Author: Queen of Stuff PM
Cutesy orientation anxiety. A bit of Red/Mokey at the end, because. Come on. We can all see it happening.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Romance - Red & Mokey - Words: 416 - Reviews: 3 - Published: 08-11-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7277768
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
It started with a kiss.
Physical affection, especially during parties, wasn't uncommon in the Rock. You were bound to get some amount of love in the Rock at any time. It was just the circumstance that made the exact kiss so…well, unusual.
It was some random celebration—Red barely bothered to remember what-was-what then—but she did remember that it had been especially eventful, and that Wembley had grinned while whispering that someone spiked the punch, and then Mokey—eyelids heavier than usual, lip curved into a sideways grin—came up to her, brushed a few strands of blue-green hair to the corner of her face, and kissed her on the cheek.
"Betcha didn' know I could do that, Red," she giggled, slurring her words slightly. Her hair floated around her head in an almost ethereal way, and she stumbled off into the crowd.
Red stood there, confused for a number of reasons; one, Mokey had kissed her; two, Mokey was drunk; and three—she didn't not like it. Each was, on its own, odd. But the third was…unsettling. Red never had really given thought to exactly what she liked and what she didn't. Not in that way. But now, when faced with the question, she felt a bit queasy with realization.
She went to bed early that night, complaining of stomachache. Very un-Red. But she didn't actually sleep. For once in her life, Red Fraggle pondered. She wondered why nothing seemed obvious before. Maybe it was that she was immature? Maybe her friendship with Gobo and Wembley and Boober never was anything more? Maybe she had been so o-b-s-e-s-s-e-d with the idea of control that she had completely ignored any of her admiration for the female Fraggles diving in the pool?Or was she just crazy? Bored from the lack of romance in her short life so that anything even slightly physical was enough to send her over the edge?
There was the soft patter of bare feet, and a shadow flowed over her.
"Mokey?" whispered Red into the deep darkness of their room. "Are you okay?"
"Hey, Red," said Mokey a little too loudly. She yawned in the dark and fell into bed. "Hold me, okay? My head hurts."
Trembling, Red slid her arms around Mokey's slim sides. "Like that?" she whispered in a high voice.
"Yeah," whispered Mokey back, not drunk at all. "Like that.