Disclaimer: I don't own these characters nor do I make any money off of this. No copyright infringement intended. Rated M for adult situations.
A/N (please read): This one shot is the first 'chapter' of In the Land of Women, a collaborative story effort. We love the increased interest in femmeslash in the fandom lately and we want to encourage more of it. We are looking for authors that would like to write a femmeslash piece (one-shots, drabbles, whatever) for posting here. Authors can, and will be encouraged to, post their piece under their own profile as well. This is just a little added exposure. If you are interested in contributing, or if you want more details, please send us a PM.
Author Pen Name: fngrcufs
Summary: If you were so busy watching someone, really seeing them, you might never notice that they really saw you, too. Femmeslash. Alice/Jane. AH, OOC. Adult Situations. Alice/Jane
School on a fucking Saturday. Well, it's better than sitting around listening to my parents fight about money at any rate. Plus...she's here. She's wearing her field hockey skirt so she must have a game later. I love how the pleats whisper across her thighs, the way her breasts strain against the fabric of her game shirt. She's got her blonde hair pulled back in a headband and I know that it smells like vanilla and cherries, or some fruity girl shit. The only reason I have any clue how her hair smells is because I brushed past her when she was getting books out of her locker one time. Okay, a bunch of times. It's not like she knows; she doesn't even know I exist. She looks right through me, like she doesn't even see me.
When Jane is in the room, all I see is her.
She's leaning in close to talk to that rich douchebag Edward. I wonder what he's even in here for. Golden Boy Cullen never takes a misstep. The school would fucking shut down for the day if he didn't show up. Jane and Edward are tight; they have the same friends who drive the same cars and they all hang out every weekend and drink the same booze from their parent's liquor cabinets. I have to assume some of this. It's not like I have any way of knowing what they really do outside of school. To them...I don't even register.
That girl? The one who sits in the back of the classroom and doesn't say a word and slumps down inside her hoodie and chews on her nails?
If you asked half the people in this school my name, they would say they didn't know. The other half would say they didn't care. There are days when I just want to jump out of my seat and scream 'My fucking name is Alice, you fuckwads!' I never do though. It's high school, so we all have our roles to play. Mine is emo, too much black eyeliner lesbian girl whose name is probably at the top of the list in the Guidance Office because they all think I'm going to freak out someday. I'm really not. I just hate the whole high school bullshit drama, so I detach and say nothing and count the days until graduation...fifty-seven. I do this because I can't wait to leave this place, to go somewhere where I can be who I am and not have everyone judging me.
I dread the end of this too though. Once high school ends in a few months and we all go our separate ways, I may never see Jane again and I don't know how I'm going to function because she occupies my thoughts every goddamn day. I wonder how soft her skin is in that spot behind her knee. I think about how I want to rip that fucking headband off and watch the silken ribbons of champagne float around her face. She looks like a porcelain doll, all alabaster skin and wide eyes and barely flushed cheeks and I want to know if I touched her face, ran my fingers along the curve of her jaw, would she be cool like she looks or does she burn hot under all that good girl facade? And that's just what I think about during the day.
At night, when I'm alone in my room and the door is locked and my parent's angry voices are muffled downstairs, I allow myself to imagine what it would be like to be with her. I drift away to a place where I touch her and she welcomes it, wants it, asks for it. In the world of my nights, Jane smiles at me and when I stand face to face with her, when I lean in to kiss her, her cornflower blue eyes light and her strawberry lips part and her cinnamon breath quickens. And because it's not real, because it's pure fantasy, I don't even have to lean all the way to her because she leans to me and then her lips are moving over mine, petal soft and slow and full of ache.
I can have her any way I want her in my perfect place. I can kiss her for hours, savoring the first moment that her tongue drags across my lower lip before she pushes inside. Or I can bump into her by the lockers, pressing fully against her 'by accident' and I can hear her heart race just from having me close. I can push her against the cool, metal door and stare into her eyes as I slip my hand underneath the scratchy pleats of her practice skirt and brush my fingers across the front of her cotton underwear. She's always ready for me, always waiting and wanting here in the realm of dreams, and she's always soaked all the way through the white fabric with the little pink bows on them...always. I can believe, just for those nights, that she even knows my name because she screams it out loud when I drop in front of her, pushing her stupid skirt out of the way, and I slide her panties down to her knees and lay my mouth against her soft curls and I touch her in places she's never been touched. "Alice, please...don't fucking stop," and I don't because soon enough I'll wake and it will be time to get up and go to school and go back to the real world where I'm not even a blip on her radar.
"Hey. Hey. Hello..." I look up from where I've been staring at my hands and imagining them tracing every inch of Jane and there is Bella Swan staring at me. She's the only person in this high school that I am even a shade cooler than. Because if it's bad to be the chick who everyone ignores, it's worse to be the one that everyone hates. Bella is a total nerd and she doesn't bother hiding her disdain for all of the people she deems stupider than her. She's a fucking pariah, but she seems to think that she and I are kin because no one likes me either. Newsflash...I can't fucking stand her.
"Bella," I say and by 'Bella' I mean "Bitch, what the fuck do you want?' She doesn't notice because if it isn't quantum physics or whatever shit she's going on about, she doesn't care.
"Er, hi. I was just going to ask...I mean, have you ever been in here before? Is it true we can't study?" She sounds like someone just popped her balloon at the fair.
I roll my eyes at her. "Yeah, I'm in here every Saturday because I'm a psycho headcase, of course." She looks contrite and I feel instantly guilty. Bella's never been a bitch to me; she's probably never been a bitch to anyone. She's just searching for someone else who doesn't fit in, hoping maybe the fact that we are both social outcasts means we can be that together. I'm not really interested, but that doesn't mean I have to act like an asshole about it either. I soften my tone. "I've never had detention before either, Bella, but I don't think we are allowed to study. We just have to sit here."
"Shit," she curses under her breath and the flushes pink and mutters 'sorry.' Like I care that she said shit. I just want her to turn back around and let me do my thing, which of course is daydream about fucking Jane for a month of Sundays on the library desk.
"Can you lame ass bitches please shut the fuck up. It's too early and I am too hungover to be listening to you talk about how laid you didn't get last night." Enter the bitch. Rounding out our little juvenile delinquent fivesome would be Miss Reform School Girl herself, Rosalie Hale. I'd shoot her a dirty look across the aisle, except I'm pretty sure she'd knife me. Rose does not fuck around. Nineteen if she's a day, she defines the stereotype of the girl from the wrong side of the trailer park with the chip on her shoulder and a switchblade in her back pocket. I know it's there too, because I was checking out her ass when she walked in. She's no Jane, but Rose is fucking stunning in her black leather and blue denim, her jeans looking like paint on her flesh and ripped in all the right places, not because it's fashionable but because they are worn the fuck out.
I don't say anything; I just look down at the desk again and imagine that I'm in the field behind the high school with Jane. We've just run laps at the track (yeah, it's my fantasy so I can run) and we're laying in the grass, sweaty and exhausted. She's sprawled out with her perfect breasts heaving lightly in her black sports bra and her hair spread out around her head, weaving in with the soft green blades of the lawn beneath her. Her sweatpants are slung low on her hips, exposing the slope of her abdomen where it meets with her hip bones. She wiggles a little, trying to pull them up, and I still her with my hand on her waist. I push myself up on one elbow and I stare down at this specimen of teenage perfection who is trying to catch her breath. Before she can calm the rapid fire panting in her chest, I'm leaning in and stealing her air by kissing her delicious mouth. No preamble, no workup, I just push my mouth against hers and suck on her pout until she groans, and when she does she opens her mouth just a little and I use that to my advantage. I'm running my tongue gently up under her top lip when I feel hers slide against mine. Jane tastes like spice and gorgeous girl, and her mouth is hot and soft and all over mine.
She makes these soft noises and she's still breathless, but not from the run anymore. Now she's inhaling too fast because she wants me to touch her. She wants my fingers to snake up her ribcage, so I do. She wants me to go higher, wants me to slide her sports bra up and over her breasts so I can run my palms over her tight, straining nipples, so I do that too. She wants me to pull it off of her so I can see her and stroke her heated flesh and take her swollen peaks into my mouth. And I do that, I taste her sweet skin and she makes louder moans now and her fingers weave into my ink black hair and pull me tighter against her and I'm already licking her flesh and teasing her other nipple with my fingers. I can't get any closer without going there but she's still crooning in my ear more Alice, please and I know what she wants.
I move my hand away from her chest, ghosting it over her midsection and trailing my fingers across her bellybutton. She laughs lightly in between the quiet notes of her delight and when I dip the tips of my fingers below the waistband of her sweats her laughter cuts off with a hiss. She's soft, satin sheets and baby powder soft, and I can feel the tremors in her stomach as I sweep over her skin. And then I'm there, right at the brink, held back by a strip of cotton with gathered edges. I want nothing more than to get underneath them and feel her. I hesitate, because even in my fantasy lives the hint of doubt that she wants me like this. I look up into her eyes, all clear cloudless skies, and I ask her. It's a silent plea. 'Tell me yes, accept me as is, love me back, please.' She stares back and I see it, the acquiescence there. More than that, even. The desire. She wants this, wants me, wants us to do this.
It is all I need. I burrow down under the fabric with my fingers, slow and tentative but with purpose. I rest my cheek on her stomach, watching the movement of my hand beneath the gray fabric. I find the thatch of downy hair, damp and tangled and the evidence that what her eyes say is not a lie. I go slow, lower, parting her and revealing her to my touch. I am instantly lost in the warmth of Jane, journeying unseeing into the depths of her, charting my course by instinct while I learn the landscape. The terrain changes quickly, warm becoming hot, satin giving way to velvet, hill sloping down into valley, until I am just outside. I hold my breath and close my eyes and leap, pushing inside her body and letting it suck me in, down, deeper than I've ever been, near drowning in her until her whispered 'Jesus' brings me back to the surface. I don't want to stay underwater and hold my breath for this. I want to watch the waves and feel the ebb and flow of her need. I want to be with her, completely with her when the undertow takes her. I work my fingers over her and inside her and I raise my head to meet her eyes, slits of azure now as she starts to come undone. I quicken and she slows and she freezes and she's not breathing as she comes, her entire body rigid and tight for a moment before she softens and takes a breath.
"Alice. Alice...ALICE!" A snapping and a hand on the tabletop and I am back in the library. Bella is turned around again and she's tapping my desk. "Alice...Mr. Berty is talking to you." I look up to the front of the room and there is my abrasive ass of an English teacher, staring and smirking. Oh fuck, how long was I gone? How obvious was it?
"Miss Brandon, so nice of you to revisit us. Planning your own funeral? Shall I have the school psychiatrist come in?"
I fucking hate this place. I hate small towns and the way the deal with anyone who is different. I hate the constant judgement from people who just can't fucking be bothered to understand. I'm not suicidal, I'm not depressed and no, I was not thinking of ways to off myself. I was thinking of how I'd love nothing more than to fuck your prospective prom-queen, Mr. Berty. Who would you call for that? King Cullen's doctor father, see if he can't fix my woman troubles? Bella's dad, the chief of police, because surely being gay is a crime, is it not? Maybe Jane's father, the mayor himself, see if he wouldn't like to have me run out of town on a rail for daring to dream about being the one rocking between his daughter's thighs instead of some steroid swallowing football fuck.
"Sorry. I was just..."
"Detention is not nap time, Miss Brandon. Perhaps some cardiovascular activity would help pep you up. Why don't you head down to the vending machines and get beverages for your fellow hellions." He looks at me and his cruelty is evident. I see him glance at her and I realize he knows. Fuck, he knows! "Jane will accompany you. I'm sure she can manage to keep you honest."
Jane peeks back at me over her shoulder as she stands. She turns to the front and doesn't look again as she makes her way to the exit door. She swings it open in front of her with a huff of breath, but she reaches her arm back and holds it for me. It means nothing. It's good breeding. Jane is unfailingly polite. The mayor expects no less from his princess.
As we walk the south corridor of the school, I stay slightly behind her. She doesn't even glance at me, just walks tall and proud, her hair swinging with every step. I have an amazing view of her legs, her endless legs, bare all the way from her low-cut white socks to the hem of her blue and gold plaid skirt. Her skin is pale and luminous in the hallway lights; she is every fantasy about a schoolgirl in this moment. My head is spinning with want again, filled with images of her. Jane...in my bedroom, touching my things. Jane...atop the soft, old quilt on my narrow bed. Jane...sliding her skirt down over her hips, tortuously slow. Jane...naked and open before me, softly pleading with me to make her come, hard and fast.
"What?" Her acidic tone pulls me back again. I've spent the entire day walking the knife's edge between the real world where she doesn't know I exist and my secret world where she and I are all that exist. I should hate her. I look at her and all I see in her eyes is fear and anger. I should loathe this girl for not being brave enough to look beyond her little world. I can't, though. I don't know how to hate Jane.
"Huh?" What is she asking me? We've stopped in the middle of the empty hall and she's facing me now, arms crossed tight against her.
"You stopped walking. And you were...staring at me." She pauses and seems to steel herself. "Again."
"I wasn't. I mean, I was just thinking about...stuff. I wasn't staring at you." Again? She's seen me watching her? I was so sure she never even knew I existed. "I don't stare at you."
"Yes you do, Alice. I see you in class when you think I'm not looking. I catch you starting at me in the halls, in the lunchroom. You watch me all the time. Why?" Her tone is curious and her eyes have a million questions hidden within the blue. My defenses go up fast before I can stop them, the walls that shoot up to protect me practically visible.
"How'd you know I was looking at you, if you weren't looking at me, Jane?" I sound cold and harsh, even to my own ears. Her cheeks flush and she looks away. I hate that this is our interaction with each other. It should be different. The first conversation we've ever had and it's just finger pointing and irritated looks.
"I don't know. I guess I was, a little. You're so...different." Spoon fed diplomacy since the day she was born, no doubt. Her voices lowers and sounds terse. "You know who you are. I wish...I don't know, it's stupid." She leans against the wall and slides down, her skirt bunching and rising up her thighs before she smooths it down.
I'm stuck in my spot. I want to crouch down and get in her face and pull the rest of the words out of her mouth. What does she wish? What does she want? I step toward her and mimic her actions, pressing my back to the wall and lowering myself until I'm sitting on the floor. I'm a few feet away from her, barely close enough to touch, but close enough that the scent of her is everywhere. I don't say anything. I don't know what to say.
"Alice, why do you look at me? Is it because you hate me?" Her voice is small and she wraps her arms around her knees, holding herself together. I don't answer and she goes on. "I wouldn't blame you if you did."
All of my answers stick in my throat, choking me. I can't tell her how I feel about her, why I watch her. This is fucking high school, no one tells the truth here. Not that I give a shit for social standing but I can't just break down and tell her that I dream about her, that I long for her, that I spend most of my day thinking of all the ways I want her to belong to me. I can't.
"Why do you have detention today, Jane?" It's a complete change of subject. I'm hiding and as she looks at me, I know she can tell. I don't know why she's here, but I want her to tell me. I want her to open up and be real with me, even though she doesn't know me. I want her to feel the connection that I feel, to make it real. "I mean, you aren't exactly the kind of girl that gets Saturday detention."
Her eyes narrow and become gasoline fire, blue and crackling. "What the fuck do you know about what kind of girl I am? You don't know a goddamn thing about me, Alice."
Her reaction shocks me. I've never heard her swear, never seen her so full of venom. I suck in breath and push it back out, willing myself to speak, calling on bravery I'm not sure I have but damn it, I am sick of looking and pretending and never talking.
"I know you, Jane. I know you better than you think, better than they do. I see how you have to work so hard to be their queen, how your heart isn't in it. I know that you are dying here, dying to get out of Forks just as much as I am. I've watched you wither here for two years. I know exactly what kind of girl you are because since I transferred here, I've barely seen anyone else. Don't tell me I don't know about you, because I might be the only person who really sees you." I'm too far gone to stop, even though this is where I should just shut my mouth. "You want to know why I watch you? You know that guy, the perfect guy that everyone in high school would die to have, the Edward Cullen. For me...that's you. You are the one I dream about having, the one I would die to have. I watch you because when you are in the room, nothing else exists."
I place my palms on the cold linoleum floor and start to push myself up, when I feel her fingers, thin and warm, wrap around my wrist. My skin flames where she touches me and her voice, that perfect combo of sugar and steam and wonder, binds me to the floor. "Wait."
She's not looking at me, still staring straight ahead, but her hand stays wrapped around my flesh. When she finally turns, her eyes are bright with unshed tears and fear but I see something else there, something I've seen every night in my dreams, but never once in the cold light of day. She's looking at me, really seeing me. I'm shocked at how good it feels and how much it hurts. She's climbing inside me and knowing everything that I keep locked away, swimming in my veins and feeling me down to the bones. She's within me, filling me, but it's not the way I always imagined it would be.
"You see me, Alice. I don't know how, but you see all of me. Does anyone see you?" Her tone is not belittling or cruel; it's kind and that makes it worse.
I pull my hand away from her and push myself off the floor, brushing away the wetness there. I won't fucking cry. Not here, not to her. I walk away from her, unable to look back, one lead foot in front of the other.
"Alice, stop. I'm here...I got detention because I got caught giving Edward Cullen head in the auditorium, okay? Is that what you want to know?"
I keep going, walking away, letting her admission scorch through me like brushfire. I don't want to hear her say any more. I already knew, but I don't want the mouth that was wrapped around his dick talking to me. I want it not to be real. I speed my steps and start running when I hit the corner, racing from the truth, trying to leave the reality of this back in that hallway. I slip into the library and sink into my chair silently.
The Marlboro worn voice of Rosalie Hale reaches across the space between the tables and smacks me in the face. "Where's your girlfriend?"
A rage I've never felt explodes in my chest and I launch myself out of my seat and right into her evil, bitchy face. "Shut the fuck up, you gutter slut. You don't know shit about me or my life and if you fucking open your mouth to me again, you better be prepared to get that knife out because I will end you." I'm leaning into her and she's leaning away, breathing hard.
"Ms. Brandon, what do you think you are doing?" I look up to see Mr. Berty taking it all in. I'm screwed, but I just don't fucking care anymore. Whatever I was holding on to, it's gone. The thought of her, the idea that she might, my heart...it's spilled all over the floor of the south hall and I'm not going back to pick it up. "Gather your things and come with me." I back away from Rose and grab my books, walking toward the front of the library. I follow Mr. Berty through the doors just as Jane is making her way back into the room. She tries to catch my eyes as she passes but I just stare at the floor. I can't see her anymore. I can't look at her, can't dream about her. It doesn't matter that she really saw me for a moment. I'm closing it off, locking it up.
Mr. Berty escorts me to the nurse's office and tells me I will be in there the rest of the day so that I don't cause any more trouble. A few snide remarks from him and then he's gone. I sit at the desk for a while, trying not to think, trying not to let it all back in. I get up and look out the windows, watching the breeze flutter through the trees. Soon, so soon, all of this will just be a memory. Forks, this school...her. She will just be this thing that I try and forget. She will creep in at night but I will shut her down. I won't let myself dream of her again. I'm only breaking my own heart.
"I do see you, you know." I jump at the sound of her voice behind me, but I don't turn around. "I do, Alice, I see you. I know you watch me, because I watch you, I'm just better at hiding. Years of practice, you know?"
I nod. I don't have words, they are all stuffed down inside me where I can't reach them because my throat is full of wanting to believe her.
"You can't wait to leave this place. You think everything will be different when you get...wherever it is you're going. You think it's this small town and these small minds that won't let you be who you are. You feel small here, lost, like you don't exist, and you're right. Forks is no place for someone like you. You are so bright, so amazing, but you don't know any of that. You believe what they think about you on some level, and you're going to take it all with you. You're going to take you wherever you go and nothing is going to change. You hide, all the time, and you are going to keep hiding because you just might be the one thing someone wants you to be. I hide because I have to. You hide because you want to."
She's right, baring all my truths and she's been walking closer, her words wrapping around me. She's not touching me, but the decreasing space between us is tangible. Her breath is on my neck and her heat is everywhere.
"Why are you in detention today, Alice?" I turn and face her, meeting her eyes and seeing that she already knows the answer.
"I pulled the fire alarm." It's half the truth, and not the answer she wants.
"Why?" I feel the air move around my face when she speaks.
"I knew you had detention and I...I wanted to be here because you would be." I am about to go on when she leans forward and presses her lips into mine, warm and soft and parted already. I'm frozen and I just stand there, not kissing her back and just letting her move her mouth against my skin. I've never dreamed this, never dared hope that she would be kissing me first but she is, soft and slow and insistent.
I pull back slightly. "Why did you do that?"
She smirks, and is coy for a moment. "I knew you wouldn't." She pushes closer and her hands are moving to touch my face, my neck. She's sliding her tongue over my growing smile, easing in between my lips and begging me to meet her halfway. I let her in and I sigh at the sweet taste of her, the feel of her inside me, even if it's just a little. Time falls away as we stand there. I move my hands to her waist, pulling her against me and she just keeps kissing me, hot and languid and not really going anywhere but going everywhere too. She finally breaks away and rests her forehead on my shoulder. I turn my head and breathe in the sunshine of her golden hair.
"I have to get back. Mr. Berty will call my father if he finds out I snuck in here. Alice, I..."
"Don't. I know...I don't need you to tell me." I can't bear to hear her say it. I know that Monday morning will bring more of the same, she'll take her throne and I'll try to fade out of the light. She'll be their golden girl and I'll be their dirty secret. It's high school, we all have out role, but we won't always be here. As she walks toward the door, she pauses and turns.
"Alice, where are you going to school?"
"New York. NYU. Why?"
"I'm going to Columbia. Maybe I'll see you around the city." New York is huge and the likelihood of us just running into one another is small. She smiles softly as she walks out the door. She's the only one who has ever seen me, and I know I'm the only one who ever really saw her. She'll be there and I'll be there and I can always dream.
"Yeah, Jane. I'll see you."
A/N: Thanks to bookjunkie1975 for her comma wisdom and for being the wind in my sails and to lightstardust, venis-envy and miztrezboo for making sure she was seaworthy. When I forget why, they are all my remember.
Thank you all for reading. Hearts :)
Special thanks to Camoozle, as this is for her. She said Alice/Jane, I thought 'I don't know' and then I found this picture (http:/29(dot)media(dot)tumblr(dot)com/tumblr_ky6xh9aaT01qa06p2o1_400(dot)jpg) and it all clicked. I hope you love it, sweets!