doesn't, it's his loss." She placed the now-empty mug of soup on the dresser. "How've you been, mister big shot songwriter?"

"Eh," Lenny shrugged. "Me and Squig sold something to Captain Beefheart yesterday."

Laverne's expression aped jealousy - she really didn't know who Captain Beefheart was. 'Good."

"And we thought a song called 'Screwing and Wooing' wouldn't make the top two hundred!" There was a little note of pride in Lenny's voice as he sat himself down beside the bed. "Yeah, it's a pretty good life. The bus don't get a lot of good light in the morning tho, and I need good light to do my best work. So I ain't been writing while we've been touring."

She watched him settle down - ageless in a blue Henley and black slacks. In all of the time that's passed since she married Sonny, Lenny hadn't really changed at all.

He radiated comfort, and comfort was precisely what Laverne desired most. She held out her arms. "Come here."

Lenny watched her, vague suspicion in his eyes as he gets up and sits on the edge of the bed.

"Hold me?" she asked in a soft voice.

Maybe it was the pathetic, uncharacteristic tone that brought him to her side, but before Laverne could express another thought Lenny had his arms around her.

She didn't reprimand him for the dirty cowboy boots he dragged onto her cousin's sheets - the warmth of his body more than made up for any faults he might have.

Weeks of tension peeled away as she relaxed in his grip. Sleep felt possible, then inevitable.

***

Laverne woke to the feeling of slim arms holding her tight and the warmth of chocolate-scented breath upon the back of her neck.

She orientated herself slowly, moving toward the source of sweet scent. She didn't want to break away from the source of heat and comfort yet.

She stared at outline of Lenny's mouth in the darkness, the four o'clock shadow nearly invisible, glowing along his jawline. She pushed rational thought aside quickly, before brushing her lips against his.

Lenny wakened as the kiss ended. Gasping, his eyes wide open, he flung himself across the mattress, trying to put distance between Laverne and his mid-evening erection.

"Laverne?" he squeaked.

She helds out her hands. "It's okay, Lenny."

He watched her, obviously confused. Boxing him in between the wall and her body, Laverne wrapped her arms around Lenny's slim body and pressed herself against him, inserting her tongue between his parted lips.

Gradually, he warmed up to the kiss, his muscles growing limp in every area but the most crucial one. Button by button, her fingers unhooked the front of his henley, until it and the wifebeater he wore beneath rest upon the floor.

"'averne?" he murmured against her lips, allowing their forms to part so that she might pull away his clothing. "Do you know what you're doing to me?"

Laverne smiled tenderly. "I'm trying to get this stupid belt unbuckled. And when I do, we're gonna make love."

Lenny gapedat her. "But...why...how..." his voice trailed off as she stroked the bulge tenting his pants with possessive gentleness. "you ain't helping my mind out, there, Vernie..." the words came out in a husky rush.

"Because you've been so good to me, so nice to Gianna all week...and I wanna be close to you...."

"You wanna pity slap-n-tickle?"

A long, expectant sigh. "No, Lenny. I...come to think about how much I've missed you all these weeks. And how dumb it was for me to shut you out over the past couple of years while I tried to figure out how to handle Gianna's condition. You're one of my best friends, Len, and I was wrong..."

"But..." his zipper rasped open, and he groaned as she easily plucked aside the panel of material covering his semi-soft cock. Her touch was appreciative, gentle, warm.

"Geez, Len - if I knew you were packing this much in your pocket..."

He brushed her lips. "No more talking."

And so she didn't say a word when he gently pushed her onto her back. Her breasts, uncovered with a few eager wiggles on both of their parts, were treated to gentle kisses, followed by a less-gentle licking. Eventually the tease proved too great - he seemed to understand, and each crest is consumed, one at a time, into the sucking warmth of his mouth.

Laverne wriggled and groaned under his touch. Everything Lenny brushed against seems to catch fire, his gentleness encouraging and inspiring. His hand ventured timidly between her legs, to find Laverne soft, open and ready for his entrance.

She endured his gentle stroking for a few more moments before shoving his hand away.

"Now," Laverne ordered.

Lenny looked up from his ministrations. "But I..."

"We can go slow next time."

He gave her a beautiful, goofy grin. She reached down to position him. "But I don't got..."

"I got my tubes tied a few years ago," she whispered, pressing down on his hips.

The actual, physical act of sexual communion seems to take place in some sort of sunlit, underwater netherworld. Urgency seemed a foreign concept - wherever he wanted to take her, they would go, she would end up eventually. He took her in his arms and rocked her easily, unhurriedly - the emotions between them sweet and uncomplicated.

It was love in its simplest form - charity and affection dipped in the milk of human kindness.

"I love you," Laverne admitted in a low voice, just before her body began to spasm.

"Love you, too," Lenny admitted, his body going rigid under her hands.

She fell asleep connected to him this way, unified in body and mind with this man whose love had enrobed her without condition for so many years.

***

She didn't ask him the following morning where they'd be going, what they'd be doing. Laverne needed to shower and dress before Gianna gots up, to secure their tickets back to LA.

That's where Lenny's headed, too.

The suggestion was ventured upon gently.

"Y'know, Len - my living room gets a lotta sunlight in the morning."

She looked at him over her shoulder, peeking, the hope in her eyes obvious.

His grin was bright as a sunrise, and all the answer Laverne would ever need.

The End











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