Daria on the Red Carpet
AN: Most words or syllables in all caps are to be read in a squeaky voice. You'll all know what do do when you see who's talking.
"Brittany! Brittany! Ms. Taylor!" called a throng of paparazzi as soon as the blue-gowned blonde beauty climbed out of the limo.
Brittany predictably had to pull Daria away from her attempt to climb back into the car's comfy warm backseat where they had been enjoying cold Ultra Cola and the latest episode of Sick, Sad World on the drive from their Malibu home to the Dooby Theater, home of this year's Academy Award presentations.
Two photogs voices called louder than the others, "Ms. Taylor, what's your favorite pizza?"
Brittany was flummoxed by the question and stopped still on the red carpet to consider. She twirled her hair to help her think.
"Hi boys," she squeaked pensively. "You know, I think my fiancée is better EEEquipped to answer that question. She takes care of ALL our pizza needs."
With that Brittany stood aside and pushed a fully reluctant green-gowned Daria forward on the red carpet.
Daria hissed in Brittany's ear just loud enough for only her betrothed to hear. "Those kettlebells I ordered are just right for weighting down a body in the cold Pacific ocean."
Daria kept her eyes down as she answered, "Brittany likes fresh sweet corn on her pizza with fresh cut red peppers. Green peppers give her hives like you would not believe. I'll spike her pizza with some tomorrow and call you guys to get a few pics of her all red and puffy. Provided we split the p Arofits, of course."
Expected camera flashes greeted that answer along with an unexpected quiet. Daria finally looked up and her eyes widened in shock even as a grating voice sounded above the din.
"Butt-head, look. It's Diarrhea-cha-cha-cha."
"Daria," his companion asked. "Heh heh heh. Like, you're engaged to a real chick like Brittany Taylor. Like, she's hot, man. Hey, our readers would love to know: how do you guys do it?"
It was true. Prominent among the front ranks of the assemble paparazzi were two denizens from Daria's youth in Highland, Texas, a twisted pair she had hoped never to see again. Around the necks of Beavis and his inseparable companion Butt-head were large PRESS passes. Huge, long-lensed cameras lent some air of legitimacy to the strange sight. Daria wondered how they could operate anything more complicated than a Polaroid single-button Instamatic.
"Daria, look," Butt-head held up his camera proudly. "We're working for National Know-All-Tell-All rag now. They even gave us these cool cameras. This one's got a lens almost as long as my schlong."
"Heh heh heh, ah heh heh heh," Beavis showed off his own camera. "And this one's almost as thick as my..." The completion was mercifully cut off by the usual red carpet clamor and ruckus.
Daria blanched even as she overheard Brittany answering another reporter about being part of "one of Hollywood's power couples." No one was paying any attention to Daria and the uncouth two. Predictably, the other paparazzi were edging away from the Highland boys and paying attention to her Oscar-nominated lover. Daria was up for a statue for Best Screenplay but she knew she was a dark horse with a shot longer than Beavis' camera lenses.
Out of the corner of her eye Daria saw the bald, middle-aged producer who wanted her to read her screenplay out loud while horizontal on his casting couch glide by with a pretty Asian girl on his arm.
Daria remembered a few slips of paper in the overly expensive Louis Vuitton purse Brittany had insisted she carry. After a brief fossick she held out several tickets to the boys.
"Here, guys. I tell you what, give Brittany and me some good press. You can have these tickets to a few after parties. I bet you can get some good dirt there."
She pointed to the back of the retreating producer. "You'll meet all the best people at Lew Lemmick's party. Open bar; all you can eat buffet. Address is on the ticket, don't be late but stay late."
As Butt-head eagerly snapped up the cardboard slips, Daria felt Brittany take her arm. She smiled sweetly at the blonde and the two shared a quick, discreet kiss as they entered the theater.
DM BT DM BT DM BT DM BT DM BT
Daria rolled over in bed and blinked at the sun streaming in on another flawless California morning. As she sat up she noted that Brittany's side was empty. She also noted that Brittany's Oscar the statuette was keeping the bedroom door propped open.
She performed morning ablutions and got back in bed with coffee at the side table to ponder the evening before and the day ahead.
"Brit, I'm in here." She called as she heard a door open and close and familiar steps come down the hall.
"The papers are out, Daria. And I got those chocolate croissants you like."
"But first," Brittany told her as she sat on the bed by Daria. "You looked so beautiful last night. Thanks for coming with me, lover. I didn't miss the after parties at ALL; it was fun just to come back HERE and have a quiet dinner. Oh, sorry YOU didn't WIN."
Daria took the pout off Brittany's face with a hug and gentle, deep kiss. They sat looking into each other's eyes a moment before Daria sat up.
"Well, what's the news and views from the local and national rags? I'm sure the Academy Awards are more important and pressing than another war brewing on the Crimean Peninsula."
Another kiss, "And another congratulations for your win, Brit."
Brittany playfully pushed Daria away as she looked over a couple papers. Daria took sips of coffee and bites of fresh pastry but her perpetual deadpan face deepened to a concerned scowl as Brittany's perpetually happy face frowned. Brittany turned away and threw sections in the waste paper basket.
"Brittany," Daria said in her insistent voice. "Brittany. What is it?"
"Oh, nothing," Brittany squeaked. "Just dumb, old NEWSpapers."
Quicker than most would give her credit for, Daria sprang over Brittany's lap and snatched the discarded sections from the basket.
She cleared her throat and read aloud the cutline under a full-color, full-length pic of her and Brittany on the red carpet, "Brittany Taylor and guest on the red carpet before Brittany accepted the Best Actress Award for her role in Melody Powers and the Rise of the Orange Menace."
"You don't have to see more," Brittany helplessly insisted as Daria opened the next broadsheet.
She read in her usual deadpan, "Best Actress winner Brittany Taylor and date Dara Morgendruffel on the red carpet."
"Well, at least they spelled 'guest' and 'date' correctly," Daria chuckled drily.
"Oh Daria, they're all stupid poopy heads." Brittany insisted. "Oh, Jane called while you were asleep, your Mom and Dad and Quinn too. I set up a conference call with everybody in a couple hours, oh, and my Dad and Ashley-Amber and those nice people at the Saint Peter Regional Treatment Center said Brian could conference in too, oh and Mack and Jodie TOO."
"That makes you my best gal, Brittany." Daria smiled sincerely. "Let's turn on the entertainment news, what other kind is there? and see if they can pronounce 'Morgendruffel' correctly."
The two snuggled as Daria wielded the TV remote bringing up a woman with hair probably less naturally blonde than Brittany's.
"Hi, I'm Kari Mart bringing you all the latest dish from Hollywood's biggest night. And what a night it was. We'll be back with that after these messages. But before we break, L.A. supermarkets this morning reported an unusual run on fresh sweet corn, pizza dough, pizza toppings and red bell peppers."
Daria smirked gently as Brittany speculated through commercial break what she wanted on their special pizza that night. Then the oxymoronic entertainment news came back on.
Kari Mart's esteem in Daria's eyes went up as she proved able to pronounce 'Daria Morgendorffer' correctly. She and her male cohort joshed through red carpet shenanigans and winning announcements before taking another break to sell used cars.
"Finally before we go," Kari enthused. "Producer Lew Lemmick announces the surprise discovery of a promising new talent. Lemmick has signed an unknown recently out of Texas and calling himself the Great Cornholio to a multi-picture deal."
"Daria!" Brittany turned in shock to her partner. "How come you're laughing so HARD? And crying too? Here, here have some coffee but don't choke on it."
"Nothing Brittany, I'll tell you later. You know, I might have to have our agent push another script to that creep Lemmick. But first, so, a couple hours before our conference call to the 'rents, family and friends?"
Brittany brightened if that were even possible. "Yeah, two hours. Almost enough time for me to do all the things I'm planning to do to you."
"Tell me all about it first, Brit. Then do 'em to me."
AN: Sorry if this fic came too early for the real Academy Awards. I actually don't even know when those are usually held.