Well, this is pretty much my first one-shot published here & I don't really think it's necessary that I state this but: this is completely fictional.
"What are you even…?" Victoria laughs and squints at Elizabeth, "What exactly are you doing?"
Elizabeth's sprawled on the couch of Victoria's dressing room, she's resting her upper back on one arm of the couch and her ankles are crossing in front of her. Her pale face flushes around the camera she's got pressed against her nose.
"Are you taking pictures of me?" Victoria feels warm. She strikes a ridiculous pose, one hand on her hip, one hand behind her head.
"Uh. No. I was just messing with the settings."
"Photograph me like one of your French girls, Liz McGiz," Victoria says, voice heavy and sultry. She ruins it by sticking her tongue out.
Elizabeth reaches for an apple next to her and tosses it at Victoria's head. "Shut up."
"Hey!" The half Latina groans. She rubs at the sore spot near her hairline where the apple caught her. "What was that for?"
Elizabeth's mouth curves. "No pain, no gain." She turns the camera around to show Victoria the lit-up display.
"Delete it. Right this instant."
"No."
The photo captured one of Victoria's many shining moments – her face twisted in a grimace as she tries to bat the flying fruit away with flailing arms. Unsuccessfully, of course. She looks like she's prepared to battle the devil. And it's not funny, at all, contrary to what Elizabeth's brimming laughter professes.
"I'm not kidding, Gillies. I will hurt you." Victoria lifts the offending apple, waving it like it's both a sword and a shield. Elizabeth rolls her eyes at that, gets up from the couch and makes her way to the Latina. She stops in front of Victoria, and Victoria automatically lowers her "weapon". She glares at her arm for a good three minutes for being the traitor it is.
"You're not very good with threats, y'know?"
"Well. At least I don't just hit people with fruits," Victoria counters, or at least tries to. Elizabeth's got her fingertips all over Victoria's forehead, and it's somewhat distracting.
"I don't even see a bruise. You're a big baby."
Victoria huffs. "That's because I've got super strength, but still. I thought we were friends."
"W-What? Friends? The things the media makes up these days, dear God. I'm offended." Elizabeth's mouth twitches with amusement. Victoria swats at Elizabeth's arm, the blow landing harder than she intends to. Her eyes widen for a split second.
Elizabeth always wins whenever they wrestle. It's totally the half inch height advantage (also she's kind of a bully sometimes and Victoria's too nice). But she's not scared, please.
"Ouch," Elizabeth says, drawing the word out in a scratchy way that sparks something warm at the base of Victoria's spine.
"Karma," Victoria says, instantly serene. "You get what you give, naturally."
"Naturally," Elizabeth mocks in the 1950's accent her character uses to mock the half Latina on the show. Her eyes are focused and piercing, making Victoria feel more exposed than she did under the photographer's lens.
Victoria turns away, picks up the script from her table and flips it open. "Unlike some people, I actually intend on doing what we originally met up to do," she says, her tone casual and not at all flustered. Not that she has any reason to feel flustered. In case anyone was asking.
Before Elizabeth makes a smart ass comment like she's known for, Victoria throws her a look and that's the end of the conversation.
Victoria comes out of the shower, damp hair over one shoulder, to find Elizabeth on her bed, camera in lap.
"I don't remember inviting you," Victoria says, smile blooming despite her words.
"Your mom let me in." Elizabeth looks up at Victoria, and her eyebrows lift a little. "I was talking to her about my new show and a little bit about your new show." Goosebumps pop up on Victoria's arm - it probably has to do with the shift of temperature from scalding shower to cool evening and nothing to do with Elizabeth's steady gaze.
Victoria sighs exaggeratedly. "I can't believe you're using my mother to get to me."
"Damn. You got me."
"Betcha didn't count on my cleverness," Victoria says, sliding into her chair. "I know it's hard to see past my good looks, someone has already dedicated an entire article about that." she says propping her legs up on the bed.
"The killer smile helps too," Elizabeth points out, ignoring the last part with an indulgent smile spread over her mouth. Her fingers reach out to ring Victoria's ankle, and uh, Victoria's totally fine with that. Her heart is sooo not doing anything ridiculous like, stuttering in her chest. Please.
"Please, no photographs," She says, adopting the accent the pale girl's character used to mock her character's on the Nickelodeon show, casually fanning herself with her hand.
"Oh, but how could I possibly resist?"
"You must," Victoria says, face serious, eyes wide. "This is your duty to the world."
Elizabeth chuckles, head tipping to the side. "My duty?"
"Don't you know?" Victoria's voice remains hushed, as if imparting Top Secret Information. She sighs and whispers, now using a perfect fake british accent, something she learned from her best friend of years, Avan Jogia. "It's a heavy burden I bear."
"Viiiic." Elizabeth's fingertips press into the bone of Victoria's ankle.
"Like, my looks are literally killer, you know, the weight of being drastically sexy and stuff," Victoria explains, nodding along with the words. "People would die, and we can't have that. My pictures are like... Poison."
"Right." Elizabeth laughs, loud and booming. She bends down and presses a kiss to Victoria's shin, like it's nothing. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Huh," Victoria says, mostly 'cause her brain blanks out for a bit, but she's okay. She's fine. And then she's looking up, blinking as a flash blinds her, and Elizabeth got this smug smirk pulling at her rosy lips, and a click's already gone off in the silence of the room.
"Did you just take a picture of me?" She feels butterflies on her insides when Elizabeth grins.
"I'm not showing you this time."
It's really not funny. And Victoria's kind of drunk.
"Will you quit?" Elizabeth shakes her head, hiccuping from laughter.
"Nope."
"Give. It. To. Me," Victoria says, her voice slow due to her inebriation, and she kind of really hates Elizabeth right now.
She hates Elizabeth and her stupid fucking camera that she's always snapping pictures with and the way Elizabeth's always looking at her like she's focused on something she can't quite put her finger on. (Is it her smile? Is it her eyes? Does she have something on her face?).
Mostly, she's really drunk and she really wants to wreck that camera, so she stretches out, and promptly topples over from the chair she was kneeling on.
"Fuck."
Elizabeth crouches down on the counter, eyes wide and sort of panicked, but her mouth is still caught mid-laugh and Victoria forgets all about the bruises that may be forming on her knees, because, damn.
"I like it when you swear," The half Latina says, immediately thinking she shouldn't have.
Elizabeth still has the deer-in-the-headlights look, but her mouth continues twisting until its curve is all Victoria's focusing on, and then Elizabeth says, "And I like it when you fall. Which happens often, thank God." Victoria rolls her eyes, like Elizabeth's the one being dumb, like Elizabeth's the one on her knees on the kitchen floor.
"Thanks to Newton. He like, invented gravity. Screw you, Newton!" Victoria shakes her fist at the cracked ceiling.
"He didn't invent it, dork," Elizabeth says, words curled and quiet. She slides down until her legs are swinging over the edge of the kitchen counter. "It's like, always been… there." She gesticulates vaguely with her hands. She's not very good at that subject either.
Victoria frowns at the pale girl, then she frowns at the ground. She waggles her finger at the lime green tiles, and whisper-shouts, "Fuck you, gravity!"
She hears Elizabeth whoop with surprise and possibly pleasure, and murmur something that sounds like, "that's my girl," but maybe Victoria's just so drunk that she's imagining things. Victoria clears her throat.
"Sooo, since this is all your fault, and I'm injured, you have to carry me to my room."
"What?" Elizabeth laughs again, and well, she laughs a lot around Victoria. And they've gotten a lot closer now that they're both living in NYC, and she looks so flushed with laughter and alcohol that Victoria feels warm all over.
"You heard me! Carry me!" Elizabeth drops down from the counter, sways unsteadily on her feet. She's still holding on to that fucking camera, even though it's secured by a neck strap and it's not like Victoria's jealous but... She's jealous. Of a camera. (Blame it on the a-a-a-aalcohol).
"I'll give you a hand, but that's it." Elizabeth's fingers press into Victoria's sides and the half Latina is hoisted to her feet. If they fall into each other more than the alcohol allows, they don't mention it.
"Okay, so this walking thing..."
"Yep," Victoria's says. "What about it?"
"How 'bout we invent it right now? Baby steps." Elizabeth kind of pushes her, probably to get her to start moving, and Victoria feels indignation rise up in her throat. So, in the logical course of things, instead of walking, she spins out like they're dancing (or something).
Victoria does two and a half tipsy pirouettes in the middle of the kitchen of her apartment and she crashes into the sink and her hip catches on the counter and Jesus Christ, it hurts. And Elizabeth's being Elizabeth Gillies aka the grade "A" Asshole that she has always been and she's laughing into her hands, and clicking the camera button like her life depends on it and, yeah, Victoria's had enough.
Victoria marches over to her, despite her wounds, bright spots in her vision, lack of sobriety and better judgment, and kisses Elizabeth on the lips. Victoria kisses, bites, licks into Elizabeth's mouth until she can taste Elizabeth's laughter in the back of her throat, until Elizabeth's body is pressed against the fridge, until Elizabeth's fingers are digging into her hips, until Elizabeth's camera falls to her chest.
"Oh my God." Victoria pushes a finger against Elizabeth's chest to separate them.
"Sorry, sorry. It's gone," Elizabeth chuckles, removing the strap from around her neck, stretching up and placing the camera blindly on top of the refrigerator. The fact that their bodies are still lined up and touching at a hundred different points isn't really what makes Victoria tug Elizabeth's chin until their faces are touching too.
The fact that Elizabeth's warm, uneven breaths are hitting Victoria's nose, chin, lips, doesn't mean Victoria's not mad at the camera or Elizabeth's infinite amusement towards this entire situation.
The fact that the roof of Elizabeth's mouth still tastes like the alcoholic beverages they drank earlier doesn't make Victoria forget that there's probably a hundred or so embarrassing photos of Victoria on that camera. From 4 years ago to this night.
It just means Victoria doesn't say anything, at least now; she breathes against Elizabeth's lips until the smile there fades away into open mouthed awe. Until Elizabeth's looking at her with those eyes, again. Sharp eyes, focused face.
"I like you, a lot," Elizabeth says. Like it's a secret. Like it's not the most obvious thing in the world.
"Oh, really?" Victoria grins, raising an eyebrow, teasing. "I thought you were just uh... casually obsessed."
"Shut up."
"But girl I wanna know, why you so obsessed with me," Victoria half-sings, half-whispers.
And most wonderfully, Elizabeth kisses her before she's even done singing, and Victoria's heart pirouettes drunkenly inside her chest, crashes into her ribs and makes her breathless.
It's worth the photos – every drunken fall, and candids of her laughing while in a conversation with someone else across the set from Liz, and stupid, dorky faces and poses she's done over these 4 years they've known each other, and ice cream on her chin, and slime all over her body, and that one time Elizabeth forced her to try some weird vegan recipe she learned online, and sleeping on set pictures – all of the photos Elizabeth's ever taken of her. (And all of the ones Elizabeth's never admitted to taking, but the ones Victoria knows she's taken anyway.)
It's worth a truckload of photos and bruises and embarrassment, but Victoria won't ever admit it.
(Especially to Elizabeth.)
Do I deserve some reviews? :))