Ratings: Slash, f/f. Thatcher/Vecchio.
Summary: Frannie and Meg get ready to go out.
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Alliance.
I'm lying on my stomach on the bed, watching TV while Meg gets dressed. It took a long time before she let me bring a TV into the bedroom, but I finally wore her down. Against her better judgment, she said, but she let me. What's so great about her judgment? She sighed and said she didn't mean it like that. Anyway, at least the TV's in here now, so I can watch the Lifetime movie to pass the time while she gets ready.
"Francesca, are you getting dressed?"
Yeah, yeah, I'm getting dressed. I've already got my makeup on, I just need to get into my dress. Funny how it takes Meg so much longer to do her makeup than it does me, when you know after she's done you'll hardly be able to tell she's wearing any. A few months ago I would have had the dress on already, but I don't want to see the look in her eyes if I got it wrinkled up by lounging around in it. Especially since it's one she gave me.
Finally I hear her closing the cabinet door, wiping down the sink. I get up and slip my dress on. The zipper gives me a little trouble; I suck my stomach in. A lot of trouble just to go hear some people singing. "But you're Italian," she said. So's the mob, but I don't carry a gun.
Meg comes out of the bathroom, looking beautiful. "Oh, sweetheart --" she says.
But she just shakes her head. "Nothing." She won't kiss me now that we've got our lipstick on, but she comes over and lays her palm lightly against the side of my neck. "I love you."
Her glove is smooth against my skin. "Love you too," I answer.