Chapter Text
“You’ve been a disturbingly wonderful audience! My ego could now power the Staten Island Ferry all the way to Staten Island. Quick, someone throw a drink at me so the engine cuts out.” Midge spotted an older man that had crossed his arms amidst the raucous laughter. “I’ve been talking about teeny-tiny dicks all night and Staten Island slander is what offends you?” she asked as she straightened up and elegantly clasped her manicured hands together. “I’m glad. Not only am I glad, I’m also Mrs. Maisel. If the ferry shuts down in the middle of your ride home tonight it was all this man’s fault.” The same gentlemen broke into a fit of laughter as her pointed finger found him. “Thank you and good night!”
Midge beamed as she marinated in the applause, certainly not being sparse with her waves or blown kisses as she sauntered offstage. Hell, she wasn’t opening for anyone; she could take her time.
“Tell me why I still even come to these?” an ever-familiar voice inquired from the wing.
“Fuck those lights were hot.”
“‘Because I need your moral support, Susie!’ ‘I wouldn’t have a career outside of brisket making without you, Susie!’” Susie mocked as she pushed Midge to the green room.
“The more shows I do the brighter these spotlights get. My back sweat could irrigate a farm right now.”
“You’re telling me.” Susie removed her hand from Midge’s back and wiped it on her vest. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re a little famous. Therefore, people want to see every famous pore on your face.”
“A step on the road to fame is being formally banned from somewhere, so Staten Island may be a start. Shit, does this mean I have to thank Staten Island for something?”
“We’ll send them a fruit basket.”
“Careful, one fresh pear and their entire ecosystem could collapse.” Midge draped her arm across Susie’s shoulders as they walked to where she could kick her feet up in the most undignified fashion she could muster whilst letting her perspiration dry before cabbing it home.
The green room was ironically varying shades of orange, the two women in black like noir smudges in a tangerine void. Susie counted down from four before helping Midge flip onto her back, an act that her getup made near impossible to do alone. She flicked her heels off and rested her legs on the arm of the sofa.
“See, I could never not need you,” Midge sighed.
“My job is dependent on a girdle?”
“Extraordinary job security.” Midge lifted her head for a moment to emphasize the sentiment before letting it flop back down and shutting her eyes.
A knock on the door was routine enough to not disturb either of them, Midge’s “Come in!” met with nothing but a creaking door and footfalls that stopped in the center of the room. “Hello?” Silence. “I had heard the White Orchid was haunted but I really don’t have the patience for theatre ghosts at the moment.”
“We specters get such a bad rap. You people don’t even know that we’re half of your applause every night. It’s entirely unfair.”
“Lenny.” Midge’s eyes snapped open the second he spoke, his darkly clad form framed by the overhead light he obscured as he looked down upon her.
“Mostly living and breathing, fortunately, now that I know you discriminate against the dead.” He shrugged, his hands deep in his pockets.
“I didn’t know you were back in town.” Midge was uncharacteristically flustered, quickly forcing herself to come to terms with the fact that she could pass for a plague victim.
“I, uh- I gotta go feed a meter. Or two. Whatever meters I can find,” Susie muttered before slipping out of the door.
“I would stand, but-“
“Show corset?” Lenny grinned lopsidedly.
“Show corset,” Midge concurred.
“I like that show corset.” Lenny cocked his head to the side and commented with restrained mirth before addressing her earlier question, “I got back from Baltimore this morning, cancelled my dinner plans in Staten Island when I heard tell of a wee gig,” he jested and unmercifully sat on the sofa arm next to Midge’s stockinged feet. Though, apparently, he was far less perturbed by this arrangement than she was, placing his warm hand on top of her right foot and making her breathing cease for three heartbeats when he circled his thumb under the arch.
“Lenny…” Midge started, biting her red lip as she formulated what to say while making Lenny squirm with uncertainty (though he wouldn’t display an ounce of that). Swallow it, Bruce.
“Right, right, I’m sorry. I waltzed in here, actually it was more of a sprint because the guy out front did not know who I was-“
“No.” She clicked her tongue, hitching the top of her foot behind his back after he removed his hand (again making him internally squirm, but for far more welcomed reasons). “I just mean, well, I look horrible. Don’t you dare compliment me, I saw your lip twitch. If this couch were leather I would be sliding off of it. If I were to pat my hair too aggressively a rat would probably crawl out. You could fry eggs on my cheeks, take your pick of which ones. My-“
“To be clear, it’s not that you don’t want me to touch your foot because I’m a ghost...” Midge laughed warmly as he spoke, the twinkle in her eyes giving him a head rush of longing and reassurance. “It’s that you don’t want me to touch your foot because you’re a fucking mess.”
“You’re clever.”
“Midge, I’m content to shoot the very astute shit with you in yet another green room, but I can’t say I would mind you buying me a drink.”
“There it is.”
His eyes burned into hers like solar flares until she had to turn her head partly into the decorative pillow for a break before looking at him from the side. God, she was stunning. And physically there. Weeks apart between them didn’t feel particularly long, in fact, they both rode the high of reuniting after allowing themselves to grow accustomed to being alone. It was easy to forget how much time had passed. It was easy to slip into what had become unfamiliar and make it familiar again only to have it stripped away. They were never exclusive (only in practice, though neither of them would admit this), never conventional, never god-honoring, that’s for damn sure, but it was always an exhilarating song and dance to navigate reunions. Especially when it was on the sly and unexpected, as Lenny exceeded at. Midge’s very own human tom cat.
“I would say at least you can look if you can’t touch, but…” Midge shrugged. “Whaddya think; as advertised?”
Lenny put a pointer finger to his lips and feigned severity as he drank her in. Her face was covered in a light sheen, her cheeks rosy, her lipstick wearing off, her hair perfectly coiffed regardless of what she insisted, though Lenny was convinced that it could have survived the San Francisco earthquake. Shit, if those curls had survived a few of their nights together… Helene Curtis hairspray should use that in their next campaign.
“Verging on better than advertised if it weren’t for the chipped paint and bald tires.”
“Darn.” Midge smiled before haphazardly propping herself up on an elbow and pulling Lenny’s black tie towards her, the surprised comic following its lead as he pathetically melted off the sofa arm, his knee happily finding itself between Midge’s thighs, one hand clutching the back of the couch as the other slid itself under her pillow. If it weren’t for the one shoe he had firmly planted on the ground he was convinced he would have floated into the ether from light headedness. “I’m not going to kiss you,” she said tantalisingly, her lips brushing against his. “I just need to remind you that I bought our drinks last time, so open that wallet, Bruce.”
Lenny breathily laughed, practically into Midge’s mouth, the little resistance he had left meeting its match. The tip of his tongue successfully found hers for a nanosecond before she put the palm of her hand over his lips.
“I can’t sweat anymore!” Midge insisted, her speech slipping into a maternal territory that Lenny (concernedly, he thought) did not hate. “It’s freezing outside.”
“Famously, cold weather zaps perspiration.” Lenny didn’t remove his mouth from Midge’s hand as he spoke, the sensation making her chest feel tight and the salt of her palm making his winter-chapped lips tingle.
“Yes, that dehydrates the skin and would effectively turn me into the reptile woman of the Upper West Side.”
The two stared at each other from this position until Lenny grasped the top of her hand and slowly kissed the inside of her wrist, saying earnestly, “And I will proudly walk arm in arm with you until the Black Lagoon begs for your return.”
“Flattery. Remind me to thank you for that one later. Really though, I’m stuck on this couch until you help me up.”
“Got it,” Lenny agreed quickly, the two of them ungracefully finally finding themselves standing after a bizarre sort of tango, Midge running a smoothing hand over his un-ironed white button-up.
“Mother dearest. Thank you.”
“You’ve been eating your vegetables.”
“Yes, how can you tell?”
She placed a hand on his cheek and smiled fondly. “Because you look like shit.”
“Now you really do sound like my mother.”
Midge threw a pink winter coat on over her black dress. Lenny was silently mesmerized by her reapplying her red lipstick, doing up her buttons, and flipping her hair over her collar. “Forget how I’ve looked for the past five minutes.” Midge waved a gloved hand in front of his face in a circular motion, and he held back telling her that this was unnecessary because she could hypnotize him by doing anything as mundane as flipping a newspaper page (proven to be true. One morning this had nearly inspired coffee to dribble out of his mouth).
“Regrettably, at this point I have been irreversibly disillusioned by you.”
He placed a secure hand on the small of her back as she worked her magic on their way out of the theatre. Pleasantries, one liners, and thank-yous flew left and right. Lenny wrapped his arm fully around her waist when they found their way outside, mostly because it was cold and she was his for the time being, but also because he could shoot a redeemed smirk at the man that had denied him entry earlier.
“Do you know a place?” Midge asked.
“Well, there’s mine, there’s yours…”
“The divier the better,” Midge said with a pointed glance at both of their appearances.
“So a cab to mine? Brisk sprint, even.”
“Lenny.” She smiled, stopping in her tracks. “Respectfully, I’d like a few drinks to celebrate me finishing a show and us both being in New York City at the same time before we fuck each other’s brains out.”
He couldn’t help but laugh (although it verged on a sputtering cough) into his fist, the back of his neck growing hot. Was it cold? Was it snowing? At this point for all he knew it could be July. He pulled it together, flicked up his collar, wiped the side of his mouth with the back of his hand only to lick his lips again, and held out an elbow for Midge to take. “Shall we?”
“Lead the way.”