( "Ba-na-na! Ba-na-na! Ba-na-na!" )

Title: Hot Mess (title pending)
Theme: Impulse (#55) – taken from 101_kisses
Genre: General, Fun!fic
Rating: PG13
Notes: Inspired by Marathon Monday & all those crazy successful people who even attempt the endeavor. You rock.

You got this!"

"Finish strong!"

"You can do it!"

That was for the sweaty, the tired, and the pained.

"Yeah baby!"

"Woooo!"

"That's right! That's how you do it!"

That was for whenever somebody sped by with a ridiculous amount of energy for Mile 23.

"You all are amazing!"

"You're almost there!"

"Three more miles!"

And so it went. The yelling changed with the passing of every runner. Anything written on bodies or shirts was made chant-able.

"I-tal-y! I-tal-y!"

"Go-Joe-go!"

"Ka-tie! Ka-tie!"

"No-body! No-body!"

"Su-sie's-dad! Su-sie's-dad!"

"Team-team-team-team-team!"

Flag carriers and the military always got love.

"U-S-A! U-S-A!"

"U-S-M-C! U-S-M-C!"

Some runners liked to bring a little fun to the treacherous run.

"Bun-ny-ears! Bun-ny-ears!"

"Tu-tu! Tu-tu!"

"I'm single too! Me too! Me too!"

"Mi-ckey–Mouse! Min-nie-Mouse!"

Of course, creativity was not required.

"Blue-shirt! Blue-shirt!"

"Dots-dots-dots!"

"Look! A pink wig! Pink-pink-pink!"

And some things just went without saying.

"Yan-kees-suck! Yan-kees-suck!

"Yeah they do!"

Though their group of five was small compared to some, they made up for it with constant catcalls and chanting, causing as much ruckus as they possibly could. Standing on the sidelines of the Boston Marathon, they collected brisk fist bumps and sweaty high-fives.

Prior to the arrival of the runners, they'd spent much of their day lounging on the front stoop of their apartment building, chatting with all the people who had yet to make beer runs or who already needed refills, while enjoying the joys of several cases of Sam Adams – it was Patriots' Day after all.

Currently, they all felt sufficiently inebriated as they leaned heavily on the guardrails, occasionally forcing a precarious tilt.

"Almost done! You can do it! Finish strong! Finish strong!" Jareth yelled at an older man who was limping by slowly and ignoring Jareth at the same time.

A woman in her 30s jogged by, skimming their hands with her fingers, genuinely smiling and exhaling breathless, "Thank you's!"

The group became especially loud as a runner appeared, pushing another man in a wheelchair.

"That's fucking hardcore."

They waved their arms and jumped up and down as a woman ran with a camera around her neck, snapping her own pictures and filming her cheerers.

A blonde holding a bright pink poster jogged lightly toward the raucous group. It demanded "Cheer 4 LITA!" clearly in bold black marker. Hearts and smaller scribbles decorated the sign. She clambered over the fence where they were, flushing pink with exertion.

"Cheer for Lita!" she insisted.

Maybe it was the energy in the air, or the exhilaration of rooting for random people running twenty-two-point-six miles for no reason, or the fact that the blonde was really hot. Whatever the reason, despite the beginnings of hoarse throats, all of the boys began chanting loudly without quite knowing who Lita was.

Lita stared straight ahead, wondering once more if she'd have been better off dealing with sweaty sunglasses rather than squinting in the sunlight. Her breath puffed painfully out of an open mouth, and her legs fell heavy to the asphalt. Her calves hurt; her thighs ached; and she was officially sweaty and gross in front of hundreds of people who were taking hundreds of photos.

Serena appeared beside her as she slowed to a walk.

"You can do it Lita! You're so close! Only three more miles!"

Lita's chest heaved as she placed her hands on her hips and glanced at Serena. She managed a short laugh when she saw the smaller girl walking barefoot next to her. Idly, she wondered where the other girls were.

"C'mon Leets! It's all you! Twenty-three miles down! Twenty-three!"

Lita pulled out her hair-tie, attempted to smooth away all the wet strands sticking to her salt-grained face, and pulled everything back into another high ponytail - for the third time. Her walk became a light jog.

Serena paced herself along the brunette. "YEAH! Three miles ain't nothin'!"

Lita straightened her shoulders and dropped them back. Immediately, it became easier to breathe. She shortened and quickened her stride at the same time. A large digital clock came into view: 3:49:27 and counting. Within paces, her breath matched the steady beat of her feet.

Inhale – left, right, left. Exhale – right, left, right.

Inhale – left, right, left. Exhale – right, left, ri-

"Li-ta! Li-ta! Li-ta! Li-ta! Li-ta!"

Lita's focus broke. Glancing ahead, she saw Mina's pink poster bobbing up and down floppily next to a group of chanting boys, Amy and Raye mixed among them.

Lita grinned. Only Mina would get a random group of boys to cheer for her friend. Heading to where their arms stretched over the barrier, she slapped each of their open palms purposefully as they yelled for her.

She distinctly heard one of them say, "You are GORGEOUS!" but her eyes focused on the last man in line: the tall brunette standing behind Mina, holding his hand out. Instead of a high-five, however, she grinned at him and, without thinking, made a surprising grab for his other hand.

The liquid in the red Silo cup sloshed over the side as it transferred hands abruptly. "Hey!" he called after her. "That's not water!"

Over her shoulder, she yelled back, "Good!" before downing the disgustingly warm beer enthusiastically.

Serena laughed at Lita as Mina and Ami jumped the fence to run with Lita part way. Energized by her friends, the crowd, and the thought of a good cold beer at the end of the run, Lita only stayed with her friends for a quarter of a mile before plunging back into the crowd of runners, leaving her friends and spectators behind.

Nolan glanced at the elegant girl who'd stayed behind. "Your friend owes me a beer," he said matter-of-factly.

She grinned even as she flicked indigo eyes over him briefly. "We're celebrating at O'Shea's tonight," she decided in the end. Already her friends had backtracked far enough that they were gesturing for her to hurry over. One of them was waving a camera around while the others posed next to two runners who had run and finished dressed like the plastic red cup the gorgeous brunette runner had snatched out of his hands.

Nolan and Jareth watched the girl saunter away. They glanced at each other briefly before grinning and turning back towards the oncoming runners.

Nolan observed two men dressed in banana costumes in front of another man dressed in a lighter version of a gorilla suit. Nolan's friends started chanting, "Ba-na-na! Ba-na-na! Ba-na-na!" and as one of the "Ba-na-na's" came towards them, Nolan reached an arm over the barrier, waited for his high-five, and couldn't help saying, "I fucking love Marathon Mondays."

end