All Those Little Moments 68, 81, 95, 2

[coffeebuddha]

Title: All Those Little Moments Are What Make A Life
Author: coffeebuddha
Rating: R/FRT (overall)
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.
Summary: A collection of drabbles and shorts for a 100 Themes Challenge. Contains various genres, characters, and ships-mostly Shassie with some Shules, Gules, and misc.

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68. Hero

It wasn't something Gus had planned or anything. It wasn't like it was a date. But when Juliet had mentioned that she was ordering all her comics online because she hadn't had time to find a local shop that wasn't run by someone who creeped her out, Gus had offered to show her his. His comic book shop, that is. Well, not his, because he didn't own it, but his in the sense that he was there at least once a week.

Jasper's Comics was a Santa Barbara institution. It seemed like nobody could remember a time when it hadn't been there. Jasper Baker, the owner, was a petite, well put together old man who was always behind the counter, called every woman 'young lady', never forgot a name, and looked like he'd belong more as a curator at a stuffy old museum than sitting in a comic book store. He was the sort of man who at first glance didn't look like he'd ever seen a book that wasn't leather bound with gold engraved letters, and if he had he would definitely Not Approve.

Jules immediately adored him and it seemed that the feeling was mutual. Within ten minutes, they'd already made plans to meet the next day over tea-"Can you believe it, Gus? He actually has tea. Not the drink, the meal! That's so cute!"-to continue their conversation about Francis Tiller's negative portrayal of women in his comics.

After fifteen minutes of intelligently rebuking all of his arguments and one flash of her tiny, wounded kitten expression, she had Kyle Lench agreeing that Seaman was horribly underrated by ignorant people who didn't actually research his full powers. The same Kyle who religiously updated his blog entitled 'Keep Our Comics Free Of Seaman' every Tuesday and Thursday.

Thirty minutes later she was laughing with Janine, who was in charge of inventory and stocking the shelves. They exchanged convention horror stories, outdoing each other on everything from costume malfunctions to panelist breakdowns. Juliet's Red Phantom/Green Spirit case won hands down and the subject shifted to their favorite Z-Men characters. Juliet liked Duskwalker, but Janine preferred Seraph.

She flitted easily around Gus' shop, looking comfortable and at home, examining everything and talking to everyone, but after the first half hour or so, Gus wasn't really listening to the actual words anymore. He just leaned back against the counter by Jasper, tried to calm the weird fluttering that was going on low in his stomach, told himself that he really needed to put the vintage Yellow Torch comic he was looking at back in its sleeve before his hands got it all sweaty, and watched her fit so effortlessly into this part of his life. When Jasper called Juliet 'a remarkable young lady', all Gus could do was smile and offer a soft 'You know that's right.' in agreement.

As they were heading out the door, because Jules had just made Lenny cry by casually pointing out that he was wrong-Jane Green was originally called Miracle Girl, not Ms. Miracle like Lenny had loudly and vehemently asserted, because everyone knew that Ms. Miracle was Cheryl Donner-and you really can't stay somewhere after an incident like that, he offered to carry her shopping bag and held out his arm for her. When she took it, he felt a thrill run up his spine and couldn't stop himself from grinning down at her while she raved about the store.

As soon as he could convince her that it was a good idea, he was going to marry this woman.

*

81. Pen and Paper

Dear Lassie,

I ended up spending Christmas wandering around Rockefeller Center. Saw the Rockettes, oooed and awed over the big tree, went ice skating, did all of that touristy stuff. I even made a special trip to Times Square just to ride the ferris wheel in the Toys"R"Us. A ferris wheel in a toy store. How awesome is that? I spent New Years at some crappy bar with a sawdust covered floor. If Patrick Swayze had been there, I would have sworn it was the Double Deuce! Don't worry though. When the ball dropped, I didn't kiss anyone. Unless you count your picture.

I don't know how long I'm going to be here. I got a job ushering at a theater, which is nice since I get to watch the show. Of course, you can only see The Vagina Monologues so many times before it starts to make you a little crazy, but it's free and you know how I feel about free things.

It feels like the entire city is crawling with manly Irish cops. Half the time it makes me smile and the other half it makes me want to cry.

It's January, I'm in New York, and I love you.

Dear Lassie,

Have you ever fantasized about me in a gladiator's costume? Don't lie, you know you have! And we both know I totally have the legs for it. My knees alone are phenomenal. My calves inspire sonnets. There are arias dedicated to my thighs. And now I get to flaunt them all the time because some casino hired me to stand around at night doing nothing but pose for pictures in a silly costume. Lassie, it's like this job was made for me. I'm about to go off break, so I need to find my spear and magic helmet.

I'm putting a picture of me in costume, my winner-autographed program from the Frank Sinatra impersonator contest, and the first chip someone tipped me in with this letter.

It's March, I'm in Las Vegas, and I love you.

Dear Lassie,

I'm working in the casino on an Alaskan cruise line for the summer. Looks like I just can't get away from the gambling, right? It's gorgeous and there's tons of free food. I spend most of my time dealing poker and the rest just bumming around on deck. Occasionally I go on shore. Last time I saw a moose that reminded me of you. Nothing big, just something in it's pissed off expression.

When we're out on the water, the early morning sky is the same clear, pale blue as your eyes. It's so big and vast that most mornings I feel like I could get lost in it. And I want to lose myself in it, Lassie. I want to pull it down and wrap it around me like a blanket to keep out the cold.

And now I'm spouting poetry! Must be all this unhealthy clean air. That crap will give you cancer or something.

It's June, I'm near Anchorage, and I love you.

Dear Lassie,

Leading tours of the Grand Canyon this month. They kicked me out of Texas after I announced that I'm a fan of miniatures and not killing people in zappy chairs. It's hot here, but it's a great chance to work on my tan. It makes me look even more gorgeous. I wish you were here to see it.

Another one of the tour guides, Kelly, has been flirting with me. I haven't done anything. She's nice and all-pretty smile, good hair, unremarkable eyes-but the thought of touching her or her touching me makes me feel sick. There's only you, Lassie. I know what you told me, but there's only you. I think that for the rest of my life there might only be you.

There was a family here the other day who brought their collie with them. Her name was Carly. I think I handled it pretty well. They only saw me laugh. Thank God moisture evaporates so damn fast out here, right?

Sheesh, I think the heat and the dry air are making me super sentimental!

It's August, I'm in Arizona, and I love you.

Dear Lassie,

It's been exactly a year since I've seen you. A year since I've heard your voice. A year since the night I left Santa Barbara.

I'm home. Well, not home, because it will never be home again, but I'm in town. Henry and Gus and Jules say that it's the healthy thing to do. They think I need to find closure and can't do that anywhere but here. They don't understand. I miss you so goddamned much it hurts, Lassie. It hurts all the fucking time and there's nothing I can do to change it. It's just this constant, burning, excruciating pain in my gut. In my heart. In all of my major organs, really. Every time I close my eyes, I see that night and wonder what I could have done to stop it. What did I miss? I know I must have missed something.

They don't understand that when I come back here I don't remember, I expect. When I'm in a strange city filled with people and places I don't know, I can sit down and close my eyes and remember your smile or the warmth of your breath on my neck or that sigh you would make when I touched that one spot just above your right hipbone. They're memories that usually make me want to cry, but they make things bearable. They make me remember what you made me promise. They keep me from going crazy. From giving up.

Then I come back to Santa Barbara and everywhere I go, I expect to see you. I go to our coffee shop and expect to see you in line. At the station, every moment is spent holding my breath, expecting to run into you behind every corner. I drove by our house this afternoon and cried because you weren't there. It's like Donny without Marie. Cheech without Chong. Hall without Oates. I'm peanut butter without my jelly.

I can't stay here. An old friend of mine has a place in Hong Kong. He says he can fix me up with a job gutting fish or something. I don't know, I'll figure it out when I get there. Maybe if I'm on the other side of the world, it won't hurt so much.

I don't want to hurt anymore, Lassie. I almost don't even want to love you anymore. But only almost and only sometimes.

I miss you.

It's now exactly 9:38pm on October 27th, I'm in the alley where I last held you, and I love you.

*

95. Advertisement

A selection of excerpts from the Santa Barbara Times' personal ads from the dates of September 25 to October 4.

September 25

WM seeking nonpigheaded WM who won't freak out because of a little harmless flirtation. The insecure need not apply. Must like pineapples.

September 26

WM seeking WM who doesn't throw himself at anything with a pulse. Must be responsible, reliable, and not committing a crime by pretending to be psychic.

September 27

WM seeking WM who believes in his totally amazing psychic abilities. WM needs to get over himself and own up to how much WM helps WM.

September 28

WM would have a much easier time getting over himself if WM trusted WM enough to not lie.

September 29

Maybe WM would trust WM more if WM hadn't repeatedly threatened to have WM arrested.

September 30

WM wouldn't really arrest WM. Not anymore. But WM would be willing to bring home the handcuffs.

October 1

WM wasn't really interested in SWF. WM just likes to joke around. The handcuffs and the civil war costume at the same time?

October 2

WM is only looking for a little consideration. WM hates it when WM jokes around. Civil War UNIFORM. And maybe. WM is willing to discuss it.

October 3

SS seeking loyal, forgiving blue eyed companion to keep SS from falling down wells or getting shot. SS can be considerate. SS wants to stop fighting. And it's totally a costume.

October 4

CL seeking SS. Just come home. The pineapple misses you.

*

2. Love

The day Henry finally decided that he was going to marry Madeleine was a bright, sunny Saturday. They were out on his boat-an old piece of junk that he'd picked up at a scrap yard and rebuilt the summer before his senior year of high school-fishing.

Henry didn't know where she'd found them, but her t-shirt and cut offs were old and looked like a strong breeze would make them come apart at the seams. The most substantial things about them were probably the stains. Her hair was pulled back in a sloppy ponytail and the spray had smudged what little makeup she was wearing. When he handed her the worm to put on her hook, she barely grimaced at all. She was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen in his life and she was glaring at him.

"Henry, if you don't stop telling me what to do, I'm going to push you off the boat." Madeleine said evenly, her hands on her hips. Henry blinked and nodded slowly.

"Okay, you're upset and I get that. I'll stop. But can I just say that if you move your right hand down a li-"

Splash!

He broke the water's surface, sputtering and shocked. Above him, Madeleine was laughing. The sun lit her up from behind, turning her blonde hair into a halo. It made her look deceptively angelic and she was laughing about the fact that she'd just pushed him off of his own boat for trying to help her.

The next day, he bought the ring.