FIC: context clues (Degrassi, Fiona/Holly J, PG)

Title: context clues
Info: xEasilyConfused on twitter requested more of these two, and I’ve been wanting to write about New York for awhile. Here you go.

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At this very moment, Holly J is trying to figure out a non-gay way to tell Fiona to keep doing whatever she’s doing, that her fingers feel incredible, that this is the most relaxed she’s been in days. It shouldn’t be hard; Fiona’s behind her on the couch while Holly J is comfortable on the floor leaning against a bean bag chair (“It’s bohemian!” Fiona had defended the purchase) and nodding her head slightly as Fiona brushes, parts, braids, tucks. (“You have to do something with it for graduation, Holly J, here, let me–”) It is, all in all, a very non-gay way to spend the afternoon after dialysis, and yet Holly J can’t seem to find a non-gay way to describe it. They’re just sitting, in a friendly fashion, with Fiona occasionally making a quiet commentary to herself, “Mmm, no, not like that,” and Holly J breathing in and out in what could be described as wistful sighs.

She’s certain that the way Fiona’s hands feel on her scalp, making the smallest of deft movements, is no accident. She’s certain that Fiona occasionally pauses to inhale, reverently continuing her task. She’s not so certain that the way her body is reacting falls firmly in the not gay category. “Do you remember,” Fiona starts, pulling slightly to get Holly J’s attention. She doesn’t need to. “In New York.” She pauses, maybe waiting for a word or a nod in response but Holly J can’t think of a non-gay way to do that. “You locked me in a closet.” And she did and she would be horrified, but Fiona is laughing and Holly J thinks about metaphors that are far too obvious and definitely not not-gay.

“I did,” is all Holly J can think to say, and does so, after a minute. “You weren’t very happy to be in there, if I recall.” And I, she thinks, stole the show and your brother, and we both know how that ended up. “You weren’t happy with a lot last summer.” She shakes her head. “It wasn’t ever about Declan at all, was it?” This is dangerous territory, dangerous and very gay territory and they’ve both made a sort of silent agreement not to venture anywhere near it. Because venturing would mean secrets and revelations and the sort of thinking that leads to deft hands in other places. Holly J swallows. “I mean, you were jealous, but not of me.”

Fiona stops moving and Holly J thinks it’s a good thing she can’t see her face because she’s certain that the hesitant twinge in Fiona’s lips, that the way she’s (certainly) closing her eyes for just a moment, to collect herself, would mean that Holly J in turn might brush her thumb over those lips, over those eyelids. “Honestly, Holly J? I didn’t know what I was jealous of at the time.” Fiona’s hand slips down to rest coolly on Holly J’s neck. “I knew that you were…” she pauses, (certainly) shaking her head a little, “this amazing… person. And it was no wonder that Declan fell for you, but that meant that I got a little less of him every day you were around. And I didn’t understand, because I wanted to be around you too. And then, I guess I realized that I wasn’t going to get either of you, that I wasn’t ever going to be what you needed, and I just wanted to forget that I’d wanted you in the first place.” The words fall in Holly J’s hair like snowflakes, or leaves from a turning tree. They don’t talk about Declan. They don’t talk about New York.

Holly J turns a little and catches Fiona’s hand in hers. “You’re exactly what I need, Fiona,” she says, and she doesn’t even think about how not not-gay it sounds until afterward, when her heart is almost choking her and she presses a kiss to Fiona’s knuckles. And it’s alright that after that she turns back around and Fiona’s fingers slide back in to her hair. She thinks about graduation and Fiona watching from the audience and not next to her, hands intertwined, and she feels sick. But Fiona brushes her hair down and murmurs “Maybe just a little curl,” and her hand falls against Holly J’s cheek, and it’s better again. Better than she knows how to say, gay or not.