A/N: I am so sorry this took me so long. I actually started writing this back in April 2016, but I fell into a bit of a block with it. Incredibly, it took a rewatch, a crossover with Supergirl, a signed Reba CD (best gift ever!), and a whole lot of encouragement from my wonderful friends to finally pick this back up and finish it.
I went with prompt #2 "moving in together" as requested by badger793 on tumblr.
A special thank you to ariestess for the beta!
This is pretty ridiculous, so I do hope the humor translates. Barbra Jean has no shame, Reba is amazing, and the dynamic between them will always be a favourite. Anyways, plot-wise, this takes place years after the series finale… Okay, it takes place today. Brock and BJ are in the process of divorcing. BJ and Henry have moved into Reba's big empty house. Enjoy!
The Fear of Being Alone
The last thing Reba expected to find when she returned from her midnight bathroom break was movement under her bed covers. She froze at the side of the bed, reaching out blindly for an object of defense. Her hand fell upon a box and she lifted it with haste. With a deep breath, she leaned over the bed, raised the box in her hand, and took a deep breath.
"Aha! I've got you!" Reba yelled as she lowered the box and smacked the lump in her bed with all the strength she could muster. The box collapsed under her grip, tissues spilling out of it as dust and a shriek littered the air. The lump scrambled under the covers in the darkness of the room, panicked mumblings emitting from the intruder.
Reba jumped away from the bedside, effectively bumping into a wall.
At last, arms emerged from the covers, followed by a mess of blonde locks.
"Barbra Jean!" she exclaimed breathlessly, hand to her chest.
"Oh, Reba. It's you," Barbra Jean panted, relieved. "You scared the bejesus out of me!"
"I scared you?" Reba asked incredulously. "What the hell are you doing in my bed?"
"Well, I was sleeping," the exasperation was clear in Barbra Jean's voice as she lifted the disfigured makeshift weapon, "until somebody decided to attack me with a box of Kleenex."
"And you were sleeping in my bed because..."
"I was lonely."
"Well, good for you," Reba griped, as she moved toward her bed. "Now get out."
"But Reba," the blonde whined, stretching her name like a bratty child.
"Out."
"Can't I just sleep here tonight?"
"No."
"Please, Reba?" And although she could hardly make out her features in the dark, Reba could hear the pout in the younger woman's voice. "I tried to sleep in Henry's room, but he kicked me out."
"Once again Henry proves to have more sense than you."
"Apparently he's too old for beanie baby sleepover parties," Barbra Jean chattered on, impervious to the redhead's quips, "but luckily, you're just down the hall! You and me, having a sleepover. You know, just gals being pals!"
"For the last time, Barbra Jean," Reba huffed, "we are not - nor will we ever be - a couple. Stop calling us gal pals, people are starting to talk."
"What are you so worried about, Reba? I'm the one they're calling a U-Haul, not you."
"That's got nothin' to do with our situation, Barbra Jean," she muttered. "They call you that because you're as loud as a truck."
"Oh Reba, you always know how to cheer me up!"
"That was not a compliment."
"Sure it wasn't, Gabby."
"Nope, and if anyone is Gabrielle, it's you.," Reba protested as she reached out and yanked the duvet off of the blonde, drawing a yelp from the bed thief. "I'm the Xena in this relationship. Only someone with her level of patience could stand a babbling blonde like you."
"Awww, Reba, you really do love me."
Unable to admit or reject the statement, Reba forced out an exaggerated huff as she rolled her eyes. She lifted the duvet into the air and spread it across the bed, fully aware that the other woman hadn't moved.
"She'd walk through fire and battle armies for you, Barbra Jean!" the strangled, child-like voice made Reba snap her head up so fast, she could almost swear she'd given herself whiplash.
Reba's eyes bulged when she realized why Barbra Jean was speaking so oddly.
"You're soulmates!" Barbra Jean squealed in that same voice as she lifted the lion beanie baby, squeezing its center to spread out its legs in celebration.
"Oh, well isn't that cute," Reba drawled, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "Mind if I take a look?"
"Of course not!" Barbra Jean perked up, delicately placing the stuffed animal in Reba's open palm. "Just be really gentle."
"Is this the only one you brought in here with you?" Reba asked slowly.
"Yeah, I didn't have enough time to unpack the rest of his buddies," Barbra Jean sighed, but as usual, she recovered quite quickly, "which means he needs extra cuddles and kisses tonight!"
"I'm sure he does, and I know just what to do with him." Reba declared proudly, pulling the toy up to eye level, and she didn't have to look to know that the other woman was wearing a goofy grin.
"No!" Barbra Jean screeched when Reba threw the lion out into the hall, "Mr. Muffintoe!"
Reba froze, the victory fading before she could even smile. 'Mr. Muffintoe?' she mouthed, her wide eyes trained on the doorway. She really shouldn't have been surprised that Barbra Jean would choose such a ridiculous name, it was a wonder she had chosen such a traditional name for her son, Henry.
The stretched, high pitched whine of her name as Barbra Jean jumped out of bed and lunged into the hall snapped Reba back to reality just in time to slam the door behind the other woman.
With a satisfied grin and a little bounce in her step, Reba made her way back to bed, sinking between the sheets with a relaxing sigh.
Soon after she closed her eyes, the door creaked open once again, Barbra Jean whispering apologies to her stuffed lion as she tiptoed back to the bed.
"Barbra Jean," she warned, her eyes still closed, hoping the problem would go away.
"Please, Reba?" the younger woman pleaded. "I'm not used to sleeping alone."
"Well, I am." Reba huffed. "So make like Mr. Muzzlefoot and get out."
Barbra Jean didn't respond, nor did she move. Reba tried her best to ignore her, but she couldn't sleep with the other woman looming over her. When the silence was broken by quiet whimpering, Reba finally opened her eyes and stared at the hunched figure above her.
"Fine," she relented, "but just this once. Tomorrow night you learn to sleep like the rest of us divorced women: alone."
"Oh thank you, Reba! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Barbra Jean perked up, pulling the sheets up and flopping down onto the bed.
"Don't mention it I mean really, don't mention it. To anyone."
"Oooo a secret! Fun!"
"Yes, exactly. Now shut up so I can get some sleep."
"Right, sorry. No more talking. Goodnight, Reba."
"Goodnight."
A beat passed before she added, "And it's Mr. Muffintoe, silly."
Reba groaned and turned to face the wall.
"You know, because you called him Mr. Muzzlefoot earlier, and that's just wrong."
The quiet that followed Barbra Jean's comment only lasted a couple minutes before she started chattering on again.
"I was at work today you know, on the street, where I work, broadcasting the local news and it just made me so sad. Too many people running around with guns. I mean, I know we live in Texas and guns are like... right up there with football, but sometimes it's just so scary."
Reba lay completely still, refusing to engage and hoping her annoying companion would take the hint. She didn't, of course.
"You know what we should do? We should get bulletproof vests, because you never can be too prepared, and gal pals like ourselves can be real targets." Wide awake at the use of 'gal pals' once again, Reba stared at the wall, offering a silent plea to the heavens to save her. "They're pretty ugly though... Not to worry though, nothing a little bedazzling can't fix!"
"Barbra Jean," Reba broke her silence, "can't your babbling wait until tomorrow?"
"Oh. Sorry. It's just, I'm too excited to sleep now! I know I should be more upset about the divorce but I've just moved in with my best friend! It's exciting. Like a silver lining with red hair."
"Yeah, give it a couple years and maybe there'll be two more former Mrs. Brock Harts living with us! Then we'd have ourselves a true attraction!" Reba sat up and turned to face Barbra Jean then, spreading her arms out emphatically. "I can see the advertisements now, 'come one, come all! Meet the idiots who married a manatee!'"
"Ooo, you think they'd give us our own TV show? House of Broken Harts!" Barbra Jean snorted. "Get it? Broken Harts!"
Reba sighed, sagging back down into the pillows.
"I guess, in a weird way, you're the only good thing to come out of my divorce. Maybe this is how my life was always meant to be. Living the rest of my life alone, with you by my side to annoy me."
While it had been years, and had reluctantly dragged her into an unexpected friendship with the woman beside her, somehow, Brock's betrayal of their marriage still stung. She had never truly moved on, after all. Every romance she'd indulged in crashing down around her for one reason or another.
The next thing she knew, Barbra Jean was humming an all too familiar, irritating tune.
"Would you quit that?"
"Oh come on, you love it!"
"I do not!"
"You want to hug me..." Barbra Jean continued in her singsong voice, "you want to love me..."
"Look, I'm going to put this as lightly as I possibly can," Reba said, her voice stern, "even if I were interested in women in that way and I'm not I most certainly wouldn't be interested in you."
"Sure you wouldn't," Barbra Jean teased, nudging Reba with her elbow.
"You're just hopeless."
"-ly devoted to you."
Reba tried to stifle back a laugh, resulting in a low guttural sound that had both women bursting into a fit of giggles.
"Oh! I just thought of the perfect idea for your vest," Barbra Jean exclaimed, still a little breathless from the giggles. "I'll write 'don't mess with Big Red' on the back in red gems. You're gonna love it!"
"I'm sure it'll look great mixed in with the other stuff in the box marked 'Idiotic Blonde Concoctions' in the garage."
"Aw, Reba! I didn't think you'd kept them all!"
"Don't flatter yourself," she deadpanned, "the trash man refused to take them to the dump, that's all."
Barbra Jean hummed happily, turning to face Reba. She stared at Reba for a while before taking a deep breath. The next time she spoke, it was with an unsettlingly sober tone.
"I don't think I really thanked you, for letting Henry and I move in here."
"Couldn't exactly leave you out on the streets." Reba kept her eyes on the ceiling, knowing that even in the dark, Barbra Jean was watching her closely. "Henry deserves better than that. You on the other hand..."
A companionable silence fell over them, but still, neither woman could sleep. Oddly, it wasn't Barbra Jean who broke the silence.
"I suppose and I must be really tired to be admitting this I couldn't leave you either."
Slowly, Barbra Jean removed her left hand from under the covers and brought it out to rest over Reba's, squeezing it in gentle appreciation. Reba turned her hand palm up and returned the gesture.
"I can't believe my baby boy is turning fifteen years old in a few short months," Barbra Jean said, her voice soft.
"Don't remind me," Reba tittered, "my babies are all grown up."
"Your baby's baby is turning fifteen!"
"Thanks a lot, now I feel old."
"Well, you ar-"
"If you finish that sentence, I won't be held responsible for my actions."
Barbra Jean's mouth shut with an audible clank of her teeth.
"We really should try and get some sleep."
Reba pulled her hand out of Barbra Jean's and turned to face the wall once more, cushioning her head with her hands.
"Reba," Barbra Jean whispered a few minutes later, "are you asleep?"
Eyes wide open and staring at the wall, Reba didn't breathe a word.
"Reba?" Barbra Jean whispered a few more times. Satisfied that Reba must have fallen asleep, Barbra Jean continued to whisper, "I know our relationship had a rocky start, and that it still gets to you at times, but other than Henry, you're the most important person in my life. I just hope that you know that. It took six years for you to admit that we're best friends, if I have to wait another twenty for you to be completely open with me, it will have been worth it."
"Barbra Jean," Reba groaned, masking the tear at the corner of her eye, "quit your yammering and go to sleep. And I swear, if you quote Miss Congeniality one more time, I will take that toy of yours and smother you in your sleep."
Of course, that particular acknowledgement of Barbra Jean's confession set her right back to humming that exact little tune.
"Barbra Jean," Reba warned, "Don't make me get my Chakram!"
"You don't have a Chakram, silly."
"That's what you said about my gun."
Barbra Jean gulped audibly and went completely still at the memory that rung up.
The silence lasted the rest of the night, the two women falling into peaceful sleep at last.
They never talk about the way they awoke the next morning, arms and legs tangled in a strange embrace.
A/N: To amuse you, assuming the birthdays I found were correct, Reba character ages as of 19 February 2017: Brock (58), Reba (56), Barbra Jean (46), Van (32), Cheyenne (32), Kyra (27), Jake (22), Henry (14), Elizabeth (14).
Thank you for reading, I do hope you enjoyed it! Comments would be most appreciated! :)