While I'm on a roll...
Feb. 28th, 2007 03:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
r_scribblesI wrote that GBoEF fic anyway. I decided that, since it's set before the happenings in the show, there wouldn't be much difference. So yes, this is set the summer before Kev starts work at the Tax Office. It's only short.
POP
It had been a long, hot July day – the hottest so far all year – and it had turned into a sticky, sultry July night. The heat clung to the city, stuck to every sizzling car bonnet and slab of half melted tarmac. London smelled of sweat and beer and barbecues that night. London smelled of people.
Kevin was neither awake nor asleep, but in a state somewhere between the two where he often went to Think. His family’s comings and goings, a significant hole in his ceiling and a fairly regular series of visitations from great figures from history to his bedroom left the young man with little privacy, so he couldn’t lie on top of his bed naked as he wished he could in such weather. Luckily, he hadn’t grown much since his teens and, the price of pyjamas being what they were, still had a set almost a decade old, which were only a bit too short and nicely threadbare. They had once been blue, but now they were a whitish grey. Still, he wore them as he had done through many summers before. He lay in those ancient pyjamas, in the hot, noisy, orange lit night and waited for something to happen.
‘Kevin.’
Kevin looked up and followed the sound of the voice. There was a woman silhouetted in his doorway. This was not unusual – his mother rarely knocked. But this was not his mother – that he could tell. It was probably only another Spirit Guide. Lord knows he needed one that night.
‘Hello?’ he asked, ‘Who’s there?’
The female figure didn’t move, remained obscured.
‘You’re in pain, Kevin. Life has made you ill, hasn’t it?’
‘”Ill”?’ Kevin frowned. ‘I’ve had a rough couple of days all right, but…’
‘It’s all right,’ replied the woman, ‘I’m here to make it all better.’
‘It aint Florence Nightingale, is it?’
The figure huffed in irritation. ‘Course it’s not, silly.’
She stepped into the dim light of his bedroom.
‘Oh. It’s you.’ Kevin rolled onto his back.
Jackie raised her eyebrows at the slight. ‘Well there’s no need to act so disappointed.’ She pushed her hair up on top of her head dramatically, like a 1950s pin-up. ‘Still, I’m here now…’
‘I know what you come here to do, Jacks.’
Jackie dropped her hair. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah.’ Kevin put his hands beneath his head. ‘But I ain’t going back there no more. They can get stuffed.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Bloody Sainsburys.’ Kevin sat up, hit by a sudden wave of agitation. ‘Supposed to smile at people all day long who don’t do nothing but waste more money on pate and stuffed olives than I’d earn all week. I ain’t doing it. Class Treason, that’s what it is.’
Jackie scraped a piece of fluff off the poster of John Lennon on his wall. ‘You know what you usually have to do to be a Working Class Hero? Work!’
‘I ain’t going to quit though, Jacks.’ He lay back down again.
‘Good for you.’
‘I just won’t go no more. They’ll have to sack me eventually, then I can sign on again. And don’t try to talk me out of it, ‘cause I’ve made up my mind…’
‘Kevin. I ain’t here to talk you out of it.’ Jackie sighed and pushed up her hair again, coquettishly resting all of her weight on a single foot. ‘Would you just look at me, Kev? You’re doing this all wrong.’
Kevin reluctantly turned his head and regarded Jackie properly. That was odd – she had more legs than usual. That is, she still had the correct number, they just… went up further, as well as all the way down to the floor. Then he realised – it wasn’t so much that her legs were very long, more that her dress was very, very small.
‘New frock?’ he ventured.
‘Old frock,’ she corrected. ‘Very old frock, in fact.’
Kevin blinked as the recollection hit him. ‘Is that your old Dressing Up Dress? The Nurse costume?’
Jackie beamed, proudly. ‘You remembered. After all those years…’
‘Well, the big red cross on the pinny and plastic stethoscope sort of helped.’
‘We used to play Doctors and Nurses,’ added Jackie, playing with the stethoscope.
‘Yeah,’ replied Kevin, ‘when we were nine.’
‘Still fit into the outfit though…’
‘Only just,’ snorted Kevin.
‘Oh…’ Jackie perched on the side of his bed, causing the child sized dress to ride up even further. ‘So you have noticed…’
She traced a feather-light finger over his ankles, uncovered due to the shortness of his own apparel.
‘What… what are you doing, Jacks?’
Jackie began to run the finger up over his leg. ‘It’s like I said. I come here to make everything better.’
Kevin thought for a second. ‘How did you get in?’
Jackie’s hand stopped. She chewed her bottom lip, guiltily.
The penny dropped – the little dress, the legs, the soft hands – it wasn’t real. ‘This is a dream, ain’t it?’
Jackie folded her hands in her lap. ‘Fraid so. You dropped off about half an hour ago.’
‘Oh.’
They both fell awkwardly silent on the bed for a moment.
‘Oh alright then,’ added Kevin eventually, ‘hop on.’
Jackie frowned. ‘What do you mean, “hop on”?’
‘No harm in it,’ replied Kevin, ‘I ain’t said no to a Dream Shag yet.’
Jackie stared at him for a second, then beamed. ‘T’riffic!’ She swiftly leaped onto his single bed, straddling him. ‘I’d better warn you though, you might wake up knackered. Your subconscious reckons I’m a right little Goer… you should see the list of all the things it wants us to do.’
‘Well at least it can’t be any more tiring than Janet Ellis back in 1988,’ said Kevin, running his hands up her thighs, ‘she was a right filthy mare…’
‘That was peanuts.’ Jackie brushed a thumb over his brow. ‘Prepare to set yourself a new Dream Sex benchmark.’
Kevin started undoing the poppers of her little outfit. ‘Yeah, but you’re not off the telly. Am I going to be able to look at you… the real you… the same way again after?’
‘I hope not.’ She leaned right into him, her lips against his. There was only one more popper to pop before she all came spilling out. ‘Now, are you going to shut up worrying or what?’
Her tongue hit the roof of his mouth at the same instant that the last popper undid with a satisfying ‘pop’…
‘Kevin! Kevin!’
Kevin started awake. He was sticky with sweat, and alone.
‘Kevin…’ continued the voice in a harsh whisper. ‘You awake?’
Irritably, he stood on top of his bed and pulled the paper down to uncover the hole in his ceiling. ‘I am now.’
Jackie’s face was pressed against the hole. ‘S too hot, Kev. I can’t sleep. Can you?’
‘I was before you woke me up,’ tutted Kevin. ‘I was having this really good dream too.’
‘Was I in it?’ Smiled Jackie, hopefully.
Well, what was he supposed to say? He just stuck the paper back. ‘Night, Jackie.’
‘Night, Kev.’ The voice paused as he got back into bed. ‘Sweet dreams.’
POP
It had been a long, hot July day – the hottest so far all year – and it had turned into a sticky, sultry July night. The heat clung to the city, stuck to every sizzling car bonnet and slab of half melted tarmac. London smelled of sweat and beer and barbecues that night. London smelled of people.
Kevin was neither awake nor asleep, but in a state somewhere between the two where he often went to Think. His family’s comings and goings, a significant hole in his ceiling and a fairly regular series of visitations from great figures from history to his bedroom left the young man with little privacy, so he couldn’t lie on top of his bed naked as he wished he could in such weather. Luckily, he hadn’t grown much since his teens and, the price of pyjamas being what they were, still had a set almost a decade old, which were only a bit too short and nicely threadbare. They had once been blue, but now they were a whitish grey. Still, he wore them as he had done through many summers before. He lay in those ancient pyjamas, in the hot, noisy, orange lit night and waited for something to happen.
‘Kevin.’
Kevin looked up and followed the sound of the voice. There was a woman silhouetted in his doorway. This was not unusual – his mother rarely knocked. But this was not his mother – that he could tell. It was probably only another Spirit Guide. Lord knows he needed one that night.
‘Hello?’ he asked, ‘Who’s there?’
The female figure didn’t move, remained obscured.
‘You’re in pain, Kevin. Life has made you ill, hasn’t it?’
‘”Ill”?’ Kevin frowned. ‘I’ve had a rough couple of days all right, but…’
‘It’s all right,’ replied the woman, ‘I’m here to make it all better.’
‘It aint Florence Nightingale, is it?’
The figure huffed in irritation. ‘Course it’s not, silly.’
She stepped into the dim light of his bedroom.
‘Oh. It’s you.’ Kevin rolled onto his back.
Jackie raised her eyebrows at the slight. ‘Well there’s no need to act so disappointed.’ She pushed her hair up on top of her head dramatically, like a 1950s pin-up. ‘Still, I’m here now…’
‘I know what you come here to do, Jacks.’
Jackie dropped her hair. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah.’ Kevin put his hands beneath his head. ‘But I ain’t going back there no more. They can get stuffed.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Bloody Sainsburys.’ Kevin sat up, hit by a sudden wave of agitation. ‘Supposed to smile at people all day long who don’t do nothing but waste more money on pate and stuffed olives than I’d earn all week. I ain’t doing it. Class Treason, that’s what it is.’
Jackie scraped a piece of fluff off the poster of John Lennon on his wall. ‘You know what you usually have to do to be a Working Class Hero? Work!’
‘I ain’t going to quit though, Jacks.’ He lay back down again.
‘Good for you.’
‘I just won’t go no more. They’ll have to sack me eventually, then I can sign on again. And don’t try to talk me out of it, ‘cause I’ve made up my mind…’
‘Kevin. I ain’t here to talk you out of it.’ Jackie sighed and pushed up her hair again, coquettishly resting all of her weight on a single foot. ‘Would you just look at me, Kev? You’re doing this all wrong.’
Kevin reluctantly turned his head and regarded Jackie properly. That was odd – she had more legs than usual. That is, she still had the correct number, they just… went up further, as well as all the way down to the floor. Then he realised – it wasn’t so much that her legs were very long, more that her dress was very, very small.
‘New frock?’ he ventured.
‘Old frock,’ she corrected. ‘Very old frock, in fact.’
Kevin blinked as the recollection hit him. ‘Is that your old Dressing Up Dress? The Nurse costume?’
Jackie beamed, proudly. ‘You remembered. After all those years…’
‘Well, the big red cross on the pinny and plastic stethoscope sort of helped.’
‘We used to play Doctors and Nurses,’ added Jackie, playing with the stethoscope.
‘Yeah,’ replied Kevin, ‘when we were nine.’
‘Still fit into the outfit though…’
‘Only just,’ snorted Kevin.
‘Oh…’ Jackie perched on the side of his bed, causing the child sized dress to ride up even further. ‘So you have noticed…’
She traced a feather-light finger over his ankles, uncovered due to the shortness of his own apparel.
‘What… what are you doing, Jacks?’
Jackie began to run the finger up over his leg. ‘It’s like I said. I come here to make everything better.’
Kevin thought for a second. ‘How did you get in?’
Jackie’s hand stopped. She chewed her bottom lip, guiltily.
The penny dropped – the little dress, the legs, the soft hands – it wasn’t real. ‘This is a dream, ain’t it?’
Jackie folded her hands in her lap. ‘Fraid so. You dropped off about half an hour ago.’
‘Oh.’
They both fell awkwardly silent on the bed for a moment.
‘Oh alright then,’ added Kevin eventually, ‘hop on.’
Jackie frowned. ‘What do you mean, “hop on”?’
‘No harm in it,’ replied Kevin, ‘I ain’t said no to a Dream Shag yet.’
Jackie stared at him for a second, then beamed. ‘T’riffic!’ She swiftly leaped onto his single bed, straddling him. ‘I’d better warn you though, you might wake up knackered. Your subconscious reckons I’m a right little Goer… you should see the list of all the things it wants us to do.’
‘Well at least it can’t be any more tiring than Janet Ellis back in 1988,’ said Kevin, running his hands up her thighs, ‘she was a right filthy mare…’
‘That was peanuts.’ Jackie brushed a thumb over his brow. ‘Prepare to set yourself a new Dream Sex benchmark.’
Kevin started undoing the poppers of her little outfit. ‘Yeah, but you’re not off the telly. Am I going to be able to look at you… the real you… the same way again after?’
‘I hope not.’ She leaned right into him, her lips against his. There was only one more popper to pop before she all came spilling out. ‘Now, are you going to shut up worrying or what?’
Her tongue hit the roof of his mouth at the same instant that the last popper undid with a satisfying ‘pop’…
‘Kevin! Kevin!’
Kevin started awake. He was sticky with sweat, and alone.
‘Kevin…’ continued the voice in a harsh whisper. ‘You awake?’
Irritably, he stood on top of his bed and pulled the paper down to uncover the hole in his ceiling. ‘I am now.’
Jackie’s face was pressed against the hole. ‘S too hot, Kev. I can’t sleep. Can you?’
‘I was before you woke me up,’ tutted Kevin. ‘I was having this really good dream too.’
‘Was I in it?’ Smiled Jackie, hopefully.
Well, what was he supposed to say? He just stuck the paper back. ‘Night, Jackie.’
‘Night, Kev.’ The voice paused as he got back into bed. ‘Sweet dreams.’
