I do not own Ratched.
I do not own my angel boy Huck. But I love him.
Huck Finnigan Lives Again
Tupperware TalkAnd that's not all.
Of course it's not.
Apparently his inability to refrain from "making eyes", as his mother would say, at Grace Miller, and he thinks, her to him, has been the talk of the nurses' station.
He overheard them, was coming down the hall, and heard them.
"-like, Grace?"
Accidently. But he still heard them.
"Come on, tell us. We won't tell a soul."
And, for lack of a better contingency plan, . . .
"Are those scars all over his body?"
. . . stopped whilst still hidden.
"I wouldn't know, Jude."
And listened helplessly.
"Oh, come on, fess up, we won't tell."
As they double-teamed his dear Grace.
"We promise."
With what could only be termed as a "friendly" . . .
"Is his dingle, you know, all scarred up too?"
. . . interrogation.
"I'm telling the truth, I don't know. We haven't done anything. And I don't think it's anybody's business anyw-"
And though he is coloring with embarrassment at this stage-whispered conversation . . .
"I knew it."
. . . he can't think of a single thing he can do . . .
"Knew what?"
. . . other than slink back down the way he came.
"He, you know, can't get it up."
And he can't abandon her like that.
"The war broke him. Doesn't even work."
He strains his one good ear. Intent on . . .
"No, I don't think it's that. I think he's just . . . a gentleman."
. . . deciphering Grace's true emotions . . .
"There aren't any true gentleman left, honey-"
. . . behind the calm, even, musical lilt of her voice . . .
"Oh my gosh, maybe he's a friend of Dorothy!"
. . . which he loves so the hear.
"No. I don't think it's that-"
And she doesn't seem particularly in distress.
"Well, you just said he hasn't touched you."
Perhaps a smidge exasperated.
"The last virgin bride-"
Somehow still exceedingly patient.
"I'm not going to apologize for being a virgin."
Which only makes Huck want to rescue her more.
"Well, I'm not going to apologize for sowing my wild oats."
Though it appears she is quite capable . . .
"I'm not asking you t-"
. . . of taking care of herself.
"Men get to do it all the time and nobody says 'boo' to them."
Or at the very least . . .
"I know-"
. . . holding her own.
He wonders if she wishes to discontinue dating him now.
Since hearing the conversation.
"Grace, uh . . ."
He just doesn't know . . .
". . . I just wanted to ask you . . ."
. . . exactly how to broach the question.
". . . straight forward, you know, . . . if, uh, you prefer not to, uh, . . ."
So he just kind of . . .
". . . date anymore."
. . . asks it.
And she appears . . .
"No. Why?"
. . . completely befuddled . . .
""Do you?"
. . . by this sudden line of questioning.
And Huck immediately responds . . .
"No."
. . . on a visceral level.
"I just . . . well . . ."
Forces himself to stay focused.
"I know we work at the same place and . . ."
As Grace stares at him as if he suddenly has lobsters coming out of his ears.
". . . I don't want to cause trouble for you. With the other staff."
And finally the clouds clear and she . . .
"Is this about those girls today? Did you overhear our conversation?"
. . . seems to regain her mental footing.
"Yes. I didn't mean to. I was just walking by and-"
She waves her hand dismissively.
"They're just being silly. They have to have somebody or something to talk about all the time."
Then her smile disappears entirely, like the sun darkened behind a cloud.
"I'm sorry you heard them talking about you that way. Like some . . . freak show attraction or something. You're not."
And now it's Huck's turn to reassure.
With a somewhat self-depreciating huff.
"I know. The way I look . . . people are always going to stare and wonder."
He pauses, feels it's too early in their courtship for him to say.
Doesn't even want to say.
But also doesn't want her to wonder.
Since apparently everyone else does.
Can't think of a single other time the topic might ever present itself again without concerted effort.
And they are dating.
Might one day, if the world grants him a little luck, be, well, more than that.
So it might be important to her.
And so, with as much dignity and tact as he can possibly muster, just says this . . .
"It doesn't bother me what they know or what they think. Only you. And I, uh, I . . ."
. . . too.
"There's nothing wrong with me. In that respect. Everything, uh, everything works just fine."
And she stares at him.
Stares with those enchanting blue-green-green-blue eyes.
And then, sudden blush spreading so prettily, turns quickly away.
Lips pressing together in a secret smile.
And then that, thankfully, . . .
"Oh. Well. That's, uh, . . . that's just fine then. I'm happy. For you."
. . . is the end of that particular conversation.
"How did they die, Doctor?"
"It was tragic. They blushed themselves to death."
Cute though, huh? ;)
Most gracious thanks to DinahRay for reviewing before. I hope this is brightening your day. :)
