The Understood
By Missy

SERIES: The Understood

PART: 1 of 1

RATING: PG (Adult Content)

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: Post-Show AU.

SPOILLER/SUMMARY: You do not have to be heard to be understood (Lavenny, post-show)

NOTES: For Ashley, in celebration of her birthday.  An appetite wetter, if you will...

 

***

 

She murmured something indistinct against his shoulder - a prayer combined with a sigh.  It was sometime past the midnight strike, and the world was spattered with shadow and shaded with heather gray.

 

His weight shifted slightly against hers, releasing her from his arms.  They were tired from the party, her ribbons limp from the heat of the un-air-conditioned August afternoon, and he needed a rest and some punch to perk up his tired body.

 

The settle outside, in the marginally cooler air.  He brings her spiced lemonade and they listen to cars whistle by on the street below.

 

Do you think it's time to turn in? she asks.

 

Too hot, he replies.

 

Wrinkles mark the passage of his years - she sees him in the light of the street lamp.  His hair has fallen out or turned a strange yellow-tinged gray, and his teeth are crooked in his mouth.  She knows she's aging herself, softer and more malleable than she had been in her youth.

 

It was a good party she says.

 

The best.  Jodi's a good cook - at least one of us taught her something.

 

Laverne smiled.  Their daughter was willful and unable to learn anything beyond what she wanted to.  The girls are so big now - and Laurie's so tall...

 

Chip off the old cement block.  You always said I was too tall...

 

Not too tall to do this.  His lips taste like screwdrivers and barbecue, but his tongue tastes like coconut cake.

 

You're not supposed to have sweets.

 

He smirks.  It's hard to remember what not to do when you can't yell at me.

 

Her eyes flicker darkly, and he regrets his words.

 

I can't help that.  And the doctor did say he was sorry he put me through that scraping for nothing...

 

I know.  But you're alive, Vernie.  You're alive and I still have you.

 

Do you wish I could talk right now?

 

Yeah.  I liked it when you'd yell at me.

 

Len...

 

Okay - I miss hearing you sing.

 

I'm a lousy singer.

 

Depends on who was listening.

 

She rubs the back of his hand.  That's why we're so happy.

 

'Cause you can't sing?

 

Because most guys leave their wives when shit starts.

 

I'm never leaving you.

 

"Dad?"

 

Lenny swiveled around, catching sight of Jodi standing in the doorway.  She had once been his little girl, but now she was fifty.

 

"I called you guys a cab," she smiled deferentially at her mother and said loudly, "MOM, I WRAPPED UP SOME RIBS FOR YOU."

 

Laverne rolled her eyes and scribbled in large letters on her notepad quickly, I can't talk, but I CAN hear.

 

Jodi, her Kosnowski genes showing through, smiled dumbly.  "OKAY, MOM.  I'LL GET YOUR COAT."

 

Laverne sighed as the girl left them be.  She tried a few words, but they came out in a garbled growl.

 

"I hate laryngitis, too," Lenny smiled.

 

She rolled her eyes again.  Laryngitis: it's only a little bit better than cancer..

 

"That's what I hear," he said fondly.  He scooped up the pad and pencil and handed them back to her.  "The doctor said you should have your voice back by Monday."

 

She scribbled quickly, I hope it'll be Saturday.

 

"I do, too."

 

She stopped in her daughter's messy and now abandoned living room.  With fluency, she wrote,  dancing's always been easier than talking.  Let's dance.

 

He wrapped his arms around her and muttered a 'happy birthday' in her ear.

 

When their daughter came upon them a few moments later, she tried very hard to hear the song her parents were waltzing to.