Rose Tints Their World

Chapter One: The Mormons Drive Minivans

AN: Okay, this is what would happen if the alternate ending to SoG had been The EndingI. That make sense? No? Good.


The apartment in Raleigh was pretty plain. It had one bedroom, one bathroom, and a kitchen that opened up into a dining room which took up half of the entire area. Not to say that the entire area was much. It was about one-sixth the size of Mum's house in Bridlewood.

But it was ours. There was some sort of fierce pride in the fact that that dingy little apartment belonged to us.

We moved my four-post bed into the apartment because it was a queen size and Chris' bed was only a full. We also moved the futon from my room to use in the living room until we could get some real furniture. The table and chairs for the kitchen, along with all of our major appliance (which the landlord was not kind enough to tell us weren't included, and Chris apparently does not notice such things) were gifts from my Mum and Chris' parents.

So with that we managed to rather shabbily furnish our apartment within the first four days.

I don't mean to sound whiney or ungrateful when I say shabbily. Beggars can't be choosers. And in all honesty I was rather proud of the small space because well, as I've established before, it was ours.

And then came the fun part. Finding work.

Now, let me tell you, unless you intend to dedicate at least eight years to college, do not major in psychology. The entry level positions suck. I was lucky enough to find a job as a high school counselor. Oh joy, right? Dealing with depressed, drug influenced, smelly teenagers every day of my life.

But still, I was out on my own. Well, I had Chris, but I was still sort of on my own. It would be okay. Things would all work out somehow. They had to.


There is a code somewhere that says that first days at a job must suck ass. First off, North Carolina is still technically the south. And you know the whole stereotype of southerners being conservative, close-minded republicans?

That is totally true. Don't let anyone tell you any different. Like, back when I was in middle school, I went to visit my aunt Chris. This was back when that show "Friends" was über-popular. Anyway, I was watching it and Aunt Chris was like, "I watched that once but then they started talking about sex so I had to turn it off."

My aunt Chris comes up with bizarre things like this on a regular basis, so I wasn't really concerned about it and just said something to the effect of, "oh really now?"

"Well, they were talking about gay men, actually, but it's all the same. They're disgusting people really, fags," she muttered in distaste. For all of my life she had been unable to grasp the concept that I was gay and preferred instead to gay-bash in front of me.

Anyway, like I was saying, people in North Carolina aren't always super accepting of my lifestyle. This was demonstrated as soon as the first child was sent to my office.

"Look, Mrs. Fresk, I don't need to be here, just let me go to class. It'll be easier for everyone." The boy had the typical all-American sports god looks. He was tall and muscular with baby blue eyes and sandy blonde hair cut close to his head. He was smirking at me as if he knew how to get past anybody and was used to running the school.

Well, he should have thought about that before he called me Mrs. Fresk.

To give him credit, I didn't really expect him to know my name at all. And I had started growing my hair long again. It was currently brushing my shoulders. But for Christ's sake, I was wearing the required men's slacks, jacket, and tie. Did he think I was an especially ugly woman or something?

"Try again, football boy, I'm Mr. Fresk," I said with a smirk. "And you are here because…" I trailed off, searching through the papers on my desk for his file.

"You're a guy?" he spat. Oh, there's that disgusted tone, he must have grown up near Aunt Chris.


"Are you gay?"

"I don't believe that is an appropriate thing to be discussing when you've been sent here for…" I finally located his file and grimaced at the report. "Sexual harassment."

"If you're gay then why are you wearing a wedding ring? Your type isn't allowed to get married."

Okay, this kid was really working my nerves.

"In Massachusetts we are," I said through gritted teeth.

"But we live in North Carolina."

"Right. And in North Carolina do you know what the punishment for sexual harassment against a minor is?" I asked, my eyes still scanning the report. Apparently Mr. All-American got left back a year because here he is at the beginning of his senior year, eighteen years old and assaulting a sixteen-year-old.

"She was only a year under me," he said stiffly, glaring at me.

"No, she was a class under you, but you are two years older than her. You are technically an adult, and she is a minor. If she decides to press charges you could be facing some very unfavourable circumstances here soon." I threw his file back onto my desk and leaned back in my chair, tucking my hands behind my head and staring intently at him. "You wanna tell me what happened?"

"Not really," he said, glaring at me. I shrugged.

"Fine then, I'll just have to go ahead and suspend you then. Three weeks is the minimum around here. But a moral young man like yourself should have plenty of support when you are allowed to return. I'm sure you won't have any trouble catching up."

I sat there for a minute waiting for him to change his mind and talk, if only to save his own ass, but when he didn't I sent him to collect his stuff from his locker while I called his parents.

That was an experience. His parents were every bit as… whatever adjective one would use to describe the boy… as their son.

It was only eight o'clock and already I could tell it would be a very long day.


"CHRIS!!!" I wailed, bursting through the door after walking up four flights of stairs in uncomfortable dressy shoes because the elevator was broken. "I had a horrible day, my feet hurt, I'm hungry, and all I want right now is you, on the bed, naked!"

I skidded to a halt in the living room when I realized that Chris was not alone sitting on the couch, well, futon. The girl beside him turned wide, amused eyes in my direction as I felt all of the blood in my body rush to my face.

"Um, Justin, this is Jayne Harbison," Chris said with an amused chuckle. "She's one of my co-workers at the advertising company. Jayne, this is Justin Fresk, my husband, life partner, lover, stressed out foot-in-mouth inflicted spastic boyfriend-husband-person. Whatever floats your boat."

Hark; Chris managed to find the one person in the entire area who is not insufferably homophobic. I was starting to think maybe it wasn't possible.

Not that this revelation made it any less embarrassing that I had just commanded Chris into bed in front of his co-worker.

I could just hear them at the office tomorrow:

"Oh yes, not only is Chris gay, but his boyfriend is a raging sex fiend."

This day officially sucked.

The good news is that on that particular level, it could only get better, right?


AN: .:sigh:. I know, bad Luci… I guess I'll write this one before "Blank Canvas". It should be fun anyway. I bitch about not wanting to write about them anymore, but I guess I should just be happy that my muses are doing something instead of sitting around eating Pocky with Lashie-chan. For those of you who don't remember, Lasher is my alter-ego. Yeah…

Oh, it just so happens that I have an aunt Chris who is incredibly homophobic like Justin's aunt. And she did actually say that about "Friends". And she does live near Raleigh, North Carolina. Heh, go figure.

And yeah, Justin changed his last name to Fresk, just because I wanted him to.

About Jayne, I don't know if she'll be important or if I just put her there to aid in the comic relief or what. Either way I would just have to be too nice to give you a slash scene in the first chappy, right?

Welpers, must dash. Please be kind and review!

♥'s and X-Rated Thoughts—Luci-chan