This ficlet was inspired by the very end of S3E9. I have a tendency to overanalyze weird details, and this one just amused me to no end. So, enjoy this weird, little crack!fic ficlet.
Yes, I AM aware that this is ridiculous to the point of disbelief, but it made me laugh. it's MEANT to be exaggerated and absurd.
Rated M just to be safe, and for mentions that should become obvious. Nothing really adult, just not exactly minor-friendly.
I own nothing, other than the twisted labyrinth that is my brain. Actually, I may not even own that, the student loan companies probably do.
Getting uncomfortable with the extended physical contact, Jane started squirming, trying to escape the group hug. Feeling something poke her in the hip, she stopped, then squirmed experimentally before stopping again in confusion. "Is that my gun?"
When no one answered immediately, she squirmed again, then froze and pulled back. "I'm not wearing my gun. Ma, are you...packing?" Her voice dropped to a whispers on the last word, even though Maura and Frankie were both well within earshot.
After a long pause, Jane jumped back with a shudder. "EWW! GROSS! I did NOT need to know that. I'm just gonna go...pour bleach on my brain."
Jane hadn't even had a chance to leave the room when Maura's confused look suddenly cleared and she opened her mouth to speak. Closing it again, she blinked a couple times, then turned to Angela excitedly. "While I've not read any studies on the practice commonly referred to as 'packing' I think I can understand what might draw some women to engage in it. There must be a sense of freedom and power accompanying the knowledge that one is subverting stereotypical gender norms in a way that is only obvious to the wearer. For others it is probably a way to experience a sensation they cannot get, otherwise. I would imagine that there is a strong sexual component, although the 'packer' is clearly not intended for that purpose.
"I'm curious, Angela. What drew you to the practice? Is it something you've been interested in for long, or a recent development? What sort of harness do you use, and what...model are you most comfortable with?"
Before Angela got a chance to respond, Frankie interrupted. "Ma, you got a gun? Do you really think that's a good idea? You don't even know how to use one. When did you even get a gun license?"
Turning to him, Angela swatted his arm. "Of course I don't have a gun. I don't even like that you and your sister carry them, but I've had to learn to accept it. I don't know why you can't just carry those new tasers they keep talking about on the news. Do you think I like knowing you guys carry guns, after you both got shot? But I know it's part of your jobs, so I just pray that nothing happens. I don't like seeing my babies in the hospital."
Looking back and forth between them in confusion, Maura finally turned to where Jane was frozen with a look of horror on her face, on the other side of the room. "I thought you meant packing as in the practice of wearing a device known as a 'soft packer' that is made to resemble a flaccid penis. I forgot that the practice of carrying a gun is commonly referred to as 'packing heat,' or 'packing,' on the street. Although, I'm not sure why the idea of Angela carrying a gun would illicit disgust as a response. Unless I misinterpreted your response, in which case I apologize. However, since Angela is not 'packing heat,' then that can't be the definition you meant. "
Nodding to herself, Maura turned back to Angela, missing Jane's mouth falling open in shock and the appalled look on Frankie's face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. If you'd rather not answer my questions, I understand. I just find myself curious about your motivations. It's been years since I've known anyone who 'packed.'"
Staring at her, Angela finally gave up and looked at Jane for help. When she only closed her eyes and shook her head like she was hoping to disappear, Angela looked at Frankie, but he'd slumped into a chair and had his head buried in his hands. Looking back at Maura, she spoke quietly. "You mean there are women who wear fake...those? Are they lesbians? I thought all lesbians want to be men."
Confused, Maura shook her head. "No, that's a common misconception stemming from Freud's works. Almost all his theories have been disproven for decades, although they are still commonly quoted. Given that the subjects for his case studies were patients in hospitals for the criminally insane, it's not surprising that his work was full of errors.
"While I'm sure many women who 'pack' identify as lesbian, I am not aware of any study to show if they make up the majority of cases, or not. A fairly large percentage of those who engage in the practice are probably transgender. I'm sure there are women who identify as neither lesbian or transgender that enjoy the mental or physical sensations caused by packing, however. That would be a very interesting topic to research. I wonder if anyone has written a study on it?"
Suddenly looking up in understanding, Angela chuckled and shook her head. "Oh, Jane thought I was wearing one of those." Laughing louder, she grinned and dug her hand into her pocket. "No, I was going through my things, and found this. I was going to return it before I left." Pulling her hand out of her pocket, she held up a large tube of medicated cream.
Peeking over his hands, Frankie got up and almost ran out the door. "I'm just gonna...go...since Ma's not moving out. I'll...see everyone later...I guess. Bye."
Jane blushed darkly and gestured down the hallway before turning to leave. "I'm just gonna lock myself in the bathroom where I can die of embarrassment in peace."
Watching both her children leave, Angela shook her head and handed the tube to Maura. "I meant to return that sooner. I never did figure out how in the world I ended up with poison ivy. Now, I want to know more about this 'packing' thing. There are really regular women who do that? Why? I mean, what purpose could it serve?"
Leading her over to the couch, Maura started trying to answer Angela's questions. "While I strongly object to phrases like 'regular women,' I think I can infer your meaning to refer to straight women who..."
A/N: And, several hours later Jane finally comes out of hiding in the bathroom to find Maura and Angela happily discussing various items on some adult toy sites...
Ok, now that I got THAT out of my brain, I can go back to my regularly scheduled weirdness. My brain really is a scary pace.
Originally, this story was going to end with Angela explaining that she decided to try packing because she was curious after hearing someone talk about it. But, the plot bunny hopped off in another direction halfway through. Either way, I like having Angela and Maura embarrass people.
They both like knowledge for the sake of knowledge, even if they go about it in different ways. Maura reads case studies and reports from knowledgeable members of a field. Angela likes to talk to people and be able to the ask questions she's curious about, instead of having to read until she finds the answer. Together, I think they would be willing to discuss almost any topic