Another day in paradise... hah.

[h_hollister]

She wasn't really dozing. Her eyes were closed, but she was pretty well awake, half propped up on the motel bed. A glossy fashion magazine, purchased for the novelty, lay across her lap. So glad she had better things to worry about than whether or not frosted pink was in this season. Like her 'breakfast' with Jean-Paul. Another layer of worry. Poor JP. Poor kid. She knew the whole 'leave me be I can do this all on my own fuck off now' mindset intimately. But the way he was looking... her suspicions were solidifying. Gotta talk to Key. Or Greg. Hoping against hope that her suspicions that JP had AIDS were one hundred percent wrong.

Hoping Nadezhda had gotten her letter.

Hoping that Severus would even allow Nadezhda to let her come back.

Wondering if she really did want to go back.

Wondering when the hell Wade would show up with her paperwork.

Wondering if Thunder... about Thunder... did she...?

Did she love him?

She'd let that word slip out again when she was talking to Hermes the other day, and since then, she'd been trying to wrap her head around it.

Love. Jesus.

When pressed, she would reluctantly admit that her notions of love were pretty screwed up. Deep down, however, in the core part of herself that was actually stable and sane, she knew what love was. Love was what you felt when another person's happiness was absolutely vital to your own.

She had loved Arnold Rimmer. She knew that. She had made his happiness her goal, her passion, her fire. When he wasn't happy, she fell apart, which made him more miserable, which... well. That's why they could hardly function, right there. Arnold had been so abjectly miserable for so long, he couldn't haul himself out of that, not even with her around. So, slowly, the love went sour. Turned into resentment on both their parts. Made them both miserable. Then, she found the Nexus, and Nadezhda, and Wade. And that, as they say, was that.

That love she had felt for Rimmer, before it went south... that wasn't what she felt for Wade. She wanted him to be happy, god knows he hadn't had enough of that, but there was... more to it than that. It wasn't something she could readily admit to herself, but during one long night since their, um, estrangement...? she'd had the sneaking and chilly suspicion that she was more obsessed than in love. And since then, she'd been so lost, so emotionally screwy, that she'd pounded herself over the head with it constantly.

Obsessed. You're obsessed with him. Admit it.

No.

Admit it.

Fuck off, you're my brain, you'll do as I say. Shut it.

Then there was Thunder.

Just as lost as she was. Just as confused. Two people turning to each other in grief and anger, and strangely enough, discovering that they liked each other. She wanted to help him, make him happy, let him discover how much humanity had to offer. Their time spent in the Savoy (and here, she was forced to admit) was wonderful. Even now, as worked up as she was, she was so stupidly glad to have him in her life. Somebody who wouldn't judge her and her weird and wacky ways. That was both comforting and touching. Love? Maybe. Maybe not. But definitely like and lust. He'd nailed it, that's for sure.

She sighed, and opened her eyes.

Comments

[wadewilson.livejournal.com]

And there was Wade, freshly teleported in. With pizza.

"Ta-da! The Documentation Fairy is here! Congrats, space case, you're now officially a human being on this ol' Earth!"

He tosses over a thick manila envelope.

"Now where's the john in this dump? I've had to pee for, like, five hours and there's no WAY I was using Weasel's bathroom. There's mold growing on the mildew in that thing."

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

She points at the only door in the room that's not the front door. "Process of elimination, Wade. It's the only door without a peephole and deadbolt on it."

She jumps up and takes the pizza box out of his hands, dropping it on top of the bed, next to the envelope. "Hold it for one more second, though..."

Her hands move to his face, lift up the lower half of his mask, and she plants a big kiss on him.

[wadewilson.livejournal.com]

"I was gonna say, if you're staying in a place with a peephole in the loo, I'd reconsider your - mmph!"

Unexpected. Not sure WHY it was unexpected, but definitely unexpected.

And missed. It takes him a moment, but he turns it into a dipkiss and returns it in kind.

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

Oh... Oh, how she's missed this. Oh, the dipsmooch. He hasn't done that with her in so long. Mmm.

Finally, after a few wonderfully heart thumpy moments, they straighten up, and she grins hugely at him. "Avail yourself to the facilities, sir. I'm going to root through my presents."

[wadewilson.livejournal.com]

"Grazie!"

He struts immediately to the bathroom and lets it fly.

She'll find all the necessary certificates... and apparently Captain Emo's name is now Thundercleese McGillicutty.

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

"Nice tie!" she calls to him as he goes into the bathroom.

Then, she rips open the envelope. Her stuff falls out first, and holy cow he's outdone himself. He even dug up a really convincing "DMV" photo of her. Wow. His friend is talented.

Then, she inspects her new driver's license up close.

Hippolyta Daphne Hollister. DOB: 11/11/1975

He remembered her birthday.

Wow. Cool.

Then she glances at Tee's paperwork.

...

"WADE!"

[wadewilson.livejournal.com]

"No, thanks, Hips, it's full of pee right now," he calls back. "I think the tub's more suited to that anyway!"

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

"Goddamn it, Wade, Thundercleese?!?" She's laughing, though, glad for the moment that Tee was down the block at the library. Oh, that'll be a fun conversation.

She opens up the pizza box and starts munching, still rifling through her gift basket. There was even a passport. Hot damn. "Where'd you dig these pictures up, Wade? Or should I not ask?"

[wadewilson.livejournal.com]

"Isn't that his name? I mean, he was a kickass robot on 'The Brak Show,' so I thought it worked."

He's still going.

"Those are actually photoshopped images of Yul Brenner and Marlee Matlin. You'd never know it, would ya?"

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

"God, you suck so hard," she calls back. "I look nothing like Marlee." Wait for it...

[wadewilson.livejournal.com]

"You sure sound like her, though," he quips back.

Still going.

"Or is that Charlie Brown's teacher I'm thinking of?"

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

Oh, he dies.

"I'm sorry, couldn't hear you, your Demi Moore squeakies have rendered me temporarily deaf."

[wadewilson.livejournal.com]

"Get your facts straight, Woh Woh. DeMI doesn't squeak, she rasps. Hell, if I was gonna be any chick, poppin' out three of Bruce Willis' kids doesn't seem like a bad way to employ my uterus, y'know?"

Just... about... done...

Nope. There it goes again.

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

"Jesus, Wade, how many bottles of Mountain Dew did you drink? Eighteen? Nineteen?"

More pizza, trying not to choke laughing. They hadn't exchanged insults like this in... way too long. Hee.

[wadewilson.livejournal.com]

"Mountain Dew is for suckers. Mr. Pibb, baby. He's like Dr. Pepper, but without being a highfalutin jackass about it. Yes, your Beamer's really nice, doc, now you mind NOT prescribing me the oily anal leakage drugs for once, motherfucker?"

It's even more than before.

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

Okay, he wins. "You've lost me, Wilson. I give. You win the 'smart mouth cham-peen-ship of 2005." Hee. Okay, maybe she's not out of the running yet...

[wadewilson.livejournal.com]

"A wagon full of pamcakes! In the CHAMPEENSHIP? I'd like ta see ya try!"

Finally, he finishes up, and takes a step out the door before he steps back in to run the faucet.

"So how's my Fallen Angel, huh? Too much too soon, or just a little too late? When your ship came in, were you not there, and it just wouldn't wait?"

A wistful sigh. "Ah, Bret Michaels, you misunderstood poet, you..."

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

Seeing him step back in to wash, she smirks and calls out, in a spot on impression, "Captain Karl, did you remember to wash your hands?"

Then, he says that.

And it feels like her heart just fell into her shoes.

She wishes she could know if he's being sincere, or a supreme wiseass. She wants it to be the former, she figures it's the latter.

"I'm okay. Trying not to feel too sorry for myself.' He's still washing up, so she feels safe in whispering, "Trying to figure out why I love you..."

[wadewilson.livejournal.com]

Or he's just quoting Poison for some reason.

He hears no muttering.

"Sorry for yourself? C'maaan, you're in the City of Angels! Famous people whine about living here!"

He emerges at last, cracking his gloveless knuckles and adjusting his tie.

"Everything check out in Ye Olde Package of Forged Documentes?"

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

"Lookin' good so far. Thank you. A lot. You really came through for me. Since Dez... Since I'm on my own again, this was desperately needed."

She smiles up at him, still seated on the bed.

"Hey, Wade? I'm sorry I was such a bitch on the phone the other day."

[wadewilson.livejournal.com]

"Pff, whatever, tootsie pop. I'm a bitch all the time. It's Kool and the Gang, baby. Oh, wait, you need your gun back, don't you?"

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

"Yes, please. Well, okay, you can hold onto it a bit longer, at least 'til I find an apartment."

That tie is... really freaking hot.

Okay. C'mon Hollister, you gave him his 'thank you' kiss. Let it go... No. No way. He's right here. Obsessed, love, who cares. Grab the bull by the something something...

She reaches out a hand and grabs onto his tie. "So what's up with the office noose, Wade? Got a nine-to-five you didn't tell me about?"

[wadewilson.livejournal.com]

"Nah, I just like to give my pal Weasel, the tech nerd you have to thank for whipping all the paperwork up, a figurative wedgie about his lot in life before I give him the literal wedgie that hangs his bony ass from his ceiling fan. What, you like the tie? I almost wore my Stooges tie but then I remembered ol' Deuce the Devil Dog ate it."

He smirks a bit. "You know, I'm gonna figure out how to use that gun before I give it back."

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

"I like the tie." She lets it slip through her fingers, before grabbing it again and pulling him in closer. Ignoring all talk about the bazookoid. "I really like the tie."

[wadewilson.livejournal.com]

Wade just looks at her for a moment, that smirk evident behind the mask... then he reaches up and unhooks it. "It's a clip-on. It's yours, baby. Enjoy it to your widdle heart's content." He takes a step back and looks around, needing to veer the mood around, and he just peed for about twenty minutes, so that excuse is used up.

"So, is there anything else you need, official-like? You sure you don't need cash? I've got plenty..."

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

Oh.

Great. Just smegging peachy.

She lowers her eyes and hooks the tie onto her tee-shirt, forcing a smirk. "Why, are you offering to make me your whore for real, then?"

Oh. Shit.

Hollister, you MORON!

[wadewilson.livejournal.com]

...

...

"If you were my whore, I'd be fucking you right now, wouldn't I?"

Two can play that game.

"Good night, Gracie."

He's gone.

[h-hollister.livejournal.com]

...

Damn. Oh, goddamn it.

What the hell is it going to take to get you to keep your fucking mouth shut for once, Hollister?

She rips the tie off and throws it at the front door.