Not The One
May. 4th, 2023 10:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apachefirecatTitle: Not The One
Fandom: Mike & Molly
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Harry/Victoria
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: He's the only one she can't have, but also the only one she wants, at least for now.
Word Count: 1,161
Written For: Vocab Drabbles #60: Accismus, 100FandomHell #56: Mike and Molly, and 100 Ships #38: Crimson
Warnings: Spoilers
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
This isn't right. This isn't her normal type of guy. He isn't her normal type of guy. There's nothing about him that should make her want him, that should make her so upset that he's... he's... She still can't even bring herself to say it. She blew it off at first, but the more she thinks about it, the more that terrible idea sticks in her head, the more she can't stand to be able to even speak the word.
She's loved loads of gay people before. She's not a hater! Some of her best dress, party, and makeup ideas have come from gay friends over the years, and she's willing to bet Harry would be a hoot to shop or dress with... But that isn't what she wants from him. It isn't why she wants him. And she does want him! Oh, how she wants him, and it's all that dead guy's fault! If she'd never recited lines from Shakespeare with him... She would have never known how good, kind, and gentle he is, or realized or even ever once suspected how much she was missing by not being with a -- well, with a chubby guy.
Harry's way bigger than anybody she's ever dated before. That shouldn't matter! Her sister's a big person, and she loves the mess out of Molly! She knows big people tend to have even bigger hearts, but that's just the thing, isn't it? she muses to herself as she stares at her own reflection, checking her mascara yet again to be sure no one at the party is going to be able to tell she's been crying.
She hasn't bawled like this in ages, and it won't do to let anyone know that Harry, of all people, has such power over her. He doesn't, Victoria quickly and firmly tells herself, flipping her long, beautiful hair over her slender shoulders. That man has no power over her. No man does!
She kisses at her reflection, checking her crimson lipstick, chosen because she's going to be moving tonight all night with one sole purpose, and, satisfied with her appearance, stands and heads out, sashaying purposefully, to the people waiting just beyond her door and the night waiting for her. There will be plenty of guys there, plenty of guys who won't tell her such stupid things as they felt nothing when they kissed her.
Harry's the first to meet her. To his credit, he keeps his voice down as he whispers shyly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
She tosses her dark waves at him, knowing the power they have over other men -- over straight men. It isn't Harry's fault that he's gay, and it's not a bad thing really. It's only a bad thing because she'd wished she'd known before she fell for him. "Oh, you didn't hurt me, honey. I don't care that you're gay! Maybe we can go shopping sometime!" She doesn't miss a beat, in her smile or in her stride, as she joins her family and then beats the rest of them to Molly's car.
Harry stares after her for a long moment, slowly closing the space between them. She isn't acting like she was earlier, and he knows he hurt her. He never meant to, which was exactly why, once he'd finally understood and accepted his biggest difference from everybody else around him, he'd had to tell her. There should have been better ways to do it. There might have been. Certainly, there would have been if he had come to the conclusion before she'd kissed him, but he had had himself convinced, since meeting her, that she would be able to cure him. In that, he supposed, is the real problem: There's nothing wrong with him, or with her. They are each the way they were made to be, and he's finally done lying to everybody, including himself, and trying to be something he could have never been.
Yet the way her enchanting dark eyes had glanced so scornfully over him just now, with such silent rage and heat, keep coming back to him. Could it be? Is she really crushing on him? Does he finally have a hot, beautiful woman lusting after him, and not want her? Is her casual acceptance of his sexuality only an accismus? Sliding into the car beside her, he once more attempts, "I really am sorry, Victoria. I never wanted to hurt you."
"Oh, honey, you couldn't hurt me!" She waves a hand at him, clearly in dismissal. "Guys like you only ever yearn for girls like me. They wish they could hurt us! But no man hurts Victoria Flynn!"
"I'm sure that's right," he whispers with a tremulous smile. Mike and Molly are getting in the front seats, and he falls silent, watching her through eyes as big and tender as a doe's.
Victoria flips her hair over her shoulder again and gazes out at the night. No man will ever hurt her again, she vows, chewing on her bottom lip. No man ever has really, and no man ever will, not since her father. Her eyes harden, and she forces her tears away as she watches the streetlights speed by. Tonight, she's going to party until she's seeing green everywhere, and by morning's light, she'll forget all about the man she doesn't want; silly, little, gay boys who lead a woman on; and most of all, stupid, old, thankfully dead Shakespeare.
Still, when they park, she finds herself glancing back over at him. He's not watching her. He's gulping nervously instead, clearly afraid of the mingling to come. Good, she thinks, she's got him out of his element just as much as he had her out of hers, but unlike him, she'll recover tonight. It may take a few guys -- little does she know it will take a dozen -- to get him out of her system. She already knows that they'll all be cuter, thinner, probably more successful too, but none of them will be as sweet as Harry had been with her when they'd been reading lines.
That's one thing she won't do again, she determines, taking one last puff on her joint. She ignores Mike's grumbling about it. She needs this medicine tonight. She needs it to ease her own fears and anxieties. She needs it to empower her to be the woman she is, the woman she's been since before leaving high school, a woman who any guy, including a gay one, should be happy and damn proud to have as his. She flicks the butt out of the car and stomps on the paper with her high heel shoe. She'll party tonight, and by tomorrow, she'll be back to herself, no matter how many guys or how much booze it takes. But she'll never have another reading partner again, and she'll never know a sweeter guy than the only man she cannot have.
The End
Fandom: Mike & Molly
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Harry/Victoria
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: He's the only one she can't have, but also the only one she wants, at least for now.
Word Count: 1,161
Written For: Vocab Drabbles #60: Accismus, 100FandomHell #56: Mike and Molly, and 100 Ships #38: Crimson
Warnings: Spoilers
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
This isn't right. This isn't her normal type of guy. He isn't her normal type of guy. There's nothing about him that should make her want him, that should make her so upset that he's... he's... She still can't even bring herself to say it. She blew it off at first, but the more she thinks about it, the more that terrible idea sticks in her head, the more she can't stand to be able to even speak the word.
She's loved loads of gay people before. She's not a hater! Some of her best dress, party, and makeup ideas have come from gay friends over the years, and she's willing to bet Harry would be a hoot to shop or dress with... But that isn't what she wants from him. It isn't why she wants him. And she does want him! Oh, how she wants him, and it's all that dead guy's fault! If she'd never recited lines from Shakespeare with him... She would have never known how good, kind, and gentle he is, or realized or even ever once suspected how much she was missing by not being with a -- well, with a chubby guy.
Harry's way bigger than anybody she's ever dated before. That shouldn't matter! Her sister's a big person, and she loves the mess out of Molly! She knows big people tend to have even bigger hearts, but that's just the thing, isn't it? she muses to herself as she stares at her own reflection, checking her mascara yet again to be sure no one at the party is going to be able to tell she's been crying.
She hasn't bawled like this in ages, and it won't do to let anyone know that Harry, of all people, has such power over her. He doesn't, Victoria quickly and firmly tells herself, flipping her long, beautiful hair over her slender shoulders. That man has no power over her. No man does!
She kisses at her reflection, checking her crimson lipstick, chosen because she's going to be moving tonight all night with one sole purpose, and, satisfied with her appearance, stands and heads out, sashaying purposefully, to the people waiting just beyond her door and the night waiting for her. There will be plenty of guys there, plenty of guys who won't tell her such stupid things as they felt nothing when they kissed her.
Harry's the first to meet her. To his credit, he keeps his voice down as he whispers shyly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
She tosses her dark waves at him, knowing the power they have over other men -- over straight men. It isn't Harry's fault that he's gay, and it's not a bad thing really. It's only a bad thing because she'd wished she'd known before she fell for him. "Oh, you didn't hurt me, honey. I don't care that you're gay! Maybe we can go shopping sometime!" She doesn't miss a beat, in her smile or in her stride, as she joins her family and then beats the rest of them to Molly's car.
Harry stares after her for a long moment, slowly closing the space between them. She isn't acting like she was earlier, and he knows he hurt her. He never meant to, which was exactly why, once he'd finally understood and accepted his biggest difference from everybody else around him, he'd had to tell her. There should have been better ways to do it. There might have been. Certainly, there would have been if he had come to the conclusion before she'd kissed him, but he had had himself convinced, since meeting her, that she would be able to cure him. In that, he supposed, is the real problem: There's nothing wrong with him, or with her. They are each the way they were made to be, and he's finally done lying to everybody, including himself, and trying to be something he could have never been.
Yet the way her enchanting dark eyes had glanced so scornfully over him just now, with such silent rage and heat, keep coming back to him. Could it be? Is she really crushing on him? Does he finally have a hot, beautiful woman lusting after him, and not want her? Is her casual acceptance of his sexuality only an accismus? Sliding into the car beside her, he once more attempts, "I really am sorry, Victoria. I never wanted to hurt you."
"Oh, honey, you couldn't hurt me!" She waves a hand at him, clearly in dismissal. "Guys like you only ever yearn for girls like me. They wish they could hurt us! But no man hurts Victoria Flynn!"
"I'm sure that's right," he whispers with a tremulous smile. Mike and Molly are getting in the front seats, and he falls silent, watching her through eyes as big and tender as a doe's.
Victoria flips her hair over her shoulder again and gazes out at the night. No man will ever hurt her again, she vows, chewing on her bottom lip. No man ever has really, and no man ever will, not since her father. Her eyes harden, and she forces her tears away as she watches the streetlights speed by. Tonight, she's going to party until she's seeing green everywhere, and by morning's light, she'll forget all about the man she doesn't want; silly, little, gay boys who lead a woman on; and most of all, stupid, old, thankfully dead Shakespeare.
Still, when they park, she finds herself glancing back over at him. He's not watching her. He's gulping nervously instead, clearly afraid of the mingling to come. Good, she thinks, she's got him out of his element just as much as he had her out of hers, but unlike him, she'll recover tonight. It may take a few guys -- little does she know it will take a dozen -- to get him out of her system. She already knows that they'll all be cuter, thinner, probably more successful too, but none of them will be as sweet as Harry had been with her when they'd been reading lines.
That's one thing she won't do again, she determines, taking one last puff on her joint. She ignores Mike's grumbling about it. She needs this medicine tonight. She needs it to ease her own fears and anxieties. She needs it to empower her to be the woman she is, the woman she's been since before leaving high school, a woman who any guy, including a gay one, should be happy and damn proud to have as his. She flicks the butt out of the car and stomps on the paper with her high heel shoe. She'll party tonight, and by tomorrow, she'll be back to herself, no matter how many guys or how much booze it takes. But she'll never have another reading partner again, and she'll never know a sweeter guy than the only man she cannot have.
The End
