Strange Lanes Chapter 3: Part 3, a daria fanfic

Intro to Torn by Natalie Imbruglia, to images of Daria and Jane staring each other down, then both of them sitting on the bed and staring at each other, leading into the scene

I'm all out of faith, this is how I feel / I'm cold and I am shamed, lying naked on the floor / Illusion never changed into something real / I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn / You're a little late, I'm already torn

Daria stands in Jane's room, turned away while covering her chest with her arms and muttering, "I can't believe I let you talk me into this." She happened to be standing with no shirt on, only her bra remaining, and it showed with the redness in her cheeks and her stubbornness to stop concealing herself.

Jane stood on the other side of the bed, hands on her hips while holding a thick paintbrush, a smile on her face more out of the amusement of the situation than anything else. "Oh come on, it's not like I'm gonna bring out the whips and the dominatrix gear or anything. I'm saving those for your birthday."

"You don't understand. I'm very uncomfortable with the idea of being naked at all, let alone with anyone else. I try to make those periods last no longer than when I'm showering and during times that I'd rather not discuss with you."

"Ooo, kinky." The artist laughed. "Daria, it's just body painting, and it's not like I'm asking you to pull down yer panties. I don't think I'm quite ready to see another girl's personal kitty yet, myself. C'mon, it's just me, we're friends."

"Last I checked, friends didn't usually get naked in front of each other for personal amusement."

"When was the last time we actually conformed with the rest of the world?"

An extended silence. "Damn."

Daria let out a long, deep breath before finally undoing her bra, letting the undergarment drop, and covering herself with her arms as much as she possibly could. Thank god she's not asking me to take off anything else.

She walked towards the bed, partially scrunched over for no real reason other than maybe concealing herself slightly more. Jane tapped her hand on the plastic cover over the bed in an attempt to make her lay down. Another few moments passed before the writer finally gave in and got on the bed, still covering her breasts.

With that accomplished, Jane proceeded to turn on that various fans around the room, as well as check the camera and tripod for taking pictures after the painting was done. Daria piped up, "Remind me again why this room needs to be horribly freezing."

"So the paint dries quicker and isn't running all over the place."

"Sure, whatever."

The artist walked around to Daria' right side, dipped her paint brush in the large bucket of blue paint, and said, "You know, you're gonna have to move those arms soon if I'm gonna get anything done here." A sigh. "C'mon, Daria, wha'd'you expect me to do? Start groping you? Hop on top of you and do a jig?"

"It's not that I'm afraid of you doing anything. You're not exactly the first person on my mind that would commit random sexual acts. It's just that, well, this is me. Self-esteem issues aside, it just doesn't feel right to me to be, well, this… open."

"Would you feel better if I was naked, too?"

"That would put me into shock and not help in the least."

Jane smirked. After another few moments, Daria finally groaned and hesitantly laid her arms to the side. "That's a good girl."

And she started to paint, using the blue as a base for the rest of what she was going to do. Starting just under the writer's neck, in horizontal lines, then one line down the center and coating her belly and everything to just above her skirt; then after that she finally got to Daria's area of awkwardness, being careful not to take too long or give her any reason to freak out.

"Are you sure this paint will come off?"

"Yes, yes."

"This isn't the edible kind, is it?"

"Not unless you want me to eat paint chips and go on a hallucinogenic trip."

They shared a smirk, but it was tense. Daria's breathing was faster than normal, mostly as a result of her anxiety regarding this situation, but it was the same for Jane. It was a mutual tension, though with different reasons behind the anxiety.

With the base done, Jane switched to smaller brushes and a variety of colors, making on Daria's upper chest the typical heart symbol but with long, white angel wings, plant lines that traveled down and around towards her back, a sun with "s"-like waves coming off it on her belly button, and of course she eventually decided to paint roses on what could be punned as the "peak" of Daria's physical awkwardness. From the combination of cold on bare skin and the touch of the paint brush going back and forth, her body automatically reacted in a way the writer really wished would stop.

Jane merely smiled and quipped, "Oh look, it's growing." She was referring to the flower, of course, but the joke was too good for her to pass up.

Daria growled, "If I wasn't a nervous wreck right now, I'd hurt you for that."

The artist laughed loudly. "Hey hey, don't blame me for what your body decides to do. I don't know what's going on in that little monotone mind of yours."

More little pictures of moons and stars scattered around on Daria's body, until she decided to do one last little artwork, a trio of white lilies on her forehead and both cheeks. This required her to kneel down and stay close to the art in order to make sure it was perfect.

Daria was feeling a little better now that this project was nearly over and there was no more looking at or touching of her breasts, but Jane seemed more preoccupied now. Her face was almost flustered, red and tired. The breaths she was taking through her nose sounded deafening when this close, the warm air cascading down upon her face. At this proximity and skill of painting, Daria couldn't just ask if something was wrong or if Jane was… thinking again.

The artist finished both cheeks, then started working on the forehead, leaning right over her. Her eyes continuously darted back and forth between the image and Daria herself.

I already know what's going to happen, don't I, Jane?

And it happened. It was so sudden that neither of them really had time to react. Jane just realized that her eyes were closed and that there was a familiar yet strange feeling occurring to her body. She leapt back as far as she could the moment it struck her: she had kissed Daria. "Oh hell. Oh hell oh hell oh hell." She paced around in a flurry of anxiety and curses at herself. She was a ripe, red tomato that had committed what she felt to be the ultimate sin and betrayal against her best friend.

After taking a moment to assess the situation, Daria sat up--which required pulling the plastic from her back, an always painful procedure--and said, "Jane, calm down."

The artist seemed incapable of processing that request. "Are you mad!? This is the absolute worst thing I could've done! I'm a bitch and an idiot and how the hell could I do this!?"

She tried to ramble on continuously, but stopped once she heard her best friend say, "Jane, does it look like I have out my torch and pitchfork?"

Jane gave her a look, asking in her low, humorous tone, "You're not planning to jump me and reveal things I shouldn't know, are you?"

"Please sit down and breathe."

Deep breathes, just keep breathing… Jane did as she was told. Daria maintained her normal expression and stated. "Now just keep breathing as we discuss this like normal human beings undergoing psychological stress."

The artist appeared on the verge of tears, a look of sorrow Daria had never seen before on her best friends face. Her head sank low, and her voice came out low, almost raspy: "I'm sorry, Daria. Y' know, the dream made me think, maybe this is why I'm never happy, why none of my relationships work out and all that stuff. You're the only person in my entire life that's ever really fully connected with me. I thought, maybe, this is the way it's supposed to be, maybe the truth behind everything is the fact that I like you as more than a friend. And I thought, hey, you're my friend, you wouldn't hold any weird feelings against me, and maybe you'd be willing to help me figure myself out and prove or disprove this little girl-yearning of mine. But I just got obsessed with the fantasy, couldn't put it out of my head. And now it's a little late to say, hey, I'm kinda stuck with this thinking and I hope you can live with it. Now I've just gone and screwed everything up beyond the point of no return."

"Jane, I've more or less come to accept the fact that you like me. There's nothing I can do about it short of running like hell, but you're my best friend and I'm not going to abandon you over a crush. While I'd rather not be a testing pad again for your experiments in physical contact, I'll still be here for you, and that's a promise."

Jane finally lifted her head, tears starting to fall as she smiled softly and asked, "You really mean that?"

Daria did her trademark smirk. "Hey, what are friends for?"

They both leaned towards each other and shared a strong, mutual hug.

"Thanks, Daria. You don't know how much this means to me."

"I just have one problem."

"Uh-oh, what's that?"

"I think I'm rather attached to you in a physical way."

"The paint's stuck to my clothes, isn't it?"

"I always knew you were the smart one."

Trent's voice wandered over from down the hall: "Hey Jane, I need to borrow--" He stepped into Jane's doorway and found Daria rather blue and topless and attached to his sister in a very suggestive way, prompting all of them to scream out loud in surprise and embarrassment.

Credits roll to Freakin' Friends by Mystic Spiral

When the aliens come
When the death rays hum
When the bombers bomb
We'll still be freakin' friends

When the whip comes down
When they nuke the town
When dead clowns can't clown
We'll still be freakin' friends

Freakin' friends,
Freakin' friends,
Till we come to bad ends,
We're freakin' friends.

When the skeeter bites
Lightning hits our kites
When we miss our flights
We'll still be freakin' friends

When my number's called
When my garden's walled
When my tires are bald
We'll still be freakin' friends

Freakin' friends,
Freakin' friends,
Till we come to bad ends,
We're freakin' friends.

I was halfway down the plank
Had a stick against my flank
Then you pulled up in the Tank
Rock on...

When we're parched with drought
And we can't catch trout
When my voice gives out (cough)
We'll still be freakin' friends

When the razor cuts
When they torch the huts
When I hate your guts
We'll still be freakin' friends

Freakin' friends,
Freakin' friends,
Till we come to bad ends,
We're freakin' friends.

Post-AN: Hopefully this story came out as well as I hoped it would. I wanted to create a decent Jane/Daria story with full realism and no OOC, and whether I accomplished that or not, well, that's up to the reviewers to decide. Oh, and since the question of a sequel or "more" is always asked with fan fiction, I'll just say, a sequel isn't in the works, but it's not entirely out of the question if I can come up with a good idea; otherwise, don't hold your breath. Thanks for reading, and please check out my other Daria fan fiction and/or original fiction if you can. =)