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[Hair] Hair (3/5)
Just the fic today. Still tired from yesterday. O_O Good tired, though. ^_^ Except for the part where after getting home at 2 AM... my cat kept me up until 6. *sweatdrop* Oh? Who's that sleeping the sleep of the purely innocent beside me as I type? Why, yes! That would be my cat. Thanks for noticing. -.-;;;
Fandom: Hair, the musical: 2009 Revival
Pairing: Claude/Berger, Dionne/Hud, Cloud/Zack... and beyond that, I'm not telling. ^_~
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: Total -- 35,821; And oh, goodness... these did not break evenly. Shortest part is this one, at about 5600 words. Longest part is about 8700 and they range everywhere in between. O_O Sorry...
Warnings: Slash (no shock, I'm sure ^_^); and... oh! O_O Beware falling threesomes in this chapter. *eg* I had to go there, I just did. For old times' sake. ^_^ ((Your influence, again,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
msorange21! ^_~)) Still not mine. Don't sue.
Disclaimer: Neither the musical nor the boys belong to me, if they did they'd be groping each other on sta--. *pause* *blinkblink* Huh. Look at that... they do. *eg* :D ((*coughs* For the record, "Hair" was written in 1967 by James Rado and Gerome Ragni and with music by Galt MacDermot... not in 1985 by Jeanie Ryan. Thank you very much.))
Summary: Fourth in the Where Do I Go? set -- The long-awaited premiere of Jeanie's musical is fast approaching. Everything finally seems to be going smoothly, but nothing is ever really as simple as it appears... is it?
April 25, 2010: And in this segment, we observe the elusive "Woof" in his home environment of the "Howling Moon," (Yes, that would be his music store. ^_~), and many uncomfortable truths are shared. *waggles eyebrows* Yes, this is a tease -- the premiere doesn't actually start until Chapter 4. ^_^
Hair, Part 3
by Renee-chan
Jeanie opened the door to her apartment with a relieved sigh, "Thanks for getting here so quickly, guys. Normally I wouldn't mind sitting with her for three hours while she has hysterics, but I just don't have time today. I have a million things I need to do!" She then glanced nervously over her shoulder at the other blonde slowly rocking herself on the couch, her arms wrapped around her stomach.
Claude simply sighed and patted her on the shoulder, "Not a problem, Jeanie. I had a feeling things would fall out this way. Why don't you head out and we'll lock up when we leave, OK?"
Giving Claude and Berger a grateful smile and a kiss each on the cheek, Jeanie grabbed her pocketbook and hightailed it out of the apartment. Berger, drawn to the sight of an upset Sheila like a moth to a flame, made his way over to the couch and settled in beside her, leaning against her for support. Sheila slowly turned her head to the side to take in the new additions to the room, then let out a slightly hysterical giggle, "Oh G-d... she would call you, wouldn't she?"
Claude also made his way over to the couch and sat down on Sheila's other side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "If it's any consolation, we reacted about the same way when she told us."
The stunned woman turned her head to look at Claude in disbelief, "Then why the hell are you so calm about it, now??"
Claude shook his head and laughed, "You forget, Sheila. We've had two months to get used to the idea. That changes things a little. And in the grand scheme of things... is this really such a big deal?"
Sheila practically jumped off the couch in a sudden flurry of nervous energy, then started pacing and wringing her hands together, "Jesus, Claude... it might be. My husband's a politician. Not only is he a politician, he's a Republican. Something like this... something that brings my past to light in such a public venue... it could ruin him."
Berger snorted, "Wait a second. Let me get this straight. You went from me and Claudio... to a Republican? What the hell were you smoking when you made that decision, Sheila?"
Rounding on him, Sheila clenched her fists, "I didn't have much choice, did I?" She then paused, going back over what she'd said, then made a negating motion with her hands as though to say, "No, never mind. Scratch that." She walked back over to the couch and knelt down in front of Berger, hands resting gently on his knees, "Banana-Berger... at a time when I most needed comfort, he was good to me. At a time when I desperately needed someone to be strong for me... he was strong. And at a time when I needed someone to pick up the load that I could no longer carry, he shouldered that burden without complaint. I know it doesn't make sense, but it worked for us. It still does." Letting a small smile stretch the corners of her lips upwards, she added, "As long as we don't discuss politics at home, that is."
Leaning back into the couch cushions, arms crossed over his chest, Berger grumped, "Yeah, well I still don't really like it."
Claude threaded a hand through Berger's hair, gently running it down his neck to rest on his shoulder, "It's not your choice, Berger. It's Sheila's. And if she says she's happy... of all people, who are we to judge?"
Caught between the two people he'd always cared most about in this world, Berger let out a dramatic sigh and threw his hands in the air, "Fine, whatever. You're right. I'm sorry."
Sheila leaned back on her heels and frowned, "Well, that sure sounded sincere."
Rising from the couch to pace the room a few times himself, Berger ignored that sarcastic comment. Claude inched forward on the couch, keeping one eye on his lover as he spoke to Sheila, "Sheila, you'll have to forgive him. Last night... last night was hard on him and I don't think he's quite over it, yet. So, just try to cut him a little slack, OK?"
Sheila shifted herself back up to sit beside Claude on the couch. She watched Berger silently for a moment, watching him pace to one side of the room to fiddle with a painting on the wall, then pace back to the other side to turn the knobs on the TV back and forth, all the while muttering quietly under his breath about G-d only knew what. Her voice was sad with her next words, "He's... he's not really better, is he, Claude? He seemed to be at first, but he isn't. He's still not quite sane..."
Claude sighed, shaking his head, "It's not that cut and dry, Sheila. He was always like this to some extent... a little off from everyone else. The drugs and all those years on the street just amplified his natural tendencies to fall out of touch with reality. Most days... most days, he's fine. You'd never know anything was wrong. Other days... it's like he never left the streets. We're not there, today, thank G-d... but he's been teetering on the edge since last night. He's holding on, but only just barely. All this drama on top of it? It's just bad timing, all right?"
Sheila swallowed hard and nodded, "I think I get it." At Claude's doubtful look, she elaborated, "Georgie's like that sometimes, too. Like she's skewed a few degrees off from normal. She's not nearly this bad, but I've seen her do her own version of this, too -- where she'll retreat from everyone for a few minutes, an hour... sometimes even a whole day, just to get her head back in order. She's a bright kid -- a very bright kid -- but some things are harder for her than for others, you know?"
At that, Berger wandered back over and kicked a foot at the couch a few times. Claude caught at the hand not jammed deep into his jeans pocket to give it a reassuring squeeze. Berger gave him a grateful smile, then ducked his gaze again. Still not quite looking at Sheila, he asked under his breath, "Does she write?"
Eyes narrowed in confusion, Sheila said, "I... Berger, I don't know. I mean, I know she can... I think I'm not sure what you're asking."
Making a frustrated noise, Berger blew his hair up out of his face, then pulled his other hand out of his pocket to make a vague gesture in the air, "You know... writing... like stories or a journal."
Looking to Claude for guidance and finding no help forthcoming, Sheila could only shrug in response, "I don't know, Berger. I've never asked."
Kicking at the couch again, Berger pulled his hand out of Claude's grip and shoved both of his hands back into his pockets. Taking a deep breath, he finally raised his gaze to meet Sheila's, "Find out. If she does... it helps, sometimes."
Frowning, Sheila said, "Berger... you don't write. Not like that, anyway."
Smiling a melancholy little smile, Berger shook his head, "No... I don't. Not anymore." At the look of disbelief on Sheila's face, the smile slipped away and he hunched in on himself, "But I used to. And... it helped. Back then. Now..." He shrugged, helplessly, "I'm too broken for something like that to help anymore, but it isn't too late for her. If she can pin the world down with words, find a way to hold onto it... it'll help. Trust me."
Before Sheila could think of an answer to that suggestion, Berger turned back to Claude and touched his forehead to the other man's, "Claudio... I'm gonna take a walk. I... I'll meet you at the theater at seven, OK?"
Recognizing the other man's need to retreat and get his head back together, Claude nodded, "OK, Berger. Take whatever time you need. I'll leave your ticket at the ticket counter, just in case, OK?"
With a grateful smile, Berger just nodded and then took off for parts unknown. Sheila slowly turned towards Claude, her face a stunned mask, "You... you're just going to let him go? All by himself? Like this?"
Claude sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hands, "Sheila, you really don't understand what living with him is like. You can't hold a man like Berger against his will. He'd find a way to slip away no matter what I did... and if I tried to hold him like that -- especially when he's like this -- he'd lose all trust in me... and he'd be right to." Seeing her still unconvinced, he said, "Sheila, eccentricities aside, Berger is still the most street-savvy person I know. No one messes with him in this city. If anyone is going to be safe wandering around alone, it's him, OK?"
Sighing, Sheila nodded, still unconvinced, but unwilling to provoke an argument. Instead she asked, "Well, that aside... maybe you can explain to me what I said that set him off? So I can avoid saying it again in the future?"
With a slightly bitter smile, Claude answered, "If I had to guess? I'd say it was that bit about you 'not having any choice,' Sheila."
The blonde's face paled as she slowly rose from the couch and took a step back. Her voice was flat and void of emotion when she spoke, "I'm not sure what you mean, Claude."
A disbelieving snort, "Actually, I'm pretty sure you do, Sheila." Shaking his head, Claude added, "You know... I wondered why you'd have rushed off so quickly to marry this Brad fellow. I couldn't really wrap my head around it, especially with the timing of it. You'd only just officially broken up with Berger a month or two before, you had a diploma in your pocket and a whole world of possibility laid out in front of you... and then you ran off and married the original young Republican? It just didn't make sense, Sheila, even as an act of rebellion. I wasn't going to push the issue last time you were here, but now that I've met your daughter? So many things make sense now that didn't before."
Wrapping her arms around her stomach, Sheila's face paled even further, "Claude... stop. Please... just don't."
Letting out a sigh, Claude shook his head again, "Fine, Sheila. I'll stop. I'm not the one you need to be talking about this with, anyway, because ultimately, it's not any of my business. But you should talk to Berger about it. He deserves to hear it from you."
Voice choking up, Sheila gritted out, "Jesus, Claude... how can I tell him something like that?"
Sighing, Claude got up from the couch to take her shoulders in a gentle grip, "You're forgetting something very important here, Sheila. He may not be certain enough to make the accusation... but on a deep, instinctive level, he already knows. He knew last night. You just need to confirm it. You owe him that much."
Sheila slowly nodded, "OK... you're right, Claude. I'll talk to him. After the show, all right? I think we all have enough drama to deal with at the moment without throwing more onto the pile."
Sighing, Claude said, "I'm not sure about that... then again, you may be right. Tonight's going to be hard enough on him without adding that." Then, finally calmer and of one mind where it counted, Claude escorted Sheila outside, "Speaking of drama, however, I think it's more than time that we rescued Woof from Kelly and your daughter. Maybe we could take them all out to lunch?"
Smiling in relief that the discussion was tabled for now, Sheila spoke, "Oh Claude... you have no idea what you're in for." Then with a wicked laugh, she wrapped her arm around his and started leading him down the block to the subway station, "But you're about to find out!"
Woof met them at the door to the Howling Moon with a beaming smile, "Oh boy, am I glad to see the two of you!"
Claude and Sheila just looked at each other and Sheila began to sweat. Turning slowly back to face the other man, she winced, "What did they do this time?"
Woof blinked at them in honest confusion, "They didn't do anything, Sheila... I'm just happy to see you! And I can't wait to show off my store!" He then threw his arms around the pair and hugged them tightly to him. When they stepped back, he offered them another beaming smile, "You've got a great kid, Sheila. She's been a big help this morning!"
Unable to hide her growing disbelief, Sheila's mouth finally dropped open, "Wha--? Huh? She's been... What?"
At that moment, another voice called out from the back of the store, "Uncle Woof, are you kidding me?? You've got a whole set of original Rolling Stones and Grateful Dead albums! What the hell are they doing back here? You could make a fortune off these!"
Woof turned his head back over his shoulder and called back, "Georgie, that's my personal collection! That stuff stays back there!"
Georgie poked her head out from between the strands of hanging beads that guarded the way into the stock room, "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place? Since it's yours, you mind if we put some on while we work?"
Beaming a huge smile at the girl, he said, "Not at all, Georgie. You guys can play whatever you want."
Kelly poked her head out next to Georgie's to add in her two cents, "Anything, Dad?" Waggling her eyebrows, she gave them an evil grin, "Anything covers an awful lot of territory, you know..."
Claude watched in bemusement as Woof's face immediately fell, "Within reason, Kelly, OK? I don't want to scare away any customers..."
Grin widening, Kelly said, "Well... I would consider Madonna and Wham! reasonable."
Before Woof could answer, Georgie's face took on a look of pure horror and she immediately put her foot down, "Oh, hell no. Kelly, you live on top of the most awesome freakin' music store in New York and your Dad has the best damned taste on the planet... and you like Wham... and Madonna? She and George Michael may have good sets of pipes, but there's no substance to either one of them!" Eyes blazing, she locked gazes with Woof, "Uncle Woof, something has to be done about this."
Making an expansive gesture, Woof smiled, "Please, my dear. Do your worst."
Cackling gleefully, Georgie dragged her victim back into the stockroom. Moments later, the sounds of the Grateful Dead's "Uncle John's Band" came blasting over the speakers. One of the customers let out a cheer. Sheila turned to look back at Woof, still not over her shock enough to even go near the subjects she wanted to -- like how he'd become "Uncle" Woof in just one night. Instead, she asked, "I... I thought she only listened to hair metal...?"
Woof gentled his smile and wrapped an arm comfortingly around Sheila's shoulders, "Sheila, your daughter just loves good music -- and no one in their right mind could deny that the Dead are good music."
Sheila huffed, "So... how is it that you know this and I don't?"
Shrugging, Woof stepped away, "You ever talk to her about it?" At Sheila's now guarded look, he continued, "She, Kelly and I stayed up half the night talking, mostly about music. I meant what I said earlier, Sheila. She's a great kid." Ducking his gaze, he added quietly, "'Sides... I know how to handle her. I've had practice."
"What do you mean?" Sheila winced at the shaky quality to the question. Nothing about this visit was going like she'd wanted. And that both Berger and Woof seemed to have no problems conversing with her daughter when she'd been trying so hard and failing so abysmally for the last two years... it just wasn't fair.
Woof didn't immediately answer her question. He took a few steps away to fiddle with a crystal hanging off the cash register. When he finally found the words, though, he couldn't quite look her in the eye, "Well... There are some things you don't forget, Sheila. And I knew Berger long before I knew either of you... or you knew him." Smiling a soft smile, he said, "In fact, he was about Georgie's age when we met. And Georgie, now... she reminds me a lot of Berger from back then, back when he still had a bit better of a handle on things. Even then, though, you could see that he was starting to fray around the edges and some things were harder for him than others. Music was easy. He could relate to it. He could lose himself in it with utter faith that he'd be able to find himself again when the song ended. It didn't pose a threat, you know? And Georgie... you can see it's much the same for her. Music's easy. She can let herself go in it and not stress about having to fight to find her way back. That let's her let go and be a kid for a while."
Mouth dropping open, Sheila couldn't speak for a minute. Finally, she managed to make her voice work again and said, "I... I never thought about it that way, Woof."
Looking up to meet her gaze at last, Woof gave her another small smile, "Well, now you know." Smile taking on a pleased cast as he aimed a look in Claude's direction, he said, "It's easier to talk to people when you speak their language, isn't it?"
Claude laughed, "Yeah, I guess you could say it is. And I suppose that these days I speak Berger better than anyone except maybe you, Woof."
Woof tilted his head to the side, thinking, "I don't know, Claude. I think, just maybe, you're more fluent than me, these days. Familiarity breeding skill and all that."
Choosing to ignore that comment, Claude instead asked a question, "So, are you planning on being here all day? Sheila and I thought we'd invite you guys for lunch."
Woof shrugged, "I'd happily say, 'Yes,' but we ended up here because my cashier called in sick today and I was the only one who could cover. So, I'm stuck until we close later."
Claude frowned, "I thought you close late on Saturdays..."
Nodding, Woof said, "We do, we do. But there's no way I'm missing Jeanie's debut Broadway show. If I don't have someone to cover by the time I need to leave to go get ready, I'll just close early." Elbowing Sheila gently in the arm he said, "It's times like these that it pays to be the boss."
Sheila laughed, "I imagine it does... So, what about the kids?"
Woof shrugged, "Honestly, I think they're happy as clams where they are. I have 'em counting inventory, but mostly they're using it as an excuse to go through all the old record albums and harass the customers." Woof waved back as another man walked in the front door, spied the girls through the curtains and gave him a sympathetic smile, "Fortunately, the customers are used to it."
Sheila laughed, "You know, Woof... I gotta say, this place is amazing. How did you put all this together?"
Sharing a conspiratory wink with Claude, Woof said simply, "Big divorce settlement. This was my pay-off for taking the kids." Tilting his head to the side, he said contemplatively, "Which worked out extremely well in my favor... because getting sole custody of the girls would have been the only thing I would have given this up for. I can't say I mind that it worked out so that I could have both."
They ended up staying at the music store and ordering out for pizza, thoroughly enjoying the relaxed atmosphere and the fact that they didn't need to be anywhere in particular or doing anything more significant than enjoying each other's company. Sheila was surprised to admit it, but she was glad to have the opportunity to catch up with Woof. She hadn't always understood him, that was true, and she hadn't always gotten along with him, that was even more true, but this man he'd become... she was honestly proud to call him a friend.
As the clock struck five, Woof turned the "Closed" sign over on the door and wrote a note of apology to tape up underneath it. Then he turned to the gathered group and said, "All right, people. Time to go home and get ourselves dolled up. See you at the theatre at 7!"
Up until the moment that she and Georgie left the music store, Sheila had managed to push tonight to the back of her mind. Now, though... without the buffer of Claude and Woof around her, she suddenly felt like she was on a runaway train heading straight for a cliff. She couldn't stop the show, even if she wanted to, and telling her husband... what good would that do? Caught in her increasingly churned up thoughts, Sheila almost missed their subway stop. Fortunately, Georgie, already a pro at New York's mass transit after two days of running around with Kelly, grabbed her arm and hauled her off the subway, "Jesus, Mom! Way to give a girl a heart attack!"
Still trying to catch her breath from the sudden scare she'd had herself, Sheila said shortly, "Sorry. Sorry. Wasn't paying attention."
Georgie snorted and crossed her arms over her chest, "Yeah, I figured that part out myself, Mom. Thanks. What the hell has you so spacy, anyway?"
Sheila shook her head and got them walking again, heading up to the hotel. Finally, she said, "I'm worried about tonight." At Georgie's raised eyebrow, she elaborated, "I'm worried for Jeanie that the show might not do well. Nothing's a guarantee on Broadway. But I'm also worried that it will do well..."
Understanding what her mother was getting at, Georgie finished, "Because then it might be a problem for Dad." At her mother's nod, Georgie snorted, "Oh, grow up, Mom. Dad's a big boy and he can take care of himself. Besides, who in Washington pays attention to what's happening on Broadway? And it's not like your married name's gonna be in the show. No one'll ever connect it. So just relax and enjoy it."
Sheila opened her mouth to deliver a blistering retort, but Georgie just held up a finger in front of her lips and planted a stern expression on her face. Sheila was so shocked she actually forgot what she had been about to say. Into the silence, Georgie said intently, "Mom... I have just had the best two days of my life. I don't see how you could ever have left these people -- any of them. And instead of enjoying it with me, you're giving yourself a freakin' ulcer over things you can't change. It's enough already. Take a breath, calm your ass down and let's go to the show and have some fun, OK?"
Looking down into her daughter's earnest blue eyes, Sheila had a sudden sense of déjà vu. Now... now she felt like she was looking at herself. Here was the passion that Georgie had been missing. And of all the things to take her first stand over... her mother's right to let her hair down and have a little fun without worrying about her husband's political career. And all she could do in response was grab the girl up into a hug tight enough that she squeaked. When she let her go, it was to allow a wicked smile to bloom on her own face. Grabbing her daughter's hand she started dragging her back to the subway, "Georgie, you are absolutely right. And you just gave me the most wonderful idea... and we should have just enough time to pull it off before the show."
Claude stood outside the front of the theatre, nervously checking his watch. He'd expected Berger to show up at the last minute, but he hadn't expected Sheila and Georgie to be late, as well. He had sudden cause to wonder if Sheila had changed her mind about coming. But, she'd seemed so relaxed that afternoon! Claude had thought he'd finally managed to get her mind off her worries about the show. Maybe he hadn't been as successful as he'd thought...
After another few minutes of pacing, someone approached him and stopped right in front of him. She was dressed in a pair of fringed, bell-bottomed jeans and a brightly colored, patch-worked and bell-sleeved top that wouldn't have looked out of place during the summer of love. She had a small peace symbol hanging from her neck and a wild growth of black, curly hair that fell to mid-back. She was also beaming a tremendously large smile his way... and Claude had no idea who the hell she was. At the look of complete confusion on his face, the girl giggled and scuffed her shoe on the ground. He looked down at the movement and only figured out who it was when he saw the Doc Martens peaking out from under the bell of her jeans, "Georgie??"
Laughing again, she nodded, then twirled for him, "What do you think, Uncle Claude? Would I have fit in with you hippies?"
"Good G-d, Georgie! Where the hell did you find an outfit like that?" was his answer.
She twirled again, swishing her sleeves in the air as she moved, "Mom and I went shopping in the Village after we left you. Her idea, no less!" At the deepening confusion in his eyes, she elaborated, "She was having a massive stress out, I beat some sense into her, and I guess she finally decided to embrace this thing. Can't say I'm disappointed. These clothes are wicked cool! How did they ever fall out of style?"
Claude was unable to come up with an intelligible response to that and instead lifted his gaze to look for Sheila, hoping she'd be somewhere nearby. A glad cry of, "Claudio!" was the only warning he had before she leapt at him, blithely certain as ever, that he would catch her before she fell. When he did, she wrapped her legs around his waist, threw back her head and crowed with delight. Still stunned by the unexpectedness of it, Claude could only hold onto her and gape. This was the Sheila he remembered from that summer. Bright, wild, passionate and free. This was his Sheila...
Running on instinct, and moving almost as one, the two turned at the same moment, certain that the other member of their trio was close. He was... and stood precisely where he'd frozen at the sight of them, about twenty feet away. Well, this Sheila was having none of that. Wriggling her way down Claude's front -- and making him abruptly sorry that the days he could have invited her back to the apartment for a threesome were long gone as she went -- she took off in Berger's direction with similar enthusiasm, "Banana-Berger!"
Caught up in the moment just as Claude had been, Berger also caught her in midair. She wrapped her legs around his waist and bent her head forward, hiding them both in the curtain of her hair. Claude couldn't hear whatever quiet words were exchanged, but had a sudden sinking suspicion that he knew exactly what they were talking about. The conversation went on for several more minutes and Claude had to stop Georgie from interrupting more than once.
Taking the opportunity for what it was, Claude examined every inch of this transformed Sheila. She was also wearing a pair of bellbottomed blue jeans and wore a white gauzy top that would have fit right in with her old wardrobe. She had on a pair of simple lace-up brown boots... and her hair was different. It was down out of its pins, loose and flowing to the middle of her back. Not only that, but it was feathered back into those layers that she'd always worn it in, not the straight-across plait that he'd grown accustomed to seeing it in the last few times she'd visited. And the piece de resistance... she'd dug out her oversized peace symbol and it was hanging proudly around her neck once more. Just like that night in the park two months ago, Claude felt like he'd been transported back in time. And all he could do was watch... and smile.
After a few more minutes had gone by, Sheila finally wriggled herself down out of Berger's arms. Smiling brightly up at him, she planted a kiss under his chin as she wrapped her arms around his chest, then said playfully, "Did Berger miss Sheila?" Her eyes then softened as she cupped his cheek, "Because Sheila missed Berger."
Claude could see the exact moment that Berger lost control. The other man's eyes blazed and he suddenly crushed Sheila to him, mouth sealed firmly over hers as he did his best to kiss her breathless. Mouth gone suddenly dry at the sight, Claude had to swallow a few times before he could speak. When he finally could, he turned to Georgie, said, "Stay," and walked over to where Berger and Sheila were still wound around each other. When he got there, he wrapped his arms around them both and said the only thing that came to mind, still after all these years, "G-d... you two are beautiful together!"
The pair broke off the kiss to turn bright grins on him. Berger immediately latched onto his favorite spot on Claude's neck and Sheila reached up to pull his lips down for a kiss. Right around the time when Claude was trying to make a frantic decision about whether or not they really had to go in for the show and if this could really be considered adultery since Sheila had been theirs long before she was Brad's, the decision got made for him. A bright voice -- a familiar voice -- spoke up from the direction of the theatre doors, "Georgie, have you seen Berger, Claude or your mom? Woof sent me out here to go... get..." There was a pause, then a breathless squeal of excitement, "So, that's why he told me to bring my camera! Yes!!" Then there were several clicks and flashes in rapid succession. By the fifth one, the three had finally managed to separate, bright red blushes staining the faces of two of them. Crissy merely beamed serenely at them from where she was standing next to a helplessly giggling Georgie. She then waggled the camera and said wryly, "You know, Claudio... when I asked you to be more obliging, I had no idea that you would respond in such a spectacular way! If I had, I'd have asked sooner!"
Claude could only gape in response. Fortunately, Sheila was not so stunned. Letting out a wild yip, she took off running in Crissy's direction, only pausing at the theatre doors to let them tear her ticket and to point out Georgie as being with her, before she was off and running again. Georgie followed sedately after, a charmed smile on her face as she watched this wild woman who was somehow her mother.
Once they'd gone, Claude wrapped his arms around Berger and smiled. Berger pulled the other man flush up against him in a tight embrace, his own smile a little uncertain. Claude shook his head and planted a chaste kiss on Berger's lips, "I don't mind, Banana-Berger. I never minded sharing you with Sheila. That was always part and parcel of the deal. I don't want any piece of you that you don't give willingly. You know that."
Berger smiled, raising a hand to brush against Claude's face, "I do know that. But... it's different now, Claudio. Back then, I couldn't understand why anyone would want to tie themselves down to one person. Now... now I do. I do love Sheila, some part of me always will, but it's you I want to wake up to every morning. I don't just want you to have a piece of me, Claudio... I want you to have all of me -- every single fucked up part." Bumping his nose lightly against Claude's, he added softly, "For better or for worse..."
Claude's breath caught at the sheer depth of the meaning in those words. Roughly, he answered back, "In sickness and in health...?"
Smile widening, Berger planted kisses on the points of each of Claude's cheekbones, then another soft one on his lips, "All of it, Claudio. Every single word of it. If I could... I'd marry you today." His voice suddenly took on a fierce tone, "And someday... someday I will."
Letting out a soft sob, Claude wrapped his arms tightly around Berger's neck and buried his face in the other man's shoulder. The sheer promise in those words... of a life where they could marry, a life where they could be joined forever in front of G-d and witnesses, a life where they didn't have to hide what they were to each other... It was such a beautiful dream. Berger just held him, rubbing soothing circles around his back in this moment caught outside of time. When he finally pulled away, he let out a watery chuckle, "Well... this sure wasn't what I thought would happen when I came to Jeanie's show tonight. Imagine that, a marriage proposal at my age..."
Berger laughed and punched him lightly in the shoulder, "You're not that old, Claudio. You're not even forty. Besides, the way the world is now, when we finally can get married we'll probably be in wheelchairs and diapers."
Claude stared at him for a moment, then smacked him in the shoulder, "Thank you, Berger. Thank you for that wonderful image. Now I'm going to be depressed."
Wrapping an arm around Claude's waist, Berger just grinned, "Aw... you know you love me."
He sighed, "Yeah... I do at that." Poking Berger's shoulder, he added, "And don't think that brilliantly executed piece of misdirection is getting you out of telling me what you and Sheila talked about."
Berger dropped his head onto Claude's shoulder, turning his face into his shirt, "Yeah... I thought we'd come back around to that." Taking in a deep breath, he finally admitted, "I was right. She's mine, Claudio."
Claude winced as Berger pulled away to bury his hands in his hair and tug. He said quietly, "Well... it's not like it's a surprise, Berger. I think everyone except the kids have figured it out by now. It's kind of hard to miss." Stepping closer and taking one of Berger's hands in his, he smiled, "It's a good thing, Berger. It's a real good thing."
Berger just stared at him, completely thrown by Claude's nonchalant response. Claude reached out to ease one of Berger's hands down from his hair and used it to pull him close and wrap his arms around him again, "You ducked out of that talk last night and there was something very important that I didn't get to tell you... a secret, if you will. So... here it is: I may not be afraid of a world without me in it... but, the thought of a world without George Berger? Love... that scares me witless. Because how could a world like that have any joy?" He paused, then continued with a wide smile, "But if that world had Georgie in it? A girl that's a perfect blend of the two people that mean the most to me on this planet? My G-d... there's going to be nothing on this Earth that she won't be able to accomplish... if she's able to put her mind to it." Seeing Berger's answering smile, he concluded, "And you know what? If she never does anything more than brighten it with her existence... then that's OK, too."
Crushing the other man to him in a tight embrace, Berger said, "Jesus, Claude... I don't deserve you."
Laughingly planting a kiss on Berger's nose, Claude answered, "No, you don't. But you have your uses, so I let you stick around."
Berger laughed and bent his head to plant a series of nipping kisses along Claude's neck... or he would have if the doorman hadn't quietly cleared his throat and said, "Gentlemen... my apologies for interrupting, but the show is going to start in approximately five minutes. You may wish to take your seats."
Claude murmured a quiet, "Thank you," then disentangled himself from Berger and herded him into the theatre. The last thing he wanted was for them to be late after all that! It wasn't until he saw where everyone else was sitting and realized that the two seats to the left of the middle of the row were the only ones empty that Claude began to feel an inkling of worry. Jeanie had put them all in the front row with the kids behind them...? Oh dear Lord.
Climbing over the others to reach their seats, Claude counted heads. Everyone was present and accounted for, except for Jeanie -- who would be backstage overseeing the show -- and... where was Cloud? Before he had a chance to ask anyone, though, the lights went down. Berger took his left hand firmly in his right and pulled it into his lap. Well... here went everything.
A/N:
Berger: Ha! I knew it!
Sheila: *blush* Yeah, yeah. Don't rub it in.
Georgie: Knew what? What the hell are you guys talking about?
Sheila: *panicked look* Nothing! Nothing! Neverminditwasnothing!
Berger: *twitch* You have no intention of telling her, do you?
Georgie: Telling me what already, for cripes' sake??
Woof: *patpats the Georgie* Here... have a Kelly.
Kelly: Huh?
Georgie: *feral smile* Gee thanks, Uncle Woof! *drags Kelly off*
Berger: *doubletwitch* You really don't plan to tell her... do you? *hurt look*
Sheila: *wince*
Woof: O_O *patpats the Berger* Here... have a Claude.
Claude: *sweatdrop* What am I, the tribal sacrifice?
Sheila: *blows raspberry* Now you know how it feels!
Berger: *eg* Gee thanks, Uncle Woof! *drags Claude off*
Woof: *twitch* I'm not your uncle!
Sheila: *laughs* *claps Woof on the shoulder* Man... you weren't kidding when you said you'd had practice... ^_~
Master Post and Chapter List
Questions, comments, papaya?
Coming Soon: Finally, the show has started! The curtain opens, Act I begins... and down we go on the first dip in this roller coaster. There will be laughter, there will be tears and a few unexpected twists in the road... but really, what else do you expect at this point? ^_~
And just 'cuz I can and it was so dang funny... XD
see more
Fandom: Hair, the musical: 2009 Revival
Pairing: Claude/Berger, Dionne/Hud, Cloud/Zack... and beyond that, I'm not telling. ^_~
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: Total -- 35,821; And oh, goodness... these did not break evenly. Shortest part is this one, at about 5600 words. Longest part is about 8700 and they range everywhere in between. O_O Sorry...
Warnings: Slash (no shock, I'm sure ^_^); and... oh! O_O Beware falling threesomes in this chapter. *eg* I had to go there, I just did. For old times' sake. ^_^ ((Your influence, again,
msorange21! ^_~)) Still not mine. Don't sue.Disclaimer: Neither the musical nor the boys belong to me, if they did they'd be groping each other on sta--. *pause* *blinkblink* Huh. Look at that... they do. *eg* :D ((*coughs* For the record, "Hair" was written in 1967 by James Rado and Gerome Ragni and with music by Galt MacDermot... not in 1985 by Jeanie Ryan. Thank you very much.))
Summary: Fourth in the Where Do I Go? set -- The long-awaited premiere of Jeanie's musical is fast approaching. Everything finally seems to be going smoothly, but nothing is ever really as simple as it appears... is it?
April 25, 2010: And in this segment, we observe the elusive "Woof" in his home environment of the "Howling Moon," (Yes, that would be his music store. ^_~), and many uncomfortable truths are shared. *waggles eyebrows* Yes, this is a tease -- the premiere doesn't actually start until Chapter 4. ^_^
Hair, Part 3
by Renee-chan
Jeanie opened the door to her apartment with a relieved sigh, "Thanks for getting here so quickly, guys. Normally I wouldn't mind sitting with her for three hours while she has hysterics, but I just don't have time today. I have a million things I need to do!" She then glanced nervously over her shoulder at the other blonde slowly rocking herself on the couch, her arms wrapped around her stomach.
Claude simply sighed and patted her on the shoulder, "Not a problem, Jeanie. I had a feeling things would fall out this way. Why don't you head out and we'll lock up when we leave, OK?"
Giving Claude and Berger a grateful smile and a kiss each on the cheek, Jeanie grabbed her pocketbook and hightailed it out of the apartment. Berger, drawn to the sight of an upset Sheila like a moth to a flame, made his way over to the couch and settled in beside her, leaning against her for support. Sheila slowly turned her head to the side to take in the new additions to the room, then let out a slightly hysterical giggle, "Oh G-d... she would call you, wouldn't she?"
Claude also made his way over to the couch and sat down on Sheila's other side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "If it's any consolation, we reacted about the same way when she told us."
The stunned woman turned her head to look at Claude in disbelief, "Then why the hell are you so calm about it, now??"
Claude shook his head and laughed, "You forget, Sheila. We've had two months to get used to the idea. That changes things a little. And in the grand scheme of things... is this really such a big deal?"
Sheila practically jumped off the couch in a sudden flurry of nervous energy, then started pacing and wringing her hands together, "Jesus, Claude... it might be. My husband's a politician. Not only is he a politician, he's a Republican. Something like this... something that brings my past to light in such a public venue... it could ruin him."
Berger snorted, "Wait a second. Let me get this straight. You went from me and Claudio... to a Republican? What the hell were you smoking when you made that decision, Sheila?"
Rounding on him, Sheila clenched her fists, "I didn't have much choice, did I?" She then paused, going back over what she'd said, then made a negating motion with her hands as though to say, "No, never mind. Scratch that." She walked back over to the couch and knelt down in front of Berger, hands resting gently on his knees, "Banana-Berger... at a time when I most needed comfort, he was good to me. At a time when I desperately needed someone to be strong for me... he was strong. And at a time when I needed someone to pick up the load that I could no longer carry, he shouldered that burden without complaint. I know it doesn't make sense, but it worked for us. It still does." Letting a small smile stretch the corners of her lips upwards, she added, "As long as we don't discuss politics at home, that is."
Leaning back into the couch cushions, arms crossed over his chest, Berger grumped, "Yeah, well I still don't really like it."
Claude threaded a hand through Berger's hair, gently running it down his neck to rest on his shoulder, "It's not your choice, Berger. It's Sheila's. And if she says she's happy... of all people, who are we to judge?"
Caught between the two people he'd always cared most about in this world, Berger let out a dramatic sigh and threw his hands in the air, "Fine, whatever. You're right. I'm sorry."
Sheila leaned back on her heels and frowned, "Well, that sure sounded sincere."
Rising from the couch to pace the room a few times himself, Berger ignored that sarcastic comment. Claude inched forward on the couch, keeping one eye on his lover as he spoke to Sheila, "Sheila, you'll have to forgive him. Last night... last night was hard on him and I don't think he's quite over it, yet. So, just try to cut him a little slack, OK?"
Sheila shifted herself back up to sit beside Claude on the couch. She watched Berger silently for a moment, watching him pace to one side of the room to fiddle with a painting on the wall, then pace back to the other side to turn the knobs on the TV back and forth, all the while muttering quietly under his breath about G-d only knew what. Her voice was sad with her next words, "He's... he's not really better, is he, Claude? He seemed to be at first, but he isn't. He's still not quite sane..."
Claude sighed, shaking his head, "It's not that cut and dry, Sheila. He was always like this to some extent... a little off from everyone else. The drugs and all those years on the street just amplified his natural tendencies to fall out of touch with reality. Most days... most days, he's fine. You'd never know anything was wrong. Other days... it's like he never left the streets. We're not there, today, thank G-d... but he's been teetering on the edge since last night. He's holding on, but only just barely. All this drama on top of it? It's just bad timing, all right?"
Sheila swallowed hard and nodded, "I think I get it." At Claude's doubtful look, she elaborated, "Georgie's like that sometimes, too. Like she's skewed a few degrees off from normal. She's not nearly this bad, but I've seen her do her own version of this, too -- where she'll retreat from everyone for a few minutes, an hour... sometimes even a whole day, just to get her head back in order. She's a bright kid -- a very bright kid -- but some things are harder for her than for others, you know?"
At that, Berger wandered back over and kicked a foot at the couch a few times. Claude caught at the hand not jammed deep into his jeans pocket to give it a reassuring squeeze. Berger gave him a grateful smile, then ducked his gaze again. Still not quite looking at Sheila, he asked under his breath, "Does she write?"
Eyes narrowed in confusion, Sheila said, "I... Berger, I don't know. I mean, I know she can... I think I'm not sure what you're asking."
Making a frustrated noise, Berger blew his hair up out of his face, then pulled his other hand out of his pocket to make a vague gesture in the air, "You know... writing... like stories or a journal."
Looking to Claude for guidance and finding no help forthcoming, Sheila could only shrug in response, "I don't know, Berger. I've never asked."
Kicking at the couch again, Berger pulled his hand out of Claude's grip and shoved both of his hands back into his pockets. Taking a deep breath, he finally raised his gaze to meet Sheila's, "Find out. If she does... it helps, sometimes."
Frowning, Sheila said, "Berger... you don't write. Not like that, anyway."
Smiling a melancholy little smile, Berger shook his head, "No... I don't. Not anymore." At the look of disbelief on Sheila's face, the smile slipped away and he hunched in on himself, "But I used to. And... it helped. Back then. Now..." He shrugged, helplessly, "I'm too broken for something like that to help anymore, but it isn't too late for her. If she can pin the world down with words, find a way to hold onto it... it'll help. Trust me."
Before Sheila could think of an answer to that suggestion, Berger turned back to Claude and touched his forehead to the other man's, "Claudio... I'm gonna take a walk. I... I'll meet you at the theater at seven, OK?"
Recognizing the other man's need to retreat and get his head back together, Claude nodded, "OK, Berger. Take whatever time you need. I'll leave your ticket at the ticket counter, just in case, OK?"
With a grateful smile, Berger just nodded and then took off for parts unknown. Sheila slowly turned towards Claude, her face a stunned mask, "You... you're just going to let him go? All by himself? Like this?"
Claude sighed, rubbing his forehead with his hands, "Sheila, you really don't understand what living with him is like. You can't hold a man like Berger against his will. He'd find a way to slip away no matter what I did... and if I tried to hold him like that -- especially when he's like this -- he'd lose all trust in me... and he'd be right to." Seeing her still unconvinced, he said, "Sheila, eccentricities aside, Berger is still the most street-savvy person I know. No one messes with him in this city. If anyone is going to be safe wandering around alone, it's him, OK?"
Sighing, Sheila nodded, still unconvinced, but unwilling to provoke an argument. Instead she asked, "Well, that aside... maybe you can explain to me what I said that set him off? So I can avoid saying it again in the future?"
With a slightly bitter smile, Claude answered, "If I had to guess? I'd say it was that bit about you 'not having any choice,' Sheila."
The blonde's face paled as she slowly rose from the couch and took a step back. Her voice was flat and void of emotion when she spoke, "I'm not sure what you mean, Claude."
A disbelieving snort, "Actually, I'm pretty sure you do, Sheila." Shaking his head, Claude added, "You know... I wondered why you'd have rushed off so quickly to marry this Brad fellow. I couldn't really wrap my head around it, especially with the timing of it. You'd only just officially broken up with Berger a month or two before, you had a diploma in your pocket and a whole world of possibility laid out in front of you... and then you ran off and married the original young Republican? It just didn't make sense, Sheila, even as an act of rebellion. I wasn't going to push the issue last time you were here, but now that I've met your daughter? So many things make sense now that didn't before."
Wrapping her arms around her stomach, Sheila's face paled even further, "Claude... stop. Please... just don't."
Letting out a sigh, Claude shook his head again, "Fine, Sheila. I'll stop. I'm not the one you need to be talking about this with, anyway, because ultimately, it's not any of my business. But you should talk to Berger about it. He deserves to hear it from you."
Voice choking up, Sheila gritted out, "Jesus, Claude... how can I tell him something like that?"
Sighing, Claude got up from the couch to take her shoulders in a gentle grip, "You're forgetting something very important here, Sheila. He may not be certain enough to make the accusation... but on a deep, instinctive level, he already knows. He knew last night. You just need to confirm it. You owe him that much."
Sheila slowly nodded, "OK... you're right, Claude. I'll talk to him. After the show, all right? I think we all have enough drama to deal with at the moment without throwing more onto the pile."
Sighing, Claude said, "I'm not sure about that... then again, you may be right. Tonight's going to be hard enough on him without adding that." Then, finally calmer and of one mind where it counted, Claude escorted Sheila outside, "Speaking of drama, however, I think it's more than time that we rescued Woof from Kelly and your daughter. Maybe we could take them all out to lunch?"
Smiling in relief that the discussion was tabled for now, Sheila spoke, "Oh Claude... you have no idea what you're in for." Then with a wicked laugh, she wrapped her arm around his and started leading him down the block to the subway station, "But you're about to find out!"
Woof met them at the door to the Howling Moon with a beaming smile, "Oh boy, am I glad to see the two of you!"
Claude and Sheila just looked at each other and Sheila began to sweat. Turning slowly back to face the other man, she winced, "What did they do this time?"
Woof blinked at them in honest confusion, "They didn't do anything, Sheila... I'm just happy to see you! And I can't wait to show off my store!" He then threw his arms around the pair and hugged them tightly to him. When they stepped back, he offered them another beaming smile, "You've got a great kid, Sheila. She's been a big help this morning!"
Unable to hide her growing disbelief, Sheila's mouth finally dropped open, "Wha--? Huh? She's been... What?"
At that moment, another voice called out from the back of the store, "Uncle Woof, are you kidding me?? You've got a whole set of original Rolling Stones and Grateful Dead albums! What the hell are they doing back here? You could make a fortune off these!"
Woof turned his head back over his shoulder and called back, "Georgie, that's my personal collection! That stuff stays back there!"
Georgie poked her head out from between the strands of hanging beads that guarded the way into the stock room, "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place? Since it's yours, you mind if we put some on while we work?"
Beaming a huge smile at the girl, he said, "Not at all, Georgie. You guys can play whatever you want."
Kelly poked her head out next to Georgie's to add in her two cents, "Anything, Dad?" Waggling her eyebrows, she gave them an evil grin, "Anything covers an awful lot of territory, you know..."
Claude watched in bemusement as Woof's face immediately fell, "Within reason, Kelly, OK? I don't want to scare away any customers..."
Grin widening, Kelly said, "Well... I would consider Madonna and Wham! reasonable."
Before Woof could answer, Georgie's face took on a look of pure horror and she immediately put her foot down, "Oh, hell no. Kelly, you live on top of the most awesome freakin' music store in New York and your Dad has the best damned taste on the planet... and you like Wham... and Madonna? She and George Michael may have good sets of pipes, but there's no substance to either one of them!" Eyes blazing, she locked gazes with Woof, "Uncle Woof, something has to be done about this."
Making an expansive gesture, Woof smiled, "Please, my dear. Do your worst."
Cackling gleefully, Georgie dragged her victim back into the stockroom. Moments later, the sounds of the Grateful Dead's "Uncle John's Band" came blasting over the speakers. One of the customers let out a cheer. Sheila turned to look back at Woof, still not over her shock enough to even go near the subjects she wanted to -- like how he'd become "Uncle" Woof in just one night. Instead, she asked, "I... I thought she only listened to hair metal...?"
Woof gentled his smile and wrapped an arm comfortingly around Sheila's shoulders, "Sheila, your daughter just loves good music -- and no one in their right mind could deny that the Dead are good music."
Sheila huffed, "So... how is it that you know this and I don't?"
Shrugging, Woof stepped away, "You ever talk to her about it?" At Sheila's now guarded look, he continued, "She, Kelly and I stayed up half the night talking, mostly about music. I meant what I said earlier, Sheila. She's a great kid." Ducking his gaze, he added quietly, "'Sides... I know how to handle her. I've had practice."
"What do you mean?" Sheila winced at the shaky quality to the question. Nothing about this visit was going like she'd wanted. And that both Berger and Woof seemed to have no problems conversing with her daughter when she'd been trying so hard and failing so abysmally for the last two years... it just wasn't fair.
Woof didn't immediately answer her question. He took a few steps away to fiddle with a crystal hanging off the cash register. When he finally found the words, though, he couldn't quite look her in the eye, "Well... There are some things you don't forget, Sheila. And I knew Berger long before I knew either of you... or you knew him." Smiling a soft smile, he said, "In fact, he was about Georgie's age when we met. And Georgie, now... she reminds me a lot of Berger from back then, back when he still had a bit better of a handle on things. Even then, though, you could see that he was starting to fray around the edges and some things were harder for him than others. Music was easy. He could relate to it. He could lose himself in it with utter faith that he'd be able to find himself again when the song ended. It didn't pose a threat, you know? And Georgie... you can see it's much the same for her. Music's easy. She can let herself go in it and not stress about having to fight to find her way back. That let's her let go and be a kid for a while."
Mouth dropping open, Sheila couldn't speak for a minute. Finally, she managed to make her voice work again and said, "I... I never thought about it that way, Woof."
Looking up to meet her gaze at last, Woof gave her another small smile, "Well, now you know." Smile taking on a pleased cast as he aimed a look in Claude's direction, he said, "It's easier to talk to people when you speak their language, isn't it?"
Claude laughed, "Yeah, I guess you could say it is. And I suppose that these days I speak Berger better than anyone except maybe you, Woof."
Woof tilted his head to the side, thinking, "I don't know, Claude. I think, just maybe, you're more fluent than me, these days. Familiarity breeding skill and all that."
Choosing to ignore that comment, Claude instead asked a question, "So, are you planning on being here all day? Sheila and I thought we'd invite you guys for lunch."
Woof shrugged, "I'd happily say, 'Yes,' but we ended up here because my cashier called in sick today and I was the only one who could cover. So, I'm stuck until we close later."
Claude frowned, "I thought you close late on Saturdays..."
Nodding, Woof said, "We do, we do. But there's no way I'm missing Jeanie's debut Broadway show. If I don't have someone to cover by the time I need to leave to go get ready, I'll just close early." Elbowing Sheila gently in the arm he said, "It's times like these that it pays to be the boss."
Sheila laughed, "I imagine it does... So, what about the kids?"
Woof shrugged, "Honestly, I think they're happy as clams where they are. I have 'em counting inventory, but mostly they're using it as an excuse to go through all the old record albums and harass the customers." Woof waved back as another man walked in the front door, spied the girls through the curtains and gave him a sympathetic smile, "Fortunately, the customers are used to it."
Sheila laughed, "You know, Woof... I gotta say, this place is amazing. How did you put all this together?"
Sharing a conspiratory wink with Claude, Woof said simply, "Big divorce settlement. This was my pay-off for taking the kids." Tilting his head to the side, he said contemplatively, "Which worked out extremely well in my favor... because getting sole custody of the girls would have been the only thing I would have given this up for. I can't say I mind that it worked out so that I could have both."
They ended up staying at the music store and ordering out for pizza, thoroughly enjoying the relaxed atmosphere and the fact that they didn't need to be anywhere in particular or doing anything more significant than enjoying each other's company. Sheila was surprised to admit it, but she was glad to have the opportunity to catch up with Woof. She hadn't always understood him, that was true, and she hadn't always gotten along with him, that was even more true, but this man he'd become... she was honestly proud to call him a friend.
As the clock struck five, Woof turned the "Closed" sign over on the door and wrote a note of apology to tape up underneath it. Then he turned to the gathered group and said, "All right, people. Time to go home and get ourselves dolled up. See you at the theatre at 7!"
Up until the moment that she and Georgie left the music store, Sheila had managed to push tonight to the back of her mind. Now, though... without the buffer of Claude and Woof around her, she suddenly felt like she was on a runaway train heading straight for a cliff. She couldn't stop the show, even if she wanted to, and telling her husband... what good would that do? Caught in her increasingly churned up thoughts, Sheila almost missed their subway stop. Fortunately, Georgie, already a pro at New York's mass transit after two days of running around with Kelly, grabbed her arm and hauled her off the subway, "Jesus, Mom! Way to give a girl a heart attack!"
Still trying to catch her breath from the sudden scare she'd had herself, Sheila said shortly, "Sorry. Sorry. Wasn't paying attention."
Georgie snorted and crossed her arms over her chest, "Yeah, I figured that part out myself, Mom. Thanks. What the hell has you so spacy, anyway?"
Sheila shook her head and got them walking again, heading up to the hotel. Finally, she said, "I'm worried about tonight." At Georgie's raised eyebrow, she elaborated, "I'm worried for Jeanie that the show might not do well. Nothing's a guarantee on Broadway. But I'm also worried that it will do well..."
Understanding what her mother was getting at, Georgie finished, "Because then it might be a problem for Dad." At her mother's nod, Georgie snorted, "Oh, grow up, Mom. Dad's a big boy and he can take care of himself. Besides, who in Washington pays attention to what's happening on Broadway? And it's not like your married name's gonna be in the show. No one'll ever connect it. So just relax and enjoy it."
Sheila opened her mouth to deliver a blistering retort, but Georgie just held up a finger in front of her lips and planted a stern expression on her face. Sheila was so shocked she actually forgot what she had been about to say. Into the silence, Georgie said intently, "Mom... I have just had the best two days of my life. I don't see how you could ever have left these people -- any of them. And instead of enjoying it with me, you're giving yourself a freakin' ulcer over things you can't change. It's enough already. Take a breath, calm your ass down and let's go to the show and have some fun, OK?"
Looking down into her daughter's earnest blue eyes, Sheila had a sudden sense of déjà vu. Now... now she felt like she was looking at herself. Here was the passion that Georgie had been missing. And of all the things to take her first stand over... her mother's right to let her hair down and have a little fun without worrying about her husband's political career. And all she could do in response was grab the girl up into a hug tight enough that she squeaked. When she let her go, it was to allow a wicked smile to bloom on her own face. Grabbing her daughter's hand she started dragging her back to the subway, "Georgie, you are absolutely right. And you just gave me the most wonderful idea... and we should have just enough time to pull it off before the show."
Claude stood outside the front of the theatre, nervously checking his watch. He'd expected Berger to show up at the last minute, but he hadn't expected Sheila and Georgie to be late, as well. He had sudden cause to wonder if Sheila had changed her mind about coming. But, she'd seemed so relaxed that afternoon! Claude had thought he'd finally managed to get her mind off her worries about the show. Maybe he hadn't been as successful as he'd thought...
After another few minutes of pacing, someone approached him and stopped right in front of him. She was dressed in a pair of fringed, bell-bottomed jeans and a brightly colored, patch-worked and bell-sleeved top that wouldn't have looked out of place during the summer of love. She had a small peace symbol hanging from her neck and a wild growth of black, curly hair that fell to mid-back. She was also beaming a tremendously large smile his way... and Claude had no idea who the hell she was. At the look of complete confusion on his face, the girl giggled and scuffed her shoe on the ground. He looked down at the movement and only figured out who it was when he saw the Doc Martens peaking out from under the bell of her jeans, "Georgie??"
Laughing again, she nodded, then twirled for him, "What do you think, Uncle Claude? Would I have fit in with you hippies?"
"Good G-d, Georgie! Where the hell did you find an outfit like that?" was his answer.
She twirled again, swishing her sleeves in the air as she moved, "Mom and I went shopping in the Village after we left you. Her idea, no less!" At the deepening confusion in his eyes, she elaborated, "She was having a massive stress out, I beat some sense into her, and I guess she finally decided to embrace this thing. Can't say I'm disappointed. These clothes are wicked cool! How did they ever fall out of style?"
Claude was unable to come up with an intelligible response to that and instead lifted his gaze to look for Sheila, hoping she'd be somewhere nearby. A glad cry of, "Claudio!" was the only warning he had before she leapt at him, blithely certain as ever, that he would catch her before she fell. When he did, she wrapped her legs around his waist, threw back her head and crowed with delight. Still stunned by the unexpectedness of it, Claude could only hold onto her and gape. This was the Sheila he remembered from that summer. Bright, wild, passionate and free. This was his Sheila...
Running on instinct, and moving almost as one, the two turned at the same moment, certain that the other member of their trio was close. He was... and stood precisely where he'd frozen at the sight of them, about twenty feet away. Well, this Sheila was having none of that. Wriggling her way down Claude's front -- and making him abruptly sorry that the days he could have invited her back to the apartment for a threesome were long gone as she went -- she took off in Berger's direction with similar enthusiasm, "Banana-Berger!"
Caught up in the moment just as Claude had been, Berger also caught her in midair. She wrapped her legs around his waist and bent her head forward, hiding them both in the curtain of her hair. Claude couldn't hear whatever quiet words were exchanged, but had a sudden sinking suspicion that he knew exactly what they were talking about. The conversation went on for several more minutes and Claude had to stop Georgie from interrupting more than once.
Taking the opportunity for what it was, Claude examined every inch of this transformed Sheila. She was also wearing a pair of bellbottomed blue jeans and wore a white gauzy top that would have fit right in with her old wardrobe. She had on a pair of simple lace-up brown boots... and her hair was different. It was down out of its pins, loose and flowing to the middle of her back. Not only that, but it was feathered back into those layers that she'd always worn it in, not the straight-across plait that he'd grown accustomed to seeing it in the last few times she'd visited. And the piece de resistance... she'd dug out her oversized peace symbol and it was hanging proudly around her neck once more. Just like that night in the park two months ago, Claude felt like he'd been transported back in time. And all he could do was watch... and smile.
After a few more minutes had gone by, Sheila finally wriggled herself down out of Berger's arms. Smiling brightly up at him, she planted a kiss under his chin as she wrapped her arms around his chest, then said playfully, "Did Berger miss Sheila?" Her eyes then softened as she cupped his cheek, "Because Sheila missed Berger."
Claude could see the exact moment that Berger lost control. The other man's eyes blazed and he suddenly crushed Sheila to him, mouth sealed firmly over hers as he did his best to kiss her breathless. Mouth gone suddenly dry at the sight, Claude had to swallow a few times before he could speak. When he finally could, he turned to Georgie, said, "Stay," and walked over to where Berger and Sheila were still wound around each other. When he got there, he wrapped his arms around them both and said the only thing that came to mind, still after all these years, "G-d... you two are beautiful together!"
The pair broke off the kiss to turn bright grins on him. Berger immediately latched onto his favorite spot on Claude's neck and Sheila reached up to pull his lips down for a kiss. Right around the time when Claude was trying to make a frantic decision about whether or not they really had to go in for the show and if this could really be considered adultery since Sheila had been theirs long before she was Brad's, the decision got made for him. A bright voice -- a familiar voice -- spoke up from the direction of the theatre doors, "Georgie, have you seen Berger, Claude or your mom? Woof sent me out here to go... get..." There was a pause, then a breathless squeal of excitement, "So, that's why he told me to bring my camera! Yes!!" Then there were several clicks and flashes in rapid succession. By the fifth one, the three had finally managed to separate, bright red blushes staining the faces of two of them. Crissy merely beamed serenely at them from where she was standing next to a helplessly giggling Georgie. She then waggled the camera and said wryly, "You know, Claudio... when I asked you to be more obliging, I had no idea that you would respond in such a spectacular way! If I had, I'd have asked sooner!"
Claude could only gape in response. Fortunately, Sheila was not so stunned. Letting out a wild yip, she took off running in Crissy's direction, only pausing at the theatre doors to let them tear her ticket and to point out Georgie as being with her, before she was off and running again. Georgie followed sedately after, a charmed smile on her face as she watched this wild woman who was somehow her mother.
Once they'd gone, Claude wrapped his arms around Berger and smiled. Berger pulled the other man flush up against him in a tight embrace, his own smile a little uncertain. Claude shook his head and planted a chaste kiss on Berger's lips, "I don't mind, Banana-Berger. I never minded sharing you with Sheila. That was always part and parcel of the deal. I don't want any piece of you that you don't give willingly. You know that."
Berger smiled, raising a hand to brush against Claude's face, "I do know that. But... it's different now, Claudio. Back then, I couldn't understand why anyone would want to tie themselves down to one person. Now... now I do. I do love Sheila, some part of me always will, but it's you I want to wake up to every morning. I don't just want you to have a piece of me, Claudio... I want you to have all of me -- every single fucked up part." Bumping his nose lightly against Claude's, he added softly, "For better or for worse..."
Claude's breath caught at the sheer depth of the meaning in those words. Roughly, he answered back, "In sickness and in health...?"
Smile widening, Berger planted kisses on the points of each of Claude's cheekbones, then another soft one on his lips, "All of it, Claudio. Every single word of it. If I could... I'd marry you today." His voice suddenly took on a fierce tone, "And someday... someday I will."
Letting out a soft sob, Claude wrapped his arms tightly around Berger's neck and buried his face in the other man's shoulder. The sheer promise in those words... of a life where they could marry, a life where they could be joined forever in front of G-d and witnesses, a life where they didn't have to hide what they were to each other... It was such a beautiful dream. Berger just held him, rubbing soothing circles around his back in this moment caught outside of time. When he finally pulled away, he let out a watery chuckle, "Well... this sure wasn't what I thought would happen when I came to Jeanie's show tonight. Imagine that, a marriage proposal at my age..."
Berger laughed and punched him lightly in the shoulder, "You're not that old, Claudio. You're not even forty. Besides, the way the world is now, when we finally can get married we'll probably be in wheelchairs and diapers."
Claude stared at him for a moment, then smacked him in the shoulder, "Thank you, Berger. Thank you for that wonderful image. Now I'm going to be depressed."
Wrapping an arm around Claude's waist, Berger just grinned, "Aw... you know you love me."
He sighed, "Yeah... I do at that." Poking Berger's shoulder, he added, "And don't think that brilliantly executed piece of misdirection is getting you out of telling me what you and Sheila talked about."
Berger dropped his head onto Claude's shoulder, turning his face into his shirt, "Yeah... I thought we'd come back around to that." Taking in a deep breath, he finally admitted, "I was right. She's mine, Claudio."
Claude winced as Berger pulled away to bury his hands in his hair and tug. He said quietly, "Well... it's not like it's a surprise, Berger. I think everyone except the kids have figured it out by now. It's kind of hard to miss." Stepping closer and taking one of Berger's hands in his, he smiled, "It's a good thing, Berger. It's a real good thing."
Berger just stared at him, completely thrown by Claude's nonchalant response. Claude reached out to ease one of Berger's hands down from his hair and used it to pull him close and wrap his arms around him again, "You ducked out of that talk last night and there was something very important that I didn't get to tell you... a secret, if you will. So... here it is: I may not be afraid of a world without me in it... but, the thought of a world without George Berger? Love... that scares me witless. Because how could a world like that have any joy?" He paused, then continued with a wide smile, "But if that world had Georgie in it? A girl that's a perfect blend of the two people that mean the most to me on this planet? My G-d... there's going to be nothing on this Earth that she won't be able to accomplish... if she's able to put her mind to it." Seeing Berger's answering smile, he concluded, "And you know what? If she never does anything more than brighten it with her existence... then that's OK, too."
Crushing the other man to him in a tight embrace, Berger said, "Jesus, Claude... I don't deserve you."
Laughingly planting a kiss on Berger's nose, Claude answered, "No, you don't. But you have your uses, so I let you stick around."
Berger laughed and bent his head to plant a series of nipping kisses along Claude's neck... or he would have if the doorman hadn't quietly cleared his throat and said, "Gentlemen... my apologies for interrupting, but the show is going to start in approximately five minutes. You may wish to take your seats."
Claude murmured a quiet, "Thank you," then disentangled himself from Berger and herded him into the theatre. The last thing he wanted was for them to be late after all that! It wasn't until he saw where everyone else was sitting and realized that the two seats to the left of the middle of the row were the only ones empty that Claude began to feel an inkling of worry. Jeanie had put them all in the front row with the kids behind them...? Oh dear Lord.
Climbing over the others to reach their seats, Claude counted heads. Everyone was present and accounted for, except for Jeanie -- who would be backstage overseeing the show -- and... where was Cloud? Before he had a chance to ask anyone, though, the lights went down. Berger took his left hand firmly in his right and pulled it into his lap. Well... here went everything.
A/N:
Berger: Ha! I knew it!
Sheila: *blush* Yeah, yeah. Don't rub it in.
Georgie: Knew what? What the hell are you guys talking about?
Sheila: *panicked look* Nothing! Nothing! Neverminditwasnothing!
Berger: *twitch* You have no intention of telling her, do you?
Georgie: Telling me what already, for cripes' sake??
Woof: *patpats the Georgie* Here... have a Kelly.
Kelly: Huh?
Georgie: *feral smile* Gee thanks, Uncle Woof! *drags Kelly off*
Berger: *doubletwitch* You really don't plan to tell her... do you? *hurt look*
Sheila: *wince*
Woof: O_O *patpats the Berger* Here... have a Claude.
Claude: *sweatdrop* What am I, the tribal sacrifice?
Sheila: *blows raspberry* Now you know how it feels!
Berger: *eg* Gee thanks, Uncle Woof! *drags Claude off*
Woof: *twitch* I'm not your uncle!
Sheila: *laughs* *claps Woof on the shoulder* Man... you weren't kidding when you said you'd had practice... ^_~
Master Post and Chapter List
Questions, comments, papaya?
Coming Soon: Finally, the show has started! The curtain opens, Act I begins... and down we go on the first dip in this roller coaster. There will be laughter, there will be tears and a few unexpected twists in the road... but really, what else do you expect at this point? ^_~
And just 'cuz I can and it was so dang funny... XD
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