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scurvyknaveryOriginally posted 7 August, 2007.
Title: Strippers Are People, Too
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy RPF
Word Count: 939
Pairing: Katherine Heigl/Kate Walsh
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It is, at least, fitting that Kate's drunk-dialing Katie from the bachelorette party she feels so guilty about not attending that she's awake to take the call.
Notes:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fox1013's fault almost entirely, since it was her IM comment that I ended up twisting into the best line of the entire fic, and then she betaed. For shame. Based, of course, on photos of the actual bachelorette party.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. None of this is real. I don't know these people.
The thing is, Katie's not just Katie, anymore. She's Katie, star-of-the-Judd-Apatow-hit, girl-on-that-show-everyone-likes-planning-her-magical-winter-wonderland-wedding-while-shooting-her-new-movie Heigl. Which is awesome. She's not going to say it's not for a minute, because she loves being a movie star and she loves that she's marrying somebody who's letting her do plan her wedding for Christmas, and complaining about any of it is really just asking to have it all taken away, so she's not. Complaining, that is.
But she is awake at three in the morning, reading Meg Cabot and sipping a cup of chamomile tea because she can't sleep for being guilty over missing Kate's bachelorette party.
Which, in her defense, she didn't do out of spite or anything. She loves Kate. She loves partying with Kate, loves getting together and walking dogs with Kate, loves how sometimes a movie premiere or awards show ends with a little bit of friendly, perfectly straight feeling each other up with Kate. She just, you know. Has things to do.
Well, just the one thing. But a five in the morning call time is a perfectly legitimate reason to not get blitzed and throw quarters at strippers' asses to see if they'll bounce, even if it is Kate, and she is getting married. At least, that's what Katie thought.
But somehow it's almost time to wake up to go to work and she still can't sleep, because she feels guilty for not going out and it's - well, she's pretty sure it's not fair, is all.
And then the phone rings.
Which is - okay, it doesn't really have anything to do with fairness, it just makes her stumble out of her armchair and dive for the receiver, because Josh is actually sleeping, and she might as well let him stay that way. "Hello?"
"KATIE." It's so loud, Katie has to hold the phone a little away from her ear. "Katie, I'm at the BAR." It is, at least, fitting that Kate's drunk-dialing her from the bachelorette party she feels so guilty about not attending that she's awake to take the call. "Katie, you didn't come to my party. You didn't come to my party, dude, that's. . .that's fucking tragic. That's, like, worse than skipping my birthday. I have - " she lowers her voice to a slurry, breathy half-whisper, clearly (from the sound of it) pressing her lips to the receiver. "I have lots of birthdays. But I'm pretty sure I'm only going to get married the one time, so it's, like. Extra rude. That you're not at the bar because you skipped my party."
"If it helps, I'm sorry."
"You should be," she says, in her tipsy fake-pouty voice, and Katie can't help but laugh. "Especially 'cause I had to promise not to sleep with any of the strippers, even though I'm super drunk and they're hot, Katie. They're really good-looking strippers."
Katie pads into the kitchen to put on another kettle of water. Clearly, she's going to need a second cup of tea.
"And just. . ." Katie can hear Kate huffing into the phone, like she's either sighing a long-suffering sigh, or taking a drag from someone else's cigarette. ". . .what if that's all there is, you know? What if being married is just this horrible, endless parade of not sleeping with male strippers and being sober?"
"Kate. I can honestly say I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh my god, Katie, they're metaphor strippers." They're Metaphor. Strippers. "Because, like. Sleeping with the occasional stripper isn't about fidelity and stuff. It's about me, you know? It's about me and my freedom, and whether or not I can, I don't know. Do what's in my heart."
Katie nods, vaguely. And then realizes that she's on the phone. "The strippers are a metaphor for your heart."
Kate sniffles, then, and Katie realizes she must be in a cab by now, because she never lets herself get weepy at bars - that's one of her rules. "Well, it's a slippery slope. The strippers could be just the beginning, is all I'm saying."
"Kate," she replies, in that Very Calm voice she saves for Isaiah Washington and small children and drunk friends. "Somehow, I just don't think that not being allowed to sleep with your bachelorette party strippers is a sign that your marriage is going to turn into a vicious cycle of mysogynist oppression, okay?"
Distantly, Katie can hear the crunch of gravel as a car pulls up in her driveway, and she gets up to answer the door. Kate sort of stumbles out of the cab when Katie gets there, wobbling a little in her heels, and shuts her phone. "Okay."
Kate kisses her first, because she's the drunkest, and that's, you know. How they do things. But Katie, sober as she is, isn't exactly reluctant. Sure, the kiss is a little sloppy and they're swaying a little on her doorstep. But Kate's still kissing her, and her mouth is still warm and inviting and familiar. Her hands still find their way to Katie's waist and then under Katie's tank top, palming her breast because Katie's not wearing a bra and she can totally get away with it now that the cab's long gone.
Kate also pulls back first, smile a little twisty like she's trying not to be That Girl, the one that gets drunk and ends up sobbing in the parking lot after closing. "I wish you'd come to my party."
Katie brushes the hair away from Kate's face, and smiles back. "Me too."
Title: Strippers Are People, Too
Fandom: Grey's Anatomy RPF
Word Count: 939
Pairing: Katherine Heigl/Kate Walsh
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It is, at least, fitting that Kate's drunk-dialing Katie from the bachelorette party she feels so guilty about not attending that she's awake to take the call.
Notes:
fox1013's fault almost entirely, since it was her IM comment that I ended up twisting into the best line of the entire fic, and then she betaed. For shame. Based, of course, on photos of the actual bachelorette party. Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me. None of this is real. I don't know these people.
The thing is, Katie's not just Katie, anymore. She's Katie, star-of-the-Judd-Apatow-hit, girl-on-that-show-everyone-likes-planning-her-magical-winter-wonderland-wedding-while-shooting-her-new-movie Heigl. Which is awesome. She's not going to say it's not for a minute, because she loves being a movie star and she loves that she's marrying somebody who's letting her do plan her wedding for Christmas, and complaining about any of it is really just asking to have it all taken away, so she's not. Complaining, that is.
But she is awake at three in the morning, reading Meg Cabot and sipping a cup of chamomile tea because she can't sleep for being guilty over missing Kate's bachelorette party.
Which, in her defense, she didn't do out of spite or anything. She loves Kate. She loves partying with Kate, loves getting together and walking dogs with Kate, loves how sometimes a movie premiere or awards show ends with a little bit of friendly, perfectly straight feeling each other up with Kate. She just, you know. Has things to do.
Well, just the one thing. But a five in the morning call time is a perfectly legitimate reason to not get blitzed and throw quarters at strippers' asses to see if they'll bounce, even if it is Kate, and she is getting married. At least, that's what Katie thought.
But somehow it's almost time to wake up to go to work and she still can't sleep, because she feels guilty for not going out and it's - well, she's pretty sure it's not fair, is all.
And then the phone rings.
Which is - okay, it doesn't really have anything to do with fairness, it just makes her stumble out of her armchair and dive for the receiver, because Josh is actually sleeping, and she might as well let him stay that way. "Hello?"
"KATIE." It's so loud, Katie has to hold the phone a little away from her ear. "Katie, I'm at the BAR." It is, at least, fitting that Kate's drunk-dialing her from the bachelorette party she feels so guilty about not attending that she's awake to take the call. "Katie, you didn't come to my party. You didn't come to my party, dude, that's. . .that's fucking tragic. That's, like, worse than skipping my birthday. I have - " she lowers her voice to a slurry, breathy half-whisper, clearly (from the sound of it) pressing her lips to the receiver. "I have lots of birthdays. But I'm pretty sure I'm only going to get married the one time, so it's, like. Extra rude. That you're not at the bar because you skipped my party."
"If it helps, I'm sorry."
"You should be," she says, in her tipsy fake-pouty voice, and Katie can't help but laugh. "Especially 'cause I had to promise not to sleep with any of the strippers, even though I'm super drunk and they're hot, Katie. They're really good-looking strippers."
Katie pads into the kitchen to put on another kettle of water. Clearly, she's going to need a second cup of tea.
"And just. . ." Katie can hear Kate huffing into the phone, like she's either sighing a long-suffering sigh, or taking a drag from someone else's cigarette. ". . .what if that's all there is, you know? What if being married is just this horrible, endless parade of not sleeping with male strippers and being sober?"
"Kate. I can honestly say I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh my god, Katie, they're metaphor strippers." They're Metaphor. Strippers. "Because, like. Sleeping with the occasional stripper isn't about fidelity and stuff. It's about me, you know? It's about me and my freedom, and whether or not I can, I don't know. Do what's in my heart."
Katie nods, vaguely. And then realizes that she's on the phone. "The strippers are a metaphor for your heart."
Kate sniffles, then, and Katie realizes she must be in a cab by now, because she never lets herself get weepy at bars - that's one of her rules. "Well, it's a slippery slope. The strippers could be just the beginning, is all I'm saying."
"Kate," she replies, in that Very Calm voice she saves for Isaiah Washington and small children and drunk friends. "Somehow, I just don't think that not being allowed to sleep with your bachelorette party strippers is a sign that your marriage is going to turn into a vicious cycle of mysogynist oppression, okay?"
Distantly, Katie can hear the crunch of gravel as a car pulls up in her driveway, and she gets up to answer the door. Kate sort of stumbles out of the cab when Katie gets there, wobbling a little in her heels, and shuts her phone. "Okay."
Kate kisses her first, because she's the drunkest, and that's, you know. How they do things. But Katie, sober as she is, isn't exactly reluctant. Sure, the kiss is a little sloppy and they're swaying a little on her doorstep. But Kate's still kissing her, and her mouth is still warm and inviting and familiar. Her hands still find their way to Katie's waist and then under Katie's tank top, palming her breast because Katie's not wearing a bra and she can totally get away with it now that the cab's long gone.
Kate also pulls back first, smile a little twisty like she's trying not to be That Girl, the one that gets drunk and ends up sobbing in the parking lot after closing. "I wish you'd come to my party."
Katie brushes the hair away from Kate's face, and smiles back. "Me too."