Unintentional (Crazy For You, F/Oneshot)

[Bluebird]

It's time for my yearly writing post!

And oh wow that's really the best title I could come up with? I'm so ashamed orz

Aha. So. Um. I've recently become enamored with the Gershwin musical comedy "Crazy For You" from 1992, and was fortunate enough to get to see a local production of it on Saturday. It was there my love for this musical was not only magnified, but led me to hungering for some form or another of sneeze-fiction for this show (something that's less of a rarity with "Guys & Dolls," the other musical I'm enamored with.)

So I took it upon myself to write some kind of a oneshot, because lord knows I'm not very good at sitting myself down for a while and trying to concoct a story that can go on for multiple chapters. I think this ended up being more of a self-satisfaction thing, but I did write something.

(I mean, the focal character in this was played by Jodi Benson in the original run of the show, if that helps anyone?)

In case anyone is familiar with this show, this takes place

in the second week after Bobby leaves Deadrock and Polly is performing as the star of Zangler's show.

But...yeah. Enjoy, I suppose? x'D

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Polly Baker studied her freshly made-up face in her dressing room’s mirror, her head resting in one of her hands. Her mind was completely lost in thought; in the aftermath of the past two weeks, she couldn’t have been feeling more confused and frustrated. Although she had stopped worrying about the foreclosure of the theatre – she knew full well that the newly-christened Zangler’s Follies Theatre had more than enough money by now to thrive – there was still someone missing from her life. One crucial person that she had been pining over in her own tortured silence: Mr. Bobby Child.

She felt ridiculous and almost childlike; it simply wasn’t like her to long for someone like this! Yet somehow or another, the memories of the impetuous young man’s endeavors and effort to try and help her and her father out stuck to her mind like glue. Why did New York have to be so far away from Nevada; why did he have to be so far away from her!? In Polly’s mind, this was extremely unfair; she missed him more than anyone in the Follies (though Tess, she reasoned, might have missed him just as much); so why was she stopping herself from going to see him?

With a jolt of realization, Polly sat up and shook her head. What in the world was she thinking!? Zangler’s show! There was a full house out there, and the show was due to start in at least twenty minutes! She was the star, after all, and needed to give her utmost concentration if she wanted the performance to go well. If she wanted to pine, she could do it on her own time – not Bela Zangler’s. All thoughts of Bobby were pushed from her mind; for now, this was her priority.

Picking up her lipstick she rouged her lips, and after another quick moment of looking, decided that her face needed one final coat of powder. The powder was one of her least favorite parts of her makeup, as it tended to get everywhere very quickly – but Polly was determined to be careful.

With great caution, she began to slowly unscrew the jar’s lid. However, much to her dismay, the lid caught mid-twist. This left her with no choice but to be more forceful. And while she did end up getting the lid off, she also did exactly what she was trying to avoid: the white substance flew up and billowed off, all over her vanity table.

She coughed a bit at the sudden clouds of powder and began to fan the swirling mess away with her hand. However, the fine granules in the substance had other ideas, and the slightest pinprick of a tickle began to form in Polly’s nose. With a soft and somewhat disgruntled snort, she rubbed her nose against the back of her wrist to try and extinguish the feeling; she was raised among dust and dirt, after all, and her nose was much stronger than a little bit of that!

She turned her attention back to the finishing touches of her appearance, applying a soft layer of powder to both of her cheeks and giving a few last-minute brushes to her long, red hair. Her costume dress, already on, was concealed by her own fluffy robe. But no sooner had she decided that she was “finished” than the tickle made a reappearance, and somewhat stronger this time around. She sniffed and followed along with her earlier action of rubbing at her nose with her wrist.

A few hard knocks were heard at her door all of a sudden – sounds that Polly nearly missed hearing in her attempts to evacuate the itch. She let it go for now, though the feeling was still there, and was then made aware of the sound of voices on the other side of the door.

One was that of a sweet-sounding woman, with almost a motherlike quality and tone to it, while the other was the slow drawl of an old Southern man that was as thick as molasses. Moose and Tess, Polly deducted – but what were they doing at her door? She rarely had visitors while she was getting ready nowadays.

“C’mon in!” she yelled, and watched Moose push the door open in the mirror, one hand behind his back. She could see Tess standing in the doorway obviously there to encourage the older cowboy.

Polly turned around to face him, watching him turn a bit red. She raised an eyebrow at his sudden shyness, still somewhat confused as to what he was doing at her room – and now, what he was hiding from her.

“Evenin’ Moose!” she greeted with a smile, trying to look at what could possibly be behind his back. “Er…what’cha got there?”

Moose gulped, and looked back at Tess, who was still smiling at him. She waved a hand, her encouragement motherlike. “Come on, Moose. You can do it,” she said with a smile.

With a nod, Moose looked down at Polly and extended his arm, revealing a small bouquet of wildflowers. “Tessie an’ Ah noticed you’ve been down in the dumps, so we went out an’ pick’d ya’ these.” he explained, his words drawled out and bashful.

“Fer…me?” Polly’s eyes were wide, a gasp caught in the back of her throat. She hadn’t had this kind of consideration from anyone since Bobby went home – and the fact that both Moose and Tess were sweet enough to think up this kind of a gesture was almost too much for her to bear.

“Why, you two are just too thoughtful!” She stood up and took the bouquet from the gentleman, overwhelmed with gratitude.

She studied the flowers in her hands for a moment. They were small, a fuzzy yellow color, and not particularly fancy; but Polly knew these kinds of flowers all too well. While they weren’t strong-smelling, unlike other flowers they were usually rich in pollen and were more likely to make her sneeze. But one little sniff of them couldn’t hurt, right? After all, her friends did go out of their way to get these for her; and what kind of a friend would she be if she didn’t at least smell them?

She pressed the bouquet to her nose, sniffing as daintily as she could manage. As if on cue, the lingering tickle from earlier was kicked back into full force. Polly put her wrist to her nose as she felt her eyes begin to water. She sniffled lightly, her nose now starting to run in reaction, and pulled back some from the bouquet. Moose watched her reaction silently, his eyes widening and the corners of his wrinkled mouth turned down into a frown.

“Ya’ don’t like ‘em?” he asked, eyebrows drooped and voice shaking with concern. Polly, now realizing the consequence of what she just did, looked back up and shook her head fervently.

“Why, Moose – of course Ah like ‘em!” she reassured the old cowboy, putting her free hand on his arm and mustering a sweet smile. “They’re just perfect. Thank ya’ kindly.” She looked back at his companion in the door for a moment – how could she forget about Tess? “An’ you too, Tess – Ah truly appreciate it.”

Tess nodded with a wink, and Moose smiled again. “Good!” He tipped his hat and walked back towards the door. “See ya’ out on stage, Polly.”

“I’ll suhh – see ya’ soon!” she replied with a wave, suddenly and consciously aware that her breath was beginning to hitch. As soon as the pair had both moved out, Polly shut the door. If she was going to have a sneezing fit before she went onstage, she would prefer to do it alone. She laid the flowers on her vanity, not really caring about the neatness of the arrangement for the moment.

“Hhe – hha…”

The tickle was only growing, and her breath wasn’t going to calm anytime soon. Her green eyes, half-closed and stinging with tears, darted frantically around the room for something she could possibly sneeze into. It didn’t even need to be a handkerchief necessarily – it just had to work. A sigh of relief escaped her when she caught sight of the box of facial tissues on her vanity, and in an instant, she grabbed one.

“Hhh – hmm’phisshew! Hmm – niihhshhew!” Polly’s body jerked forward at the sudden force and breathiness of the release, remembering just as quickly that her “flower sneezes” were notoriously bigger and far messier than her “regular sneezes.” Barely did she have a moment to breathe in when the tickle struck back once more.

“Ehh – eihh – ih’hHKSSHew! Hh’KISSHEW! Hhahh…gaah…ahH’CKHsshhew!”

By now, tears were streaming down Polly’s puffy eyes, and her nose was running like mad. She wadded up the soaked tissue and threw it in the trash can, though she just as quickly grabbed another few sheets to blow her nose in. She needed to get rid of those flowers, and fast – while the gesture was sweet, they couldn’t stay.

Daintily, Polly picked the flowers up by their stems, being so careful as to point the actual “flower” part away from her. In quick thinking, she grabbed another tissue as well – her nose was still feeling itchy, and besides, what was the harm? She opened her door and made her way down the hall to the dressing room of the Follies girls, sniffling all the way.

Tentatively, Polly gave a knock, which was answered by a chorus of “Hello?”, “Come in!”, and, once she entered the room, “Hiya, Polly!” Polly gave a quick look around; most of Zangler’s dancers were ready by now, though some were still applying finishing touches to their costumes or faces. She spied Tess sitting at one of the makeup tables, and made a beeline for her.

“Tess?” Polly ventured, suddenly self-conscious at the sound of the thickness in her voice. The tall, black-haired girl looked up at Polly with a warm smile.

“What can I do for you, Polly?” Tess asked amiably. She studied the young cowgirl for a minute – her eyes were puffier than usual, and she could hear the mucous in Polly’s voice. It was then her eyes drifted to the other girl’s hands, and upon seeing the little bunch of flowers Moose had given her not five minutes ago, her curiosity was piqued. “What are you doing with the flowers Moose gave to you?”

Polly looked down, feeling somewhat embarrassed, but remembering to keep herself steady. “That’s just it, Tess. Ahh– Ah think Ah’ll need to give these flowers back t’ya’.” She put them down on the table, the tickle beginning to flare up some. Polly rubbed under her nose with a finger, hoping to keep the sensation quiet for a moment.

“Is there something wrong, Polly?” Tess’s tone was light, though not completely innocuous, as she was beginning to suspect the cause of Polly’s distress.

“Aahh – actually, there is.” Polly let out a light, somewhat flustered chuckle as she rubbed the back of her neck.

“Y’see, theihh – these flhaa – flowers thaahht you annh – an’ Moose gave me– eaHH –“ Each word was agonizing to choke out as her breath hitched harder and the tickle intensified. Polly held a finger up as she drew the tissue from the pocket of her robe, the force once again catching her somewhat off-guard and causing her to stumble forward.

“Gh’hyaTCHHOO! Ehh-hHHUCKUSSHEW! Thhh – they’re maaaihkin’ me – eihh – IHSSHHEEW!”

By now, Polly was facing the other way, hands pressed firmly to her face and still bent over, breathless. Once again, desperate tears were rolling down her cheeks as her one miserable tissue was a soaked mess. Scattered yet concerned “bless you”-s and “gesundheit”-s were heard around the room from the other dancers, as Tess leapt from her seat and quickly yanked out some tissues from her box. She handed them to Polly, who took them with much gratitude and began to blow her nose. With a sympathetic smile, Tess took the miniature bouquet off of her table and disposed of them in one of the little trash cans in the room.

“Gee Polly, I’m awful sorry!” she apologized with embarrassed fervor, a hand to her mouth to try and stifle a laugh. “I didn’t realize that you were allergic to these kinds of flowers!”

Polly simply waved a hand, continuing to wipe her streaming nose. “’S alright, Tess; y’ didn’t know ‘ny better, an’ Ah ‘preciate th’ thought all th’ same.”

Tess nodded, though a sudden thought came upon her. Polly’s condition was equally as important as the performance she had to give!

“Will you be alright to perform? Should I talk to Bela about getting you an understudy?” she asked, watching Polly give another somewhat-gurgling blow into the tissues. “We still have time to find you one.”

But Polly was stubborn as ever. “Nah, Ah’ll be fine, Ah’m sure – jus’ so long as y’ aren’t givin’ me any more of those dandelions!”

[Orionbob]

I'm not familiar with what this is from, but that was really sweet! I enjoyed it, thank you for posting!