Current mood:

amused

Drabble Challenge 12: TV Girlfriends
Ok, this is projectjulie’s fault ;)

Words: 406
Pairing: Olivia/Mariska (that's right)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: mind-messing RPF, snark.
Dislaimer: (Unfortunately) this didn't and will never happen.
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It terrified her, the first time she saw Olivia. Really saw. How her body stalked across the screen. Her mere existence was baffling enough, but what scared Mariska the most was her own physical reaction.

Chris snatched the remote from her, switching channels.

“Stop gaping, ok? That’s just you.”

She shook her head. “No, but…I never did that. I mean, I don’t walk like-”

“Well, you’ve got a bad memory, then.”

She had no idea where Olivia came from. Truth was, she had trouble keeping track of herself. Minutes. Hours. Often, she couldn’t place her own body until well after she left the set.

That is, until she became desperate. Her, it, inhabiting her like a parasite. She grew Olivia out, strand by re-touched strand. She tried to stop herself from disappearing, as she felt the camera draw her inside it. Threatening the wardrobe guys, until they disposed of that monster, her clothes replaced with Mariska’s cast-offs.

But she still felt herself fading. Watching Olivia, failing to see herself, falling helplessly in love with her possessor.

Simple things began to get to her. She developed a fear of reflective surfaces. And the screen. Oh, the screen. TV’s are made of glass, right? Glass. People inside them weren’t supposed to stare back at you. They weren’t supposed to whisper things in the middle of the night, or flick channels until all you had were USA repeats.

“You don’t, you don’t scare me.”

Mariska was afraid to sleep. She was afraid that she wanted Olivia to find her. Afraid of her dreams that bled into reality.

“I didn’t really want to kill you.” She’d whisper it, hoarsely into her dark bedroom, feeling ridiculous. “Ok? I didn’t mean it.”

A light would flicker from the other room, and the TV would be on.

“Stop it, Olivia.”

She never received more than hushed murmurs.

“I said, quit it.”

Then the TV would jolt off, and the bedclothes would rustle by her feet. She’d close her eyes, as she felt the lips against her thigh. The fingers trailed upwards, teasingly.

“Olivia.”

“Shhhh.”

The breath against her skin, and then the tongue dipped.

“You can’t…be here…” But even as she got the words out, she couldn't keep her body from shaking.

And in the mornings, she’d go to work, and become Olivia all over again. Knowing too well the punishment she’d receive, for ever attempting to kill her.
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Cross-posed to: rpfs