#lupe garcia fanfiction

[novacqnes]

omg a part 2 to blue moon pls perhaps with lupe smut, maybe ms holiday (love that thank u) goes to a game and some other girl (peach or other team) flirts with her and we get jealous lupe…………. hot

you are brilliant

rumor has it // lupe garcia

warning: 69’ing with lupe, jealousy, possessiveness, dirty talk, top!lupe

pairing: lupe garcia x fem reader

a/n: i wasn’t planning on writing a part 2 originally but i love everything about this so here we go (also i had to google baseball terms for this so if they’re incorrect forgive me)

anticipation radiated off of the crowd as the teams tied. it was the final inning of the game and the blue sox batter stepped up to home plate. you watched nervously as lupe prepared herself for her final pitch. 

she placed her feet shoulder width apart winding up her arm, she then lifted her leg parallel to the ground extending her arm as far as she could, exerting all of her power on the baseball. it flew from her grasp and past the batter and straight into carson’s mitt, first strike. 

a sudden burst of cheers came from the crowd but it was too early to celebrate. silence swept over the onlookers as lupe took her spot once again, repeating the same series of moves almost ritualistically. 

she launched the ball and it soared through the air, the batter swung hard but to no avail and it landed into the mitt, second strike. 

excitement poured out of you and the rest of the peaches as it came down to one last pitch, it was on lupe. frustrated, the batter stepped up once again bracing for the impact as hundreds of eyes landed on the pitcher. 

taking a deep breath lupe reeled the ball in and with all of her strength sent it flying, faster than she’d ever have. it took even carson by surprise as she caught it losing her balance. the crowd erupted into cheers as the peaches took home yet another win. 

you shot up joining along as lupe searched for you in the crowd, sending you a small grin before joining the rest of the peaches on the side. she was practically oozing with pride and part of it was because of you. 

since your initial meeting at the bar the peaches— or more specifically lupe had been on a winning streak. her performance was better than ever before and most importantly she was happy. 

after each game she’d make her way towards your apartment allowing a beautiful relationship to bloom between you— within the walls of your home that is. due to the risks the two of you made sure to limit the displays of affection to indoors, only going out when it was safe, which was rare. 

however after enough convincing lupe gave in and you were able to finally watch your girlfriend in action. seeing lupe in the game she was an entirely different person and it left you to wonder what else there was to her. 

dozens of people poured off from the stands as the game came to a close, leaving a few others and the teams. although it was completely safe, you made your way to the field, hoping to sneak just a few moments with lupe before going home— but she was nowhere to be found. 

the longer you waited the more stares you drew from the blue sox, most of not all curious ones. the attention caused an uneasy feeling to fester inside of you and you were sure you’d made a grave mistake. 

turning on your heel you began to make your way to the exit when you felt a soft, alarmingly gentle hand on your shoulder. when you whipped around it wasn’t lupe but a tall, slim blue sox player. she had curly blonde hair that fell at her shoulders and a wicked smirk. 

“looking for someone?” she asked.

“i was, but i think i’m just gonna head out.”

her eyes ran over your body as she took a step closer. most of the players were distracted by this point but a few gazes remained, a certain pitcher being one of them. 

“that’s too bad….this your first game?” 

“that obvious?” you chuckled, nervously picking at the hem of your skirt. 

the longer she held you under her gaze the more nervous you became, it was wrong but you didn’t know how to pull away, not without making things worse. 

“sort of….you know i like to remember people’s faces in the crowd, especially the new ones.” she purred.

her voice dropped to a teasingly low tone as she stepped closer, drastically diminishing the distance between the two of you. her pupils burned with pure lust as they landed on your lips, setting your cheeks ablaze. 

craning her head to the side she leaned into your neck, her breath gently fanning your ear. 

“i can’t—“

“i’ve seen you sing at the bar downtown…rumor has it that you offer private shows from time to time.” 

a sweltering heat buzzed underneath your skin as the blue sox player watched in amusement. a shit eating smirk spread across her lips as she watched you back away, calmly making a beeline towards the nearest exit.

before you could even make it towards the fence you noticed lupe standing just a few feet away with her arms crossed over her chest. to say she was livid was an understatement.

“lu!” you exclaimed, rushing towards her, “jesus, you won’t believe what just happened-“

yet before the details of your latest encounter could leave your mouth lupe had already walked away, not even sparing you a second glance. she stormed across the field into the peaches changing room, leaving you behind. dumbfounded, you stumbled into the room along with her. 

“um…what the hell?”

an eerie silence filled the room as lupe refused to look at you, angrily pulling off her uniform. you stepped closer to her putting a gentle hand on her shoulder when she whipped around to face you, her skin a deep red. 

“why are you here?” she barked, pointing an accusatory finger at you. her tone was hostile, a complete contrast to how she normally was with you. 

“excuse me?”

rather than pulling away you held your position gazing into lupe’s fierce brown eyes— she was fuming. her fists were balled at her sides and her nose scrunched, causing tiny lines to form. 

although she was doing her best to appear intimidating, you weren’t scared, more so intrigued. you’d never witnessed this side of lupe and for some reason it stirred something deep inside of you. 

“you said you wanted to see me. then when i come looking for you i find you flirting with the blue sox pitcher,” she spat.

jealousy was laced in each and every word that left lupe’s mouth. the way she spoke of the blue sox pitcher and seeing you with her— it all read envy. your relationship had rarely ever been put to the test of outside influences. therefore experiencing it for the very first time sent lupe into a fit of jealousy that she had no way of containing, or so she thought. 

“honey, i do wanna see you. what you saw- i promise it’s nothing.” 

you brought your hand over to her cheek, cupping it in your palm to reassure her, but she wasn’t fully convinced. now, lupe didn’t doubt your ability to be faithful in fact it was the least of her worries. her biggest gripe was with the thought of someone else talking, touching or even thinking about you in the way that she did. 

she saw it in the bar, the way both men and women flocked to you with their awful methods of flirting. they’d gawk at your body and gush over your singing just to win you over, but it rarely ever amounted to anything. however seeing fellow players have their shot with you was completely uncharted territory. 

“you don’t believe me, do you?” 

lupe remained silent but that alone was enough confirmation. it was becoming abundantly clear that words alone weren’t going to convince her. you wrapped your arms around her neck, ushering her closer as she felt your chest press against hers. 

“what would it take….to convince you?” 

lupe snuck her arm around your waist, her eyes burning with desire along with hundreds of possible ideas that ran through her mind. but she finally settled on one when her eyes landed on the wooden bench just a few feet away. 

“i’d like to witness ms holiday in all her glory.” she teased, eyeing you up and down through your tight floral dress. her lips brushed against your neck sending a small buzz of pleasure to your skin, and with that you knew it wasn’t about singing. 

she left behind a trail of small kisses up your neck, just enough pressure to tease you. you gripped onto her tightly as she made her way up, slipping a man’s underneath your dress. 

you cupped her face in your hands, desperately kissing with lustful desire. remnants of tobacco lingered on her tongue but you ignored it, pushing yourself against her even more. 

pulling away lupe helped you undo your dress, savoring each image of your body as you undressed. after you were fully naked you turned towards her, eagerly tearing off the rest of her remaining clothes. 

she went to lay on the bench first, laying flat when she gestured for you to come closer. tentatively you walked towards her lower preparing to get on your knees when she stopped you. 

“i want you up here, on my face.” 

her words rushed straight to your core causing you to yearn for lupe more than ever. you positioned your legs on opposite sides of the bench hovering over her mouth. slowly you began to sink down, gasping at the warm wet contact of lupe’s tongue against your clit. 

you clutched onto her thighs, leaning forward as she ran her tongue along your dripping pussy, relishing in every moan and whine she was able to draw from your lips. 

“fuck….” you cried, gently circling your hips on her face. she wrapped her arms around your legs enticing you to come closer, pursing her lips upward with an extreme fervor. streams of pleasure raged through your body from your pussy, egging lupe on even more. 

“you like that, holiday? like how i fuck you with my tongue.”

“oh—fuck—i love it,” you mewled.

she gradually tightened her grip on you, giving you no room to run. she sloppily ran her tongue around your clit, sucking it into her mouth before moving on to your dripping hole. freeing one hand, she spat on her index finger before slipping it inside. together, she wrapped her tongue along the sensitive flesh, curving her finger to awaken your g-spot. 

writhing above lupe, you could hardly contain yourself. your back slowly began to give, causing you to lean forward, just a few inches from lupe’s own heat. to preoccupied with your pleasure to notice this her pace weakened. the once fast flicks of her tongue dampened to tauntingly slow flicks that left you craving more. 

without hesitation began to place deep kisses over lupe’s clit, sending a shiver up her spine. 

“shit—y/n….keep going.”

she parted her legs a bit further enticing you to delve in further as did she. she wrapped her lips around your sensitive core, swirling her tongue along your folds, forcing you to moan into her pussy. the sweet vibrations of your mouth on her sent lupe into oblivion as she held onto for dear life.

your legs began to shake in her grasp, leading her pride to surge with each cry and obscenity that fell from your soft lips. she adored the sight of you unraveling, clinging onto lupe as if she was your whole word. it was further confirmation you were hers. 

“want you to come all over my face— i wanna taste every part of you,” she groaned.

“lu, i’m so close—more, more, please.”

hungrily, you lapped up her fluids paying extra attention to her delicate nub. however, it grew increasingly more difficult to stay focused as her fingers toyed with your g-spot bringing you closer to a splintering high. lupe could feel it, how you wrapped around her fingers so deliciously and sloppy each movement of your tongue, you were moments away from an orgasm taking her along with you. 

the insatiable ache between her legs rapidly built as she fueled yours. your pleas became more incoherent by the second, and lupe’s muffled by your core. she could feel herself losing control as your body went still above her. a shattering feeling rippled through your body, causing you to write helplessly against lupe. reeling from her own orgasm she pressed deep kisses into your thighs, soothing you. 

“you did so good, baby,” she cooed. 

with the last bit of strength left you shifted away from her face lying lifelessly on the wooden bench. she moved towards you, gazing at your sweat covered face.

“do you believe me now?”

“mh, of course.” she grinned, swinging an arm around you as you leaned in closer. 

“why is that?”

lupe trusted you, therefore it was never a question of loyalty she just simply needed reassurance. and both of you found that sex was a more pleasurable way of doing so. one where she was able to have you all to herself, which was something she wasn’t afforded at the bar or even on the field. 

she smirked, “well for one, you can’t fake sounds like that. two, i’m the one that got the private show… so i guess the rumor is true.” 

[marsconer]

what if lupe garcia fanfiction ? she’s so girlfriend boyfriend

[phantomstatistician]

Fandom: A League of Their Own

Sample Size: 1,731 stories

Source: AO3

[thefae-journal]

A Cup of Kindness

fandom: A League of Their Own ship: Gretson

word count: 4504 originally posted: December 30, 2022 warnings: none also written by: lazyboo, LSgrimm91, meren_plath, OhGretaHoney09, Two_Gays_and_a_Hippo, zulu

summary: In 1943, Lupe, Jess, Esti, Jo, and Shirley reunite at Greta and Carson’s New York apartment to ring in the new year.

Also on AO3

A League of Their Own masterlist masterlist

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The New York sky was dark outside the apartment. The noise of the neighbourhood, that could so easily get on Carson and Greta’s nerves the rest of the year, just added to the ambiance of the evening.

“Car,” Greta managed between the deep kisses Carson was taking from her all-too-willing mouth. “People are going to be here any minute.”

“I don’t care,” Carson said against Greta’s lips, diving in for another kiss.

Greta tipped her head back and laughed, not trying in the least to remove Carson’s arms from around her waist. “Hey, we only just got our clothes back on.”

Carson grinned her quietly wolfish smile. She knew better. She knew Greta liked to take her time to primp when the occasion called for it. She knew she had stolen more than an hour to talk and laugh and touch, when Greta normally would have been curling her hair and trying on the fourth outfit of the night before company arrived.

“I can’t help it.” Carson moved back to take in Greta’s appearance. She’d done a decent job not mussing up too much of Greta’s fresh hair and makeup. She looked beautiful in her maroon pencil skirt and flowy, long-sleeved white blouse.

“Try,” Greta half-admonished. “You know Shirley will be early, I’m surprised she’s not here—”

The doorbell rang. Greta looked at her watch. “See?” She checked her hair and lipstick in the small mirror on the wall by the front door before shaking her head at Carson. It miffed her slightly that looking at Carson, no one would never know she’d had three orgasms in the last hour. Greta still felt flushed.

“Shirl!” Greta said as she opened the door. “Come in! Come in! We can’t wait to hear everything about the engagement.”

“You two! Eek!” Shirley let out a high-pitched scream that Greta and Carson both tried to prevent themselves from flinching at. “This place is so great, and so…you!”

Neither Carson nor Greta knew if that was a compliment or an insult when it came from Shirley. They shared a look as Greta ushered Shirley past the entrance into the living room.

Another knock at the door saved them both, but this time, the door opened immediately as Joey let herself right in. “Goodbye, 1943!” she called as she slammed the door behind her.

“Joey!” Greta yelled as she ran into a bear hug. Usually, Joey was perpetually late to everything, but Greta had asked her to try to be on time for this evening’s festivities.

Jo gave her a smirk and looked around. “Wow, the place looks...”

Greta slapped her on the arm. “What?”

“Well, I guess I expected more than a closet.”

Carson walked up to greet Jo. They shared a commiserating look. “Space? Who needs space?”

“You’re not helping,” Greta told Carson.

“That’s not what you were saying earlier,” Carson said with a smirk, bumping her hip against Greta.

Jo raised an eyebrow, impressed at the confidence that had grown in Carson in the few short months since the season ended.

Jess, Lupe, and Esti walked through the door next. Together, as usual.

“Look at this joint!” Jess exclaimed. She walked up to Greta and Carson and hugged them both together.

Lupe came up behind her and punched her arm. “Be less of an idiot.” She hugged Greta and did her faux shoulder check into Carson as was their usual greeting.

“I thought you were bringing the new girl?” Carson asked.

Esti gestured with her flat hand across her neck that Carson should drop it.

Carson held up both hands. “Ohh. Sorry.”

Carson opened beers for everyone who wanted one, which included Shirley, to her surprise. Carson handed her the bottle with a grin. She was entertaining the girls with the harrowing tales of their clandestine first few months in New York when Greta offered to grab more drinks. Carson saw her slip out of the living room. As soon as her story was done, she gave a quick excuse that likely nobody believed, and met Greta in the kitchen.

“It’s so good to see everyone again,” Carson said as she wrapped her arms around Greta from behind.

Greta clasped her hands around Carson’s and leaned back into her, so that Carson could tuck her chin on Greta’s shoulder. “If we make it out of the house, it will be a New Year’s miracle.”

Carson squeezed her tight and breathed her in. “Hey,” she began as Greta turned to face her. “You, me, the Peaches? Whatever we do, it’ll be great.” She leaned up and pressed her lips firmly against Greta’s, sighing with contentment.

It was only a little over a month ago that she’d shown up at Greta’s apartment, with a few bags in hand. After the season ended, Carson had decided not to go back to Lake Valley. The tiny town was all she’d known before joining the league, and at first, it had felt like she’d only be allowed so much freedom before she’d find herself crawling back. Carson knew, in September, that she needed some time for herself. Time to see herself without Greta. But it was being without her that tugged at Carson’s skin.

She’d tried being with other women. Most of them reminded her of Greta. In the end, none of them could take Greta’s place. The fire of her red curls sitting just below her shoulders—her hair had grown since the summer, and she’d recently got it trimmed. Her hold, how her arms felt when Carson moved into her embrace. Warm, almost an aura that surrounded her. It pulled Carson in and caught her, like an easy pop fly.

Carson had spent time travelling in the months she was apart from Greta. Seeing places she’d never thought she’d see. Greta sent her letters, which was how Carson knew where to find her when the time was right. After spending some time in Las Vegas, Carson boarded a train to New York. To her new home.

Greta was shocked when she opened the door and saw Carson. There’d been no letter, no post card to let her know that Carson would be coming. That was how Carson wanted it to be, a surprise. But Greta pulled her into a hug, and the embrace turned to heated kisses as soon as the apartment door was closed. They abandoned the bags and moved into the living room. Hours went on, until Carson was lying on Greta’s chest on the couch, both of them naked, spent.

If Carson was completely honest, it wasn’t the most comfortable couch in the world, but at that moment, she didn’t care. She was with Greta.

Was with her, still. Stealing moments in their own kitchen while their teammates chatted and laughed only a few feet away. Carson let the kiss end, and pressed her cheek into Greta’s shoulder. In her arms, even the chaos in the living room was somehow drowned out.

“You’re right,” Greta said, brushing her thumbs over the backs of Carson’s hands. “This is all that matters now, huh?”

Carson hummed into her shoulder. “You know, I don’t mind staying here tonight. Not going anywhere.”

The Peaches were their family, and Carson wanted nothing more than to spend the beginning of the new year with them. But it was Greta who sent out the invitations, addressed from the apartment they’d made their own in the month since Carson arrived. Carson had added more personality, pictures on the walls, while Greta looked for the perfect decorations, a cut-crystal ashtray for the coffee table, a lamp that glowed with a lovely yellow light. The apartment wasn’t what it was, when Carson first walked through the door.

“But,” Carson continued, letting her hands fall to Greta’s waist and pulling her closer, “I also know that you want to see the ball drop. I’m sure the others would like that, too.”

Greta hooked her arms around Carson’s neck and tilted her head to the side. “I love you, do you know that?”

Carson giggled. “I love you, too. Do you know that?”

“I think I’ve always known.” Greta bent down to kiss her, but the sound of early fireworks made Carson jump back. “You okay there?”

“Yeah. Yeah. That seemed close. I guess it caught me off guard.” Carson glanced over her shoulder into the living room. And for a moment, she watched the others, her team.

The sharp ding of the egg timer Greta had set earlier reminded them they still had company to entertain. Carson had already handed around the drinks, and now the food was ready.

“Carson, can you get me a plate to put the hors d'oeuvres on?”

Carson snapped to attention, doing as she was told. Greta donned an oven mitt and pulled the baking sheet out of the oven. Every time Carson thought that she had Greta all figured out, Greta went and surprised her. She didn’t know why she expected Greta to be a bad cook, although Greta had never really seemed the domestic type. But here she was, pulling out all the stops for their friends and teammates. Better her than me, Carson thought, her memory of the failed conversation pie she had made for Dove still fresh in her mind.

Carson loved seeing Greta like this, in her element, full of joy and laughter. It was so rare to see Greta natural and relaxed. She was always the first to keep up appearances in the outside world. Her hair, her makeup, and her clothes were a kind of armour. It was more than that, though. It was the calculated way Greta sized up every situation and made herself smaller. She always made sure she fit. Except for now. Not when she was with the team. Not when she was with Carson. She was so much more at ease with herself. It was beautiful.

Greta filled the serving plate and Carson made to leave the kitchen and rejoin their friends. Suddenly Greta blocked her way. “Not yet,” she said. “You’ve gotta pay the toll first.”

Carson stood up on her tiptoes, careful not to drop the plate and gave Greta a kiss on the cheek. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

Greta bit her bottom lip and raised her eyebrows in response and Carson knew what she was thinking.

“Later,” they both said at the same time, smiling.

Greta watched Carson as she went into the tiny living room. She knew she should get out there and play hostess too, but she allowed herself this moment. She wanted to remember everything about it: the laughter of the people who knew and loved them, the festive atmosphere, but mostly Carson. Carson’s laugh, her radiant smile, the way she looked at Greta. Greta didn’t know it was even possible to be this happy, to have this life with the woman she loved. Maybe Jo was right. Some things were changing.

“Hey Bird! Get in here!” Jo yelled.

“Coming!” Greta responded as she quickly joined the team in the living room.

It was no easy feat fitting everyone into such a small space, but at least the normally chilly apartment warmed up quickly. There wasn’t a single seat left. Jo had taken the wingback chair and Esti was curled in the armchair. Lupe sprawled across most of the couch, with Shirley primly sitting at the far end. Jess was sitting on the kitchen table, her feet on the rungs of a ladderback chair. Greta sighed in resignation and gave Carson, who stood looking adorably lost in their own living room, a wave with her finger towards the coffee table.

Greta didn’t have to see Carson put the food down as she found a spot on the floor near the bookshelf; the sudden rush of movement behind her and pleased exclamations were indication enough. She sat against the wall, her feet curled delicately under her. As hungry as everyone was, Carson would be lucky to escape the throng.

Yes, there she was. Greta gave her a soft, adoring smile and held out a hand, summoning Carson to the floor beside her. Carson settled right against her, a warm hand on her knee.

“I think those are a hit.”

“All food is a hit.”

“But even Shirley likes them.” Carson nodded to her friend, who was trying to eat a small tart that was obviously still too hot. Jess, too, had grabbed a handful that was too hot, and was juggling the pastry from one hand to the other. She fell onto Lupe’s legs on the couch, and the two of them started a shoving match over the middle cushion, ending up with Jess tucked against Lupe’s shoulder.

Greta cast her eyes around the room and felt almost overwhelmed at the sense of ‘home’. This felt a bit like the night at The Office, before the raid, the first—the only—time she’d been able to be with Carson openly. But unlike that night, she had her friends here and... and she felt much safer. She and Jo had never stayed in one spot long enough to set down roots, so having people travel to see her, to gather for a special occasion in the home she’d made with Carson, was something new. Something to treasure.

Sometimes it scared her, if she was honest. If she dared to have something she valued, she knew how much more it would hurt to have it taken away.

The hand on her thigh tightened, bringing her attention back to Carson.

“Are you all right in there?”

Greta just took a second to enjoy looking at Carson. Carson always seemed to know when Greta was getting lost in her thoughts. Perhaps the difference was that Carson came back. She fought for them. So did the Peaches; after all, they were here. Her own family may have been awful, but the family she had here—they were different. Real.

“Never better.” Greta covered Carson’s hand on her thigh with her own, lacing their fingers together. She finally gave her attention to Shirley, who’d been carefully placing her left hand on her knee all evening, the tiny solitaire sparkling on her finger. “Hey Shirl, we’re invited to the wedding, right?”

“Oh! I get to be the flower girl!” Jo decided, lifting a finger to volunteer, much to Shirley’s wide-eyed horror. She couldn’t even object; her mouth was still full of Greta’s hors d’oeuvres.

“I don’t think you could handle the responsibility, De Luca.” Lupe snickered from her spot tucked behind Jess, earning her a poke from Esti. Poor Shirley was inundated with quick-fire questions from everyone—where did she meet him? When did she know? How did he ask? What was he like in the sack?

“What about baseball, Shirl?” Carson asked, and everyone fell silent. Once a coach, always a coach, it seemed.

Finally Shirley spoke, fiddling with her nails. “I want to play, but I’m not sure... I don’t know if I can.”

There was a solemn silence at the thought of their teammate not coming back next season. Greta was the one to break it. “You will, though; you’re a Peach. We stick together.”

“And if not, we’ll break the guy’s legs,” Jess added, with alarming nonchalance.

“That’s very…sweet, very sweet of you,” Shirley said, with a tense grin at Jess.

“We’re never going to make it downtown if we don’t get going,” Greta said, clapping her hands to relieve the tension.

“Boo, downtown,” Joey said. “Come on, Bird, you know we won’t be welcome there. Not really. Let’s stay in.”

Jess and Lupe clinked the necks of their beers in a toast to that, and Esti said, “We will need música. Radio?”

Carson grimaced. She wished they could afford one, but she hadn’t found a job since she’d moved in with Greta, and while Greta’s work with Vivienne Hughes’ company was well-paid for an unmarried woman, it didn’t stretch to luxuries.

But Greta was quick to jump to her feet and head for the window. She forced it open, letting in a swirl of chilly air, which was welcome after the stifling heat of so many people in the small space. With the window open, the sound of jazz music filtered in. “Noisy neighbours,” Greta said. “Never thought I’d be grateful to be hearing their music at all hours of the night.”

A new song came on as the jazz song finished—Billie Holliday. Carson stood up and held out her hand to Greta, who stepped gracefully into her arms, a soft smile on her lips.

“Look at these two,” Lupe commented. “Still can’t get enough of each other. Hasn’t it been months?”

“Yeah, like they aren’t the ‘noisy neighbours’ at least half the time,” Jess said with a grin, ignoring Greta’s death glare. “Come on, Esti. Let’s dance.” Jess grabbed Esti’s hand and swung her into a rather more vigorous dance step than the cluttered living room could stand.

Jo bowed low and offered a gentlemanly hand to Shirley, who looked wide-eyed and frozen for a split second before she tentatively put her hand in Jo’s. Jo put a hand on Shirley’s hip, but kept a respectful distance between their bodies as she led Shirley in a waltz that didn’t match the song’s rhythm in the least. Lupe, sprawled on the couch with her beer, said, “I’d cut in but I don’t see even one of you who actually knows how to dance.”

Carson grinned up at Greta. “Is this okay?” she asked quietly. They’d danced alone, often, but in the hot, stuffy room, with other bodies brushing past them—even if it was all their friends—she thought Greta might need to take a step back.

Greta shook her head, a brief gesture meant for Carson only. Her hand on Carson’s shoulder slid down to the small of her back and pulled her closer, so that their bodies moulded closer together. Carson inhaled quickly and Greta smiled tenderly at her. “It’s okay. More than okay.”

Without any space, and only the faint sound of the neighbour’s radio to dance by, there wasn’t much they could do but sway in each other’s arms. In other words, it was absolutely perfect. Carson brought Greta’s hand to her mouth and kissed her knuckles. They missed the change of songs, and Esti pulling Lupe into the dance; Jess and Jo fighting over who should lead; Shirley accepting a rather closer dance from Lupe than Jo had given her. So it was with complete ease that Carson pressed up and brushed a warm kiss to Greta’s mouth, kissing her softly, and then not so softly as Greta’s lips parted for her.

They only broke apart at the sound of Lupe’s disgusted groan. “We didn’t all bring someone to neck with,” she said. “If we’re not going out, then no fair showing off.”

Greta smirked at Carson and leaned close one last time, to murmur against her ear, “Later for you,” and then, spinning out of Carson’s arms, said, “It must be nearly midnight.”

“Stop being such a grouch, Lu,” Jess called, trying to dip Jo and then laughing uproariously as they almost fell into a tangled heap. “Once we get back to Rockford they’re not going to be able to do this anymore, leave ’em be.”

Lupe screwed up her face, sour.

“Watch out, García, the wind’ll change and you’ll be stuck lookin’ like that forever.” Jo pointed at Lupe’s face, then screwed her own face up, mirroring the pitcher’s distaste.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you all.” But there was no heat in it. Lupe spun Shirley out and away. Walked over and hip-checked Carson affectionately, before picking up a nearby drink and checking if it contained any liquor. “If it’s nearly midnight we better get some refills here, Shaw.”

Carson grinned. “You wanna give me a hand with the drinks, Lu?”

“Do I look like the help here?” Lupe paused, and held up a finger in warning when Jo opened her mouth to retort. “Don’t answer that, De Luca. You’re the host, Shaw, you get the drinks.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll get the drinks.” Carson glanced over at Greta, who was watching their interactions with a smirk curving her lips in the way that sent little tingles down Carson’s back. She gestured with her head towards the kitchen, and Greta nodded. Followed her out of the room.

As soon as they cleared the doorway to the kitchen Carson spun Greta around and pressed her up against the wall. “It’s later now, isn’t it?” she asked. She leaned up on her toes and was barely an inch away from Greta’s mouth when they heard a yell from the other room.

“Cut it out, lovebirds. I want a drink, you can kiss when the ball drops.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Greta’s lip twitched in amusement, and Carson laughed outright.

“All right, Lu,” Greta yelled back. “But no whining from you when we do.”

“Oh, for crying out loud…”

A chorus of laughter sounded from the other room, and then Jo called out, “Two minutes, Bird!”

“We’re hurrying, Joey!”

Greta opened the door of their icebox, and started passing bottles to Carson. Carson juggled four beer bottles in her arms, almost dropping the fifth when Greta tried to hand it to her.  Greta rolled her eyes, chuckled fondly. “You take those out, I’ll bring the rest.”

They passed out the drinks, listened to the faint sound of the radio—and the much louder cheers from the street—call one minute, and then thirty seconds. They all crowded by the window to hear the countdown, and it seemed as though the whole neighbourhood had the same idea.

“Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven…”

Greta reached out and clasped Carson’s hand.

“Six. Five. Four. Three…”

Carson stepped away from the window, away from their teammates. Tugged Greta with her.

“Two. One.”

“Happy New Year!” Outside people were shouting, fireworks were going off, car horns were blaring on the street.

Carson was aware of the others jumping up and down, of them hugging each other and twirling around the room. But she only had eyes for Greta, who was staring right back at her.

“Happy New Year, Greta.” Low, and husky.

“Happy New Year, Carson.” Barely a whisper. Then Greta cupped Carson’s jaw with her hand. Angled Carson’s face up as she leaned down. Carson sighed contentedly as their lips met.

A salty drop landed into Carson's lips, while a tear rolled down her cheek. She looked up. Greta’s eyes were wet; they showed a multitude of emotions, thousands of memories drawing a crystal clear line under her iris. Greta smiled widely, trying to hold Carson as close as she could, while their tiny living room was filled with laughter and joy. The voices of their teammates joined the ones around the neighbourhood, exclaiming Happy New Year! over and over again. The sound of fireworks soon started to mix with the cheering, with the happy voices, with the pure and unbiased joy of their teammates and the rest of the city.

“Nineteen forty-four,” Greta said.

“Yeah.” Carson felt frozen, paralyzed, looking at Greta, trying to paint a perfect picture of it so she could remember it whenever she wanted. She had never felt this happy during a Christmas celebration, especially since her mother left. This was what happiness should look like. It was all new, all good, better than she could ever have imagined. Carson felt her heart full, so full of love, she didn't know what to do with it. Being here, in their small apartment, with her teammates and her loved one—her true family, in the end—was what a family should look like. No more judging looks, nor uncomfortable dinners and parties; just joy. Joy that could be shared and felt.

“Do you think it’s going to be a good year?” Greta whispered.

Carson had never seen Greta so hopeful. So willing to hope. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I do.”

Greta cried. For the first time in many, many years, she had someone else to share New Year with other than with Joey. No more the two of them alone, in a lost city somewhere across the States, in a crappy apartment or worse motel room. No more running away after spending a few months elsewhere. Everything was all right, as things should be. And she cried for happiness, she cried for joy, for having her—her Carson—in front of her, wishing her a happy New Year.

For an instant, everything froze in time for both of them. Neither of them could have known 1943 would take such a turn. They couldn't have imagined how much their lives would change. For a moment, they tried to grasp as much as they could from that moment, as many details they could remember. The Peaches in their home, their first Christmas together, them being able to welcome the new year together, for the first time. A fresh chance to start over, to leave all the hurting, all the bad things, in the past.

“¡Feliz Año Nuevo!” Esti shouted out the window, making everyone laugh, while Lupe shook her head.

“Happy New Year, everyone!” Jo grabbed both Greta and Carson by the arms. “We thought it would be good to go to the rooftop to see the fireworks, wanna come?”

“Oh, sure.” Greta smiled, brushing the tears from her eyes. “That would be lovely.”

All of them grabbed their coats and climbed the stairs up the last floor. Greta opened the door leading to the roof and all gasped, marvelled at the sight. Esti ran with Jess and Lupe, while Shirley stood a bit behind them, trying to warn them about getting too close to the edge. Carson wandered, looking at the sky, looking at their friends, looking at her love. Greta did the same by Jo's side, squeezing her arm and hugging her.

“I'm so glad for you, Bird.” Jo said softly. “You've changed, and this new life suits you.”

“Do you think so?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this… So happy, so alive.” Jo tilted her head towards Carson. “She's good for you. And you're good for her.”

“Thank you, Joey.” Greta smiled again, still crying a bit. “No more running away.”

Jo winked at her and left her with Carson, while she joined the rest of the Peaches.

“Did you wish for something when the New Year started?” Carson grabbed her by the waist and pulled Greta closer.

“Yes…”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“If I do… It'll stop being a secret, and it might not come true…” Her hand caressed Carson's cheek softly, trying to brush away the cold. “Did you wish for something too?”

“Uh-huh… But it's a secret too.” Carson mustered as their lips found each other again.

While they kissed, Greta closed her eyes again, and murmured, almost too softly to hear, “Let’s be together. Every New Year’s, from now on.”

[greta--gill]

a series of kitchens

Rating: E

Words: 17.4k

Status: 1/1

—

Summary:

“I believe in tables to sit at,” Greta tells her, reaching across the distance for Carson’s hand, turning it face up, tracing the lines of her palm. “Someone to sit with.”

“Oh..." Carson breathes, curling her fingers in softly. Greta trembles a little, scared of what she’ll say, and Carson feels it. She squeezes her grip, smiling. “Me too,” she says, swallowing. “I believe in that too. Someone to- to be with.”

“Yeah?” Greta asks shyly. Carson reaches to tuck her hair behind her ear, cupping her jaw so that Greta will look at her.

“Yeah,” she replies.

And at this kitchen table, something shifts between them. The light hits Greta’s blush differently as they look at each other, and Carson hasn’t stopped smiling since they started talking. This beating heart of the Rockford house - where the Peaches gather and laugh and drink and eat - holds them in all of its softness, watches them quietly in their falling and knows that they will catch each other. There is nothing more wonderful than being held this way, than feeling at home.

(Or, the story of Greta and Carson growing up and growing older together, how they change and become, as told by the kitchens they occupy throughout their lives.)

[read it on ao3]

[wrongspacetime]

Look, are they bros? Sure. Should they kiss? DEFINITELY.

[thosetwofirefighters]

Glass

Jess comes to a realization when Esti accidentally cuts herself and she finds Lupe taking care of her.

Sapphic September day 3: glass

Read on AO3

[thereforebucket]

I Was Made For You

Summary: Lupe has a cat. Jess has mice. They've been dating for six months and they're definitely not trying to U-haul. But, you know, the best laid plans of mice and men...

-----

Jesslupe future au feat. Jess' dog, Lupe's Horrible Cat, and Brandi Carlile

Pairing: Lupe García/Jess McCready

Word Count: 9197

AO3

There’s a yelp from the kitchen, followed by “¡Jesucristo!” and a loud bark.

“Timber!” Jess calls, and her giant marshmallow of a Samoyed comes running into the room, then whines at her. She gets up and pats her legs. Timber comes right to her and she sinks her hands into his fur, rubbing up and down his ribs. “You ok boy?” she asks him.

“Oh sure, check on the dog.” Jess looks up to see Lupe leaning against the doorjamb, hands shoved deep in her pockets. She’s dressed in what she changed into after work, a pair of men’s jeans and a vintage Metallica that has only softened with age. She’s arranged her features into a look of annoyance, but there’s a smile peeking out.

Jess smirks. “He’s a big softy, what’s your excuse?”

Lupe raises her eyebrows. “Another mouse,” she says. “It surprised me, darted right out from underneath the oven.”

The smirk sours on Jess’ face. “Fuck,” she says.

“Yeah,” Lupe agrees. “You gotta do something about them, hon, they’re settling in.”

Jess makes a noise of disgust in the back of her throat. “Goddammit.”

There’s a pause. “You know…” Lupe starts slowly, and Jess looks at her sharply.

“No.”

“He’s a good mouser!”

“He’ll scare the dog!”

“So take him for a walk!”

“What, for like four hours?”

Lupe pauses and thinks. “Well, actually, it would probably take longer than that…”

“Lu.”

“Ok I didn’t think it through, but it’s a good idea! And you’ve got mice, sweetheart.” Lupe crosses her arms and fixes Jess with a look. And Jess knows she’s going to lose this one.

She sighs. “Well, where will Timber go if you bring Tío over to my apartment?” Tío is Lupe’s cat and he’s widely considered to be an asshole, most notably by Lupe herself. He’s an older cat that Lupe rescued off the street after he was injured in a fight, and Jess is pretty sure Lupe lives just as much in terror of him as the rest of them, though Lupe claims the relationship is both mutual and loving.

‘Tío’ is also just a nickname. His real name is Tío Beverly after the grumpy, unyielding sponsor of Jess and Lupe’s neighborhood baseball team and an offhand comment from their teammate Maybelle.

“Geez Lu, he looks like a cross between Bev and your scary uncle.” She means this generally, but Lupe does, in fact, have a scary uncle. “And, well, a cat.” And so his name became Tío Beverly and Lupe never looked back.

(Though they’ve talked about Tío at practice, everyone on the team has casually forgotten to mention his full name to Bev. Jess thinks all Bev would do is snort and chuckle a little, but the others are not convinced.)

“You could take him to mine,” Lupe suggests.

Jess frowns. “I can’t leave him alone,” she says. “He’s sensitive.” Lupe considers this.

“We could both go back to mine and leave Tío here,” she says.

“Tío is not staying at my apartment unsupervised,” Jess says firmly. Jess has never escaped the clutches of Tío without a scratch. In her drawer at Lupe’s she has two shirts, a pair of jeans, some socks, underwear, and a box of band-aids. She steals Lupe’s pajamas though.

Lupe holds her hands up. “Look,” she says, “I just think he could help.”

Jess sighs. It’s not a bad solution, honestly. “No, no, I appreciate it,” she says. She thinks for a second. “I bet Ana would take Timber for a little bit, or maybe Carson.”

Lupe purses her lips. “Mmm but would Greta?” she says. “Ana might be a better bet.”

Jess raises her eyebrows. “Greta said Timber was the best-behaved dog she’d ever met,” she says, “which I take full credit for, but I hear your point. I’ll try Ana first.”

“Great!” Lupe says, trying and failing not to look too pleased.

Jess snorts and stands up, walking towards Lupe. Timber whines, but she just shushes him before placing her hands on Lupe’s hips. “You really wanted to bring your cat here that bad?” she asks, grinning.

Lupe wraps her arms loosely around Jess’ neck. “I just like making sure you’re taken care of, querido.” She smiles her dreamy smile.

And god, how could Jess not blush at that? At that statement? At the -o instead of the -a? For Lupe, Jess would suffer even the world’s worst cat making her apartment its home for a little while. So she smiles back and pulls her a little closer. “I know,” she says, and brings their lips together.

-----

So Jess takes Timber to Ana’s for a few days and Tío moves in.

“Temporarily,” Jess reminds Lupe, because Tío is missing yet another clump of fur and looks like he got in a fight with an electrical socket. Lupe pulls him out of the carrier and he immediately wriggles out of her arms, off like a shot to the underside of Jess’ armchair.

“I know,” Lupe says, trying desperately to catch Tío and failing spectacularly. She wipes her hands on her shirt like she meant to just turn him loose. “This isn’t my backdoor into U-Hauling with you, McCready. If I wanted to do that, I’d keep about half of my clothes here and basically never spend the night at my apartment.” Lupe has approximately half her shirts and a third of her pants at Jess’ apartment. Jess cleaned out two drawers for her. She spends about two nights a week at her own place and the rest curled up in Jess’ bed. It’s casual.

Jess opens her mouth but can’t think of anything to say. Her eyes dart between Lupe’s. Her brow furrows.

Lupe frowns in concern. “Hey, hey, I’m joking,” she says, holding her hands out towards Jess to steady her. “I like my apartment just fine. It’s close to the subway and Tío likes watching the pigeons from the window.”

And. It. Well. Jess wasn’t really worried about that. Or rather, she hadn’t thought it would be soon or anything, but she had just been thinking that week about how nice it was to wake up with Lupe, how she’d have to replace Lupe’s toothbrush soon since she was wearing it out, how convenient it had been since she’d given Lupe a spare set of keys and she could just let herself in if she got to Jess’ before her. Jess isn’t sure she’s ready to offer it, but it would sort of be the dream to live with Lupe.

But she doesn’t say that. Instead, she gawps for another second before managing to get out “Well, we can’t deprive him of the pigeons, can we?”

And Lupe still looks a little concerned, but she chuckles. “Speaking of him, I’m going to try to lure him to the kitchen so he can catch these mice.”

Lupe spends about five minutes trying to lure Tío out from under the chair before giving up and going to set up his litterbox and food. She shakes out a little dry food, then pops the top on a can of wet food. “Since it’s his first night here,” she explains to Jess, “I want him to have positive—” Tío comes trotting into the room, chirping, and winds herself around Lupe’s legs. “—Associations,” Lupe finishes. “Well hello you,” she says to the cat, who is now purring. Jess didn’t know he even knew how to purr.

Lupe reaches down to pet him and Tío takes it for exactly three pets before swiping at her hand and meowing loudly. “Yeah, yeah,” Lupe says, rolling her eyes. She pulls the rest of the top off the wet food and dumps it unceremoniously into the dish. Tío tears in and Jess curls her lip in disgust at the wet smacking sounds. “Hey, he’s doing you a service,” Lupe says, catching her. “You gotta pay him somehow.”

Jess nods. “You got me there.”

-----

Tío catches zero mice that evening, but he does shatter a glass by knocking it off the counter and sharpen his claws on the side of Jess’ couch. Lupe apologizes profusely, especially about the couch, promising to learn how to upholster if she has to. Beyond the initial shock of seeing it, though, it actually isn’t that noticeable, so Jess just tells her to forget it.

That night is hell, even though they keep the cat out of the bedroom, but in the morning, Jess finds a mouse head laid neatly by the bedroom door and figures this may have been worth it. She nearly changes her mind when she finds the body floating in the cat’s water dish, but she flings both pieces off the fire escape into the alley below anyway, then washes her hands and starts to make coffee, eggs, and toast.

Once the smell of coffee starts to fill the apartment, Jess hears Lupe start to stir. “He caught one,” she tells her when she hears Lu trudge into the kitchen.

“Oh yeah?” Lupe asks. She comes up behind Jess and rests her head on Jess’ shoulder, wrapping her arms around her middle. There’s a lazy thrill up Jess’ spine and she smiles as she scrambles the eggs in the pan.

“I’ve got to reach the cheese,” she says softly to Lupe, pointing at the bag of shredded cheese on the counter just out of reach.

Lupe unspools herself from around Jess and leans over, grinning. “Do you?” she asks and slides the bag over.

Jess grins back. “I guess not,” she says. She reaches out to take it and Lupe holds it out of reach again.

“Ah ah ah, gotta pay the toll first.” This close up, the sun is catching on Lupe’s eyelashes. Her eyes are a warm, mahogany brown and she’s looking at Jess with a hooded, teasing expression that electrifies Jess in a way that fights with the way she wants to rise to Lupe’s challenge. So, in compromise, she takes Lupe’s hip in one hand and uses her body to push her against the counter. She kisses her fully, leaving nothing on the table, and doesn’t miss how Lupe’s breath hitches in her throat. Lupe steadies herself against the counter with her free hand and, at the same time, Jess snakes her hand along Lupe’s other arm and pulls the cheese from her grasp. She pulls back and smiles, poking her chin out in victory. She raises her eyebrows, once, then opens the cheese and pulls out a handful, sprinkling it on top of the eggs.

Lupe bursts into a quiet chuckle. “You’re gonna kill me one day, McCready,” she says, smiling. Then she reaches out with a thumb and brushes just beneath Jess’ bottom lip. “Got a little spit there,” she teases.

Jess shrugs. “I mean it’s yours,” she says.

Lupe just rolls her eyes.

She moves away and pulls two earthenware mugs from the mug cabinet. They’re Jess’ two favorite mugs. One is a matte, forest green with an unglazed raised square engraved with pine trees. The other is small, with seven short sides and a circular handle. It is smooth and gray, speckled with black, and very clearly handmade. You have to fill it twice to get a normal amount of coffee, but Jess loves it without equal.

Lupe pours the coffee while Jess finishes up the eggs and puts them on plates. She pulls the toast out of the second, smaller pan and inspects it on both sides. She notes, with pride, that it is perfectly toasted. Lupe likes to tease her for not having a toaster, but how can she argue when it means she gets the perfect slice of toast every time? She puts the toast on the plates as well and brings them to the table.

Lupe sets the coffees down on the table as well, one in front of each chair, and Jess notices that she’s given her the green mug. She gives Lupe a look, quirking an eyebrow and Lupe bites her lip, laughing silently.

“Just thought I’d switch things up a little,” she says, sliding her index finger through the gray mug’s handle and holding it near her chest.

Jess can’t think of anything to say other than “But that’s mine!” It comes out whiny and petulant and Lupe has to stick her tongue in between her lips to keep from laughing out loud.

“Pobrecito,” she says, stepping forward and lightly shaking Jess’ jaw with her free hand. She leans in and plants a kiss on Jess’ lips before leaning back and taking a sip of the coffee. “Plus,” she says after a particularly loud slurp, “I’ve already put my like five sugars into this, so you don’t want it.” Lupe takes her coffee black and very sweet. Jess takes hers with no sugar but a heavy amount of cream. She looks at the green mug and notes with distaste that the coffee is already a light tan.

She shakes her head. “After I made you breakfast and everything.” She catches Lupe’s wrist and pulls her in. Lupe sets the mug down so as not to spill and then comes to Jess with a patient expression, resting her hand on Jess’ waist. “And that perfect toast,” Jess continues, and threads their fingers together, pulling their bodies against each other.

Lupe closes her eyes. “Hmm,” she mumbles against Jess’ lips, “you say it’s perfect, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to try it when you’re picking fights about the coffee mugs.”

Jess ghosts her lips up Lupe’s jaw until they rest on the shell of her ear. “Picking fights,” she asks softly, “or claiming what’s mine?” She takes Lupe’s earlobe in her teeth, gently, and feels a shiver run through her.

“I’m not switching the mugs, McCready,” Lupe says, running her thumb back and forth over Jess’ middle. “Coffee’s already been poured.” Jess bites a little harder on her earlobe and feels Lupe’s hand clench on her hip. “You’re going to let it get cold,” she protests weakly.

As it turns out, the point is moot as Tío leaps up onto the table, displacing Jess’ beautiful gray mug and sending it tumbling to the floor. It breaks into three pieces, the smallest piece with the handle separated from another smaller piece of rim separated from a larger piece holding most of the base. The coffee spills over the floor in a splattering wave.

Tío startles upon hearing the noise and springs straight over the rest of the table and onto the floor, sprinting into the other room to hide.

Jess and Lupe break apart and freeze. They stare at the mug for a full ten seconds before Lupe breathes out “Shit.”

She untangles herself from Jess. “Shit.”

She kneels down and starts picking up the pieces. “Shit, Jess, I’m so sorry.”

And. And well, Jess wasn’t psyched about Tío being here in the first place. She wasn’t psyched about the swipes and the mouse in the water bowl and the meowing at her bedroom door all night. And now this. Her favorite mug on the ground, shattered.

But there’s a set to Lupe’s shoulders that tells Jess she’s feeling this too, like an imposition, and she’s looking steadily at the floor, picking up the pieces, not looking at Jess at all, and Jess…doesn’t have the heart to have a reaction. Doesn’t have the heart to break Lupe’s. So she takes a deep breath and says “It’s ok.” Another breath. “It’s ok.” She moves and puts a hand on Lupe’s shoulder, briefly, then pats it. “It’s just a mug. I’ll get a towel.”

They mop up the mess, Lupe holding the broken pieces in her hands, so gingerly, and when the dark coffee has all been soaked away, Lupe gently sets the pieces down and marches into the living room.

It takes her about 15 minutes of coaxing, chasing, and wildly leaping, but she manages to get Tío into his carrier. Jess watches it happen, unsure of what to do. She wants to be supportive of Lupe, wants to be supportive of Lupe’s cat being here, but she’s not feeling very friendly towards him right now. In the end, she helps by blocking the entrance to the kitchen, supporting Lupe by helping her catch this damn cat, and doesn’t comment about the candles and coasters scattered from her coffee table in the process. Jess doesn’t know what Lupe needs to hear right now, doesn’t know how to be there for Lupe and the cat she loves, but she’s always been good at helping with a task.

Once the carrier door slams shut, Lupe stands up and wipes her nose on her sleeve. There’s something that sounds suspiciously like a sniffle in the mix and she’s staring at the floor, not looking at Jess, and Jess is torn between wanting to respect that space and wanting to take Lupe in her arms.

“Well,” Lupes says, roughly scooping up the carrier in one hand. Tío protests. She starts towards the door, pajamas, no shoes, angry cat, and Jess doesn’t know what to say but she doesn’t want this.

“Lu,” she starts.

“I’ll be back!” Lupe calls, grabbing a jacket from the hook on the wall.

“Lupe, wait,” Jess says, moving towards the door. Lupe is hurriedly shoving her feet in her shoes, holding one jacket sleeve between her teeth and trying to shove her arm through the other one. She gets the shoes on and her arm enough in the sleeve to turn the deadbolt. “Babe,” Jess says, but she’s wrenching the door open, still not looking at Jess, and Jess throws her arm out, slamming the door shut and looking beseechingly into Lupe’s eyes.

Jess is breathing heavily, leaning on her outstretched hand, her very body pleading with Lupe to stay. She takes a deep breath and puts a free hand on Lupe’s shoulder. Lupe still isn’t looking at her, but Jess can see the guilt plain on her features, along with a touch of sadness. She’s… Jess realizes she’s misty eyed and feels a jolt of alarm.

“Lu,” she says, cupping her face. Lupe stands stock still, but her mouth pinches closed and Jess can see her shoulders go tight. Jess breathes out, empathy flooding through her, and puts her hands on both shoulders. “Babe,” she says, and Lupe’s shoulders give an involuntary shake. “Babe,” she says again, and pulls Lupe in.

Lupe’s shoulders shake and Jess can feel tears on her own shoulders. She rubs her hands up and down Lupe’s back. Lupe snakes her free arm around Jess’ waist and just lets Jess hold her.

They stay like that, this moment in the entryway, until Tío lets out another yowl and jerks the carrier in Lupe’s hand.

“I’m going to drop him down the fucking stairs,” Lupe growls from Jess’ shoulder.

“No, no, you’re not,” Jess says, and reaches back to take the carrier out of Lupe’s hand, setting it gently on the floor. She stands back up and takes Lupe’s face in her hands, leaning back far enough that she can look into her eyes. “I’m going to cover this with a blanket, and then I’m going to pour you another cup of coffee and we can talk about this, ok?”

Lupe nods wetly, looking tired and vulnerable, and Jess doesn’t want to leave her side for a minute, but she makes good on her word. She leads Lupe to the couch, pulls a blanket out of the basket, and brings it back to cover up the carrier. Tío hisses at her. She ignores him.

She checks on Lupe on her way back to the kitchen, finding her watching her silently. “I’ll be right back,” she says, and heads into the kitchen. She pulls another mug out of the cabinet, this one a standard shape and white, with an assortment of native plants of Saskatchewan printed on it, and fills it with coffee. There’s just enough left in the press to almost fill the mug. Jess puts five sugars in (Jesus, Lupe), stirs, and grabs her own mug to bring to the coffee table.

When she gets back, she finds Lupe picking up the coasters and setting them back on the table. She hands her her coffee, then sets hers on one of the coasters. “Do you want your breakfast?” she asks, and Lupe pauses, then nods.

“I can get it,” she says, standing, but Jess puts her hand firmly on her shoulder.

“No, you sit, I’ll do it.”

She’s back in seconds and hands Lupe her plate before sitting down cross-legged on the couch.

“So, what’s wrong?” she asks Lupe.

Lupe snorts and looks away. “My cat’s an asshole,” she says.

Jess laughs. “I mean, we knew that going in. I knew that going in.” She lifts her plate up so she can prod Lupe with her foot. Lupe gives a short laugh, but her brow furrows. “I’m serious, Lu, I meant it. It’s just a mug.”

Lupe takes in a breath, holds it. She’s staring at the door. “It’s not, though,” she lets out, finally.

Jess frowns. The phrase puts a little jolt through her heart, but she wracks her brains, looking for any sign that Lupe is breaking up with her, and can’t find any, so she forces herself to be calm. “Meaning?” she asks.

Lupe’s quiet for another moment, then says “I mean, I really like you. I like everything about you. I like the things we do together, I like that we do things apart, I can see us doing this for, well, a lot longer than this…” she takes another deep breath and lets it out slowly, “…and the only barrier I can see to that is this damn cat.” She looks quickly at Jess, coloring slightly. “And like the fact that we’ve only been dating for six months and I don’t know how you feel about all that and like. I don’t want to cramp your style or anything.” She takes, frankly, a huge bite of her toast and washes it down with coffee.

There is a lot Jess wants to say to this, but there’s also a smile creeping onto her face so she says what’s on her mind first. “So,” she says, “this is your backdoor into U-Hauling with me,” and she watches as Lupe splutters.

“Oh god, no! No, Jess, I promise, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable or like rush this or anything!” Her face is so red, Jess wonders idly if she could fry an egg on it. “I just,” she reaches for Jess’s hands and Jess lets her take them, “I really like you and I don’t want to fuck this up. Or have my dumbass cat fuck this up.” She swallows and looks away. “I’m sorry about your mug.”

And god if Jess isn’t just fully in love with this person. If she doesn’t want to kiss her senseless and say yes, she wants this too. If she doesn’t want to frisbee the eggs across the room and fuck her on the couch right now. So, she takes a breath. She reaches up a hand and fiddles with Lu’s necklace, leaning her head in close. “You’re not fucking this up,” she says quietly, and it’s suddenly very hard to meet Lupe’s eyes. “Your cat isn’t either. And I loved that mug, but it was just a thing, Lu.” She does look up here and finds Lupe watching her hand on her necklace, almost transfixed, and it’s so… God, Jess doesn’t know what, but she drops the necklace and reaches up to cup her face, then draws their lips together.

It's a charged kiss. A slow, but desperate kiss. Not desperate like they’re scared they’ll lose each other, desperate in the way of wanting to tell the other something, show the other something, and fuck if Jess is going to try and tell her any other way.

A jostling on her legs reminds her of the plate in her lap and she breaks off, briefly, to move the dishes to the table, then pulls Lupe onto her lap.

The kiss that follows sears her to her core and she reaches up to fist a hand in Lupe’s curls. Lupe moans. Jess takes the opportunity to move her lips to Lupe’s neck and hears Lupe’s breath catch in her throat, hears her gasp as Jess sucks hard at her neck, then soothes the spot with her tongue.

They’re working fast now, Lupe’s hands are on her back, on her hips, in her hair, and Jess reaches her hands under Lupe’s shirt to palm a breast, feeling her nipple harden.

Lupe tries to do the same to her, is pulling on the hem of her shirt, but Jess takes a moment to gently push her hands away and pulls back slightly to shake her head. “This is all you, babe,” she says.

The look Lupe gives her…devastating. She’s all blown pupils and kiss-swollen lips and an expression like she understands exactly what Jess is trying to say. And she nods. And she lets Jess lay her down on the couch. And Jess has never seen a more beautiful woman in all her life.

Jess pulls her shirt up and Lupe has to sit up a little to take it off (poor planning on Jess’ part), but once it’s off, Lupe lays there in all her glory, hair haloing her face, and Jess holds her gaze and she leans down and takes a nipple in her mouth.

Lupe takes a shuddering breath, then shuts her eyes and fists a hand in her own hair. Jess’ tongue works at the nipple and Lupe’s breaths come faster, faster, her eyes fluttering closed, then back open to watch. Jess grins, then takes her mouth away by a few centimeters.

“What,” Lupe breathes, irate, “the fuck—”

And then Jess comes back with teeth and there are no more words out of Lupe’s mouth.

Jess’ teeth graze her nipple, then her tongue, and then her hand comes up to Lupe’s hip, her thumb stroking deep over the bone, and Lupe’s mouth opens in a silent ‘O.’

Jess watches her, drinking it in, not sure if she could ever stop watching her, relishing in her reactions as her thumb strokes her hipbone over and over.

“Jess,” Lupe gasps out, “McCready I swear to god…”

Jess pauses her tongue politely and looks up, smiling innocently. “You swear to god what?” she says.

The look Lupe gives her would kill a lesser man.

“If you don’t move your hand and do something about this,” Lupe gestures to herself, “in the next ten seconds…”

Jess grins. “Something like this?” she says, and tugs Lupe’s waistband down an inch, moving her other hand to Lupe’s other hip and repeating the same ministrations as her first hand.

“McCready!” Lupe spits out, and Jess chuckles, softly, before she begins the slow, agonizing journey of pulling Lupe’s pants off her ass, then over her thighs, then entirely off and into a heap on the ground.

“Missed something,” Lupe says irritably, snapping the waistband of her underwear, and Jess just laughs, lifting herself onto her elbow to kiss Lupe.

“So demanding,” she says, and runs one finger over the outside of Lupe’s underwear. Lupe whimpers, before hiding her face in the couch cushions.

“God, Jess, please,” she says, and Jess knows she’s frowning. “This is fucking embarrassing.” Jess just laughs and runs her finger over her underwear again, pressing harder this time. Lupe gasps. “I swear to god, you goddamn—”

Jess pushes down hard on where she knows Lupe’s clit is and Lupe moans into the couch cushions. Jess pulls her underwear aside and slides a finger down Lupe’s folds, marveling at the slickness she finds there. She brings her mouth back to the side of Lupe’s breast and runs her finger up and down the first layer, feeling Lupe’s breath hitch each time she approaches her clit and hearing her exhale each time she nears her entrance.

“I— Fuck. Holy— Jesus Jess, shit!”

As Lupe’s breaths quicken and her hips start to buck into her, Jess uses her free hand to draw Lupe’s mouth to hers, then thrusts her middle finger inside, swallowing her moan.

It’s quick after this. Jess thrusts her finger in over and over, slipping another in when Lupe clutches at her back, and just at the climax, she brings her other hand down to thumb over her clit. Lupe clenches down over her hand in waves, her breaths coming out in sighs, and she pulls Jess to her and kisses her, hard.

“You,” she breathes out. “You fucking angel. You beautiful thing.” And Jess, suddenly overwhelmed, breaks down and bursts into fucking tears.

-----

“God, who are you, Jenny from The L Word?” Jo asks over a cigarette in the alley behind Jess’ building. Jess shoves her.

“It just happened, ok?” she says, and Jo laughs, stumbling out of arm’s reach. “I just, she was being so sweet and we were, like, together, and I just.” She trails off.

“Let loose the waterworks?” Jo dances even further out of Jess’ reach as Jess rolls her eyes.

“Yeah I guess,” she says, and puts her head in her hand.

Jo slides back in and puts an arm over her shoulder. “Hey buddy, don’t get so down! It just means that you’re a little Cancer baby, this is normal!”

Jess rolls her eyes. “So you tell me, you fucking Leo,” she says, but she leans into the hug.

Jo giggles at her expression. “What, did she laugh at you or something?” She leans forward to look Jess in the eye. “I’ll fight her, Jess. Striker ain’t got nothing on the Bazooka, I’m tellin’ ya.” She flexes and kisses her bicep.

Jess laughs. “Sure, keep telling yourself that,” she tells Jo.

Jo spreads her arm in protest. “She’s a matchstick!”

Jess just laughs and stubs out her cigarette.

It’s comfortable on the elevator ride back up to the apartment. Jo is a solid presence, calming in her surety, the ease of her stance. She fills the space with chatter about her job, about Greta, about Maybelle and her girls, and Jess sinks into the chatter, absorbing it.

When they get to her floor, Jess leads Jo down the hall and unlocks her door, pausing before opening it to make sure Tío doesn’t try to escape. The door clear, she lets Jo in.

The dishes are still on the coffee table where they had left them earlier and Jess notes with sadness her untouched toast. It seems a shame to waste it, but it’s even worse to eat stale toast, so Jess scoops up the plates and brings them to the sink.

“So where is the bastard?” Jo asks, and as if on cue, Jess hears a hiss. “Whoa,” Jo says, and Jess peeks around the corner to see Jo backing away from her armchair, arms raised.  

“You found him,” Jess says, as Tío, under the chair, swipes at the air.

“Jesus, he is MEAN,” Jo says, crouching down to look at him. She takes hold of a book on the coffee table, some romance Lupe left there, and slowly moves it towards Tío. He swipes at it, hisses, but the book just keeps coming. Eventually, confused, he gives a little peep and turns around, trotting quickly to the kitchen.

Jess laughs. “You outfoxed him,” she says to Jo, but Jo is frowning.

“You know he’s limping?” she asks.

Jess frowns back. “What?”

Jo points. “He’s limping,” she says, and stands up to follow him.

Jess whips her head around to watch the cat. He’s standing at the water bowl, taking a drink, so it’s impossible to tell, but she crosses the room to him and he looks up and walks away as she approaches.

“Son of a bitch,” Jess says under her breath. Jo’s right. Ever so slightly, Tío is favoring left front leg. “Holy shit…”

“Yeah, right there,” Jo says, pointing again. Now that she’s pointed it out, Jess can see it clearly. “Was he not doing that earlier?”

Jess wracks her brains and comes up empty. “No, I don’t think so,” she says. “But I don’t know! I didn’t notice it until you said something!” Her breath is coming shallowly. She prays to any god who will listen that this doesn’t get back to her Uncle Chester in Saskatchewan, who’d taken her on hunting trips since she was a child, that a wounded animal lived in her apartment and she didn’t notice it. God, Lupe probably doesn’t know either.

Jess takes a breath, then clears her throat. “Ok, well let’s catch him then.”

Jo looks at her askance. “Why?”

“We gotta take him to the vet,” she says. Jo opens her mouth to say something and Jess rolls her eyes. “I have to take him to the vet,” she says.

Jo nods. “I have to get to Greta’s by five, but I’ll help make sure this guy doesn’t kill anyone on the subway, at least for part of the ride.” Jess nods. It’s more than she would have asked from Jo, so she’ll take it. Jo wipes her hands on her pants. “So,” she says, “how do we catch him?”

Jess thinks for a minute. “I don’t know,” she admits finally. “Lupe kinda,” she mimes with her hands, ��dove and caught him earlier, but I think that was mostly luck.”

Jo nods. “Does he like anything?”

No, Jess wants to say, suffering, pain, but then she remembers something from earlier. “Wet food!” she says, remembering how Tío had wound himself around Lupe, purring as she opened the can.

Jo wrinkles her nose. “Gross.”

“He’s a cat, Jo,” Jess says, then crosses to the paper bag Lupe had brought with Tío’s things. Sure enough, inside is another can of wet food. “Come on,” she says, and walks over to his carrier in the living room.

She kneels down next to it and holds the can up, then pops the lid, peeling it back. Just like before, Tío comes trotting into the room, chirping, and walks right up to the can, trying to figure out how to get it without interacting with Jess. Jess hesitates.

“What are you doing?” Jo asks. “Put the can in there!” She gestures at the carrier.

“I don’t want him to cut himself on the rim,” Jess says.

“Then you could just dump it in there.”

Jess pulls a face. “Gross,” she says.

Jo shrugs. “Do you want to catch this thing or not?”

Jess sighs, then nods. “I do, I do.” Quickly, she shoves her hand into the carrier and dumps the wet food onto the floor, tapping it a few times to get everything out. Tío is in the carrier faster than she can get her hand out and as soon as her fingers are free, she slams the door shut and latches it.

Tío yowls inside, thrashing around and, Jess notes with a twinge of guilt, getting wet food all over his fur, but he’s been caught.

“You don’t want to wait for Lupe for this?” Jo asks, eyeing the jerking carrier, and Jess shakes her head.

“No, she’s helping Esti pick up a new chair for her apartment today.” Jess had wanted to go too, but she had already made plans with Jo today when Esti asked. “The vet will be closed by the time she gets back.”

Jo cocks her head to the side, nodding. “Fair point.”

So the two of them put on their shoes, grab the cat carrier, and make their way to the closest vet.

-----

Hours later, Jess drags a drugged-up Tío back into her apartment and finds Lupe sitting on the couch, arms crossed. “So I get back from moving this chair with Esti on the subway and find that my cat is missing?” she says. Jess has learned from experience that, even though it sounds like a question, it isn’t.

Jess gingerly steps inside and closes the door before responding. “Look,” she starts, but Lupe is already up off the couch and crouching in front of the carrier.

“Oh my god, what did you do to him?” she asks, alarm spiking in her voice.

“Nothing!” Jess says. Lupe’s hands are fumbling on the latch of the carrier and before Jess can stop her, she’s got the door open and is reaching in. Jess hears a yowl from within and Lupe pulls her hand out, a bright red mark on her thumb. Jess sets the carrier down, a little unceremoniously, and holds Lupe’s shoulders to keep her from hurting herself further. “Lu,” she says, “hold on.” She looks her in the eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“With my cat? I have to say you’re on pretty thin ice with that one right now, McCready.”

Jess nods, that’s fair. “Ok, but in general?” she asks.

“What did you do to my cat, Jess?” Lupe asks, and her words are a brick wall, but Jess can hear the desperation behind them.

Jess wants to pull her into her arms, but instead, she says “I took him to the vet.”

Lupe is suddenly alarmed again, shrugging Jess’ arms off her and leaning around to see into the carrier. “Oh my god, is he ok?” She leans in close. “Tío?” she asks, as if he can answer her.

“He’s fine!” Jess says, turning to follow her. Her legs are all pretzeled up beneath her, but there’s too much going on to sort them out. “Jo noticed he was limping, so I took him in.” She swallows. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice, Lu, I’m so sorry.”

Lupe is not soothed by this news. “Did he hurt himself? Why was he limping?”

Jess shakes her head. “No, he was only limping slightly. I don’t really know how Jo even noticed it. We, um, we took him to the vet though, and got him an x-ray, and the vet said that he had an old fracture on his left front leg that hadn’t healed properly.” She looks at Lupe, softly, pointedly. “I wonder if he injured that leg in the fight. You know, when you took him in?”

Lupe’s still for a moment, then nods slowly, taking it in. “Yeah, that, or even before that fight,” she says. She rocks back on her heels, finally thinking. “You took him to the vet?” she asks.

Jess nods.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Lupe says. “I could have taken him when I got back.” She snorts. “Hell, I was only gone a couple of hours.” She smiles at Jess, then her eyes widen. “Wait, shit, x-rays are expensive!” she says. “Shit, how much do I owe you?”

And here’s the thing. Here’s where the rationale breaks down. This was a big spending item for a pet that was not hers, about $400 when everything was added up, but also, Jess can’t fully bring herself to care? Tío is a pain in the ass, but Lupe cares about him and Jess feels bad that Lupe felt like Tío wasn’t welcome in her apartment.

And, well, there’s the whole “she’s is in love with her” thing, even if she hasn’t said it.

So Jess just shrugs, inspects her fingernails (bad, they need to be cleaned), and chews her lip for a moment before saying “Oh, you know, a hundred bucks.”

Lupe snorts. “Yeah, sure, McCready.”

“I know, it was weird,” Jess says, fanning her nails out. “The vet said I got a discount for being the coolest person he’d ever seen.” This doesn’t pull a laugh from Lupe and Jess finally looks up.

Lupe is looking at her with an expression Jess hasn’t seen before. She looks… Desperate, Jess realizes. Desperate and a little lost. Jess freezes. “It’s fine,” she says before Lupe can open her mouth. “Seriously, it’s fine, don’t—”

“Jess,” Lupe says, and her voice breaks a little. She clears her throat. “Jess, I can’t ask you to foot my vet bill.”

Jess studies her for a second, then goes back to checking her cuticles, though she’s sure she’s fully broken the illusion by now. “It’s fine,” she says. “Seriously, I can handle part of it.” She looks up. “I want to.” The look Lupe gives her? Devastating. She pushes past it though and says her next part. “The vet says it’s treatable too. They can’t reset the bone or anything, but you can alternate some pain meds and it’ll help with the pain.” She looks back down, unable to look at Lupe and say the next part. “Which,” she starts, “is why I want to pay for this visit, or at least part of it, because I did the math and if you want to treat him it’ll cost you about one-fifty a month.” She bites her lip and looks back up. “So, I want to help you out on this visit because like, I sprang this on you, I just took him, and it’ll cost you more in the long run so just let me get this. You can give me a hundred bucks and like get the pizza the next time or two and we’ll call it square.”

Lupe looks at her for a moment longer, then looks down and says “I…can’t decide if I’m going to kill you or marry you one day.” Heat rises in Jess’ cheeks, but before she can panic Lupe looks up and points. “I’m leaning towards kill right now, so we’re clear. You took my cat somewhere without telling me? You brought him back all fucked up like that and you didn’t even think to text me about it?” Jess looks down, cheeks pinking for an entirely different reason. “But, y’know,” Lupe continues, a little sheepish, “you also took care of him when you noticed he was in pain. Without asking. So like, I’m not entirely mad about it.”

Jess looks up a little, just meeting Lupe’s eyes. They both look at each other for a moment, searching, waiting, until Lupe closes her eyes and laughs. “God, you’re so stupid,” she says, then looks up, grinning. Jess can tell she doesn’t really mean it, but she’d take it if she did. Lupe shakes her head, then gestures towards herself. “Get over here,” she says, and sits back until she’s cross-legged on the ground. Jess finally un-pretzels her legs and, well, essentially crawls over to Lupe, who draws her into a tight hug.

The positioning is awkward, but the feeling behind the hug is genuine as Lupe buries her face in Jess’ shoulder and breathes in deep. They stay like that long enough that Jess feels her body relax and she all but melts into Lupe. She lets go of tension she didn’t know she was holding and feels, finally, at peace.

“Um” she says, releasing something she thought she was over at this point, “thanks for not, like, laughing when I cried earlier.”

And Lupe laughs at that, but it isn’t mean or cruel. She pulls back and cups her hands around Jess’ face. “Aww, babe, have you been worrying about that?” She brushes Jess’ cheeks lightly with her thumbs and Jess feels her face heat up.

“I—” she starts, then looks away. “Maybe.”

Lupe laughs again, softly, and then gently pulls Jess’ lips to hers. “Nothing to worry about. Thank you for taking care of my cat,” she says, and presses a chaste kiss there.

She pulls back and Jess looks into her eyes, then blinks and looks down at her lips. She’s…god she’s at a loss for words. All she can think is how stupidly, irrevocably in love she is and all she can say is…nothing. The words simply don’t come out. So, she pushes past her beating heart and simply leans in for another kiss, capturing Lupe’s lips with own.

It’s different from earlier, less confidence, less raw passion, but the feeling… She can’t tell Lupe how she feels, the strength of her feeling, but she can do this.

She kisses Lupe like she’s running out of air, trying to pour all she can into this moment, to say it without saying it, and she thinks it works, because Lupe, finally, pulls back and watches her, breathing heavily, her lips parted. And then Lupe smiles.

“If you’re trying to fuck me again, McCready, my only request is that we do it on a bed this time.”

And Jess just rolls her eyes and laughs.

-----

The bar is crowded when they arrive and buzzing with voices and laughter. Lupe drops Jess’ hand to open the door for her and Jess takes the opportunity to pull her guitar lengthwise against her body to avoid hitting people with it.

They make their way through the crowded first room, up the ramp, and to the second room with the stage. Jess finds the open mic sign-up table by the wall and joins the line while Lupe goes off to find them a few seats together.

Jess hears a shriek behind her and has just enough time to lean her guitar against the wall before she catches Esti in her arms, moving them just far enough away from the line to swing her around in a circle. “Hey kid!” she says, grinning.

Esti beams at her. “Hello Jess!” she says. She bounces away from her embrace and holds out a small gift bag. “This is from Lupe,” she says, then thinks better of it and takes it back. “Or, I should give to her…” she says, thinking.

Lupe walks up just then and rolls her eyes. “Great job keeping the surprise, kid,” she mutters.

Esti hands the gift bag over and says “Lo siento!” She puts her hands up and grimaces.

Jess reaches over and rubs her shoulder blade. “I’m sure it’s alright,” she tells her, then turns to Lupe. “What is it though? You didn’t have to get me anything.”

Lupe looks nervous, starts to reach into the bag, and then pulls her hand out and hands it to Jess. “You can just open it,” she says. “And I did, kinda, I— Well, you’ll see when you open it.”

Jess takes the bag curiously and reaches inside. She pulls out the tissue paper at the top and peers in and—

Oh.

Inside is a mug. It’s blue, handmade, and the glaze has melted into these little rivulets of lighter and darker blue, almost like little paisleys. The handle is slim, with a little piece on top to rest your thumb, and the form is wider in the middle and then tapered smaller near the base, almost like a vase. It’s beautiful.

She reaches in and picks it up, finding it to be light, but still solid-feeling. She looks at Lupe and sticks her tongue in her cheek to suppress the smile curling onto her face.

“I, I felt bad about breaking your mug the other day,” Lupe says, “or, well, about Tío breaking your mug, so I dragged Esti to a pottery place after we moved the chair.”

“¡Y luego lo olvidó en mi casa!” Esti says gleefully.

Jess looks to Lupe, not having caught every word and Lupe dips her head and says “She says I forgot it at her place, which I did.” She elbows Esti. “Eres muy mala guardando secretos, ¿eh?” She turns to Jess. “Bad at secrets,” she says. Esti rolls her eyes.

Lupe and Esti go off to hold down the table Lupe found and Jess grabs her guitar off the wall and moves up in line. She’d been debating what to play tonight on the way over, refusing to tell Lupe the options she was thinking about. One of the songs, The Indigo Girls’ “Galileo,” was a safe choice, classic, but it wasn’t really what she wanted to play tonight. The person at the head of the line moves on and Jess steps forward, picking up the pen and writing “Jess McCready, guitar,” on the line. She sets the pen down and picks up her guitar, heading back to the table.

Lupe’s hair catches the low light in the bar, accentuating her curls, and for a second, Jess can’t catch her breath. Yes, she’s going with the riskier choice tonight. It might be sappy, but if she can’t say it yet to Lupe, then maybe she can sing it and it would get still her message across.

She sits down in the third chair of their little table and Lupe slides a beer her way. Jess smiles. “Thanks hon,” she says, and squeezes her hand briefly before taking the beer.

The host of the open-mic gets up on stage soon after, panders to the crowd, and then introduces the first act. It’s one of the regulars at this open-mic. He pulls out a ukulele and starts strumming and Jess chuckles. He’s not Jess’ favorite act, but she appreciates his dedication.

Lu’s hand slips into hers during the third ask and Jess takes it appreciatively. She leans in. “I just realized I never thanked you for the mug.”

Lupe blushes. “You don’t have to, I’m replacing something that was broken.”

“Yeah,” Jess says, “but it’s beautiful.” She kisses Lupe’s cheek and Lupe leans into it. “Thank you,” she says.

There’s a quiet whoop from behind them and they glance back see Esti grinning at them. Lupe rolls her eyes and reaches back to bat Esti away, but Jess chuckles, reaching over Lupe to squeeze Esti’s hand.

Finally, a little while later, it’s Jess’ turn to play. The MC calls her up to the stage and vamps while she sets up. She slips the strap of her guitar over her head and plugs it into the amp, giving it an experimental strum. She’d tuned it earlier while waiting for the show to start, so now there’s nothing left to do but put the capo on and start talking.

“This song,” she begins, and has to swallow. “This song,” she tries again, “is one I haven’t played in a while. I was actually going to play some Indigo Girls tonight, but over the past few days, I…” She won’t air her laundry, clean or dirty, on the stage in a bar, won’t give too much away. “…I felt it was time to pull this one back out.” She reaches up, unclips her capo from the end of her guitar, and slides it onto the second fret, then strums it again. “So, here goes,” she says. She finds Lupe’s eyes in the crowd and her lips quirk up. “Sometimes The Indigo Girls won’t cut it and you have to play a little Brandi.”

Lupe chuckles with the rest of the crowd, but Jess sees it die on her lips as she arpeggios the opening chords. She lets the last one linger, takes a deep breath, and starts to sing.

“All of these lines across my face,” she sings, and a mild cheer goes through the audience as they recognize “The Story.” She laughs into her next line and keeps singing.

“Tell you the story of who I am,

So many stories of where I’ve been,

And how I got to where I am.”

She opens her eyes and finds Lupe watching her, a softness come over her features. She almost can’t look at her for the next part, but lets herself fall into the music, holding her gaze.

“Oh, but these stories don’t mean anything

If you’ve got no one to tell them to,

It’s true…”

Jess finds she does have to close her eyes to get the last part out, but she thinks it’s alright. She thinks Lupe will still get the message even if she can’t look at her.

“…I was made for you.”

She’s able to get through the rest of the song with no problems. She kicks it up a notch on the second verse to the cheers of the crowd, looking at Lupe for “You made me feel like a million bucks.” Lupe laughs and Esti leans forward, shaking her shoulder. Jess has to look away from the ensuing argument to keep from laughing and keeps playing.

She finishes the song, taking the energy back down, and finds that, once again, she can’t look Lupe in the eyes as she sings the last line, so she closes her eyes and lifts her head, crooning out the last “Well it’s true that I was made for you!”

The bar erupts in applause as the last notes drift through the air, but Jess only has eyes for Lupe as she opens her eyes. It’s dark, the bar dims the house lights during the show, but Jess could swear that Lupe’s cheeks are red. The feeling swells up within her and she makes herself look anywhere else as she smiles and begins unplugging her guitar.

“Thank you, thank you,” she says and slips the strap from over her head, holding it by the neck as she maneuvers her way off stage and back to her seat.

When she gets back to the table, Lupe is just looking at her, a smile on her face.

Esti leans over the table and shakes Jess’ arm. “So good!” she whisper-shouts. “You made this one,” she pulls her hands back and mimes crying, using her fingers to show tears running down her face.

Lupe gives her a look. “I did not cry!” she says. She turns to Jess. “I didn’t.”

Jess laughs. “I know, I was watching you guys,” she says.

Lupe nods, her cheeks coloring a little more. “Good, good, yeah,” she says. “Wouldn’t want my reputation to be ruined by a half-pint ball player who can’t move her own chair into her apartment.” She turns to Esti and translates into Spanish. Esti scoffs and sits back, crossing her arms. Lupe laughs, leaning her head on the back of her chair, then turns back to Jess. “You did really good up there though,” she says softly, and pulls her in by her shirt collar for a kiss.

Jess smiles into it. “Thanks,” she says when they pull back, bringing a hand up to briefly cup Lupe’s face. Then, she pulls away and points to her guitar, kneeling down and opening her case. She puts the guitar away, laying it gently back to rest, and closes her case with a snap. She smiles at Lupe as she gets back up, raising her eyebrows and slipping into her seat just as the next act begins. She hears Lupe chuckle next to her, feels her place a hand on her thigh.

And as her hand settles into place, Jess thinks about how true those words at the end of “The Story” are. It’s early, she doesn’t want to jinx anything, but she has honestly never felt so comfortable, so seen, with anyone before now. It scares her a little, but there’s also this certainty to it, this feeling of rightness. She takes her hand. Yeah, she figures, if she’s made for anyone in this world, it might as well be Lupe.

She squeezes her hand and Lupe squeezes back.

[the-junebugg]

Leaning On You

Part 2 of missing scenes one-shots (part 1 here)

Title: Leaning On You

Summary:

Greta and Carson are not nearly as sneaky as they think they are.

-

(how some of the Peaches find out)

Read on AO3

[novacqnes]

blue moon // lupe garcía

summary: lupe often found herself longing for someone to love, but one night when she stumbles into a bar she realizes that she just might have.

warning: alcohol and kissing

word count: 2.3k

pairing: lupe garcia x fem reader

a/n: a corny romance fic inspired by billie holiday’s ‘blue moon’ (side note: i know lupe has been with a lot of women but let’s just pretend that she’s embarking on a celibacy journey and hasn’t for a while)

the bar smelled of wine and vanilla when lupe first trailed in, following the unmistakable aroma. it led her to a half filled room with people scattered all over focusing their attention in one direction.  

she hadn’t intended on entering the small lounge that sat on the corner of the long street. she’d passed it numerous times after baseball practice but this day, unlike the others, it felt alive. 

she couldn’t help but take notice of the sweet, sultry voice filling the area accompanied by a mellow tune. the room was dimly lit besides the bright light in the center of the room illuminating a figure, the same direction from where the music was coming from. 

blue moon, 

you saw me standing alone

lupe walked deeper into the crowd investigating the source of the voice when her eyes landed on a figure standing in the center of a small brown platform. the mystery singer stood elegantly in front of the crowd singing a beautiful ballad that left the patrons— including lupe astonished. 

she found herself hypnotized by the woman standing before her, so much so that she couldn’t look away. gradually becoming more invested in the performance— and the person behind the voice. 

without a dream in my heart, 

without a love of my own

the lyrics sung held a deeper meaning for lupe, they spoke of an intense longing for love, and for someone to finally fill a void of loneliness. again and again lupe found herself desiring those very things. baseball kept her occupied but it couldn’t mask her hopes that one day someone would finally care for her the way she wanted them to. it was as if the lyrics were calling to her.

blue moon, you knew just what I was there for,

you heard me saying a prayer for, 

someone I really could care for

she took a seat at the nearest open chair in order to get a better view of the singer. the bright light reflected off of her skin adding an almost translucent hue to the performance. lupe felt like she was floating, watching in complete awe. 

and then there suddenly appeared before me,

the only one my arms will ever hold

i heard somebody whisper, "please adore me"

and i looked, the moon had turned to gold

you finally peeled your eyes open looking out into the crowd of mostly familiar faces. it’s a tendency of yours to close your eyes while you sing— not out of fear but habit. it helped you truly focus on the words by making it feel as though you were alone. 

when you reached the far right of the bar you spotted a distinctive new face within a sea of old ones. and you couldn’t help but allow your eyes to linger on the person a bit longer. 

she had rich dark curly hair that sat right at her shoulder. which complimented her soft brown doe eyes. she didn’t look like anyone you’d ever seen before? which made the mystery person all the more interesting. 

blue moon,

now i'm no longer alone,

without a dream in my heart,

without a love of my own

the crowd erupted into cheers as you sang the last few lines of the ballad, your gaze on the woman never faltering and neither did hers. you gave a short bow, stepping off the platform with only one thing on your mind. 

you began to make your way to the girl when you felt a tug on your arm. when you turned, dozens of eager customers awaited you and it was going to make the path to the girl much more difficult without people noticing. 

by the time you pulled yourself away from the group the girl was no longer in her seat but was headed towards the exit. you beelined across the room, cutting off her path to the door. 

“leaving so soon?”

this was the closest you’d been to her all night and the pressure began to set in. lupe could smell the scent of perfume— your perfume wafting through the air as you stepped closer, your knee lightly brushing against hers in the process. 

she sighed, “yeah, i have a game in the morning.”

“a game?”

“i play baseball and we’re on a bit of a losing streak.”

lupe’s eyes roamed over your body as you stood in front of her. amusement curling her lips into a grin. your heart began to race. you had no clue as to why a stranger, a beautiful charming stranger had such a hold on you. 

“i’d hate to waste your time, it’s just this place doesn’t usually come alive until after midnight and i wouldn’t want you to miss it.” 

“oh, really?” she chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest. lupe wouldn’t have been able to get past you even if she wanted to. and she found it quite adorable. you ushered her back to her seat, settling down right beside her. 

you began, “yeah, listen i’ll tell you what…..”

“lupe.”

“lupe, how about this. in exchange for your time all of your drinks are on me?” 

a sly smirk spread across her lips, you were persistent and cute. she had no idea why you were so adamant on her remaining at the bar but she refused to question it. she couldn’t remember the last time anybody pursued her in that way and it made her want to say yes all the more. 

“okay, i’ll stay, make it worth my while ms holiday.”

you beamed, “you won’t be disappointed and you can call me, y/n.”

“y/n….i like it. but i like ms holiday too, you sounded like her up there, it was really good.”

“you’re sweet.” 

“yeah?” lupe smirked, breaking the ice as she leaned forward taking on a teasingly low tone. she was careful not to draw the attention over to you but enough to get the message across, causing your cheeks to heat up instantly. 

“so what’ll it be lupe? whiskey, rum, tequila, beer?” you exclaimed, turning to the bartender to deflect from the brewing tension.

“i’ll have a beer.” 

you watched lupe sip her beer, running her tongue across her lips when she was done with each taste. she felt your eyes lingering on her lips and it only made her want to show off even more, she couldn’t believe you were married. 

“is your husband okay with you staying out so late?”

you sputtered, “what?” 

“your husband?” she gestured to the cheap ring on your finger, curiosity and a bit of jealousy seeping into her voice. 

“no-no i’m not married. it's a gift, an old one but i don’t have a husband.” you mumbled.

“why not? if you don’t mind me asking.” you shook your head, eyes darting to the ground as lupe stumbled to find the right words. 

“what i’m trying to say is you’re beautiful, you can sing, and clearly you know how to handle your own. any guy that hasn’t been shipped off can see that.”

you blurted, “well maybe it’s not them that i’m interested in.”

you looked up from wooden floorboards, your eyes connecting with lupe’s at once and that was all you needed to say. immediately she nodded, taking another sip of her bitter drink. 

“does that mean I have a chance then?”

“you’re first in line, but enough about my love life, what about you?” 

“me? oh there have been so many women i can’t even count,” she lied.

“is that so?” 

“yep.”

she gulped, her pitch going up at least two octaves as you stared her down. her face was that of a liar, especially a terrible one but you couldn’t help but laugh. a warm giddy feeling surrounding the two of you as both you and lupe bursted out into a fit of giggles. 

“i’ve never met anyone like you.” you purred, proudly grinning at the woman in front of you.

“i could say the same about you too.”

the lights began to brighten as a new song switched on, sending people onto their feet to dance. ‘falling in love again’ by billie holiday began to play through the radio, filling the room with an upbeat jazz tune. you hopped to your feet with only one pursuit in mind, holding out your hand to lupe.

“dance with me?”

“here? won’t some of your….customers have a problem with it?” she muttered. lupe briefly scanned the room, quickly noticing an abundance of heterosexual couples spread across the vast floor. 

“most definitely but there’s a backroom that only employees have access to.” you smirked, whipping out a silver key.

lupe found it difficult to hide the small smile finding its way to her lips, following you through the crowd. and in the moment she was sure she would’ve followed you just about anywhere. 

the short journey led to a small brown room located at the back of the bar with a table, chair and few snacks in the corner. you walked to the center of the dim room, gesturing the woman over as you began slowly moving your hips. 

“why’d you bring me here?” she asked, taking you by the waist. 

“i wanted to get to know you.”

the quiet music from the main room echoed into the back room enough for you and lupe to hear it. she followed your lead, pulling you close as you danced to the melody.

“but we could’ve done that out there.”

“it’s quieter here, more privacy.” you whispered, wrapping your arms around her neck.

now, lupe was used to hooking up with people, in fact, it was quite easy for her. she knew what to say, what lines worked best and how to flatter people but with you it was almost as if all that was forgotten. 

she didn’t know what to say, what lines to use or how to flatter you. she found herself intimidated by you and it wasn’t because she was scared but because she wanted more. the longer you two danced, the more the idea became ingrained into her brain. 

“are you okay?” you asked, the gap between the two of you gradually closing as you moved throughout the room. lupe was practically pressed up against you, however you didn’t mind. her scent, embrace and presence felt like a warm blanket of comfort that you never wanted to be away from. 

“yeah, why?”

okay would be the last word lupe would use to describe herself, she wasn’t fine, she was falling. this entire evening, it felt like a dream. being here with you, it was everything she’d ever wanted and she was terrified of it ending. 

“your heart’s beating really fast.” 

“i’m scared,” she admitted.

“of?”

“i don’t want this to end.” lupe held onto you a bit tighter this time. she closed her eyes, allowing the music to carry both you away along with it. 

“who says it has to?” 

she went silent for a moment, dancing with you as she thought for a while. lupe was used to false hope, being let down by people so much so that she refused to believe in the possibility of you two ever existing outside of those walls together. 

“all goods things do, y/n. it’s rule number one in the handbook of life,” she scoffed. 

“i don’t believe that.”

“what?” 

you challenged, “what are you really afraid of?”

she peeled her eyes open, pulling off her hat so that you could fully see her. her curly dark hair rested at her shoulder, crowning her beautiful face. you could’ve sworn she was going to kiss you but instead she leaned in, gently brushing your ear with the tip of her nose. 

“being alone,” she whispered. 

you saw a hint of vulnerability in her lupe’s gleaming eyes and you never wanted to let go. you couldn’t fathom how in just a few hours you could care so deeply for someone you’d just met. 

“lupe i can’t remember the last time anybody made me feel the way you did tonight.” you ran your thumb up over her cheek, catching a glimpse of the clock in the corner. 

“if you think i'm just gonna let you waltz out the door and that be the end of it, you're wrong.” you laughed, walking over to the small table in the room. you pulled out a paper and then your bright red lipstick.

“i have an apartment downtown, it’s not too far from here, take the address.” 

you handed the slip of paper over to her with your address sloppily written in bold red letters. lupe’s heart swelled as she clutched the paper in her hand, ensuring its reality. 

“i know you have to go so i won’t keep you any longer but after you win your next game, stop by. it’ll just be the two of us.” you promised.

“y/n?”

she continued, “can i kiss you before i go—“

you didn’t even give lupe the chance before launching yourself at her. you pressed yourself against her with desperation and need, cupping her face in your hands as your lips smacked over one another. the taste of beer lingered on her tongue as she swirled it over yours, deepening the kiss even further. 

your hands roamed all over lupe’s body as she held you, it felt like hours had gone by but the kiss only lasted a mere 10 seconds before you heard your name being called again by the audience. hesitantly you pulled away, placing a light kiss on lupe’s cheek and leaving behind a red lipstick stain. 

“i’ll see you soon,” she whispered.

you stepped out first allowing the attention to flock to you so lupe could slip out undetected. you sauntered back onto the stage watching lupe head for the door, giving you one last comforting look as she mouthed a ‘thank you.’

all of those lonely nights you two had spent under a blue moon, calling out for someone for someone to love and you were heard at last. the smell, the taste of each other remained throughout the night as you and lupe went back to your respective lives. impatiently waiting and counting down the minutes until you could finally see each other again. this time without any intrusion from outsiders nor pestering fears of loneliness.

[somebodytoundress]

im found in you

lupe garcia x jess mccready (9.7k, star wars au, pwp)

Jess is a pilot with the Resistance who gets captured by the First Order due to possessing vital information. A rogue stormtrooper rescues her before they can get to it.

read it here

[carsonshawl]

ALOTO FANFIC - Midnight Antics

Summary:

Carson held the cat up for Greta to see, “I found a cat.”

Greta shuffled to the side to give Carson more room, “where the hell did you get a cat?”

(a.k.a. Carson finds an unknown cat in her room in the middle of the night.)

Read on AO3

It was scratching that had woken Carson, she was sure of it. She looked over at Shirley, her outline visible from the light through the thin curtains. No movement. Carson lay back down and began to drift off.

Then it happened again.

Cason shot up in bed. This time she was sure she heard scratching. It was loud, insistent, and definitely coming from the door.

Logically, Carson knew there was nothing to be afraid of. There was no such thing as monsters, hiding in the night. But, Carson liked horror novels, so she couldn’t help letting her imagination run off a bit.

She decided to chance it. Her feet hit the floor and something fluffy rubbed against her leg. Carson let out a squeal and jumped back on the bed.

Shirley’s blankets rustled as she stirred but she didn’t wake.

The fluffy thing jumped up onto Carson’s bed and rubbed her hand.

It was a cat.

Where the hell had a cat come from? Both doors into the room were shut, and, Carson was sure she would remember shutting a cat in when she went to sleep. The cat rubbed against her hand again and she patted it in reflex. It purred as she scratched behind its ears.

Carson had always wanted a pet. She would have taken a dog or a cat, she wasn’t fussy, she just wanted a fluffy creature to love. She liked the idea of taking a dog for a walk and liked that it was someone to have a catch with. She’d taken her idea of a pet to Meg and Meg had immediately vetoed a dog; she wasn’t a dog person. Meg seemed to come around to the idea of a cat though. Their parents had other ideas. A pet was too much work and Carson and Meg weren’t old enough to handle the responsibility.

Carson would enjoy cuddles with this cat until it inevitably went back home.

Carson gave the cat a few more pats before scooping it up in her arms. She carried it to the door that connected her room to Greta’s and knocked gently. There was no reply but she entered anyway, simply alerting anyone awake that she was coming in. Greta and Jess were both sleeping. Carson sat on the edge of Greta’s bed and kissed her forehead, whispering at her to wake up.

Greta stirred slowly, blinking at Carson, confused and disorientated.

Carson held the cat up for Greta to see, “I found a cat.”

Greta shuffled to the side to give Carson more room, “where the hell did you get a cat?”

“It was in my room. I woke up to it scratching on the door.” “How did a cat get trapped inside your room?”

Carson just shrugged.

“You could say that Carson is a pussy magnet,” said Jess, laughing from under her covers.

Greta chuckled softly and scratched the cat under the chin. It seemed to enjoy pats, rubbing against Greta as Carson put it down on the bed. It walked between Carson and Greta, seeking affection from each of them in turn. Jess huffed at their cooing but eventually joined them on Greta’s bed to give the cat some love.

“Carlos.”

It was drawn out and whispered loudly from the hallway.

The cat’s ears perked up.

“Carlos.”

There it was again.

The cat: Carlos, ran over to the door and looked at Carson.

“Carlos ¿Dónde estás?”

“Spanish?” Jess mouthed at Greta as Carson opened the door.

Carlos rushed into the hall with Carson, Greta, and Jess hot on his heels.

A few rooms down the hallway was Esti, on all fours, looking under the hallway table. Carlos ran up to her and wound around her arms.

“Carlos!” Esti sat up and scooped the cat into her arms, hugging him close.

“What the hell, Esti?” asked Jess, walking over to the girl, “why do you have a cat.”

There was a sigh and Lupe ascended the stairs, joining the group.

“You found your cat then.”

Carson turned to Lupe, “what do you know about this?”

Lupe ran her hand through her hair, annoyed, “It’s her secret cat. He’s some stray she found a few days ago. She’s been hiding him in our room, insisting we keep him.”

Jess laughed and Greta shushed her, reminding them all that it was the middle of the night and Beverly would have their heads.

“Why is he called Carlos?” asked Carson.

“He looks like my grandfather,” grinned Esti, her words spoken slowly.

“Let’s keep him,” Carson said to Esti, “he can be the Peaches cat.”

Lupe scoffed, “Beverly will not go for that.”

Greta stood beside Esti, fluffing up Carlos’ cheek fur to make his face look fat.

“Look at this little face,” she cooed, “how could you say no to this?”

Esti held Carlos out in front of her and kissed him on the nose.

“Carlos the Peaches cat.”

~

To everyone's surprise, Beverly said yes to the cat.

The team took a shine to Esti’s secret cat. He was quickly adopted as the team mascot, sporting a peach-coloured collar and receiving a pat for luck from every team member, before a game. The women, especially Jess, showered him with gifts and treats with their paychecks. And, there was always someone in Esti and Lupe’s room to see Carlos, pissing Lupe off to no end.

Lupe didn’t mind though. She’d never admit it, but, she was glad to see Esti so happy.

[purplehoodiesandleatherjackets]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: A League of Their Own (TV 2022) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Lupe García, Jess McCready Additional Tags: bros for life, Lupe and Jess are a very specific type of soulmate, Jess has a past as a sailor, Lupe doesn't do boats, but might if Jess were there Summary:

Lupe and Jess talk about what's next after the inagurale Rockford Peaches season comes to an end.

[greta--gill]

i want everyone to look at me (the way they look at you)

Rating: E

Words: 7.7k

Status: 1/1 (Complete)

—

Summary:

For so long, Carson believed that love came from wanting everything somebody else had that you didn’t. That love came from the fact that somebody might fill in those parts of you.

She convinces herself she loves Charlie because of it.

Charlie isn’t a girl. He is strong and handsome, that’s why he gets to play baseball with the boys. He’s not a girl, and he gets to do all of the things that Carson doesn’t. All of the things Carson wishes she could. He is all of the things Carson knows she is but doesn’t get to call herself.

--

Greta is a woman. Carson knows this for sure, and she can’t feel this much for a woman. She can’t. But then, Greta smiles at her, takes her hand, pulls and says, here’s your destiny, and Carson thinks that maybe she is the kind of person who has a destiny after all. Destiny looks like red hair and dark eyes.

Salvation.

(Or, Carson, growing up, gender envy, and falling in love. How Carson grows into the person she always thought she was inside. My take on a Carson gender exploration.)

[read it on ao3]

[poorlittlegreenie13]

man i just fibished your fuvking lupe garcia church girl fic bein good isnt alwsys easy bc i didnt have time to read the final chapter when it was released and DAMN MAN that shit hit fuckinb HARD. WOW. i just recollected myself after balling my eyes out at 1 am. how did u come up with that concept? how did you find tge heart to do that marvelous sghit man likr wtf im flabbergastwdd

Oh my gosh, I’m glad you liked it!

I was raised catholic in a really homophobic church environment so I guess the idea came from my own life, and also from Lupe’s Catholicism in the show. I also just really love the song ‘Son of a Preacher Man’ lol.

I liked the idea of Jess & Lupe meeting before they’d really grown into the characters we see in the show - like Jess a bit lost & not so confident yet, and Lupe still very much repressed & under her parent’s control. Also, I made a joke about not being able to write good smut because of my catholic guilt and someone told me to incorporate the catholic guilt INTO the fanfiction, so I did, lol.

Thank you for the compliments! I really appreciate it. I’m trying to write a novel at the moment & the feelings of inadequacy are constant so being told I’m a good writer is so helpful 😂. I’m genuinely really glad you liked the story. You can send more asks if you want to! I like answering them.

[thereforebucket]

Catch This Moment (Before it's All Over)

Hey guys! Just wrote my first fanfiction in like. Years. About the moment in ALOTO where Jess caught Carson and Greta asleep in her room. You can also find it here on AO3

Summary:

"I've known since the first night at the bar, but also, a couple weeks ago, you fell asleep in my room with Greta. Rookie."

Or, Greta processing how close she and Carson came to being found out.

Though she really tries, Greta is doing a terrible job of sticking to the Rules.

Gingerly, she plucks another curler from the drawer by the side of her bed and, after a pause, begins to wrap a section of her hair around it.

“How was your evening?” she asks Jess, who’s across the room stripping down to her boxer briefs and changing into a t-shirt for bed. “Looks like you had a good time, did you go to Bishop’s?” She asks because Jess has been holding in this smirk the entire time she’s been back, like the cat who ate the canary, and there’s something she’s holding back. It makes Greta nervous.

Jess just looks over her shoulder and raises her eyebrows, that look still on her face. “Something like that, yeah.”

Greta’s smile is pleasant, but she can feel how much effort it’s taking to hold it in place and knows that the longer she tries to keep it up, the more and more her eyes will start to look like those of a scared animal. Jess holds her gaze for a moment too long, the smugness building exponentially. “What?” Greta asks and takes a self-conscious look at herself in the mirror at the vanity. Her lipstick isn’t smudged (she made sure of that), her hair is half in curlers, but that’s to be expected, and her clothes are a little rumpled, but she fell asleep in them. At least they were on, she thinks to herself and accidentally winds the curler a little too tight, pulling sharply at her scalp. “Ouch,” she hisses under her breath and fumbles with the curler, nearly dropping it.

Jess almost shows teeth with how much her grin widens watching this. She quickly schools her face somewhere a little closer to neutral. “Nothing.” She turns away again, pulling at the toe of her sock. “What about you?” she asks, balancing and tugging at her sock. “It looks like you had an early night.”

Greta does not flush. She doesn’t. At least she’s almost positive. She glances in the mirror again with the alibi of seeing how much damage dropping the curler did to the curling process. She purses her lips as she realizes she’ll have to roll it in again and breathes out a tiny sigh. Oh, and there’s no flush, she’s a professional, after all. Which is a subject she’ll have to take up with her racing heartbeat later.

She takes in a quick breath. “Yes, early night,” she says, and leans over to pick up the book she had quickly opened and thrown facedown on the bed beside her, only a minute before Jess had entered the room. “Just doing a little reading.”

“The Deerslayer!” Jess says, “I didn’t know you liked James Fenimore Cooper, Greta.”

To be honest, Greta didn’t either. She had picked up the book at the top of the pile on the floor next to Jess’ bed and flown back across the room with it without even giving it a second glance. James Fenimore Cooper though? Gross. She wished she’d had time to come up with a different alibi, or at least a different, more Greta-like, book.

“I don’t know,” she says, “I’m not very far into it…”

“Really?” asks Jess, starting on her next sock. “It looks like you’re over halfway through.”

This fucking alibi. “I—” she fumbles, “I-I’m not. I was just skimming it honestly. Borrowed it from your pile over there, sorry.” She closes the book and stands, walking the few steps it takes to hold the book out an arm’s length from Jess.

Jess, who doesn’t take the book. “Oh, you can keep it if you’re reading it,” Jess says, still pulling at her sock.

“No, no,” says Greta, “it uh, put me right to sleep honestly.” She keeps holding the book out and eventually Jess takes it, her eyes never leaving Greta’s. There’s a prick of sweat all over her body at that look, but this is the thing that cements her alibi, so she has to hold firm to it. She was reading in bed and Natty Bupkis or whatever his name was had been so boring she’d fallen asleep.

“Ehh, James Fenimore Cooper isn’t really where it’s at anyway. Mostly just picked it up because the title made it look like I would be into it. I’ve slayed a few deer in my day.”

Something like disgust begins to creep into Greta’s carefully neutral face and she blinks and gently clears her throat before heading back to her bed to reroll her curler. “Have you?” she asks. “You must have some stories.”

Jess straightens up, sock in hand, and gives Greta an incredulous look. “Geez Gill, Cooper must have done a number on you. You’re never into my deer hunting stories.”

Greta closes her eyes and mentally shakes herself. C’mon, Gill, easy out. “And, I’m not tonight, Jess,” she says, forcing a joking tone into her voice. She throws a teasing glance that she doesn’t feel over to Jess. “Must just still be half asleep is all.” She reaches up and begins to pull the curler from her hair. “You blew your chance though,” she says. “You could have just started talking and I wouldn’t have had the presence of mind to stop you.”

Jess finally lets the grin slide out onto her lips as she crosses her arms and leans back, looking at Greta down the bridge of her nose. “Nah,” she says, “you’ve got something else you’re thinking about tonight. I’ll save my stories for someone who’s really going to pay attention.”

Greta freezes, curler one loop away from being free, and she swears she sees Jess’ grin widen.

“Just thinking about the game tomorrow,” she says airily, pulling the curler out in a final tug. She stands up and slides the drawer out of her nightstand. “I’m going to go to the bathroom so I can actually see what I’m doing with these,” she says, and crosses the room to the open door. Jess’ eyes follow her as she leaves, though her posture never changes. As Greta crosses the threshold, she swears she hears a little chuckle.

Greta takes a calculated three steps into the hallway, pauses, then closes her eyes and pulls in a quiet breath, holding it. When she releases it, she tosses the curls not already in rollers back from her face and continues on towards the bathroom. God, that was way too close.

She peeks at Carson’s room out of the corner of her eye and finds the door half open and Carson’s bed empty. She hadn’t heard a commotion outside her room after Carson left, so she must just be in the house somewhere. She does catch a glimpse of Shirley asleep in her bed on closer inspection and mentally pats herself on the back for making Carson use the hall door to leave and not the door between their rooms. If nothing else, they made a smooth exit tonight. She can keep it together under pressure.

God, she had been really reckless tonight. Jess had been gone. Greta had seen her get dressed in her hat and her nice trousers and go out the door with Lupe, who was similarly dressed up. On the correct assumption that they were headed for a night out, she coyly invited Carson to play Gin with her in her room.

Carson had accepted with that adorably awkward fluster that Greta loved and they had slipped into Greta’s room, locking the door behind them.

They hadn’t even pulled the cards out. Greta almost stops dead in her tracks when she realizes just how sloppy she’s been. If someone had knocked on the door, asking to speak with her, she wouldn’t have been able to stick to her story of inviting Carson in to play cards. True, plans sometimes changed, or the game could have already been over when whichever of their teammates knocked on her door, but the fact that she didn’t even think to set a pack of cards on the nightstand, the fact that she had met Carson in her room at all, are enough to make her desperately, desperately, crave a cigarette.

She had never been this stupid in her life, not after Dana. She shifts the drawer onto her arm so she can feel the little ring on her pinky finger. Dana’s ring. It was supposed to keep her safe. It was supposed to remind her to never let her guard down. Greta steps into the bathroom and sets the drawer full of curlers onto the countertop, pausing to fiddle with the ring.

It got worse, actually. Now that she’s back here, Greta realizes that she had left the room halfway through to use the bathroom and she wasn’t sure that she’d turned the lock when she got back. So anyone could have walked in on them at any time. Great. She drags her hands down her face in the mirror. Shape up, Gill, she thinks to herself.

God, she looks old in this bright bathroom light. Old and haggard and hunted. She looks like her mother, is what she looks like, and with that pleasant thought she sits down on the ottoman someone had brought in to do makeup on and begins to roll her hair for the night.

It was just that it had felt so safe. She breathes out a harsh breath and shakes her head in the mirror. ‘Safe’ wasn’t a luxury she had.

It had felt safe though. Greta had been so giddy when she turned that lock in the beginning. She would finally get to stretch out in a bed with Carson for the first time since the convent, and she had felt like she was glowing as she crossed the room and captured Carson’s lips in a kiss. When she had pulled back, Carson had smiled that heady, bashful smile she got sometimes after kissing Greta and Greta had widened her eyes, pursed her lips in a smile, and used two fingers on each of her shoulders to push Carson onto the bed. Carson had fallen like a domino and Greta had gleefully climbed on top of her to kiss her, savoring the rarity of their private moment.

She hadn’t even taken off her shoes, and those had to be kicked unceremoniously onto the floor with two loud thunks that, Greta now realizes, would of course have been audible throughout the house.

She stops rolling and puts her head in one hand. Everyone kicked off shoes, though, it wasn’t like that meant anything special. She rubbed at her temple with her thumb.

At least they hadn’t taken their clothes off. She hadn’t been foolhardy enough to think that they’d have enough time alone for all that. Plus, you could still do a lot even with clothes on. She caught her eyes in the mirror and gave herself a wry smile, remembering the noises that had tangled in the back of Carson’s throat. Oh you could do a lot with clothes still on.

“What are you smiling about my beautiful Greek goddess?”

Greta jumps as Maybelle enters the bathroom, her toothbrush in one hand and toothpaste in the other.

“Geez May, you scared me,” she says, rolling her shoulders back and throwing Maybelle a smile in the mirror. She may have nearly been found with her…with Carson earlier, but she needs to loosen up or the whole house will know something’s going on.

Maybelle laughs, oblivious to her worry. “Sorry,” she says, “just on my way to brush my teeth with old Carson here.”

Greta’s fingers tighten on the counter as she turns her body around to peer out the door. Sure enough, there’s Carson, her head barely peeking around the doorjamb, and god, if she keeps this up, Greta’s going to have to talk to her about how they interact in public again.

“What are you hanging around out there for, coach?” Maybelle asks with a laugh, it’s both endearing and nerve-wracking to hear Carson stutter out her answer.

“Well, uh, I-I mean I thought Greta was busy in there and I, uh, didn’t want to intrude,” Carson says, looking at Greta.

Greta forces a smile and turns back to the mirror. “Nope! Just curling my hair! Come on in, Shaw.” She looks over her shoulder again as Carson enters the room pursing her lips slightly. She isn’t sure what she wants to say. That was so risky, and We can’t do that again, are both too charged for things to say with Maybelle in the room.

Thankfully, it’s Maybelle who saves them. Sort of. “I didn’t see either of you girls all night until now!” she says cheerfully. “What were you up to?”

And. Well. Greta knows it’s not a loaded question, but damn it if she can’t go five minutes without having to come up with an alibi in this house. She glances at Carson in the mirror and they catch each other’s eyes. Carson is stock still, her eyes a little too wide. She’s asking Greta a silent question, asking Maybelle. The cynic in Greta, the side that keeps herself safe, hopes Carson feels the danger of this night and carries it with her. The part of her that wants to kick Jess out of the room and lead Carson back to her bed hopes Carson never has to feel that fear again.

It's a glance that feels like a day but is really a moment, and Greta picks up another curler and supplies her alibi. “I had an early night actually,” she says, sectioning off another bit of her hair. “I thought I’d do some reading, but I guess I was pretty tired because I fell asleep. I only woke up when Jess came back from wherever she’s been.” Good, get Maybelle thinking about where Jess has been instead of her. “Shaw?”

Carson’s eyes widen and Greta makes a mental note to help Carson come up with a list of alibis too. “I,” Carson pauses, thinking on her feet, “—was just in my room, going over gamecards.” Well, Greta supposes that’s always a good one. “What about you Maybelle?”

As Maybelle tells them about her game of bridge with Esti, Ana, and Terri, Greta takes a second to catch her breath. She’s fine, Maybelle didn’t catch on, and Jess hadn’t either. She thinks. Jess didn’t give anything away, at least, and honestly, any woman who regularly wears boxer briefs probably doesn’t really have a leg to stand on telling anybody what she may or may not have seen.

Because Greta wasn’t lying. She had fallen asleep, early, in her clothes. It’s just that she’d been tucked around Carson, an arm over her shoulder, the other woman’s head on her chest and her arm draped across Greta’s middle. Their legs had tangled together under the light throw blanket Carson had tugged over them after they’d pulled their clothes back into shape, loosely fixed their hair in the mirror, and wiped the smudged lipstick off of their lips, necks, chests—anything that might be visible to teammates, roommates… They’d laid there, neither wanting the other to leave, talking about everything and nothing, and kissing like two fools in…

But of course Greta won’t say it. Won’t even think it, really. It’s a fling. She’s here for the season and then she’s out. Carson is too. And she looks at the other woman in the mirror, at this woman who even looks beautiful with toothpaste dribbling down her chin, and it’s a fling, and it’s a fling, and she longs to reach out and catch another moment of this thing that is so fleeting before it’s all over.

But she doesn’t. Instead, she realizes with a start that Maybelle has finished speaking. “Shit, Sorry Maybelle, I must have spaced,” she says, shaking herself out of her thoughts, and Maybelle laughs.

“Wow, you really are tired!” she says. She turns on the faucet, cups her hand, and brings up a palmful of water to rinse out her mouth. “Well, I better head out and let you finish up your hair so you can get back to bed. And you too, coach! Gotta have you in top shape for our game against the Comets tomorrow!”

Carson gives Maybelle a remorseful look. “Sorry Maybelle,” she says, but Maybelle just waves her off and says her goodbyes. Greta turns to wave as she leaves the room.

When it’s just her and Carson, the mood changes. Carson looks at her, fear boiling up unbridled in her eyes, and Greta looks back, her own fear bubbling just under the surface.

“Did—” Carson stops, then starts again. “Did Jess say—”

“Shh,” Greta cautions, yearning to take Carson’s hand in her own, to convey how she’s feeling in a gesture that isn’t audible. But they can’t in the Peaches’ bathroom, where anyone could walk in, Maybelle being the case in point. “I don’t…” Greta stops, remembering Jess’ inscrutable expression. “I, I think we’re in the clear,” she says instead. She’s not sure what Jess was holding back, but she also knows that Jess is a steel trap and that Jess is one of them. She’s lucky to have her as a roommate, because god knows what Shirley would have done with that information.

Greta watches Carson breathe out a shaky sigh of relief and with a twinge of guilt says “We have to be more careful, though. This was way too close. From now on, we can only meet outside the house.” Carson nods rapidly and Greta aches again to hold her hand.

“Here,” she says, and picks up Carson’s toothbrush from where she set it on the side of the sink. She places it in the palm of Carson’s hand, pressing her hand over it until their two hands are pressed together, the cool, wet plastic of the toothbrush warming slightly between their fingers. She keeps her hand there as long as she dares, eyes holding Carson’s, and then, with a sharp intake of breath, draws her hand away. “Go get your rest, coach,” she says, and Carson gives her that smile she does when she’s trying not to.

“You too,” she says. She picks up her toothpaste and leaves the room, only looking over her shoulder once when she reaches the door.

Then, Greta is alone in the bathroom. She sighs, finishes curling her hair, brushes her teeth, and washes her face as well. Then she picks up her nightstand drawer and walks briskly back to her room.

When she opens the door, she finds that her lamp has been left on, but Jess’ is off and she’s already under the covers. Greta breathes a small sigh of relief that she won’t have to deal with anymore cryptic looks from her tonight, then slides her drawer into her nightstand, changes quickly into her nightgown, and crawls into bed. As she turns out the lights, she can’t help but notice that a faint smell of Carson lingers on her sheets. She reaches down to grab the throw blanket still over her quilt, balls it up, and tucks it snugly against her chest. It’s not even remotely like having Carson in the bed with her, but it does make her feel a little less alone. She reaches up to play with Dana’s ring on her pinky finger, stroking the warm metal a few times before dropping her hands to the mattress. Then, she curls her body up around the blanket, breathes in the smell of Carson, and drifts off to sleep.

-----

Across the room, Jess stretches out and puts her arms beneath her head, staring at the ceiling. So. Gill and Shaw, huh?

Jess feels another smile creep over her face as she thinks about what she’d walked in on an hour earlier. She’d come back from Vi’s bar with Lupe, kiss drunk and, well, a little regular drunk too. She and Lupe had stopped to smoke a cigarette on the porch, swapping notes on the girls they had met at the bar. She had finished her cigarette just as she finished telling Lupe about how the girl she had hooked up with that night had pulled a hand-drawn baseball card of her out of her purse after they finished and asked her to sign it.

“You have a thing for the weird ones!” Lupe laughed, stubbing out the end of her cigarette as well. “Was it any good?”

“The baseball card or…” Jess trailed off and grinned when Lupe hit her in the arm with her hat.

“The card, mensa,” Lupe said, “though also…” She trailed off as well.

“God awful,” Jess laughed. “Didn’t look anything like me! The other thing though,” she nudged Lupe with her shoulder, “pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” Lupe asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Pretty good,” Jess said, making a circle with her thumb and forefinger and holding the rest of her fingers up.

“Okay, okay,” Lupe said, then pulled her pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and offered one to Jess. “One more?”

“Nah,” Jess said, “I’m turning in.” She stood up. “Night, hermano.”

“Night, brother,” Lupe called after her.

Jess walked inside, hung up her jacket, and then took the stairs at a jog. She really was beat. She hit the bathroom first, using the facilities and brushing her teeth before finally heading toward her room. She was whistling quietly when she turned the handle, but the sight that met her eyes made the whistle die in her throat.

Greta was in her bed, asleep, and wrapped around her, her head pooled on Greta’s chest, was Carson Shaw.

It was an out-of-body experience to see them like this, an almost shocking thing to see outside of Vi’s nightclub and places like it. This scene didn’t belong in Sargent Beverly’s orderly rooming house, where any old Rockford Peach could stumble across it if they wanted to borrow some thread or ask if anyone wanted in on a poker game. But, on the other hand, Carson and Greta had been…well something for about as long as there had been Rockford Peaches. Jess remembered their first night officially on the team, where they had talked together at the bar, a conversation so charged Jess felt like she’d get a static shock if she got too close to them. It wasn’t a scene that had a place in the outward fabric of the Peaches, but it was a scene that, she supposed, inwardly knit them together.

Clearing her throat self-consciously, Jess knew she had to do what she could to get Carson back to her own room while not drawing too much attention to her leaving. Closing the door as quietly as she could, she took a step back and began rummaging in her pockets as loudly as she could. “Ahh damn, must have left my wallet downstairs,” she called out loudly to no one in particular, making sure thump heavily against the door and sigh.

“Want me to grab it for you, Jess?” Maybelle called up from her bridge game. “I could leave it outside your door.”

“Nah, don’t worry,” Jess called back. Inside the room, she heard muffled voices and a quiet thump as she assumed someone got out of bed. “I’ll come down and grab it.”

She jogged back down the stairs, pausing just before she entered the kitchen to watch Carson flee from her room, hair a little disheveled, and all but sprint to her own room. Jess grinned to herself as she made a show of looking around the first floor for the wallet that was safely in her pants pocket before finally pretending to find it in her jacket. “Found it!” she called to Maybelle before heading back upstairs, slower this time, and finally opening her own door.

Inside, she found a hastily put-together Greta Gill breathing hard and trying to hide it. Jess, in turn, tried to hide the shit-eating grin she wore. God, if Greta were Lu she would give her so much shit for falling asleep with a girl still in her room. As it was, Jess held it together—mostly. She teased at Greta, pressing her about the book she knew she hadn’t read, and, well, giving her as much shit for falling asleep with a girl still in her room as she could without revealing what she knew.

Finally, Greta left the room with the excuse of curling her hair and Jess felt a little bad for ragging her so hard. Though, she thought as she changed her shirt, she had also been looking out for Greta. And Carson. Better that she had been the one to walk into the room than one of their teammates. Better that she hadn’t even really confronted Greta about it. Maybe Greta would take this near-miss experience forward and be more careful in the future.

Jess sighed and rolled onto her side, facing the window and Greta. They had been cute though. They looked like a real couple, like one that went on dates, that hung onto each other for the long term. Jess imagined that Vi and Edie fell asleep in a similar way, curled around each other, not a care in the world.

Still though, to fall asleep together? In Greta’s room? Jess rolled over again and chuckled, finding a comfortable position to sleep in.

Fucking rookies.