A/N: Making unlikely characters interact with each other is fun~
Cosima sighed as she climbed onto the bar stool, depositing her satchel next to her. It's been a long day of just eating shit. Again.
"Look at what the cat dragged in," Bobby teased as she wiped down the counter.
"Shut up, and intoxicate me," Cosima ordered, burying her face in her hands.
"Bo-ssy!" the bartender complained with a grin, reaching for a glass to get Cosima's usual.
The scientist lazily flipped the bird, which only elicited a bark of laughter. Reaching for her clone phone, Cosima flicked through her emails and texts for updates. Luckily, it looked like Sarah was still keeping her head afloat amongst the Castor crap. Unluckily, there's still been no progress.
At this rate, she'llbe the one with the alcohol addiction this time.
As if on cue, Bobby slid her poison of choice towards Cosima. "Take it easy, kiddo."
Cosima scowled. "Dude, I'm older than you."
"You look and act like a puppy, so I will treat you accordingly."
Bobby looked on in confusion as her customer face-countered and groaned. "No talk of puppies, please."
"Even puppies have been ruined for you? Damn, your ex must've been something."
Ugh. Understatement of the century.
Looking back at her phone, Cosima smiled at the picture Alison sent of her political school bus. It had a huge cardboard poster of her face (technically, their face?) attached to the front. Real-life Alison was posing next to it with two thumbs up and a beaming smile, looking like a complete suburban dork.
Thank goodness her political career was intact. Cosima wouldn't have been able to forgive herself if she ruined the one good thing in their collective clone lives with her train wreck of a "speech." (Okay, so maybe she was horrible at public speaking. She's a humble scientist, not a Sarah Manning!)
And as much as she loves Alison, thank God that was over and done with.
Taking a sip of her drink, Cosima surveyed the bar. And, subsequently, choked.
Because sitting in a dark corner was…what was her name, again? Maddie? Macy? No, wait, that's a store.
Unfortunately, due to the sounds of her shocked sputtering, Alison's political rival looked up and locked eyes with the clone. And…she smiled?
Margo (that doesn't sound right either…) quickly stood up and stumbled towards the scientist. As she drew closer, Cosima stared at her disheveled blouse and pencil skirt and froze.
A drunk suburban mother. Aw, crap.
"Alison!" she exclaimed in a far-too-happy voice, "Since when did you start going to Nana's Bar?" She climbed up the bar stool with unsteady legs, almost slipping off twice. In the corner of her eye, Cosima could see Bobby looking up with confusion. "…Alison?" the confused bartender mouthed.
Mentally cursing, Cosima reached out to steady the loud drunk. Crap, crap, crap! Quick! Gotta think fast!
"I…uh…I was just visiting an old friend! Meet Bobby!"
Said bartender (bless her soul) quickly recovered and waved. "Bobby…and I," Cosima continued, "…uh…we're…old high school BFFs…?"
While Bobby wrinkled her nose at the term, Cosima prayed to whatever higher power there was that Alison and this chick weren't old classmates to begin with.
Her pleas were answered when the suburban mess giggled. "No wonder you're a lesbian supporter, Alison," she stage-whispered, attempting a wink that was more of a blink if anything, "Hello there, Bobby Pin! My name is Marci Coates!" She leaned over the counter and thrusted her open hand towards the bartender, making Bobby go cross-eyed before she tentatively shook the hand. "Alison and I are passive-aggressive enemies!"
Now thoroughly bewildered, Bobby turned towards the panicking scientist. "Dude, what the hell is going on?"
"Uhhhhh," Cosima eloquently replied, running through a list of possible cover-up stories. "She…she's another crazy ex," she whispered.
Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Another one? Dude, your love life is a mess."
Cosima grinned nervously. "Hahaha…yeah…"
"...But wait. Why'd she call you Alison?"
…
Aw, frick!
"Weeeell," Cosima stalled, grabbing a swaying Marci by the shoulder. "…She was a one-night stand at this random club, and I didn't want commitment at the time, so I used a fake name so she couldn't look me up and, like, show up at my house or whatever," she whisper-rambled nervously.
Bobby snorted. "So you used the name "Alison?" Dude, if you were going to go undercover and all that shit, why not pick a cooler name? Like, I don't know…Jude or Zeppelin or something. You do not look like an Alison."
"I panicked," Cosima replied rather truthfully.
"What does she mean you don't look like an Alison, Alison?" Marci asked, deciding at that very moment to pay attention to the conversation. She turned towards Cosima and squinted, finally taking in her appearance. "And when did you start wearing glasses?"
"I usually wear contacts," she automatically answered, wincing at yet another added layer of lies. Sorry, Ali!
Marci suddenly rushed forward and grabbed the glasses, making Cosima jump in surprise. The thief placed the spectacles on her face, and Bobby couldn't help but snort as they both blinked owlishly. "Wow, Ali! You're really blind!"
On a normal day (whatever that constitutes as nowadays), Cosima would have been annoyed with the inevitable fingerprint smudges on her lenses. But right now, she was more worried about damage control.
The scientist turned towards the amused bartender and made a few hand motions. "I'm just gonna…yeah…" Grabbing Marci's arm, Cosima pulled her sister's political rival towards a table farther away from the bar. Now she'll only have to lie to one person. (How Sarah and Felix do this for a living, she will never know.)
Safely seated, Marci handed the glasses back to Cosima, who angrily grabbed them and placed them back on the bridge of her nose where they belonged.
"You knooooow," Marci drawled, splaying herself across the booth, "Being in a bar won't help with your political image, Alison. Especially so soon after rehab!"
Cosima stiffened, barely restraining the urge to throw her hands up in the air and stomping away to let future Alison deal with this "raging shitestorm."
"But don't worry!" Marci cooed, "I won't tell if you won't. Heck, I probably won't remember any of this in the morning anyway!"
...Well…at least that's one problem solved.
"Marci…why are you even here?" Cosima asked. The woman was, after all, the definition of prim and proper and snooty. What was she doing in a place like this?
"My life is going down the toilet!" the drunk politician answered with a wide grin, "Okay, let's see here…My husband and I might be getting a divorce. My teenage daughter hates me. …My toddler son is rebelling by acting out and biting the other kids in his Pre-K class…" As she listed, Cosima watched as the happy drunken mask slipped off her face to be replaced with teary eyes and a pout.
Before she could react, Cosima looked down to find herself holding an armful of crying politician.
Completely out of her depth (cell cultures are more prone to swimming, not sobbing), Cosima looked around nervously before awkwardly patting the distressed woman's back. "There, there…you…"
Marci pulled back just enough to stare into Cosima's eyes and wipe her running nose on her expensive sleeve (which by the way, gross). "I'm sorry," she whimpered before falling back into the embrace, "It's just…everything seems to be falling apart now that Aynsley's gone."
"Aynsley?" Cosima asked, furrowing her eyebrows as she tried to recall the name. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered something about fake monitors and funerals. Still wrapped tightly around her, Marci hummed in agreement.
"I know you two were as thick as thieves before…the whole intervention fiasco. But she was a close friend to me, too." Marci sniffed loudly before laughing dryly. "Heck, she's the reason I'm even running this year."
"Oh boy," Cosima mouthed to herself, her eyes widening. Hell yeah was this completely out of her depth. If she didn't do something soon, she was going to drown.
"Come on, buddy," the scientist murmured, attempting to pull the limp Marci up to her feet.
"She always wanted to make a difference," Marci slurred, swaying on her feet, "To get her mind off that dead-beat Chad. We promised that we'd both go for it, and no matter who won, the other would still help out with the policies and fundraisers and everything!" Marci made an arcing gesture with her hand and slapped Cosima in the face, much to her dismay.
Fixing her skewed glasses, Cosima heaved a sigh before she grabbed Marci by the shoulders. "Hey. Listen to me." She didn't continue until Marci looked back at her with teary eyes.
"You are going to be fine. You are going to do great. Even if your friend isn't here, even if it feels like you have no one to turn to, you can still live and succeed. It's what she would want, right?" Cosima dabbed at a few tears with her sleeve and ignored the fact that she was giving the enemy a pep talk. Alison would forgive her given the circumstances. Probably.
"I know it's hard. Hell, you probably don't even remember what 'easy' feels like anymore," Cosima whispered, looking to the ground, "…but that doesn't mean you should stop trying. …You have more people supporting you than you think."
Cosima looked back at Marci and was surprised to find a soft grin, one which she mirrored. "Besides," she continued, patting the woman's shoulder once more, "You suburban moms are a different breed of crazy. Trust me, I'd know."
Marci brightened even more before she trapped Cosima in a bear hug. "That was so beautiful!" she gushed, "You're my new best friend!"
Aaaaaand, moment ruined.
Cosima started panicking once again as she struggled out of the hug. Alison might forgive her for a pep talk, but something told Cosima that she'd be less than pleased if she "fraternized with the enemy." The thought of suburban wine gossip made her shudder violently.
"Let's get you home!" Cosima suggested enthusiastically, ignoring Bobby's suggestive smirk as she half-carried Marci towards the exit.
Once outside, the scientist almost laughed in relief at the sight of an already parked taxi outside the bar. After a bit of maneuvering, she finally deposited Marci onto the backseat and, after digging into the woman's clutch, gave the driver an address. Reaching into her wallet, Cosima pressed a few bills into Marci's hands. "You go straight to bed once you get home, alright? I'm sure you have some weird political throwdown soon, so get some rest."
Marci reached out and patted Cosima's hand. "You too Alison. You're going to need it when I crush you in the polls." With one last strained smile (boy, this woman just doesn't get it, does she?), Cosima closed the cab door and watched as the vehicle drove away. Heaving out a long, loud sigh, she trudged her way back into the bar and sat back onto her regular stool. In the corner of her eye, she could see a bemused Bobby make her way towards her.
"What? Not blonde enough for ya?"
"Bobby, I swear to HENRIETTA LACKS-"
A/N: If anyone gets the Instant Star references, then wow, go you.