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wisdomeagleTitle: "Old Year, Unresolved"
Fandom: California Diaries
Featured characters: Ducky+Sunny
Do they (want to) have sex (with each other)?: Er, it's kinda one-sided, there.
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Timeline: post-series
Disclaimer: Ann M. Martin owns (my soul) the characters.
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tartanshell as a stocking stuffer in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
yuletide 2006. Originally posted here.
Summary: Sunny and Ducky are both restless on Christmas Eve.
Wordcount: 1119
Old Year, Unresolved
Ducky is downstairs, chatting up Carol. Dawn is upstairs, putting the finishing touches on last minute presents that, knowing her, are homemade, hand-crafted gizmos of ecological efficiency and parental usefulness. And I'm sitting here on the stairs, writing, because I don't want to spend Christmas Eve with Someone Else's Mom while everyone conveniently doesn't mention that my mom is "no longer among us." God, if I hear that phrase one more time...
Normally, of course, I wouldn't be spending Christmas Eve at the Schafers' house anyhow. I'd rather be anywhere else, actually, because while I may the one named Sunny, Dawn's the one with all the sunshine these days, and it gives me a sugar headache when I spend too long in the same room with her. So here I am, in no-man's land. Ducky throws his head back and laughs at something Carol says, and I feel a little twinge of guilt. It's not like Ducky's homelife is the greatest, either, but he seems to be dealing okay with Someone Else's Mom. He's started in on imitations of teachers, which has Carol doubled over.
Maybe next he'll do Sunny-imitations. He has lots of great material. The time Sunny almost barfed in Ducky's car. The time Sunny ran away from home. The time Sunny completely lost her head and threw herself at Ducky McCrae. Absolute hilarity. Carol would have a blast.
Can you tell I'm a little bit bitter about the whole Ducky thing? You should feel bad too, Mr. or Ms. Required Journal; it's you I sullied with months of "Ducky is the greatest," "Ducky is my best friend," "Ducky+Sunny4ever." Those are pages you'll never get back. Months I'll never get back.
LATER:
"Hey there." Ducky reached to grab my hand, and I thought for a minute he wanted to dance, like we've done at countless Vanish concerts, both pre- and post the non-dating-disaster. Fast and crazy, with everyone in the room looking at us. Nevermind that Dawn's household tends towards really cheesy EZ listening Christmas carols and that we were currently suffering through "I'll Be Home For Christmas;" Ducky and I would have torn up the floor, only I really wasn't in the mood.
Which, because he is amazingly sensitive and knows me better than anyone else in the world, he understood, and he plopped himself down next to me. I don't get how Ducky can go from on to off just like that, but he can, which is fortunate since he has so many friends (by which I mostly mean me and Alex, I guess) who are, well, high-maintenance.
Ducky is great. He didn't ask me what I was bummed about, just sort of sat for awhile, then said, "Want to go for a walk? I could use some air?"
"Sure." I thought for a minute maybe I should get Dawn, but then decided, nah, she's probably happier making paper out of wheatgerm anyhow. I didn't know if Ducky had the same thought, but he didn't say anything either, but grabbed a coat (which was a thrift store find, incidentally, and looks wicked retro-trendy on him), helped me into my jacket, and ushered me out the door. I didn't bother to say anything to Dad, who was deep in conversation with Jeff, probably about Great Comedians of the Twentieth Century or something else equally dorky.
I was hoping we wouldn't say anything; our last few attempts at deep conversation ended up fizzling out as soon as we got to the interesting parts; I'd mention some guy I was crushing on and Ducky would look sort of wounded, and I'd change the subject back to hairstyles. Dumb.
But of course, Ducky couldn't not talk, and anyhow, he had something to tell me. (Why he decided now was the time? Who knows. I mean, I could have used this information last spring and not made a complete and total fool of myself, but I'm getting ahead of myself now, as usual.)
He said it quietly while we were paused at the end of our street, trying to decide which way to turn. "I think I know why I didn't want..." he muffled some words, "you."
I closed my eyes, counted to three. "I think we should go left," I said, "away from school. Anywhere but there on the holidays, you know. Or maybe go back to the party, see if we can turn up the heat a little? Did you bring any CDs? Or I could run over to my house and we could make a dessert..."
"It's because I think I'm gay," Ducky said, still quiet, completely ignoring my nonsensical babble.
"It doesn't matter," I said, because apparently I was eager to completely humiliate myself before finishing with the Ducky-drama. "I mean, I don't care. It's totally cool. I would still date you, seriously." (Yes, I know, okay. And I promise that I won't ever say something so ridiculous again. I was just a little taken aback right then.)
"I know," Ducky said. "I wouldn't.... Can I talk for awhile?"
For once I managed to keep my mouth closed, and I nodded at him.
"I... if there were any girl, Sunny, it would be you. If I were the slightest, tiniest bit capable of falling in love with a girl, I'd fall in love with you." (I couldn't help it; I squealed a little. But on the inside, because I knew Ducky was trying to explain something -- and to gently crush my hopes of us ever working out.) "But I didn't.
"I wanted to, Sunny. Really, I... it would have made things a whole lot easier for me. And for you. I know you need someone to be there for you, and I would really have loved to be your... person. But I..."
"It's not me, it's you?"
"I know it sounds lame."
"But why does that have to mean gay? Maybe you're just... not into jailbait. Or maybe years of living in Palo City have inured you to the attractiveness of leggy blonde chicks."
Ducky nodded slowly.
"There's someone, isn't there?"
"I don't... I don't think I want to talk about it."
Well, I did. I wanted to drag the whole story out of him, make him name names, maybe get descriptions of hot boykissing -- because, human, and I bet Ducky would be ten kinds of adorable when kissing someone he really liked. But Ducky looked so absolutely miserable at the idea that I didn't press it, but held out my hand.
Ducky grabbed it and held on tight as we headed back to Dawn's house.
Fandom: California Diaries
Featured characters: Ducky+Sunny
Do they (want to) have sex (with each other)?: Er, it's kinda one-sided, there.
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Timeline: post-series
Disclaimer: Ann M. Martin owns (my soul) the characters.
Notes: For
tartanshell as a stocking stuffer in yuletide 2006. Originally posted here.Summary: Sunny and Ducky are both restless on Christmas Eve.
Wordcount: 1119
Old Year, Unresolved
Ducky is downstairs, chatting up Carol. Dawn is upstairs, putting the finishing touches on last minute presents that, knowing her, are homemade, hand-crafted gizmos of ecological efficiency and parental usefulness. And I'm sitting here on the stairs, writing, because I don't want to spend Christmas Eve with Someone Else's Mom while everyone conveniently doesn't mention that my mom is "no longer among us." God, if I hear that phrase one more time...
Normally, of course, I wouldn't be spending Christmas Eve at the Schafers' house anyhow. I'd rather be anywhere else, actually, because while I may the one named Sunny, Dawn's the one with all the sunshine these days, and it gives me a sugar headache when I spend too long in the same room with her. So here I am, in no-man's land. Ducky throws his head back and laughs at something Carol says, and I feel a little twinge of guilt. It's not like Ducky's homelife is the greatest, either, but he seems to be dealing okay with Someone Else's Mom. He's started in on imitations of teachers, which has Carol doubled over.
Maybe next he'll do Sunny-imitations. He has lots of great material. The time Sunny almost barfed in Ducky's car. The time Sunny ran away from home. The time Sunny completely lost her head and threw herself at Ducky McCrae. Absolute hilarity. Carol would have a blast.
Can you tell I'm a little bit bitter about the whole Ducky thing? You should feel bad too, Mr. or Ms. Required Journal; it's you I sullied with months of "Ducky is the greatest," "Ducky is my best friend," "Ducky+Sunny4ever." Those are pages you'll never get back. Months I'll never get back.
LATER:
"Hey there." Ducky reached to grab my hand, and I thought for a minute he wanted to dance, like we've done at countless Vanish concerts, both pre- and post the non-dating-disaster. Fast and crazy, with everyone in the room looking at us. Nevermind that Dawn's household tends towards really cheesy EZ listening Christmas carols and that we were currently suffering through "I'll Be Home For Christmas;" Ducky and I would have torn up the floor, only I really wasn't in the mood.
Which, because he is amazingly sensitive and knows me better than anyone else in the world, he understood, and he plopped himself down next to me. I don't get how Ducky can go from on to off just like that, but he can, which is fortunate since he has so many friends (by which I mostly mean me and Alex, I guess) who are, well, high-maintenance.
Ducky is great. He didn't ask me what I was bummed about, just sort of sat for awhile, then said, "Want to go for a walk? I could use some air?"
"Sure." I thought for a minute maybe I should get Dawn, but then decided, nah, she's probably happier making paper out of wheatgerm anyhow. I didn't know if Ducky had the same thought, but he didn't say anything either, but grabbed a coat (which was a thrift store find, incidentally, and looks wicked retro-trendy on him), helped me into my jacket, and ushered me out the door. I didn't bother to say anything to Dad, who was deep in conversation with Jeff, probably about Great Comedians of the Twentieth Century or something else equally dorky.
I was hoping we wouldn't say anything; our last few attempts at deep conversation ended up fizzling out as soon as we got to the interesting parts; I'd mention some guy I was crushing on and Ducky would look sort of wounded, and I'd change the subject back to hairstyles. Dumb.
But of course, Ducky couldn't not talk, and anyhow, he had something to tell me. (Why he decided now was the time? Who knows. I mean, I could have used this information last spring and not made a complete and total fool of myself, but I'm getting ahead of myself now, as usual.)
He said it quietly while we were paused at the end of our street, trying to decide which way to turn. "I think I know why I didn't want..." he muffled some words, "you."
I closed my eyes, counted to three. "I think we should go left," I said, "away from school. Anywhere but there on the holidays, you know. Or maybe go back to the party, see if we can turn up the heat a little? Did you bring any CDs? Or I could run over to my house and we could make a dessert..."
"It's because I think I'm gay," Ducky said, still quiet, completely ignoring my nonsensical babble.
"It doesn't matter," I said, because apparently I was eager to completely humiliate myself before finishing with the Ducky-drama. "I mean, I don't care. It's totally cool. I would still date you, seriously." (Yes, I know, okay. And I promise that I won't ever say something so ridiculous again. I was just a little taken aback right then.)
"I know," Ducky said. "I wouldn't.... Can I talk for awhile?"
For once I managed to keep my mouth closed, and I nodded at him.
"I... if there were any girl, Sunny, it would be you. If I were the slightest, tiniest bit capable of falling in love with a girl, I'd fall in love with you." (I couldn't help it; I squealed a little. But on the inside, because I knew Ducky was trying to explain something -- and to gently crush my hopes of us ever working out.) "But I didn't.
"I wanted to, Sunny. Really, I... it would have made things a whole lot easier for me. And for you. I know you need someone to be there for you, and I would really have loved to be your... person. But I..."
"It's not me, it's you?"
"I know it sounds lame."
"But why does that have to mean gay? Maybe you're just... not into jailbait. Or maybe years of living in Palo City have inured you to the attractiveness of leggy blonde chicks."
Ducky nodded slowly.
"There's someone, isn't there?"
"I don't... I don't think I want to talk about it."
Well, I did. I wanted to drag the whole story out of him, make him name names, maybe get descriptions of hot boykissing -- because, human, and I bet Ducky would be ten kinds of adorable when kissing someone he really liked. But Ducky looked so absolutely miserable at the idea that I didn't press it, but held out my hand.
Ducky grabbed it and held on tight as we headed back to Dawn's house.