Amanda, Mark, Jesse, and Steve all wake up in
each other's bodies and must stay that way for an entire day. How
does each one feel after a day in a new job and body? How do they
feel towards one another? Do they try to act casual and keep it a
secret or do they arrange a secret meeting to discuss this? The
possibilites are endless. Challenge by Jana.
BIG BOYS DON'T CRY
Story by Iona Yeager
Based on the CBS/VIACOM Series
DIAGNOSIS MURDER
Rated PG-13 for sexual innuedo and some violence
Disclaimer: Diagnosis Murder and it's principal characters are
the property of CBS/VIACOM. This story is not for sale for profit
or fees by the author.
Prolog:
"The Ballet?' CJ groaned, ignoring his mother's
determined look. "It's Saturday, Ma. CyberJocks is on and
afterwards we're going to watch the playoff's and roast hot dogs
and have root beer floats, huh Uncle Steve?"
Steve grinned and nodded.
"Yup. It's going to be THE GAME. We are so going to
party." He held his hand for High fives with the boys.
Intercepting Amanda's censoring glare, he sobered. "Uh--but
your Mom did have this weekend planned for awhile. There will be
guys at the ballet."
"Oh yeah. Men in tights," Dion snorted. "And a
bunch of ladies flapping their arms like chickens."
Agreeing with the child, Steve bit his lip to keep from laughing.
"No, No. Big strong guys who throw the girls around. It's
cool."
"You're not helping," Amanda muttered to Steve.
"Are you coming to the ballet with us, Uncle Steve?" CJ
wanted to know.
"Well, the playoffs start at noon, and hey, I'll tell you
what. After the ballet come over and watch the rest of the game
with me."
"After the matinee, we're going to a reception for the
dancers at the museum. Maybe next weekend." Amanda said.
"Maaaaa!" Dion's voice rose with pure male
exasperation. "These are the Play-Offs. The teams play, some
lose, the best team wins and then they are OFF. FOR THE SEASON.
Next week they'll be showing reruns of movies people won't even
rent at the video stores. Uncle Steve, explain it to her."
Steve opened his mouth, the closed it as Amanda's smile turned
icy. He mouthed: "Compromise?" but she shook her head.
He shrugged.
"You can learn a lot at the ballet." He assured the
boys. At CJ incredulous stare he added: "Isn't your Kung Fu
teacher a member of that ballet company?"
"He's not coming." Pouting, Dion folded his arms.
"He's staying home to watch the play-offs."
"That does it. I am tired of being treated like the wicked
witch of the West because I want to enrich my son's lives. We're
going to the ballet tommorow, and that's final." Amanda took
a breath and turned to Steve. " I have some paper work to
finish before we go home. Can the boys hang out with you a
minute?"
"Are you sure I won't contaminate them with
testetorone?" Steve said, an edge of bitterness in his tone.
Amanda blinked, disconcerted. Steve held up his hands and
signalled the boys to follow him. " We'll be down in the
Staff Rec."
The brainchild of Jack Travis, the Staff Rec boasted a basketball
court, a ping pong table and entrance to the hosptial therapy
pool, which staff shared with patients. Steve and the boys played
a game of horse.
"We don't want to go the ballet or the museum or the
reception." CJ complained. "Moms are lame."
Steve shook his head.
"You don't mean that, CJ. Moms are wonderful," Steve
corrected him. "I really miss my mom. And though your mom is
pretty stubborn, she is a strong, good person. But Moms do
sometime like to do lame stuff like go to the ballet. But you
know what? My Dad likes that stuff too."
"Probably because your mom made him go and it just became
habital-you know, 'habit forming."
Steve hid a smile.
"Habitual. You're probably right. But you wouldn't want to
lose your Mom, would you?"
"No." CJ shook his head. "I love my mom. She can
be cool sometimes. Like she's almost a cop and does autopsies and
stuff."
"Yeah, that's cool," Dion agreed.
CJ placed his hand to his throat, rubbing his father's name tags,
the only memento he had of his Navy Seal dad.
"Still I wished Mom were more like you, Uncle Steve."
Sitting on his cloud, Colin Livingston laughed out loud with not
quite heavenly delight.
"Anything you want, son." he said.
-1-
Steve turned over, moaning with pleasure as he inhaled the odor
of sweet, herbal perfume. There was a fragrant soft woman nearby,
he could feel her tiny waist and flat, toned stomach beneath his
hand. Seeking the source of the sensual aroma, he reached out,
wrapping his arm about a pillow--pillows? Where the heck did all
these pillows come from? Shaking his head to clear it, he rubbed
his face and froze. His face was small and smooth, no trace of a
morning beard. And that wonderful, female smell was coming
from--he sniffed his arm--him!? He counted to ten and opened his
eyes. Eggshell white walls with sea green trim, soft lace
curtains, candles, flowers, and pictures of CJ and Dion
everywhere: this was Amanda's bedroom. Steve leaned back against
the pillows of the enormous bed, chewing thoughtfully on his
elegant thumbnail. He studied the hand turning the palms down and
up again. Small, brown, smooth, with long, slender fingers:
Amanda's hands? Obviously, I'm dreaming, he thought. Though he
could think of a few reasons he might dream he was in Amanda's
bedroom, he wasn't sure why he was dreaming that he WAS Amanda.
He shrugged. Might as well enjoy it. With one golden brown,
delicate finger he tugged at the satin straps of the nightgown.
Looking down he spread his fingers on the satiny skin beneath
skimpy piece of silk and...
"Brrriiinng!"
Uttering an unbelievably high shriek, Steve dropped the strap in
place. The phone rang about five times before he discovered it
behind a scented candle and a pot of flowers.
"Uh. Hello?" He said in Amanda's sultry, feminine
voice.
"Hello?" His own voice answered tenatively. "Who
is this?"
"Who is this?" He returned staring at the phone. He
swung his legs over the side of the bed and smiled in spite of
himself. "You have great legs, " he commented aloud.
"Steve?" It was his voice again, though softer than he
ever spoke. Steve stood up, and caught sight of himself in the
mirror. Amanda stared back at him. Her reflection touched her
lips, smoothed back her tossled hair, parroting his motions.
"Steve," the voice said again. "What exactly are
you doing?"
"I'm having this great dream about Amanda. It's weird, but
very nice," he said pulling down the straps of the
nightgown. "Very, very nice."
He heard him voice sputtering with indignation.
"What ever you're doing with my body, stop it right
now!" The voice barked into his ear, loud enough, to wake
the dead, certainly him. Yet Amanda's reflection watched him from
the mirror, her head titled sideways, her face wearing a cute
little frown of bewilderment. He startled, hearing a light tap on
the door. The door opened and CJ peered in. Quickly adjusting the
straps Steve gazed at the child, then the phone, then at Amanda's
face in the mirror, then back at the child.
"CJ." His eyes narrowed.
"Yeah?" The child shrugged. "Ma, can we at least
go to Mc Donald's for breakfast?"
"Uh, yeah, sure."
"No, they cannot go to Mickey D's for breakfast," the
voice roared. "There are frozen waffles and fresh
strawberrys in the refrigerator. Then we're going to a matinee at
the ballet --"
"I've already said yes," Steve countered. "CJ, you
and Dion get dressed. Your, uh, I will be out in a sec."
"Cool," CJ ran down the hall calling for his foster
brother. Steve smiled, hearing Dion whoop with joy.
"Steve, I've been planning this weekend for months."
Steve stuck his finger in his marveling at how tiny and sensitve
it was.
"Remind me never to whine," he said. "Amanda? I
want to wake up now. I've had some strange erotic dreams before
but never one where children walk in and ask me to take them to
breakfast."
"We're not dreaming." His voice insisted.
On her end of the phone Amanda sat, crossed legged, wrapped in a
sheet. Stumbling half asleep to the bathroom earlier that
morning, she discovered, the hard way, why men stand up at the
toilet. She recovered slowly from the shock of seeing liquid hit
the opposite wall, before she looked down. Yelling, she jumped to
her feet, shaking her enormous hands and dancing in a classic
gesture of female horror. She grabbed her chest, the timber of
her voice frightening her even more. Gingerly stepping over the
puddle of the floor she looked into the tall, unfamilair mirror.
Steve, his handsome face white with shock glared back. She looked
at the mess on the floor, thinking "Steve's going to kill
me." Rumaging through every cuboard she found cleaner and a
johnny mop. Reparing the damage in the bathroom restored her
equilibrium. Walking slowly back into the adjoining bedroom she
finally saw what her mind had refused to register only a few
moments before. This was Steve's room, Steve's house, and
Steve's--her eyes widen as she realized that she or rather Steve
was buck naked--body. Still female in emotions, her eyes traveled
over the well muscled chest down to his thighs. She covered her
mouth concealing a smile of guilty appreciation.
"Oh my, my,my. Very nice Steve," she said.
Suddenly the truth dawned on her. If she was in Steve's body then
Steve--. With dainty distain she flung aside Steve's underwear on
the night stand, uncovering his phone. She dialed Steve's number,
cursing at the busy signal, until she recalled why she was
calling him. She punched in her own number and heard her voice
answer in Steve's beach boy accent. She rubbed at the stubble on
her face, wrinkling her nose at the whiff of bathroom cleaner on
her hands.
"Don't forget to sit down on the toilet and use the
paper," she said drily, her giggle absurd in Steve's
baritone. "Steve, what do you think happened to us?"
Steve held the phone in his hand, examining it.
"I sleep in the nude," he recalled wryly. "Amanda,
exactly what have "you" been doing with "my"
body?"
Amanda laughed. Steve shivered hearing his own sexy purr over the
phone. Was that his reaction or Amanda's?
"I cleaned up the bathroom," Amanda/Steve replied.
"That sounds ominous. Look, I'm going to take a shower, get
dressed and hopefully wake up. If not, I'll drive over to the
Beach House and We'll figure this out."
An hour later Steve emerged from the shower, jerked back into
reality by his own voice at the bathroom door.
"Amanda, the boys are hungry." The person using his
voice pounded on the door again. "Come out of there right
now!"
Steve stepped out the steaming tub and wrapped a towel around
Amanda's slender form. He hoped he washed everything correctly.
He opened the door to see the person in his body standing with
arms folded, patting his foot impatiently.
"Don't do that," Steve/Amanda said. "It
looks--well just don't do that."
"What were you doing in there so long? It only took me 20
minutes to bathe and there's a lot more of you-me than --well you
know what I mean."
"I'm sorry you didn't find bathing me as enjoyable as I
enjoyed bathing you."
Steve suppresed a grin, seeing the male face turn fire engine
red.
"I didn't say that. I mean. Oh cut it out. You know what I
mean. I didn't want to disrespect your privacy" Amanda
answered, her expression strange interposed on his features.
Steve sighed, contrite.
"Same here. I swear, I did nothing to violate you. But it
was difficult. I had to touch you and I have to admit it was
pleasant. You are very beautiful."
"You- you are beautiful too." Amanda admitted, shyly.
Though his vioice, the inflection was definitely Amanda's and
very, very feminine. "And huge." Realizing what she
said, she blushed. " I mean your shoulders and feet. Hard to
get used to walking. I tripped all over your dad's couch."
Steve/Amanda raised an eyebrow.
"Dad doesn't know?"
"Know what? I have no ideal what to tell him, do you?"
Frowning Amanda/Steve plopped down on the bed and cuddled a
fluffy pillow. Looking at the big man curled up against the
colorful, lacy pillows Steve/Amanda shuddered.
"Amanda."
"Yeah?"
"How do you plan to explain to my Dad and the boys just what
"I" am doing in "your" room watching
"you" get dressed?"
"What? Oh right." Amanda/Steve hopped off the bed and
headed for the door, the walk all wrong for such a big man.
"Pick out something nice."
Steve choose at low cut blouse and tiny skirt. Admiring Amanda's
trim figure in the mirror he grudgingly conceded she would
probably wear something a little more demure for a afternoon out
with the boys.
'We missed the ballet," CJ announced gleefully when
Steve/Amanda finally emerged in a LA Lakers T-shirt and snug pair
of jeans."
"Oh well, " Steve/Amanda beamed. "Lets go over to
my-over to Uncle Steve's and catch the playoffs--what do you
say?" He grinned at his father. Mark did not grin back. He
watched at Amanda/Steve clean up the remants of breakfast.
'Oh, Steve, just leave that. I'll get it later."
Steve/Amanda called out.
Amanda/Steve continued working.
"Steve!"
Amanda/Steve glanced up, startled.
"Oh. Steve. That's me. Oh. What?"
"Leave that. I'll clean it up later."
"You promise?"
Mark's widen as "Amanda" made a Steve like motion of
dismissal.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I promise. Lets get a move on, here. The
game starts in in a half hour, and we got to get the grill going.
I'm starved for some hot dogs. What about you boys?"
The boys cheered.
"They just consumed a years worth of junk food."
Amanda/Steve protested.
"Geez, lighten up. Dad's, I mean Mark's a doctor, he
wouldn't let them eat too much." Steve/Amanda beamed at
Mark. "Ready to go?"
Mark watched the two opened mouthed. He scratched his face,
questioning what he heard and saw.
"Okay. Are you all right, Amanda?"
"Never felt better. Let's roll boys." Leading the boys
in a rowdy chorus of the Rawhide theme, Amanda ushered the group
out. Mark glanced up his son, pointing, bewildered at Amanda.
Amanda/Steve laughed nervously.
"Yahoo?"
"Yippi Kai Yi Yai," Mark corrected solemnly before
walking past him.
-2--
"YES! YES! In his face!"
Amanda leaped from the couch, delivering a high five and chest
bump that nearly sent Jesse across the room.
"That is the WAY to PLAY," she continued grinning.
Adrenaline overflowing she jabbed a finger at that flabbergasted
Mark. "This calls for a beer. You want a beer, Dad? Jess?
Boys, root beers all around?"
The boys nodded, open mouthed. Steve stuck his head in the door.
"Can you guys keep it down? People out at sea are
complaining about the noise. How often does PBS do a replay of
Zefferelli's Romeo and Juliet?"
"Every pledge drive?" Jesse quipped. Steve shook his
head with disgust and sashayed back out unto the porch. Jesse
titled his head, perplexed at Steve's new gait. Amanda walked out
to the kitchen, striding like Stallone. Jesse turned to Mark,
questioning.
"Amanda, let me help you with those beers," he called.
Jesse held up a finger.
"I got the big guy," he assured Mark. "Boys call
when half-time is over."
"Okay, Uncle Jesse."
"Is Mom being cool or what?" CJ asked Dion when the
ground-ups left the room.
"Yeah. But she's acting kind of funny."
"She let us have four hot dogs and extra chips. We could
have had five except Uncle Steve freaked out and said
"no." What's up with him anyway? He's not even watching
the game."
'Yeah, he's acting like Mom."
"And Mom acting like him." Experiencing an epiphany
CJ's face glowed. "Hey! You know what? This is like in that
movie where the father and son switch bodies."
"Boy. You think Mom switched bodies with Uncle Steve? Too
cool."
Satisfied with the answer the boys high-fived and sat back
enjoying half time music.
"Head's up, Dad!" Amanda called out from within the
refrigerator. She tossed Mark two cans of root beer. Mark caught
them, gathering them to his chest, parodying juggling.
"That's about the tenth time you've called me Dad today,
Amanda."
Amanda looked up her grin fading.
"Oh, damn, I forgot. You're Mark. I'm sorry, uh , Mark. I
guess the time I spend hanging out with Steve is finally taking
it's toll."
"I don't mind, Amanda. I think of you more as a friend than
a daughter, but I don't love you any less than I would a
daughter."
Amanda put down the beers and patted Mark's shoulder.
"Thanks. I love you, too." She said gruffly, ducking
her head. She hugged him, her movements stiff and awkward. Noting
Mark's bemused smile, she pecked his cheek. "I forgot the
kissing thing."
"Kissing thing? Amanda is this about this morning?"
"What?" Amanda, beer bottle to her lips sputtered:
"What do you know about this morning?"
Mark sighed.
"It's none of my business. You and Steve are adults. But
something was going on with you two this morning."
"It was nothing like that, Da-Mark I mean. Steve and I
clashed about our plans for the boys today, that's all."
Mark shrugged.
"Amanda, CJ and Dion are your boys. It isn't Steve's
business how you raise them."
"Except when I want him to look after them. Are you saying
he can only play Daddy on my terms? That's hardly fair."
"That's not what I meant at all. You're hardly being fair to
yourself. If Steve didn't want to spend time with the boys he
could choose not to. You're not holding a gun to his head or mine
or Jesse's for that matter. We talked about this before."
Amanda tossed her hand back. Taking a sip of her beer while
studying Mark.
"How would you feel about if there was something between
Steve and I?"
"We had this conversation before, too."
"Really? I seemed to forgotten. When was this?"
"After that Cajun Cook incident. You admitted you were
attracted to the man because he reminded you of Steve. I haven't
changed my mind. I love you both but the thought of you two
getting together scares me a little. More than a little. We are
more than family and you, Steve, I. I watched you two together
for years. You work as a one without even thinking. You're always
there for each other. Every man or woman who has tried to love
either of you know that they have swallow your relationship or
perish. But I think if you were together you will eventually hurt
each other and all of us would lose everything."
"What makes you think we would hurt each other?"
"--You want too much," Jesse told Steve.
"I beg your pardon?"
Looking at Jesse through Steve's eyes, she wondered if these two
were really as close as she believed. Moments before, Jesse
bounded onto the porch and surprised Amanda, who, deeply affected
as the dying Mercutio declared "A plague on both your
houses!", sat wiping tears from her/Steve's face.
"Are you crying?" Jesse demanded.
Forgetting her outward appearance Amanda/Steve turned with a weak
smile and nodded.
"Doesn't this scene just get to you?"
"I like the Leonardo Di Caprio version better. Better
Soundtrack," Jesse said drily. "Are you all right?
You've been sweating to see this game all week."
Steve's mouth went slack.
"No, I- I mean yeah, I do feel a little shaky. Headache or
something. Too much noise, I guess."
Jesse nodded, accepting the excuse.
"What's up with you and Amanda? Did you drop the Amanda
clause or should I drop the subject?"
"Amanda clause?"
"Yeah, you remember. A couple of years ago I asked if you
had ever asked Amanda out, and you said "No" because
with you and Amanda it was all or nothing."
"Decided that all by myself, did I?"
"Yeah, I mean, I'm not stupid. I knew you were telling me to
back off."
"Back off? Whoa. What do you mean? You asked Ste-uh me about
Amanda and I told you to back off? What right did He - did I have
to tell you anything?"
"If I remember correctly, that 's exactly what I said when
you told me that Amanda's wasn't right for me. Then you told me
abut the Amanda Clause between you and Jack."
"Maybe I was drunk," Steve said, his voice deadly
quiet. "--Because I don't recall this conversation. Refresh
my memory. What exactly is the Amanda Clause?"
"No big deal. Just keep my hands off Amanda unless I was
serious. All or nothing. When the boys slipped about you being in
Amadna's room this morning, and I guess you've decided to go for
it."
"Go for it?" Steve fumed, his large hands going to his
hips. "First of all, if I was going to go for it I would not
flaunt it in front of my-in front of Amanda's boys. I was in
Amanda's room because I thought she drowned in the tub. No one's
going for anything, if I can help it."
"Hey I'm not judging. I think you two could have something
phenomenal but you just want too much."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You want everything to be perfect. Righteous, a sure thing
with no clinches."
"You have to love someone for things to work out,
Jesse."
"You told me you loved Amanda, but you didn't want to risk
losing your freindship."
"What?" The beeper interrupted her.
A few moments later, struggling with his sidearm, Steve poked his
head into the den.
"Hey, big guy- I mean Amanda. It's the station. They got a
lead on those terrorist, and they need a coroner. Let's go. Boys,
be sweet and mind Uncle Mark."
Amanda strode over to Steve and adjusted the holster, the action
strangely intimate. Mark and Jesse exchanged amazed glances as
Amanda gazing up at Steve with teasing eyes said:
"Better issue me one of those. I don't want you shooting me
in the foot." Laughing, they left.
Noting Mark and Jesse's baffled expressions CJ explained:
"It's like Switcheroo, Uncle Mark."
"What?"
"You mean the movie where the dad and son trade bodies for a
day?" Jesse asked. "But that's not possible. At least I
don't think so. Mark?"
"Got me." Mark stroked his mustache. But there's
something going on. And I'm going to find out what it is."
End of part I
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