Disclaimer: I don't own Rugrats or All Grown Up. If I did it would still be in production, exploring the possibility of this couple and definitely touching upon the intense sexual tension between Chuckie and Angelica as they got older.
You loosen your tie and unbutton a couple buttons on your shirt before taking a sip of your beer. You're at your Uncle Drew and Aunt Charlotte's twenty-fifth anniversary wedding vow renewal, and of course, it's extravagant. You watch your cousin dance gleefully with her father and you can't help but think how beautiful she looks. But then, you've always thought Angelica was the prettiest when she was genuinely happy; and to be honest, you haven't seen her happy in a while.
Your gaze travels across the floor and lands on your brother and Suzie, who are both sitting on the bench in front of the organ. He's playing and she's leaning into him, holding the microphone several inches in the air as she croons; you smirk as you wonder how many glasses of wine she's had, but still, she and Dil have always made beautiful music together, and tonight bares no difference.
You scan the room further until your eyes rest upon a bright orange mop of hair atop a lanky 6-foot 3 frame. Your best friend had always had the unfortunate ability of sticking out like a sore thumb; as if God hadn't burdened him enough with hair the color of fire in an auburn sky, he had to add the stature of a bean pole, you thought, just to fuck with him a little bit. Nonetheless, it made regrouping at concerts all the more easier. Suddenly, you're painfully aware of who's beside him; she's wearing an emerald green dress, and you already know the color does nothing against the electrifying beauty of her blue-green eyes. You follow Chuckie's arm as you watch his hand rub circles against her lower back and you suddenly catch a lump in your throat. Your eyes start to sting as you watch her throw her head back and laugh at something he said.You want so badly to be the cause of that laugh. Your eyes divert to the other side of the room and fall upon Angelica, who has stopped dancing with her father and is watching the same scene you just were. She must feel your eyes on her because she looks at you and gives you a sad smile, and you can't help but feel a little sorrow that the reason you two have bonded so much is because of your correlative heartache. You turn away and order a shot of whiskey at the bar. You turn back around as the burning liquid is cascading down your throat, and it's just in time to see him lean down and kiss her. You watch them pull away and she leans into him and your grip gets tighter around your glass.
Suddenly, Phil's beside you. "You know, you never told her. He did." He tells you, pointedly.
"It wouldn't have mattered." You reply hoarsely, eyes never leaving the twosome in front of you.
Phil chuckles softly and you finally tear your eyes away from the torment you've been watching.
He shakes his head and looks at you. "Tommy, I watched her pine over you for years when we were kids." He glances over to his sister and your best friend and smiles." And now she's finally happy." There's a slight disaccord in his eyes as he says that, then he looks back at you, and you think he looks sympathetic.
You can't really think of how to respond to that so you just swallow the lump in your throat and order another shot to try to wash it down.
He sighs and you feel his hand on your shoulder. "I want you to be happy, too." You know it's a rarity that Phil is earnest, and a small part of you is appreciative, but you're too miserable to really care right now.
You push your empty shot glasses to the side as you stand up and push past Phil.
"I need some air." You mumble.
"Tommy-" But the sound of the door slamming behind you drowns out whatever else came after that.
...
You hear footsteps and instinctively you already know who it is. You don't even need to look up, and in fact, you don't. Not even when you start to talk to her.
"How come you've always been able to read me so well?" You ask, and you think the question surprises you more than it does her. Was that even what you meant to say?
"Because we're like the same person, Tommy. That's why it never worked between us." The conspicuousness in which she answers makes you wonder why you even had to question it to begin with.
She slides down against the wall next to you and you sit in silence for a few minutes.
"I think we should try us again." You blurt out, and you mentally kick yourself, but you can't seem to stop. "We're not complicated."
You finally meet her gaze and her features are soft and sympathetic. She covers your hand with her own.
"Tommy." Her voice is gentle but your heart breaks just a little bit more, because you know the sound of rejection just a little too well.
"We're easy, Kimi. We don't have to try." You try not to sound too desperate, but your voice is pleading, and the look of pity in her eyes gives you away.
"Tell me you love me." Her voice is soft, but it's firm, and you recoil a little bit from the abruptness of her statement.
"Wh-what?" It comes out as a stutter, but you're still too damn shocked to care.
Suddenly her hand is at your cheek, guiding your face to look at her. Her brown eyes have never looked bigger and for some reason the only emotion you're filled with is guilt.
"Tell me you love me." She breathes, her voice barely above a whisper now.
You try to hold her gaze, you really really want to, but your eyes are starting to burn, and you can feel your mouth try to move, but nothing comes out.
You turn your head and look at the floor in front of you and you hear her chuckle softly. You feel her hand cover yours once more and suddenly your fingers are intertwined on the tile next to you.
"You don't want easy, Tommy. Easy isn't love." Her voice is so soft and kind, you briefly wonder why it is you can't seem to love her.
The two of you sit in silence for a few more minutes, fingers laced together, your eyes burning too much from you surveying that brown stain on the carpet in front of you.
She speaks first. "You're going to end up with her, you know. She's not in love with him."
You laugh humorlessly. "What makes you so sure?"
You glance at her just quick enough to see a small smile tug at her lips. "Because the greatest things in life, Tommy, are the things we fight the hardest for." There's a distant implication hidden in her words that you don't think she means for you to catch, but you do. And suddenly you're aware that she's fighting the same battle that you are. You're both hopelessly in love with a Deville, and you chuckle just a little at how distorted the relationships in your childhood group have become. "One day Lil's going to wake up and realize it's been you the entire time. I promise." She says the last part so emphatically and squeezes your hand just a little tighter.
"I hope so." Your voice is cracking. "Because it really hurts." Your voice has broken and you're no longer even trying to hold back the tears as they spill from your eyes; because if you can't cry in front of her, who else can you cry in front of?
"I know." She whispers. And you know she's not just saying that. "Come here." She wraps her arm around your shoulder and pulls you against her. You bury your face into her neck and you cry. You cry because you know you don't want it to be easy, but you didn't know just how hard it would be.
...
The two of you enter the reception hall once more and stand by Phil, who is still by the bar. He's got his arms crossed against his chest, his tie hanging loose around his neck and his shirt unbuttoned about four buttonholes; he appears to be watching the dance floor, but he smiles at the two of you nonetheless. As soon as you're beside him he claps a hand on your shoulder. When your eyes meet his he smiles a genuine Phil-smile, and you feel your lips curve upward in return. You both turn your gazes back to the floor in front of you. You see your parents and chuckle softly as your dad dips your mom. You spot your Aunt Charlotte with her head nestled lovingly against your Uncle Drew, and you can't help but think that this has got to be one of the rare times you've seen the two of them engaged in such an intimate moment. Your cousin has somehow persuaded your little brother to leave his place with Susie at the organ to share a dance with her; Susie didn't seem to mind much, though; in fact, she seemed to relish in not sharing the spotlight. There are several other couples on the dance floor, but your eyes really only focus in on one in particular. She has her arms around his shoulders and her head nestled underneath his chin. He's holding her flush against him. Before you have time to torture yourself further, your thoughts are interrupted.
"Dance with me." You whip your head to your left and see Kimi tugging on Phil's arm.
"Naw, Kim, I couldn't possibly."
"Come on, Phil." Her voice wasn't pleading or crass, but rather determined.
"Kimi, come on. I-"
"Are you scared?" You knew Kimi well enough to know that was a challenge; you knew Phil well enough to know he doesn't back down.
You watched in amusement as Phil's eyebrows raised. If there's one thing you didn't do it was question his dancing.
Phil pushed up the sleeves of his white button-up before grabbing a hold of Kimi's wrist and dragging her past the oblong tables and among the other dancers.
Once more, your eyes travel over the other couples surrounding them. This time, when your gaze finally lands, it's met with an emerald stare. After a moment, she smiles softly at you. You feel your breath hitch in your throat only for a second, but you smile back at her. If the greatest things in life were the things fought hardest for, then you're prepared to do exactly that.