Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Blanche collapsed to Dorothy's side, breathing heavily. Their bodies were covered with a sheen of sweat, and Dorothy could just feel the Chanel No. 5 that seemed to be permanently ingrained in Blanche's skin. Dorothy's form started to curl into Blanches but Blanche slid out of bed, slipping on her clothing self-conciously. Dorothy's fingertips tried to catch Blanche's form.
" I don't see why…why we ever have to talk about this again do you?" Blanche laughed nervously, quickly and haphazardly throwing her sweater on. At that moment Dorothy felt her heart break. Her throat clogged and she bit her lip.
" Of course Blanche." Blanche hurridly left and Dorothy turned on her back, blinking back tears. She sighed, slipping out of the bed and into a nightgown and robe.
" No, she's not worth it," She muttered to herself, shaking her head and purposefully striding towards the door. As soon as she got to the doorframe she hit it with her hand, letting out a small sob. She opened the door and quickly made her way to the lanai and the comfort of a starry night. As soon as she sat down she felt tears make their way down her face and she shuddered, curling her knees up to her chest. She sobbed as quietly as she could, curled in the fetal position, still smelling Blanche's perfume on her skin, tasting the feeling of her lips as she shuddered, still wincing at the sharp corner her back had been pushed into.
It had only been a few minutes when she heard voices coming out onto the lanai. " Now Sophia I don't understand why you called dinner Italian when we had sweet and sour chicken and fried rice." Sophia glanced at her.
" Two words Rose: parmesan cheese." Rose started to respond when she caught sight of Dorothy, who's head had lifted at the voices. She shook it slightly and Rose instantly knew what she meant.
" Sophia I think I forgot my contact lens on the lanai this morning, why don'y you just go start coking dessert and I'll met you there," Sophia stared at her.
" Rose you don't wear contacts you idiot." Rose grabbed Sophia by the shoulders, shoving her out the door.
" They're the invisible Saint Olaf kind now goodbye," she paused, " and if you come back too soon they'll be a looong story for you to listen to about the little optometrist that could." She closed and locked the lanai door, coming to rest beside Dorothy on the chair. She gently stroked her hair and Dorothy's shoulders shook, seeking comfort. After a minute her head came up. Rose clucked like a mother hen and asked softly, " Sweetheart what happened?" Dorothy let in a shuddering breath, swiping at her tears.
" It was all some sort of joke to her, " She sniffed and they were both silent, " God, why did I ever get a thing for Blanche Deveraux, you know how she is. " Rose drew up her feet.
" You can't choose who you are attracted to, it just happens. " Dorothy glanced off into space, her expression heartbroken.
" You want to know what the funny thing is, I just realized tonight that…" she let out a sob," I'm desperately in love with her." Rose rubbed Dorothy's back soothingly.
" Blanche is probably just scared of the possibility. If she wasn't attracted to you she wouldn't have kissed you." Dorothy accepted the handkerchief Rose offered and blew her nose.
" Rose, you're very perceptive do you know that?" Rose smiled slightly.
" Blanche likes your hair longer, she told me that once. " Dorothy glanced at her in shock, bringing a hand up to her hair.
" Really?" Rose nodded and Dorothy bit her lip, " It doesn't matter now." Rose stood, offering Dorothy a hand up as well.
" Sure it does, because I'm officially mad at her until she comes to her senses-" Rose was cut off.
" She won't. I've done this before," Rose looked at Dorothy after she spoke, intrigued.
" You mean before your blowgun wedding?" Dorothy threw up her hands.
" Shotgun!"
" Well anyways, " Rose said, " Until she comes to her senses we will have to throw baked potatoes at her." Dorothy stopped and looked at Rose.
" That would be rotten tomatoes Rose." Rose shook her head.
" Not in St. Olaf. We throw baked potatoes at the Festival of the Horrible Singers." Dorothy stared at her and they made their way out of the lanai.