A/N: Okay, this fic is a tribute to my total spur-of-the-moment crack/fluff fic urges. They are few and far between, but they do happen. This one was written at 2:46 a.m. with Phish Food ice cream on hand, but I still just had to crank it out. The song is "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" by (I think) Cyndi Lauper, and it's the most VONDERFUL song in the cosmos. Ask your father/brother/boyfriend/gay friend/guy acquaintance to sing it (ON KEY, for a challenge) and you will see what i mean.
"I come home in the morning light, my mother says 'When you gonna live your life right?' Oh, mother, dear, we're not the fortunate ones, and girls, they wanna have fu-un. Oh, girls just wanna have fuuuuuun…"
Maureen wiggled her hips and twirled on the spot, practically gyrating to the beat of the song. She was wearing a very tight Patti Smith T-shirt, a pair of red panties, and bug-eyed, powder-blue rimmed sunglasses. In one hand she clutched a half-eaten chocolate donut; in the other, a glazed cruller that she was using as a makeshift microphone. The radio sitting on top of Joanne's small, bad-reception TV looked like it wanted to dance along with her as she rocked her ass from side to side in time with the drum.
"The phone rings in the middle of the night, my father yells 'What you gonna do with your life?' Oh, daddy, dear, you know you're still number one, but girls, they wanna have fu-un, oh, girls just wanna have—That's all they really want…Some fun…"
Maureen took a bite of donut and sang along with her mouth full, spewing chocolate crumbs across the room. The fake diamonds on her sunglasses glinted as she twirled and pirouetted. Her hair, tangled and flowing and beyond gorgeous, whipped through the air as she imitated a head banger. She straightened and began doing something that looked like a cross between jumping jacks and a hoe-down, her red panties turning in a blur of red lace.
"When the working day is done, oh, girls, they wanna have fu-un, oh, girls, just wanna have fun…"
"Woohoo!" Maureen shrieked as the song's volume increased. Spinning on the tips of her toes, she stopped with her back to the front door of the Joanne's apartment and commenced in a marathon round of ass-shaking. The song boomed louder and louder, its dance beat pounding through the living room.
Unfortunately, it was so loud that Maureen did not happen to hear the key turn in the lock.
"Sorry about the music, I told Maureen she needed to keep it d—" Joanne broke her sentence off short, her eyes widening to the size of Ping-Pong balls as she stared at her girlfriend's ass, which was wiggling like there was no tomorrow in the middle of her living room. Mimi, Roger, and Collins, who'd met up with Joanne after work and gone with her to pick up Maureen before proceeding as a group to the party in Tompkins Square Park that had already started, all clustered in behind her, opening their mouths to ask what the holdup was and then slowly closing them as they saw exactly what the holdup was.
"Some boys take a beautiful girl, and hide her away from the rest of the world. I wanna be the one to walk in the sun. Oh, girls, they wanna have fu-un. Oh, girls, just wanna have—that's all they really want…Some fun…"
"Oh…my…god…" Mimi choked out, looking as though her eyes would fall out of their sockets. Maureen, oblivious of her company, finished shaking her ass and did another one of her jumping jack-hoedown hybrids before pirouetting on the spot and spinning in a circle as she did so. She actually went all the way around once, still yelling into her cruller microphone, before she registered exactly what she'd seen. Knocked off balance with shock, she swayed and then—even this movement almost in beat—toppled down onto the ground. For a moment, she stared at the four new arrivals and they stared back at her. Then, moving like a sleepwalker, Joanne went over and turned off the radio.
The silence was twenty times louder than the music.
"Uhh…we'll just wait outside, okay?" Mimi said bluntly, backing towards the door. Roger started to follow her, but Collins eagerly hung forward.
"Hell no, I wanna see what happens here."
"Oh, for god's sake," Mimi snapped, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling him, protesting angrily, out the door. It closed behind him with a slam.
"Pookie…Pookie, I, um…I got donuts!" Maureen said brightly, obviously trying to distract Joanne long enough to diverge her wrath. Scrambling up from the floor, Maureen ran into the kitchen and returned with a dozen-box of Dunkin' Donuts. Three were missing: two donuts and a cruller, two of which were lying innocently on the floor where Maureen had dropped them. Joanne surveyed both her and the donuts coldly.
"Ahh…okay, here's the truth, Pookie, I completely forgot about the park party thingy and that song came on the radio and it's one of my favorite songs, so I just had to dance…and my pants, um, I sorta danced so hard that my pants got really hot and I took them off because I was sweating and, um…and the sunglasses just looked cool," Maureen finished lamely. Joanne, whose eyes were narrowed and glinting, glanced at the donuts lying on the floor. Still walking somewhat strangely, she went over and picked up the cruller, looking at it inquisitively and turning it over in her hands. Then, as if she had made some sort of decision, she walked over to Maureen and dangled the cruller in front of her face. Maureen leaned back slightly from the swaying cruller, wincing as though it was a weapon that Joanne was holding to her throat.
"Next time you do this…" Joanne hissed, her voice low and tense. Maureen steeled herself and nodded.
"…next time you do this, get blueberry crullers, I hate these plain glazed ones." Joanne's eyes suddenly twinkled, and she dropped the cruller into Maureen's disbelieving hands. For a moment the diva stared at it as though it were a dead rat. Then, very very slowly, a grin spread over her face.
"You mean…?"
"I do a pretty good electric slide," Joanne sniffed, obviously trying not to smile herself. "But I won't wear the sunglasses. Underwear, sure, but those glasses are just tacky. Honestly, I don't know where you get your taste."
Maureen, who was this close to bursting into laughter, suddenly threw the cruller to the floor and wrapped her arms around Joanne.
"I know where I get this taste," she growled, moving in to kiss her girlfriend with all the fervor of someone who has just envisioned their lover wearing nothing but a T-shirt, panties, and bug-eye sunglasses.