Dream a Little Dream of Me- Jimmy Darling and Bette/Dot Tattler Fanfic

Dot- September 18

*Dot's POV*

My face was in knots- it twisted and turned to suppress its smile but ended up tangling up on itself. All of me was in knots, to tell the truth. My heartstrings, my stomach... All of it.

When Jimmy spoke I felt different. Like I was my own person that he was addressing individually, and Bette was merely along for the ride- I liked that.

"But that news." His voice lost its sugar-coat and charm, and all was bleak for a moment. His deep brown eyes stared into mine, and mine into his as he collected his thoughts. "We're all aware that since you girls showed up Elsa's been a little..." He looks at the ceiling for words, but I know the one he wants. "Jealous." I say plainly. He raises his eyebrows slightly at my directness, but nods in agreement. "Jealous."

"So apparently she was going to cut your act." Bette gasps, and even I tilt my head back slightly in surprise. "But," he starts, raising a hand to pause our reaction, his voice regaining its syrupy charisma. "I walked right into her tent and demanded a good explanation." Bette beams at him proudly, adding an air-headed "Oh, Jimmy!" I suppress my smile with this, and shoot her a cold look; her face melts as well.

"Jimmy you've got an act too. So's your mom. You can't afford to piss Elsa off." I say purposely balancing Bette's ditziness. "Nah," he leans back in his seat proudly. "Couldn't let anything happen to my girls. Now lemme finish wouldja?" I look at Bette in the corners of my eyes to make sure she got the memo.

"Anyway, I marched in and demanded she let you stay. After a good while of arguing she told me not to be so concerned about acts that weren't mine. So I'm making it mine." Bette and I looked at each other, confused, then back at Jimmy. "Now I ain't no Sinatra, but I can sing a little backup. That is if y'all will have me in your number."

We argue this over in our minds before we nod in unison, a small, un-smotherable smile creeping onto my face. "I won't let you down- just tell me what to practice and I'll do what I can," he says excitedly as he hugs us, placing his head between ours. He squeezes us tightly, and runs his left hand through my hair. He extends his arms, holding us out from him, then kisses us each on the cheek. "Sounds like the storm's picking up. Better get going. See you on the stage!" And with that he opened the flap and left.

Almost immediately Bette begins rambling excitedly about songs and costumes and choreography, but I tune her out. Reaching to the side table I pick up my pen and find my last entry. Under it I begin to write:

"PS: Do I have a story for you in the morning, diary."