Author's Note: Welcome back to the next chapter! Some very nice reviews and comments came through, so let me take a moment to respond to one in particular. Pieman3, I love your name! I can promise you that Gina and Jaime will be making a return to our stories soon, probably about two or three chapters from now. I do plan on finishing my Lost and Delirious story "Broken Wings," it's just sitting in my mind waiting for me to find the time to hammer it out. The third chapter will finish the story, and I think everyone who reads it will be quite pleased. And the empathic connection between Miley and Lilly is supposed to be a bit unsettling when viewed in its entirety, simply because it can't be readily explained. It's one of those things that Miley and Lilly have accepted as part of their love for each other, and I assure you I have no intention of making it a central point of the story. It's there as another manifestation of strongly they care for each other and how tightly they're bound together both emotionally and spiritually. For everyone else, thank you for the support and positive comments. I always read every review and truly appreciate what people take the time to say, be it praise, comment, question or criticism. All of them are worthwhile!
Here are my standard disclaimers: I make no claims on any of Disney's, Miley Cyrus', Emily Osment's or Hannah Montana's trademarks or copyrights, and no infringement is intended on them or those of any other artist or publication mentioned. Be forewarned that this story most certainly will contain femslash. If love and affection between two consenting young adults of the same sex bothers you, I suggest you turn right around and find something else to read. Keep any flames to yourself and remember that what our world needs now is more love and acceptance, not more hate. Reviews are always welcomed and appreciated!
We Got Nerve
by Jo P.
Chapter 18: Bedside Manner
Pay my respects to grace and virtue
Send my condolences to good
Give my regards to soul and romance
They always did the best they could
And so long to devotion
You taught me everything I know
Wave goodbye, wish me well
You gotta let me go
The Killers,"Human"
Mikayla angrily slid her car into its parking place outside the dance studio Dyseni had rented for her use. She slammed the Aston Martin Vanquish's gunmetal gray door as she slung her bag across her shoulder. She muttered and cursed under her breath as she hurried to the entrance, ignoring the greeting of the receptionist as she marched into the lobby.
She turned, opening the door leading back to the larger studios. Dyseni had mandated therapy sessions for her weekly, and today's had not gone particularly well. "Fucking bitch," Mikayla swore quietly as she opened the door for her personal locker room, locking the door once she was inside. She quickly stripped off her dress shirt and pants she had worn to her counseling session as well as the meeting with some of the Dyseni executives and Margot just before. She was mad because the suits wanted to release one particular song of hers as the next single, while Margot was arguing to use a different song. Mikayla herself was wanting to use a new song, one she had recently recorded that didn't appear on her most recent album but would be on her next one. Everyone in the board room had told her that wasn't a good idea, but she fucking wanted that song to be her next single. It was the most personal and most painful song she had ever recorded, which quite frankly scared the upper management at Dyseni.
Mikayla pulled on the tight athletic shorts, tugging the sports bra over her head and into position on her chest next. She sat down and began putting on her socks and dancing shoes, still seething at how she had been treated in the meeting. And Margot had been no help whatsoever. They were too concerned about the sad nature of the song dampening Mikayla's image as an upbeat party girl who loved life, which helped sell records more oriented toward dance-flavored music and beats that would be right at home in a nightclub.
But that's not all I'm about. There's more to me than what people see in the press. She sighed. Does Hannah have this problem? Worrying about showing that there's more to her than what the public sees? Shit, what am I saying? She decided to announce to the whole fucking world that she was gay by proposing to her girlfriend on live television when she was just fifteen. There's probably not a damn thing she'd try to keep secret if she had the guts to do that.
Mikayla carefully put her street clothes on hangers and placed them in her oversized locker, closing the door with a metallic clang that continued for several seconds as it vibrated into silence. She grabbed her drink and walked across the locker room to the door leading to the big dance studio. As she walked in she saw several of her dancers practicing, maybe a half dozen of them or more. There were a few people she didn't recognize, but she really didn't care.
"Everybody get the fuck out of here," she said coolly as she strode into the studio, music still playing from the speakers throughout the room. As everyone else came to a stop, the music continued to play. For some reason that particularly annoyed her, because it wasn't what she wanted to listen to right at that moment. "I said GET OUT!!" she screamed, smiling when the room emptied in a mini-stampede. "And lock the fucking doors behind you! I don't want anyone so much as looking in here for the next two hours, you hear me?" she yelled as the last two people ran out the door, stopping only long enough to close and lock the door. She made sure all the blinds and shades to the studio's windows were closed, then she walked over to the room's stereo controls. She ejected the CD, setting it down on the shelf as she opened the case in her hand and slid in the new mix CD she had just burned the night before and cranked the dial most of the way up.
As the sounds of the first song—"Sex Bomb", by the Lords of Acid—filled the room, she turned and stalked her way to the center of the room. She stepped up onto the raised central platform then jumped off, legs extended as the guitars swelled forth. By the time she hit the floor, she had left the current Mikayla and all her rage behind, still stewing there on the platform like a malignant phantom. She suppressed her thoughts, buried her anger and sadness as she let the music carry her body along, turning, jumping, twisting, spinning as she threw herself into her dancing. No practice, no routine, no choreography—this was pure expression, the catharsis needed for the darkness inside her that threatened to overcome all she knew. Dancing in this way had always been one thing that was hers, no one else's; Mikayla too often forgot how good it felt to simply let the world outside go and hear nothing but the beat and thrill of the music, letting its rhythm take charge of her body and lead her in a way that felt like flying to the shattered little girl hidden inside her.
She used the entire studio as she danced, flowing from song to song and changing her dance style with each track. She never paused or hesitated until the song "Start All Over" abruptly began to play. As part of her brain recognized her nemesis' song, she froze momentarily before willing herself to continue dancing, moving to this song's tune and words as she told herself that it was just like any other song.
Why the fuck did I put this song on that CD? she thought angrily as she spun, falling to the floor as she continued the spin for another second on the slick hardwood. She leaped back to her feet, continuing to practically run across the studio as her body began to smoothly respond to the high energy of the song. Don't kid yourself, Miki. You put it on here to try to see what so many people see in her, in her music. What appeal it holds that yours doesn't. So she allowed part of her mind to listen to the song, to the words that sounded so simple and nearly taunting to her, teasing her with talk of starting over when Hannah Montana knew nothing of what she had left behind to chase her dream. Or maybe you just put it on here to piss yourself off, to twist the knife a bit deeper, because she really is better than you are.
As the next track began, Mikayla felt herself noticeably relax as the music shifted to the aggressive sound of The Donnas' "Take It Off." She didn't notice the small group of observers she had quietly accumulated, peeking in through a slight crack in one of the rarely-used rear doors.
"Where the hell did she learn to dance like that?" whispered one of Mikayla's backup dancers. "I've not ever seen her do anything like those moves, and I've practiced with her for almost a year now."
"I can't do some of those moves," replied one of the female choreographers, similarly stunned at the surprising display of the young woman's talents. "Did she have some kind of formal training? Ballet or interpretive dance or something like that?"
A third observer, another of Mikayla's male dancers, whispered back, "I have no clue. She never talks about going to school or growing up or her family or anything. She's just all bitch, all the time."
"Until now," corrected the first dancer. "Now, it looks she's actually... enjoying herself."
And that she was. Mikayla was sweating heavily, but she refused to stop just yet. She had been at it for about forty minutes when "Rebel Yell" by Billy Idol came on. She took a long drink and smiled as she tossed her bottle full of Gatorade down during the opening strains of the song, running across the floor and doing a ballet leap, her left leg extended forward perfectly horizontal and her right leg backward the same way. She nearly overdid the leap, but she managed to get her feet back under her in time to make an elegant landing. This time she used the racing rock music to fuel a dance that mixed elements of several different styles, from the raw sensuality of salsa to the exaggerated moves of jazz, blending them all together as she moved fluidly across the slick hardwood. However, her growing fatigue was beginning to allow some persistent memories of today's therapy session to leak through into her conscious mind.
"Alright, Mikayla, now I'm going to say some words. I'd like you to tell me the first thing that comes to your mind for each of them."
"And why would I do that?" Mikayla replied, glaring at the psychologist. "You've already had me talking for half an hour."
The woman who looked not much older than Mikayla leaned forward, her smile reminding Mikayla of a shark closing in for the kill. "Because somewhere deep inside, I think you want to understand what drives you just as much as I do."
Mikayla kicked one of the chairs deliberately, sending it tumbling over and sliding away from her as she spun, not noticing the trio of secret observers scurry away from the far door, letting it quietly close on its own. She remembered what had happened to her. In fact, she knew she'd never forget any of it. But remembering the past had never brought her closer to truly understanding her behavior in the present, that she had to admit.
"Family," said the psychologist.
"Loss."
"Success."
"Wealth."
"Wealth."
"Security."
Mikayla held her current position as the song ended, taking a good look at herself in the mirror beside her. She was sweating, the front of her sports bra obviously wet and her long black hair tossed about, scattered into curly strings as they fell across her face and shoulders.
"Music."
"Dreams."
The next song began to play. She pushed away from the wall, spinning as she crossed the floor, her slick-soled shoes gliding easily across the smooth wood.
"Fame."
"Acceptance."
"Home."
"Where the heart is." A pause at the doctor's stern expression. "Hey, you didn't say it had to be one word answers."
She flung her head to the side, sending her long hair whipping around. Maybe it hadn't been the best idea to piss off the psychotherapist, but what's done is done. She'd survive. Just like she had survived all her other mistakes in life.
"Mother."
"... I miss her."
"Father."
"Rapist."
Dr. Fellowes looked up at that statement.
"No, I'm not interested in talking about that," said Mikayla sharply. "Anyway, it's over now. He can die in some gutter or burn in hell for all I care."
"Alright," replied the doctor, her tone of voice indicating it was anything but. "Men."
"Sex."
"Women."
"Bitches."
"Children."
For once, Mikayla didn't reply immediately. Finally, she said, "Innocence."
She was tired now. The aching in her arms and legs was telling her that she needed to stop very soon, and she noted how her left leg began to shake as she moved into a series of pointe steps. She willed her muscles to hold the difficult position as she glided across the studio's floor, ending in a long leap. As the final song on her CD began to play, The Killers' "Human," her thoughts began to spin out of control as her fatigue overwhelmed her self-control. She let her body cool down with less-demanding movements as the music still propelled her dance, but inside her mind was doing the opposite.
"Love."
"Lies."
"Happiness."
"Control."
"Marriage."
"Stupidity."
There was a distinct pause before Dr. Fellowes said, "Hannah Montana."
"... Do I have to do this one?"
"No, but I'd like for you to. Hannah Montana."
"Perfect."
The psychologist stared at the singer for a surprised second before she neatly picked back up. "Lola Montana."
"Partners, in everything."
"Jake Ryan."
"Okay, now you're going too far. Did Margot put you up to this?"
"Jake Ryan."
"... Betrayal."
"Alcohol."
"Restraint."
"Drugs."
"Regret."
"Religion."
"Bullshit."
"Dreams."
After a long pause, "Redemption."
As the song reached its end, Mikayla stopped dancing. Her legs were burning as she fell to the floor roughly, extending her right leg first as she stretched it out on the floor, bending to touch her toes. The final chorus ran through her head as she focused on the lyrics to stop the recollection of today's therapy session. "Stupid fucking question," she said out loud. But as she shifted and stretched over her extended left leg, touching those toes and holding her position for several seconds, she thought about the seemingly nonsensical chorus. Maybe it's about choosing to give up emotions and step beyond the limitations of being human. About committing everything to your goals.
She stood, easing slowly into a backbend until her hands touched the floor behind her. I made that decision a long time ago. A chill came across her as a thought popped into her mind, a little voice inside her that she despised furiously: But are you happy with that decision?
She fell as her arms gave way, hitting the floor with a thump. Pain shot through her head and back, but she pushed it aside as she rolled over and got to her knees. There were two very good reasons why she hated that particular voice her conscience sometimes used. First, it was almost always right, particularly when it told her something she really didn't want to hear. And second, it always sounded disturbingly like either Hannah Montana or her glow-headed wife.
She stood, walking over to grab her bottle and CD. She hurried out of the studio, unlocking the door as she passed it. Once back in her private locker room, she turned on the large shower and put her things in her locker, leaving her sweaty clothes in the laundry hamper provided for her. As she stepped into the warm water, she carefully turned up the temperature until it was stinging her skin. After a few minutes she came to a decision. She quickly washed her hair and body, not bothering to dry her hair. Instead she just dried it with a towel, then she pulled it back and pinned it in place with a hair band. She dressed in more casual clothes, then she grabbed her bag and pulled her phone out.
After two rings, she heard the click of the connection, followed by, "This is Vera Blaike."
"Hey Vera, it's Mikayla."
"Hello, Mikayla! Usually I have the dubious pleasure of dealing with your agent."
Mikayla laughed. Ms. Blaike didn't care much for Margot, but in her position as one of the executive producers for Mikayla's music she couldn't exactly avoid dealing with the abrasive woman. "Yeah, I feel your pain there, too. Hey, I've decided on the next single."
"Really. I take it that since you're calling me that it's not going to be what Margot was pushing for at the meeting?"
Mikayla smiled. While the record industry was flooded with egos and control freaks, there were still a few good people out there. "Right. I want to go with 'Broken-Hearted' as the next single."
"And you're positive that it's going to be on your next album? I mean, if it's as big a hit as I think it could be, we need to ride it to sell albums, not just single tune downloads."
"I know, I know, but this album's not even been out a year!"
After a pause, Blaike said, "You really want this single out, don't you?" with a sympathetic voice.
Mikayla reflexively looked down as she reached her car. "Yeah, I really do. It's the strongest I've felt about a song in a long time."
"I probably shouldn't ask you if it's about something that happened to you personally, should I?"
Mikayla felt her eyes sting as she replied, "I'd prefer if you didn't."
"Fair enough. Alright, Mikayla, I'll take care of it. For the record, I think this is the best choice for your next single, too. Fans can always tell what's authentic and what's not. And take your time on the next album. We want it to be good, not something rushed out the door. We can always re-promote the single right before the next album's release."
Mikayla sat down in her car, closing the door behind her. "Thanks, Vera. I owe you a favor."
"Then call me more often. That way I can deal less with Margot and more with you. You're significantly nicer when she's not around."
Mikayla laughed softly. "God, tell me something I don't know. And thanks again."
There was a note of what might have been motherly concern in her voice as Vera said, "Take care of yourself, Mikayla. There's a reason I wanted to work with you, and one day I might just tell you. Until then, I'll help you out as much as I can."
The sentiment expressed in the older woman's words touched Mikayla unexpectedly, and she had to force her voice not to break. "Thanks," she said simply, then she closed her phone with a snap. What did she mean by that, saying there was a reason she wanted to work with me? The young woman thought for a bit, then she shrugged as her stomach began to grumble. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you," she said with a tiny smile as she started her Vanquish with a roar of the engine.
Half a country away, Miley and Lilly stepped off the plane at the airport in Dallas, Texas. They were instantly bombarded with a wave of camera flashes and reporters all shouting questions for Hannah and Lola Montana. "Ugh, this kinda stinks," grumbled Miley. Her pregnancy had gotten to the point that she didn't travel as well as she had just two months ago, and adding this noisy, intrusive reception to an uncomfortable public flight here was only making things worse.
"Yeah, well, at least we got here in time," said Lilly, trying to shield her wife from the brunt of the reporters and cameras. "Whose idea was it to have the jet scheduled for service today, I mean?"
"It was supposed to have been done last week," said Jen, trailed by her husband Lee. "But some dumbass rescheduled it to this week for some reason, and he didn't clear it with the scheduler."
"Well, we're here safely, at least, and we should have enough time for you to make it to rehearsal, right Hannah?" said Lilly pleasantly, trying to lift her best friend's mood as much as possible.
"I guess," said Miley glumly. "I already texted Kelly and told her we just got here and that the whole flight had been a disaster."
"Aw, but we got to sign all those autographs for those adorable little kids!"
Miley turned and gave Lilly a look of disbelief. "Lola," she said. "Only we could wind up on a plane with two classes of first graders flyin' home from Disneyland. And do you remember that all of 'em had just had a bunch a' chocolate before they got on the plane?"
Lilly grimaced. She had been hoping Miley had forgotten that part. "Well, at least they settled down once they got their autographs..."
"Yeah, that's true," said Miley. "Probably shouldn't be so grumpy, huh, girlfriend?"
Lilly smiled. "Could've been worse."
"High school boys?" asked Miley with a knowing grin. "With wanderin' eyes?"
"You read my mind," replied Lilly. "I hope your dad had a better flight in from Tennessee." The throng of reporters began to encircle the party consisting of Miley, Lilly, Jen Kittrell and her husband Lee as they stopped, sizing up the best path through the mob. "Geez, it'd be really nice if they'd let us through so we could get our bags and get on the road to the stadium. You'd probably like to get some practice in. Not that you need it, though."
"Please," said Miley as she rolled her eyes. "I'd like to at least see what kind of stage they've got set up." She impatiently tapped her foot on the tile floor, the bright red heels clicking with each impact. "Hey, could ya'll please move to the side?!" she yelled abruptly, leaning to her right so she didn't scream in her wife's face or ear. "We're kinda on a tight schedule here, you know!"
Suddenly a large body scooted past Miley and Lilly, neatly missing them by inches. "All right, clear the way!" yelled Roxy, using her arms and body to carve a path through the mass of reporters. Miley and Lilly linked hands and quickly followed in Roxy's wake, Lilly leading the way for her pregnant wife, with Jen and Lee right behind them.
A few hours later, Miley and Lilly were standing on the sidelines, watching the Tennessee Titans battle their way to a 21-10 lead over the Dallas Cowboys as the clock ticked down to halftime. Dallas had been awarded hosting rights for this Super Bowl years ago, and it had been an unusual coincidence that the Cowboys had made it to the Super Bowl being hosted in their home stadium. As the teams made their way into the depths of the stadium, the halftime crew scurried into action, descending on the open field like ants spewing out of an anthill.
"You watching me from here?" asked Miley with an amused smile as she looked into her lover's glittering blue eyes, their brilliance brought out by the sky blue wig Lilly was wearing for the game. To show my support for your team, she had told Miley, and even though Miley could have cared less about the actual game, her wife's thoughtful gesture was completely adorable.
Lilly looked back into Miley's eyes as she stood as close as Miley's slowly growing belly would allow her. "Of course," Lilly said with a smug grin, "unless you can get me closer. Without asking me to sing. Lola doesn't do that for just anyone."
"Just her wife?" asked Miley, leaning in to rub noses with her best friend.
"Yes," said Lilly, her happiness evident in her contented tone of voice as she placed a soft kiss on the nose she had just rubbed. "Just for you, baby."
"I feel special," replied Miley honestly, although there was a hint of sassiness in her voice.
Lilly grinned as she hugged her wife. "You should," she said. "Because you are." She smiled, then dropped to a squat and kissed Miley's belly through the soft fabric of her pink shirt. "Just like this little girl is special."
Miley slowly took in the sight of Lilly on her knees, placing soft kisses on her belly. Images of Lilly began to superimpose in her mind: Lilly kissing her, Lilly hugging her, tickling her, teasing her, making love to her, all in similar positions with similar vantage points. As Miley saw those ghostly images accumulate in her mind, what stood out was the love in Lilly's eyes, the one constant in every one of those images. No matter the reason or the context, that devotion and adoration was always inscribed in those ocean-blue eyes that belonged to her partner.
Miley gently tugged Lilly's hands, wordlessly asking her to stand back up. "Not much longer now, sweetheart," she said to her wife, already knowing what Lilly was thinking because she was thinking it too. "Then we get to hold her."
Lilly closed her eyes, dreaming ahead to being able to cradle their child, to kiss her feathery hair, to hear her soft baby cries, to feel the tiny heartbeat and gentle breathing of a life so new and precious that all the world lay before it. "I can barely wait, hon," she said, losing herself for a moment in those daydreams of their future. "But first, you've got a show to do."
Miley looked out onto the field, where the stage was nearly complete. "Well, Kelly's goin' on first, then I'll do my songs after her."
Lilly smiled knowingly. "Then you do your surprise duet?"
Miley nodded. "Yeah, only about a dozen people even know about it. I think it'll turn some heads."
"I think that would be fair to say," said Lilly matter-of-factly. "Okay, go be the rock goddess that you are, lover." She gave Miley a long, loving kiss, then she waved as Miley made her way discreetly to the stage where Kelly Clarkson was just beginning to sing. She watched Miley disappear into the background with her escort of a security guard and a production assistant, then she unlocked Miley's Hannah phone. She tried not to laugh as she scrolled through the pictures, finally selecting a quite humorous one of Lilly painting her toenails, her hair wrapped securely in a large white towel and wearing a fluffy yellow robe, a look of shock reflected on her face. Miley had taken it of her after a concert last year, and she had paid for it by Lilly tickling her mercilessly once her toenails were dry. Lilly snickered as she set the picture as Hannah's new wallpaper for her phone and relocked the phone. Sometimes the little things were the best.
Kelly Clarkson didn't disappoint, delivering a fiery four-song set to start the halftime concert. Lilly truly thought of the Texan as a real friend, and more than once she and Miley had talked about revealing their secret identities to Kelly. They had agreed that they would tell Kelly if it ever became necessary, but until then they chose to keep the secret among as few people as possible. However, the secret remained one of the only things that they kept from Kelly, as they enjoyed the honesty and life that defined their friend.
As the audience loudly cheered Kelly while she waved to the crowd, Lilly was approached by two security guards. "Mrs. Montana?" one of them, a tall man who towered over Lilly, asked politely.
"Yes?" replied Lilly, slightly confused.
The other security guard, a young woman just slightly taller than Lilly, smiled as she said, "Your wife has made it known that she expects you to be next to the stage while she's singing."
Lilly smiled, unable to help herself. "Oh she did, did she?" she asked coyly.
"Yes ma'am," replied the first guard. "And she's getting ready to start, so we need to get a move on."
Lilly grinned madly. "Can't keep that gorgeous creature waiting, can we?" she said pleasantly, extending an arm for the security guard to take.
"No ma'am," he replied with his own smile as he politely took Lilly's elbow and walked her to the center of the field, the other security guard keeping pace on Lilly's left. The timing was perfect; right as Miley went on stage, singing "Rock Your Body," she looked down and saw Lilly standing just below the level of the stage, clapping and cheering on her favorite singer.
After Miley's four-song set, she waved to the crowd until the lights went down, plunging the stage into blackness. Lilly felt a gentle hand on her shoulder as a familiar voice said, "Wish us luck, LoLo." She turned to see Kelly smiling at her, microphone in hand.
"Ah, you two don't need luck," Lilly said off-handedly. "I think you were both born singing." After a two second pause, she gave Kelly a quick hug. "But good luck anyway!" she said quickly. Kelly hurried up the steps and moved to her position on stage opposite from where Miley was standing. As Kelly hurried past her, Miley turned and practically ran over to Lilly, heels clicking with every step on the metal stage. "What are you doing?!" hissed Lilly, motioning for her wife to get back to her position. As if on cue, the stadium announcer began to inform the crowd that they were in for a special one-of-a-kind performance that evening.
"I want a kiss from my wife for good luck!" hissed Miley in reply. "And you better hurry, 'cause the lights'll be comin' up in—" She was silenced by Lilly's lips on hers, made possible by Lilly jumping up onto the stage. The kiss was brief but deep, and Lilly punctuated it by licking Miley's lips as they pulled apart. "Oh yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about," said Miley dreamily.
"Good, now get your butt over there where you're supposed to be!" whispered Lilly loudly, turning Miley around and lightly pushing her toward her mark. She scrambled down and off the stage just as Miley reached her spot, mere seconds before the music for Kelly's "My Life Would Suck Without You" began playing.
Lights sprang up over half of the stage as Kelly sang the first two lines, "Guess this means you're sorry, you're standin' at my door/Guess this means you take back all you said before," then the other half was enveloped in light as Miley sang the next two lines, "Like how much you wanted anyone but me/You said you'd never come back, but here you are again." As they both sang the chorus, their voices melded into something that Lilly's mind could only describe as angelic. Lilly's mouth went dry and a shiver ran across her bare skin as she listened to Miley's and Kelly's voices blend beautifully. There was something in the air, something like a tingle of electricity before lightning strikes, something that told her that being here at this moment was truly special, an experience that she would look back on and feel a sense of pride because she had been here when it happened.
As the first chorus came to an end, applause spontaneously broke out in the stands, ending quickly when Kelly sang the next two lines. Lilly looked around the stadium as Miley again sang the next two, and everywhere Lilly looked she saw people standing on their feet, sharing the same sense of history in the making that she could feel. By the time she looked back to the stage, Miley and Kelly were standing closer but still somewhat separated, facing each other as they sang the second chorus together. Lilly could feel her skin crawl with anticipation as the music softened and Kelly sang the relatively quiet next verse alone while she and Miley slowly walked toward each other, both smiling at how much fun they were quite obviously having. As they let the music play, building up to the final two choruses, they reached each other and playfully high-fived before they suddenly turned, standing back to back as they began to belt out the last two choruses. While they had been singing beautifully before, the two of them let their strong voices swell now, harmonizing such that each young woman's voice complemented the other in a powerful yet elegant way.
Lilly didn't think she'd ever seen anyone complement Miley's singing so well before. Not many people could match Miley's pure, clear voice combined with the strength that came from both natural talent and years of experience, but Kelly's voice was up to the challenge. Lilly was on her tiptoes as the two singers began the final chorus, and she smiled as she saw Miley's left arm and Kelly's right arm drop down, letting them hold hands in a friendly way as they finished the song. Lilly knew Miley well enough to recognize the gesture as one of friendship and sisterhood between two musicians who had held fast to their friendship through years in the industry. Both Lilly and Miley knew that no one would ever come between them, and Kelly was completely aware of that too; there was also the small matter of Kelly being straight, so jealousy never entered Lilly's mind at seeing the friendly gesture. In fact, she thought it was quite adorable, adding a visual element of emotion to the already spellbinding performance.
As their voices stopped with the end of the song, Miley and Kelly held their positions, back to back against each other. They released each other's hand as the cheers, whistles, cries, screams and cowbells began to sound, and the din only grew in intensity as the cheers continued. Lilly was bouncing up and down to give Miley a hug and tell her how great a job she had done, so when Miley motioned for her to join them, she was instantly on the stage and running over to them.
"Oooph!" said Kelly as Lilly hugged both of them tightly, being careful to not squeeze Miley's belly too much.
"Holy cow, that was amazing!" Lilly shrieked. "You two did the best job I've ever seen singing! EVER!"
A pouty look came across Miley's face as she asked, "Better than my concerts?"
Lilly saw the teasing for what it was and quickly replied, "Not your private ones for me," making Miley blush and Kelly break into laughter.
"Just tell her that she's the best ever, Lola, it's okay with me," said Kelly happily.
Lilly smiled. "Well, then you're the second-best ever, Kel. Is that okay?"
Kelly nodded, fully aware of how much love flowed between her two dear friends. "I can live with that," she said, "if I get to put a song on your next movie's soundtrack."
"I think we can work something out," said Lilly, giddy from her wife's and friend's stellar performance. "You realize that tomorrow everybody's gonna be talking about you two singing, not the game, right?"
"No way," said Miley. "How much you wanna bet?"
Lilly thought for a minute. The cheers were still raining down, and now the band was taking their well-deserved bows and waves to the crowd as the three young women continued to talk. "Laundry for a week? No, wait, that won't work. You don't need to be bending over so much."
"How about dishes?" suggested Miley. "Oh, we have a dishwasher," she added with a disappointed face. "How about the loser has to open the door for the winner for two weeks?"
Now Lilly developed a pouty face. "But I like opening the door for you, honey," she said softly, meaning every word of it.
"Awww," said Miley with a smile. "Okay, we can keep opening doors for each other, then."
"Yay!" said Lilly, clapping softly. "Oh, I know! Winner gets to pull the first prank on Jackson next time he and Kaela come to visit!"
Miley grinned. "I think we have a winner."
Kelly shook her head. "I think we got two of 'em," she said as she watched her friends. "Now let's get off this stage so they can get the game started back up! My 'Boys are wantin' to start their comeback."
"Yeah, yeah, we'll see," said Miley teasingly, smiling as she took Lilly's hand. The three made their way off the stage as the cheers finally began to fade. "But no matter what the score is, friends always win," she said happily.
"Amen to that, sister," said Kelly, taking Lilly's other hand as they walked together to the sideline. "Amen to that."
Several hours later, after the Titans had put away the Cowboys 38-30, Miley and Lilly were relaxing in the penthouse suite of the Hotel Adolphus in downtown Dallas. Lilly was stretched out on one of the luxurious couches, wrapped in a short pink silk bathrobe as she waited on Miley to finish in the bathroom. They were planning on watching some television together, but the elegant suite made Lilly suspect that the television would quickly be replaced by more intimate moments. However, as she flipped through the current issue of Us Weekly she heard a faint sound coming from the bathroom. She couldn't identify it, but that barely audible sound immediately triggered alarm bells in her mind. "Miles?" she called out, tossing her magazine on the cherry wood table and getting to her feet. "You okay, honey?" she asked as she hurried to the bathroom.
As she approached the closed door, Lilly could now hear sniffling from inside the bathroom. "Miley? What's wrong, baby?" She turned the door handle, opening the door slowly in case Miley was standing just in front of the door. As Lilly opened the door, she saw Miley sitting on the side of the bathtub, tears running down her face as she cried softly. She was wearing a long white bathrobe, significantly fluffier than Lilly's, and her wet hair had been pulled back and pinned into place with a pink plastic headband.
"Miley!" said Lilly, dropping to her knees on the marble floor with more than a twinge of pain as her knees hit the hard tiles, but she pushed the pain aside in her concern for her wife. She carefully took Miley's hands and placed a kiss on the knuckles of each hand. "You're scaring me, Miley," she said, her voice slightly quavering as she spoke. "What's the matter? Are you hurting? Is it something with the baby?"
"No," Miley moaned softly, shaking her head. "It's me," she added, as if that should have been enough for everything to be clear to Lilly.
"Okay, not following you here," replied Lilly. "What's wrong with you, sweetheart?"
Miley looked up at the ceiling, and from this angle Lilly could see how red her eyes were. "I'm huge, Lilly. I'm fat."
"Oh Miley, no, honey, you're—"
"While I was in the bath, I was thinking about how romantic this place is, and how we've never been here, and then I got to thinking about having some flowers brought up for you, and then I could come out and do a little private concert for you, maybe a sexy little dance..."
"Oooh, Lilly likey the sound of that," said Lilly, making Miley smile despite the tears trickling down her cheeks.
"But then I looked in the mirror!" said Miley angrily, pointing at the full-length mirror on the wall. "And I saw that I looked like a manatee-eeeee!" she said, her voice degenerating into a wail as she finished the sentence.
"Miley," said Lilly, softly at first but then more firmly, "Miley." She tugged her best friend to her feet, leading her into the bedroom and next to the huge bed. "Honey, you do not look like anything except the woman I love," Lilly said earnestly, gently pushing Miley to a seated position on the elevated bed. Because of its height, Miley was still in more of a standing position than a seated one, and Lilly stepped in between her wife's legs as she wrapped her arms around Miley's shoulders, holding her wife's head against her chest. "You're pregnant, Miles. Yes, your body looks different than we're used to, but there's a reason for that. Do you remember what the doctor told you about the baby if you didn't gain any weight while you were pregnant?"
Miley mumbled from against Lilly's warm chest, "That it wouldn't be healthy for the baby."
"That's right. She told you that you needed to gain some weight, just to not overdo it. And you've done great, girlfriend. She told you last week that you were gaining almost exactly what she wanted, and that the baby was nice and healthy because you're taking such good care of her."
There was a long pause before Miley's muffled voice could be heard. "I guess."
Lilly smiled even though Miley couldn't see it from her position. "It's true. You're already a great mommy, and you're only going to get better. So I don't want to hear you say anything bad about yourself or about how you look right now, okay? Because if you do—" Lilly paused for a moment as Miley's fingers brushed against her stomach. "Did you just untie my robe's sash?"
"Uh huh."
Lilly sucked in a breath as Miley's warm fingers began to dance across her flat stomach, weaving the sensual magic that only Miley could when it came to Lilly. "Okay, j-just wanted to make sure," Lilly stammered. "Like I was saying—mmmmmm..." The feel of Miley's insanely hot mouth on her left breast took Lilly's breath away, and when that loving mouth closed on the nipple and areola and began to suck, Lilly thought that her legs had just fallen out from under her. Thankfully, Miley had shifted her own grip on her wife, securely hanging onto Lilly's waist as she tenderly showed her Lilly how much she loved her.
"Good thing I had a hold of you, huh?" said Miley proudly as she released Lilly's left breast and slid her lips and tongue down and across Lilly's left breast, over the smooth skin of her sternum and slowly up the fullness of her right breast.
"Uh huh," gasped Lilly as she recovered her composure and her strength. She looked down, her heart ablaze with love as she took in the sight of her lover gently reaffirming their commitment by her act of sensual worship, pledges and promises etched in warmth and moist kisses across skin dancing from the sizzling contact between the two of them.
When Miley cast her gaze upward, she met Lilly's cobalt stare with a shudder first up and then down her spine. "I love you, Lillian Jessica Truscott," she said with a thick voice, "and I'd carry two dozen of your children, no matter how big I got."
Lilly slid to the side and sat down on the bed, crawling backwards as she pulled Miley along with her. She spread open her bathrobe as she lay back on the bed, sliding her arms out of the sleeves as she watched Miley mirror her actions with her thicker robe. "And I love you, Miley May Stewart Truscott, every minute of every day for the rest of time, and that love will always be there for you no matter what life brings us." Miley slid her body carefully up Lilly's, meeting her lover with a prolonged kiss that raised goosebumps over already-sensitized skin. "But let's just focus on one child for now, okay?" Lilly quickly said as they parted for air.
Miley broke down in laughter, burying her face against Lilly's neck as Lilly began to laugh as well. "I can't believe that I got a wife who not only understands these nutso hormones but knows just what to do to help me through 'em when they rear up and strike like a copperhead when you kick over its rock," Miley said, shaking her head.
"Yeah, you got pretty lucky when I fell in love with you," said Lilly, smirking as they stared into each other's deep blue eyes. "Now get back to what you were doing when I was still standing up, woman."
Author's Afterword: Yes, this chapter has something of a split personality, but that's on purpose. It's what the story wanted, and so I acquiesced. And if the little chat with Kelly sounded a bit too sappy, then blame it on me watching an episode of HM right before finishing that section. When are people—no, when is MILEY STEWART going to realize that Jake Ryan is no good for her? I mean, he's hot for her, he's cold for her, he's dating someone else, he pops back up and tortures her by making her choose, he tells her he's marrying Traci, he plays a mean prank on her... What a goober. And if Ms. Miley Stewart doesn't realize that he's not worth her time, she's setting a bad example for the girls watching HM. Wise up, Miley! Your dream girl is right beside you. Kick Jiltin' Jake to the curb where he belongs. And while I'm on that subject, Lilly need to set her sights a bit higher than Oliver. I mean, I've read a half dozen good scenarios on how she could break up with Oliver and get together with Miley, just in the last week! Liley writers are starting to mobilize, I think, and that's a good thing!
Next chapter is going to be special, because we're finally going to be there when Miley and Lilly have their baby! Hope to see everyone soon, and I hope life treats each of you well until then!
Jo