All Wet
By Misty Flores
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com

Fandom: Pre-RENT (movie)
Pairing/characters: Joanne/Maureen, Joanne/Other
Rating: Hard R
Summary: Joanne Jefferson's defined, in control life is turned upside down when she comes across one Maureen Johnson.

--

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

And almost immediately
I felt sorry
Because I didn't think this would happen again
No matter what I could do or say
Just that I didn't think this would happen again
With or without my best intentions

-- 'Fuck And Run' Liz Phair

"So, before we begin, why don't we all introduce ourselves?"

"Sam."

"Patty."

"Angel."

"Hector."

Raising her chin, Joanne felt suddenly self conscious, as the somber looking group all looked in her direction, all eyes on her.

Throat gone dry, she managed to swallow, an attempt to bring moisture back into it, and glancing uncertainly at Hector, she smiled faintly.

"Joanne."

There was a smile and a pinkie wave from a Hispanic looking young man across from her, and she nodded, feeling a warm flush tickle her cheeks. The attention shifted, and she turned her head, as her beautiful girlfriend straightened, pushing her hair behind her ear.

Eyes locking with hers, Antonia seemed uncertain, and when Joanne arched an eyebrow, a small smile working it's way on her lips, she exhaled, and put on a bright smile. "Antonia. Hi."

The circle went around, three more names, and then the group lapsed into an awkward silence. Hector, hair scruffy from his fussing with it, looked skinnier than she remembered, but his smile was genuine, as he glanced at her, then Antonia, and turned his attention back toward the group.

Nervous and unsure why, Joanne kept quiet. She had purposely left her tie and suit at home, determined to be a friend, not a lawyer, but even in this, she was an outsider. Beside her, her girlfriend faired no better. She was twitchy, nervous, two new looks on the usually calm woman.

A woman began to talk about the disease, about discrimination from work, and beside her, Antonia shifted, hands clenched together, eyes on the ground.

It was distracting, to look from one twin, calm and relaxed Hector, wearing a tired, happy expression, laughing with a group that he seemed to regard as family, and the sister beside him, so obviously uncomfortable.

Around them were regular men and women. Some looked healthier than she did. Others, like Hector, were minutely fragile. But there was life in each of them. Victims of the AIDS epidemic through their own actions or victims of circumstances, these were the individuals fighting for the will to live their own life, even if it was on borrowed time.

When the circle rose, Joanne rose with them, grabbing hold of Hector's hand, stating the creed, her voice filling in with those around her.

For once, she wasn't too black or too female or too healthy. She was simply a friend.

--

Antonia had left the room almost immediately after the group was dismissed. Distracted, Joanne shook the hand of Hector's friend, and then smiled apologetically, heading in a fast walk toward the doors of the rec room.

She found Antonia on the steps of the building, a cigarette between her lips, a shaking lighter in her hands.

Shutting the door carefully behind her, Joanne watched the minute clues to Antonia's agitated state, as the woman buried herself deeper into her coat, and took in a long, almost desperate draw from the little white stick.

"I didn't know you smoked," she said quietly. Head jerking up, Antonia caught sight of her, and immediately looked away, stepping into the pavement, heels clicking on the concrete.

"I know," Antonia drawled, a puff of smoke floating from her pursed lips. "It's not incredibly PC of me, but you try running a billion dollar company with out some addiction."

"I wasn't judging you," Joanne said tenderly, now just a foot away, staring hard into the unusually rattled face. "Are you okay?"

Face purposely closed, Antonia deliberately took another puff, letting the end flare bright orange with the oxygen. "I'm fantastic," she said civilly. "My brother's dying and the people in there are making a party out of it."

Joanne's lips pressed together. "That's not what that was, Toni."

"Oh, really?" Shaking her head, Antonia dropped the cigarette, ground it into the street with her red heels. "Those people in there want to be defined by their disease. They're acting like their life is over because of it. Hector's acting like he's already dead, and that 'LIFE group' is patronizing him."

"It's about living with the disease, not dying from it," Joanne snapped. "And they're not the ones who define them that way, it's the rest of us with the problem. They're just the ones that have to cope."

"It was me that told my brother to go to every bathhouse in the state and get fucked in the ass by every gay guy in the East Village? Was that me, Joanne?"

"Stop it."

Antonia's clear eyes had gone red and moist, and overwhelmed, she suddenly seemed to give up, shoulders dropping and hand covering her mouth. "FUCK." Turning away, she stamped her foot, like a little girl trying to get over her tantrum. "I told you I didn't want to come to this."

At a loss for words, Joanne was frozen, unsure how to cope with Antonia's grief bubbling to the surface so suddenly.

"He was a selfish bastard," she heard, as Antonia wiped at her eyes, atomically curling around her lids to avoid blurring her mascara. "He never cared about me. He never cared about Dad. It was always what HE wanted, and now he's dying, and he's my BROTHER, Joanne."

"I know," she replied quietly. "But it's not about what you feel right now, Antonia. It's about how he feels."

Antonia's smile was forced. "Didn't you see him in there? He's doing great."

Firmly entrenched in this, Joanne didn't know what else to say. The obvious betrayal in Antonia's eyes was unexpected, a mirror of repression and the breaking of a façade. The lawsuit was Antonia's way of coping with the imminent death of her twin brother, and somehow, her way of validating it.

"Have you talked to him about this?" she asked finally. "About how you feel?"

"It wouldn't matter. Hector didn't listen to anyone. You think Dad wanted to give the company to me? He groomed Hector for it from the start – Hector didn't want it. Hector threw away everything that was given to him, and for what?"

Stepping forward, Joanne shivered in the wind, reaching for her lover, but Antonia only stepped away, wiping hastily at her tears and shaking her head.

"I'm late for a meeting. Will I see you tonight?"

Mutely, she nodded, feeling the brush of cold lips against her cheek as Antonia hailed a cab, and then stepped into it.

Movement at the doors forced her to turn her head and discover Hector, zipping up his pull over, colored eyes watching as the taxi pulled away from the curb.

When she smiled weakly, he nodded in response. "Lunch?"

--

"So what's it like?" Hector drawled, as soon as the waiter from the Life Cafe took their menus from them, dropping sweetener in his iced tea.

"What's what like?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. She sat perfectly still, mimicking his relaxed pose, eyes straight ahead.

She had protested coming to this place, when it became obvious that this was where her girlfriend's twin wanted to come. But there were only so many ways she could protest what he called his favorite haunt before admitting to the truth, which wasn't something she was prepared to do.

Now, she sat still and kept her gaze on the pretty boy Suddelson, breathing in and out in an effort to calm herself down, remind herself that Maureen couldn't possibly be here ALL the time.

"You know what," he said, corner of his mouth lifting up like Elvis, eyebrows waggling like a Marx brother. "Datin' my sister. She as much of a nightmare for girls as she is for guys?"

When he grinned wickedly, she snorted, wrinkling up her straw wrapper and tossing it at him. "She's a handful," she admitted, shoulders shrugging in mock defeat. "But more or less she's what I expected."

"Ah – had your share of spoiled rich girls?" Crossing hands against the back of his head, he eyed her.

"Well, compared to the French Ambassador's daughter, she's a picnic." Which was true. While Marie had taught her the finer points of the Tango, Argentinian and International Standard, the girl's demands had left a hapless sixteen year old Joanne nearly beaten in her wake. "She's a woman," Joanne said, as if that answered everything. "And they're pretty much unpredictable."

"Why I don't date them," Hector confirmed, grabbed a crust of bread and shoving it into his mouth. "Guys have one thing on their mind – makes it really simple."

She grinned. Hector had a sense of humor that was dry and just a little sarcastic. She liked it.

"To be honest, it's a relief," she said simply, taking a sip of water. "To be in a relationship where I know what's expected of me."

"What that's mean?"

Hesitating, Joanne caught her breath, and suddenly smiled uneasily. "Nothing."

The noise level of the Life Café hit a sudden crescendo, when the door twinkled open, and a familiar laugh sent a heated spike through her insides.

Unable to stop from turning her head, Joanne found herself frozen, eyes on Maureen Johnson, moving through the café, carrying a stack of flyers.

The force of the emotion that hit her was almost suffocating, seared onto the haunting image of her former lover, bright-eyed and beautiful, flirting with a man and a woman, holding her flyer up like she was offering herself with it.

"Joanne?"

Her name, said in a concerned, gentle tone, broke her of her staring, and she jerked her head, focusing once again on the pretty boy across from her.

"Yeah."

Chewing on his bread, Hector's eyes slid from her flushed face to the image of Maureen just a few feet away. "Cute."

"If you like the type," she muttered, reaching for her water, suddenly parched.

"And you do." It was at that moment that she felt a shiver run up her spine. Closing her eyes in haunted frustration, she curled fingers into fists, and ignored the heated rush when Hector mused, "She's looking at you."

"Hector," she squeaked, eyes opening, mouth now a thin line. "I'm dating your sister."

He seemed almost amused by that, but he nodded, like a chastened school boy. "Yes you are. And if you hurt her I'd be put out."

"I'm sure," she said, eyes on Hector, only on Hector. The prickles of sweat uncomfortably gathered at her collar, but she kept still, pushing palms flat against the table, ignoring the sudden flash of Maureen, back arched, nipples proud and perfect, coming in the melodic hum.

"I'm serious," he insisted, once again bringing her back to earth. "I need you to stay on good ground with her, because I need you to do me a favor."

Exhaling loudly, Joanne straightened, trying hard to keep her focus on Hector's mouth, pulse now pounding, head throbbing with the sound of her rushing blood.

"What's that?"

"I need you to convince Antonia to drop this lawsuit."

The pounding stopped. There was dead silence, deafening, as her eyes finally seemed to see him, and her mouth dropped open, shock overtaking her nerves. "What?"

"I want it stopped," he said. "I need it dropped." Crystal eyes were clear, staring into her own intensely, beseechingly.

Stuttering, Joanne took in a deep breath, eyes shutting and opening again as she considered what he was saying. "I" Hector" we're in court next week."

"I know. I know you've put God Knows how many hours into this, and I know that it's a huge deal, and I know that what I'm asking my lawyer is a shitty thing to ask. I know asking my sister's girlfriend to talk to her instead of me is a coward's way out. And if I didn't have to ask my friend Joanne to do it, I wouldn't. But you're all three things, Joanne, and you're my salvation."

It was as if he had taken her lifeboat and capsized it, and then asked her to save them both.

"She'll listen to you. I'm losing T-Cells every day, Joanne. I don't want what's left of me to be splashed on the news like some fucking cause. I thought I could handle it, for Toni's sake. Do one thing for her instead of it being the other way around, like it's always been. But I can't do it. I gotta live, and I'm not going to do it being a press martyr."

Her breath was ragged, and Joanne was suddenly tired, exhausted of all of it, as her head lowered and her fingers weakly massaged at her temple, pain spiking through her brain.

"Hector""

"I know. I know." Fingers pulled her own away from her head, tightened and locked them together. Head rising, Joanne took in the desperate, broken look. "But I can't, Jo. I can't."

It was all too much. Extracting her hand as gently as she could, she smiled pitifully, and nodded.

"Okay," she said, voice husky, head swimming with the chore he had laid at her feet – endangering her career, her new relationship, her position at her company" "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Joanne, I'm sorry."

"I know." Her knees were shaky, but she stood. "I'll be right back."

She moved unsteadily, away from Hector and towards the bathroom, not seeing anyone, until she fumbled for the old wooden door, and pushed inside the musty smelling bathroom.

Struggling with the faucet, Joanne let the water run, hands on the cold porcelain of the sink, staring up into the scratched, graffiti-ed mirror at a tired version of herself.

There was a low rap at the door, questioning.

"Occupied," she called out hoarsely, and the door opened anyway.

It was Maureen who stepped into her space, for once not smiling, not laughing, but wearing a somber, concerned frown.

Curiously numb, Joanne just watched, as the other woman pressed the door closed in behind her, and flipped the lock.

Maureen didn't move, back against the door, hands folded behind her. "Are you okay?"

Joanne simply stared, at the hauntingly beautiful vision before her, large brown eyes focused on her, like she was the only one that mattered.

"I just" I saw you and your friend and you looked" I don't know what you looked like, but it" it wasn't good."

Joanne shut her eyes against the raw ache in her heart, laughing weakly, bitterly. "No, it wasn't good." The water was still running, and Joanne, in an attempt for some measure of control, shut off the faucet, hearing the squeak of the metal. "What are you doing in here, Maureen?"

A moment of silence, and then, "I was worried about you."

She allowed a grimace in response. "Was it too much trouble to say goodbye?" Glancing up, she discovered Maureen startled, unsure of the direction of the conversation. "When you left," she clarified, "Three weeks ago. Or have you forgotten already?"

Maureen shut her mouth, eyes darting to the floor. "I didn't forget."

Joanne stared at her, unable to look away, at the black jeans she herself had purchased, the black halter top and the white jacket over it. Large earrings and a Jewish nose.

Maureen audibly sucked her breath in, glancing up to meet her glare. "Look, I just came in here to make sure you were okay. It was the decent thing to do."

"Well, don't worry about it, honeybear," Joanne answered, suddenly acidic. "I'm fine."

The tone was meant to be hurtful, and it was. There was a measure of emotion that flitted over Maureen's face. Joanne's mouth quirked in response, a perverted sense of validation, as Maureen's chin came up and her fingers began to fumble with the door knob.

"Glad to hear it," Maureen snapped.

Joanne was prepared to let her go, stood still with her arms crossed as Maureen turned the knob, opened the door.

Until her feet began to move, and her palm pushed against the wooden door, slamming it closed, trapping the other woman between herself and the hard surface.

Startled into submission, Maureen's pants were moist on her chin, and Joanne registered her heat against her, the warm, pliant body keening into her. And then her head lowered, and her mouth spread hotly against those lips, feeling the sudden rush and exhilaration of the aching familiarity of Maureen's tongue. The moan she drew from Maureen's mouth was intoxicating, and she pressed harder, pushing her thigh between the other woman's legs, feeling the rush that came with the prickles of pain as Maureen dug fingernails into her scalp.

When Maureen whispered her name against her lips, Joanne's mind caught up to her body, her heart.

Stiffening, she broke away, trapped in Maureen's arms, looking down onto swollen lips, bright, lust-glazed eyes.

"Joanne?"

"Fuck," she whispered, and stepped away, ignoring Maureen's confusion, grabbing hold of the door knob and jerking it open, pushing past Maureen, walking away from the bathroom as fast as she could.

- end chapter