Author's Note: This chapter superduperextra dedicated to Clara for making a twitter account to participate in #LoveForMegan. For those who don't know, she's gotten more than the usual amount of crap from haters over a couple things that I WILL NOT mention here. I apologize for keeping you guys waiting so long for this, especially since Clara and I had it all plotted out months ago, from the very beginning. Plotting and writing are two very different things though! I got a bit stuck. Honestly, I couldn't have told you when the next chapter would go up. I kind of forced it a bit here, for her, but I'm very glad that I did! Hopefully that isn't reflected too blatantly in the story.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, and this is just a crack!fic, k? It's meant to be ridiculous. This chapter may have devolved further into the depths of absurdity, and that's the whole point! If you can't deal with the thought of Red and Lizzie tripping on acid or having sex, then kindly move along, please. This is only for entertainment and amusement. I'm not here to offend anyone!
Chapter Six
There was no snake oil cure
For unlucky in love
To be lonely is a habit
Like smoking or taking drugs
And I've quit them both
But man, was it rough
(Acid Tongue - Jenny Lewis)
Lizzie's ocean landscape on Red's back quickly morphed into a group activity. A girl with a hula hoop asked if she could add a sailboat, but she needed another color, since Lizzie only had red. The girl disappeared to find more markers, and though she wasn't gone for long, by the time she returned with a fist full of sharpies, Lizzie had already forgotten about her. She didn't ask for Red's permission to let the other girl be involved, but he's never been one to shy away from female attention. As they drew, random passerby kept stopping to contribute. Within an hour, the ocean landscape on his back crept across his shoulders, down his biceps, to his forearms, until he essentially had two temporary tattoo sleeves.
Throughout the whole thing, Red stayed uncharacteristically quiet, but totally blissed out. He spoke only once. "Lizzie, darling, are you sure it's going well back there? You haven't mentioned any happy albatrosses, and no smiling sunshine. Haven't you ever seen any Bob Ross shows? Everyone knows there has to be something happy in a landscape."
In lieu of a verbal response, Lizzie snaked her arm around and blindly drew a crooked red circle around his left nipple.
Red glanced down at it and shrugged, "Okay, then."
She laid a hand over his throat, feeling him swallow, and said, "I'm the only albatross around your neck." Then she crawled around to face him. She pulled his legs apart and sat between them, with her own legs stretched out on either side of his waist. Red stared at her, perplexed but perfectly willing to let her do as she pleased. Lizzie avoided looking into his eyes, and began to draw an albatross with its legs tucked in, in flight. Its wings stretched horizontally across the length of his clavicle.
Sensing that they were no longer wanted, Lizzie's collaborators departed, leaving the sharpies in her possession. Red was mesmerized by her expression of concentration, transfixed with the way the sunlight reflected off her dilated pupils. Tiny flecks of amber seemed to grow within them, and the world beyond the angelic woman tunneled and faded into an amalgamous blur. He leaned back and rested his hands on her calves, tipping his head back to look up at the sky. The action forced her to lean forward to finish drawing, their hips only an inch from touching. Red continued to look up as a large mass of dark clouds approached from the west.
A single raindrop hitting his forehead pulled him from his reverie. Startled, he jumped a bit.
"Hey!" Lizzie protested, "You made me mess up."
He sat up and tilted his head in mock concern, "Did I?" Without warning, he grabbed Lizzie's hips and pulled her all the way into his lap.
For the first time, she lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. Red licked his lips, and her hands moved of their own accord, to the nape of his neck, where she dropped the marker she was clutching.
She rested her forehead against his, and continued staring while he unblinkingly stared back and toyed with the fringe on her demin cutoffs. "Do you consider an albatross to be a good omen, or a bad one?" he asked.
"Neither," she said with a heavy sigh, tightly closing her eyes.
Red lifted his hands and gently moved her ponytail to the side, and rested his palms at the nape of her neck, "Then what do you mean about being mine? I'm sorry if I'm ruining your intersubjective experience." The single drop of rain turned into a slow drizzle, and the few people nearby started to look around, figuring out where they would go if it started to really rain. The festival had several tented areas, but nowhere near enough to shelter even a quarter of the people present.
"It's okay," Liz replied. She dropped her head to rest her cheek on his shoulder, her lips not far from his ear, while she quietly answered his question. "The albatross also symbolizes burden, like carrying a cross. The bearer of the albatross might feel righteous about bearing it, and might not complain, but it's a great weakness nonetheless."
Red silently chastised himself. They were having such a good time only seconds ago. He hadn't expected such a meloncholy response, but damnit, he still shouldn't have asked. He needed to derail that train of thought, and quickly. This was supposed to be fun, and it wasn't too late for it to turn into a bad trip for her.
He grabbed her shoulders and pushed back, effectively removing her head from his shoulders. Firmly, but not sternly, he said, "You are nothing of the sort, and you can believe me, because I never lie to you." Without giving her a second to respond, he pulled her to him and crushed his lips against hers. Lizzie gasped and lightly dug into his scalp. With a hand at the back of her head, Red held her in place and continued to kiss her until she relaxed and opened her mouth to kiss him back. Then his hands fell to Lizzie's hips and pulled her tightly against him, unable to suppress the low groan that rumbled from his chest. When she finally pulled back, gasping for air, he said, "Does that feel weak to you?"
She shook her head and unabashedly grinded against him. It started to rain harder, and soon they were both completely drenched, but they couldn't have cared less. If she were sober, Lizzie would have wondered how many times Red intended to get her off before he expected reciprocity. She'd never met a man with such a strong sense of self-control, and though she'd never admit it, she secretly delighted in his unwavering ability to please and surprise her.
Well, Red thought to himself, he'd have to lock this moment deeply within the spacious vault of his long-term memory. THIS is the most effective way to distract her. This is the master key. When she soon began to tremble, he wondered if her sexual sensitivity came naturally, or if the acid should take the credit. If this was her norm, it would surely prove to be problematic. He'd be forced to keep her glued to his cock 24/7. Neither of them would ever accomplish anything ever again. As far as problems go, Red could think of none better.
The rain seemed determined to cover the entire festival with mud. What's a little mud when you're covered in ink from a permanent marker? Most of their fellow concert-goers must have left, because they were nowhere to be seen. Like the rain, that didn't bother them either. They decided to just roll with it, and not even bother with trying to be mud-free. There was no point in trying to be clean while they were having so much dirty fun. Since they were able to get fairly close without feeling overcrowded by the general masses, Red took Lizzie's hand and lead her closer to the presently-empty stage.
"Can you tell if they're in intermission before the next band comes on, or do you think they're trying to wait out the rain?" she asked with a hint of worry. What if it didn't stop raining? She wasn't ready for the fun to be over!
After pausing to gather clues from the scene around them, Red walked around her and gently pulled her back against his chest. He replied, "Since the stage is covered by that gigantic awning, I'd say they're probably setting up for the next band. They have to be prepared for this kind of thing. Imagine angering thousands of hippies by not giving them the experience they paid for."
"I hope you're right," she said, craning her head backwards to signal that she wanted him to kiss her. He happily obliged, tightening his arms around her stood like that, in comfortable silence, for several minutes. They relaxed their eyes into not focusing, just observing the kaleidoscope-like patterns that emerged as a result.
Suddenly, the stage curtains began to move. At first, they thought it was only a hallucination, but seconds later, the curtains slowly parted, revealing a red-haired man with glasses and a guitar. Several other men stood behind him, each with a different instrument, but Liz hardly noticed them.
"TREY!" she screeched, causing Red to jump. Close enough to hear her, Trey waved and shouted, "WELL HELLO THERE!" Liz started to jump up and down with excitement, forcing Red to release his grip on her waist. He moved to her side and took her hand. Her bouncing seemed to move in slow-mo, with trails of color following behind with every jump.
"Trey Anastasio just said hello to me! He waved at me, Red. Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!"
Trey tested a few chords on his guitar, turning the tiny knobs to tune it. "The suspense is killing me!" Red practically sang, with an enormous smile spreading across his cheeks.
Seconds later, Trey stood in front of the mic and addressed the audience. "How's everyone doing? Thanks for sticking with us in the rain. We really appreciate your dedication. It's gonna be a fun set. This is a song called 'If I Could', and it's dedicated to Lizzie!"
Not understanding that SHE was the Lizzie that Trey addressed, Liz sharply turned towards Red. "Oh my gosh do I have a spirit animal twin? That's my favorite song!"
He squeezed her hand with a slow and mischievous grin spreading across his lips. He canted his head, wondering how long it would take to click in her mind.
Not very long!
"WHAT? NO WAY! THANK YOU SO MUCH, RED!" If he were dying, he'd want that expression on her face to be the very last thing he saw. Lizzie glowed brilliantly, almost reflective from the rain beading up on her skin. She leaned in to give him one of the most heartfelt kisses of her life.
They sang aloud throughout the entire song.
"***Take me to another place, she said
Take me to another time
Run with me across the oceans
Float me on a silver cloud***"
"You know the lyrics, Red? Ahhhh.."
The grin on his face expanded further.
"***If I could I would, but I don't know how
If I could I would, but I don't know how
If I could I would and I'd take you now
Stay with me 'til time turns over
I want to feel my feet leave the ground
Take me where the whispering breezes
Can lift me up and spin me around***"
Red loosely pulled Liz closer to him, slowly swaying in time with the ethereal song. He looked into her eyes while he sang, his lips pursing and pulling.
Acting of its own volition, Liz's heart began to soar.
-...-...-...-...-...-
From wikipedia: The word albatross is sometimes used metaphorically to mean a psychological burden that feels like a curse.
It is an allusion to Samuel Taylor Coleridge's poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (1798).[1] In the poem, an albatross starts to follow a ship — being followed by an albatross was generally considered an omen of good luck. However, the titular mariner shoots the albatross with a crossbow, which is regarded as an act that will curse the ship (which indeed suffers terrible mishaps). Even when they are too thirsty to speak, the ship's crew let the mariner know through their glances that they blame his action for the curse. He feels as though the albatross is metaphorically hung around his neck - that is, when people look at him, they see him as the albatross killer and that weighs on him. Thus the albatross can be both an omen of good or bad luck, as well as a metaphor for a burden to be carried as penance.
The symbolism used in the Coleridge poem is its highlight.[1] For example:
Ah ! well a-day ! what evil looks
Had I from old and young !
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung