Her Bottle Blonde

by grewuptobestardust

Summary:

Before meeting Doris, Molly had thought her secret talent- more than silent observation or cooking a killer pot roast- was masking her thoughts. But in actuality it was Doris who truly had that gift.

aka Molly dyes Doris’ hair and they run away together.

Notes:

*Shows up to the Reprisal fandom three years late with a smoothie* hiii :)
This is the first fanfiction that I have written in a decade, and maybe a dozen people total have seen this show, but I finished episode four and was hit full force with this fic idea. I plan on finishing the show soon but I wanted to get this out of my brain first, so just know this fic only regards canon up to episode five.
I am not really a writer at all but Doris and Molly's dynamic intrigued me, as did Doris’ dyed hair (a choice!), so I thought I'd give it a whirl.
Super special thanks to bestie @ leetheshark for encouraging me to write this, editing/beta-ing, and introducing me to Reprisal in the first place! Also big thanks to anyone who reads this fic! Enjoy!!
heart emoji, grag

Chapter 1: Strawberry Blonde

Summary:

Molly thinks about Doris.

Notes:

This was originally going to just be a one shot but then it kept getting longer >:)

The first thing Molly had noticed about Tom’s new wife was her bottle blonde hair. The woman, Doris, must have had it professionally done, because Molly had only given it a passing thought, admiring how striking the woman looked. The bright yellowish white worked for her, though Molly caught herself thinking that the stylish woman could probably pull off any color. It was not until a few months later when she and Colin went over to Tom and Doris’ house for an awkward family dinner that Molly noticed that Doris must have recently redyed it herself. There was a noticeably darker patch in the back and her hair was parted in such a way to hide a mismatched root. The dye job wasn’t terrible, and any untrained eye would not have noticed at all, but Molly figured that years of watching soap operas and standing silently in the corners of crowded rooms had made her somewhat of an expert in picking up on things people did not want, or plan on, others noticing.

There were many things she noticed that people either did not realize she knew, or worse, did but found her inconsequential enough that they put no mind to it. Molly had an ongoing list in her brain of such things: like her husband coming home late smelling like booze or unfamiliar perfume, or how the family restaurant was not as above books as it seemed. Though it did not take a genius to recognize Colin’s unfaithfulness, and the unsavory types who shuffled behind the restaurant at night were not as difficult to spot as they hoped, she prided herself on her perception skills and intellect. She enjoyed people- watching while pouring coffee at the restaurant. It kept her from going stir crazy while being the perfect, devoted stay at home wife, a role she quickly took after high school with the first well-off man who looked her way. That was what was expected of her, so that is what she did.

Before meeting Doris, Molly had thought that masking her thoughts and feelings with a polite smile and timid voice was what she did best—even better than silent observation or cooking a killer pot roast—but the blonde woman had shifted her perspective. Watching her flit around perfectly posed, masking every thought, Molly realized that it was really Doris who had that gift. Molly wondered if she would ever get to see the person behind the masks. She wondered if anyone even realized that the masks were there.

Two other family dinners passed until Molly worked up the courage to bring up her idea regarding Doris’ hair to the woman in question. Molly had thought it through for weeks, casually asking Linda from bridge and restaurant regular Susan where one might find hair-safe bleach and recommendations on their favorite hair products. It wasn’t until after she had questioned her two friends that Molly realized that Doris must already have the supplies. It was really that she just needed someone to help her apply the dye, or however it worked. Or maybe not needed, Molly thought, but if she were in Doris’ shoes, with the nearest salon actually being quite a long drive away, Molly would want someone to help her out, even though she would never have asked for it.

Molly and Doris were standing shoulder to shoulder in Doris’ perfectly wallpapered kitchen, scrubbing melted cheese remnants of lasagna off of flower detailed plates, when Molly turned to the blonde and blurted in a rush, “I could do your hair, you know.”

Doris turned off the sink and gave the brunette a quizzical look. “What’s wrong with it?” Molly blushed and set down her sponge, quickly looking out the window to avoid the gaze of the other woman. Just as she suspected, Colin and Tom were smoking outside on the front porch. She would not have dared to bring up her suggestion if she had thought either of the men had been listening, for both her and Doris’ sake.

Molly turned back to Doris. No sense avoiding the conversation now that she had started it. “Oh, nothing is wrong with your hair! It’s beautiful! I just noticed that it is a little less blonde than at your wedding and the local salon isn’t really local at all, and…” Molly trailed off, suddenly struck with embarrassment. What if Doris hadn’t wanted anyone to mention that she was not a natural blonde? Doris didn’t appear to be a self conscious woman in the slightest but she did come off as secretive. Molly had been so wrapped up in the logistics of the scenarios she had created in her head that she had forgotten to even consider such a small suggestion could undo all the good will Molly had tried to build up between them. It was already awkward enough that Doris was technically her mother-in-law despite Doris being only four years older than her. It made it worse that Colin resented the blonde’s every action no matter how much she helped the restaurant or made his father happy. Amongst that tension, if they were ever going to be friends as Molly wished, she couldn’t go around pointing out the minor chips in Doris’ perfect facade. She should have thought about that before opening her mouth! As Molly’s thoughts raced, Doris just stared at her patiently, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“And?” Doris prompted gently, giving Molly the space to finish her sentence.

“And,” Molly slowly continued, “I know it’s quite presumptive of me, especially because it appears you have been doing a fine job upkeeping your hair on your own, but I was thinking, if you wanted someone to help you apply the hair bleach, or whatever product you use, I would be happy to help.” Molly froze and waited for the rejection she expected. Then, as if she could sense the nervousness Molly was doing her best to hide, Doris softly placed one of her kitchen-gloved hands over one of Molly’s.

“You know what, dear? I would like that very much.”

Chapter 2: Soft Currents

Summary:

Molly dyes Doris’ hair.

It became a regular, and favorite, part of Molly’s routine. On the second Thursday of every month, mid-morning while Colin and Tom were at work, Molly would go over to Doris’ home with two faded pink towels and bright yellow kitchen gloves. Together they turned Doris’ picture-perfect kitchen into a miniature hair salon. The two women decided early on that it was best to meet at Doris’s place, since that was where most of the supplies were already. Plus, the more steps to avoid being found and questioned by either of their husbands, the better.

From Molly’s minimal and covert research, she had learned that there was a new hair product that allowed them to avoid having to mix any chemicals together. Luckily, Doris had stocked up on this ‘Miss Clairol Hair Color Bath’. For Doris, Molly would not have minded mixing up the dye cocktails she had read about certain movie stars and supermodels using, but she was glad that the bleach could stay in the closet with the other cleaning supplies. Less possibility for damage and disaster, Molly thought.

The hair dyeing went relatively the same way each meeting. After some “good mornings” and “how are yous” were traded, Doris would cover the kitchen table with one of the towels and Molly would drape the second towel around Doris’ shoulders to ensure the antique wood and Doris’ chic tops would each remain unstained. Doris would apply vaseline to her hairline in the front and back and around her ears to protect her skin, then Molly would put on her gloves, pour the product’s “lightening powder packet” into the “developing creme bottle”, and mix well.

Doris would sit in a chair at the table with her eyes closed, a soft calm expression on her face, and Molly would part the blonde’s hair into four chunks, pinning them out of the way. Despite her careful ministrations, every once in a while Molly would accidentally brush the scar on the back of Doris’ neck, resulting in both women freezing for a moment and then continuing as though nothing happened. Though they were becoming closer to one another as these monthly meetings continued, Molly, who fiercely protected her secrets, knew from observation that Doris did the same. The first time Molly was surprised to find the large fading scar on the back of the blonde woman’s neck, Molly decided that if they were ever going to speak about it, Doris would have to be the one to start that conversation. Molly applied this same logic to the scars circling Doris’ wrists like bracelets that were always concealed almost completely with makeup or stylish gloves.

Then the dyeing itself would begin. Molly thought of hair dyeing as relatively intuitive, and if she had any questions she could ask Doris, the expert in the room. For the first few times, Molly studied the box instructions anyway. The two of them would sit in a peaceful silence, sometimes lifted by a record or two, drifting in from the living room, as Molly concentrated on each section of hair, applying the paste from root to tip with her gloved hands. Technically, what Molly was doing—according to Doris and the back of the dye solution bottle—was “lightening” the hair. Molly assumed Doris’s hair had already gone through an intensive bleaching and recoloring process sometime before Doris met Tom. This ritual was merely touch ups—but no less important, Doris assured with soft smiles.

The highlight of their time together for Molly was always the last two steps. Once the products were thoroughly applied, the two women would sit in Doris’ spotless living room drinking tea for an hour while the dye saturated her hair. Typically, the main topic of discussion would be the restaurant or they would share meaningless gossip while playing cards. It was always a rare treat for Molly to see Doris unwind and to relax herself; for the two of them to be able to smile and laugh without having to maintain their usual sterner, polite, public personas.

Then, after the kitchen timer sounded, Doris would lean her head over the kitchen sink, face up with a washcloth over her eyes, and Molly, with the gloves back on, would wash the dye out of her hair. Typically, Molly trimmed her hair herself, but the one time she went to a salon she had cherished the moment the hair stylist had washed her hair before cutting and styling it for her wedding. Something about the gentleness of the other woman’s fingers against her scalp under the warm water had been incredibly soothing to Molly. She hoped that each time she washed Doris’ hair, she was able to transfer some of her gratitude and love for Doris with her tender ministrations.

Years passed and business at the restaurant boomed. Colin drank more, Tom got sick, and Molly looked forward to Doris and their secret hair coloring time together more and more. Sometime after they started spending more time together, Doris’ brilliantly planned catering business for the restaurant grew until it was one of Detroit’s finest. This was great for the family financially, but what Molly most appreciated was that it gave her something else to do. Even though she was only permitted by Colin to assist with big events on the weekends, catering gave her some more autonomy and purpose, and something more than once every six weeks to make her look forward to getting out of bed. Molly had Doris to thank for all of that, though she did not know how to voice that to the other woman.

As Tom grew sicker, Doris naturally got busier. She was at the restaurant more days of the week, and when she wasn’t, she was home at Tom’s side. Molly tried her best not to feel any resentment towards them or herself. She genuinely liked Tom. Regardless of the sneering men he kept in his company and whatever underlying business he and Colin used the restaurant for, Molly had always considered Tom to be a good man. He had welcomed her into his family with open arms and he treated Doris well. It was a cruel joke that he was dying and his son was as healthy as ever, despite the protests of his liver.

Molly used to feel ashamed of herself for holding such contempt for her husband. He had not always been so malicious towards her. Colin had been a gentleman of sorts when they first courted and married young, but after more than a decade together she knew that he now held contempt for her, regardless of how perfect of a wife she tried to be. They had stopped trying for children three years ago, and since then, she rarely saw him. When she did, he tended to have less than kind words for her. The cruel words and brashness, she could live with, and she knew that countless women had it worse, but it was the crushing loneliness and how he could barely look at her that cut the deepest. Ironically, Molly bitterly reflected that her talent of blending into her surroundings had worked too well to the point that she had become a ghost in her own home. Molly had started to daydream of running off, actually disappearing and starting fresh somewhere, but she did not know how to even begin. And of course she would miss Doris, Doris who seemed to understand all of this without Molly telling her, even before Molly even knew she knew. The blonde always had uncanny timing.

Notes:

Thanks again to the wonderful @ leetheshark for edit/beta-ing and thank you so much to everyone who reads this! Feel free to kudos/comment here and/or come yell with me about reprisal on tumblr @thewhalecatwarrior :) See you next week for chapter 3!

Chapter 3: Triple Dog Dare

Summary:

Molly treats Doris’ wounds.

Notes:

Hello everyone, welcome to femslash february AND febuwhump >:D Enjoy!

The last time Molly was scheduled to dye Doris’s hair, Doris was so unnervingly calm when she arrived that Molly immediately knew something was wrong. Recently, the two women had switched the location for their monthly get-togethers from Doris’ house to Molly’s, since Tom was now ill enough to require around the clock hospice care. These days, Doris would bring over her bag of supplies—endearingly a few minutes late from rushing over from the restaurant—to her own house and then to Molly’s. This time, Doris arrived thirty minutes early and empty handed.

Doris looked more exhausted than Molly had ever seen her friend; the blonde’s shoulders sagged with the weight of it. Yesterday afternoon at Doris and Tom’s party, Doris had reminded Molly in passing that she was going to be a little later for this month's hair session due to a longer shift at the restaurant. Late spring was one of the busiest times for the catering business after all. Yet here she was, standing on Molly’s front step as still as a statue.

She must not have gone to work today, Molly thought. Maybe Doris had changed the schedule at the meeting with Colin at the restaurant last night—the supposedly secret meeting that Molly wasn’t supposed to know about but did because she wasn’t nearly as dull as Colin thought her to be. However, Doris wouldn’t move around or cancel catering or restaurant plans the night before without a big reason to. Doris rarely made brash decisions.

Molly’s first thought was that Tom had died, but as soon as Doris entered the house and took off her sunglasses, Tom’s health became the last thing on her mind. One of Doris’ eyes was almost swollen shut, and her right cheekbone was puffy and red.

“Doris?” Molly exclaimed, ushering her friend into the living room and onto the couch. “What in the world happened?”

Doris looked like she was desperately holding herself together, but she answered the question with a practiced ease as she removed the polka dot fabric covering her hair. “Oh, it’s nothing, dear. A box in the closet fell on me while I was bringing it down. That’s all.”

Molly was once again amazed by Doris’ skill at lying, but she was not convinced by the excuse; she had used it herself before after all. Plus, it didn’t add up with Doris skipping work. Then Molly remembered how smug Colin had been when he finally returned home.

Molly dropped onto the couch next to Doris. “Oh my goodness. Doris.” Molly took in the other woman’s injured face and her heart broke a little. “Did my husband do this to you?”

Doris looked at her in surprise. “No. Colin did not hit me.”

Still skeptical of her husband’s innocence, Molly racked her brain for who of Colin’s friends could have been at the meeting and capable of such violence. It was a long list, but she quickly narrowed it down.

“It was Big Graham, wasn’t it?” she asked softly. Doris’ silence was all the confirmation she needed. “That brute! How dare he?” Molly exclaimed. “Doris, what in the world happened last night?”

Doris was looking more and more uncomfortable as her practiced facade slipped away. “Molly, it’s fine. I’m fine. Just some restaurant business. Just a simple misunderstanding.”

Molly sighed. She suspected that was all the information she was going to get for now. Molly stood up and brushed her hands nervously against the sides of her dress. “Alright. At least let me get you some ice. Please.” Doris opened her mouth as if to say something, but Molly hurried into the kitchen before the other woman could object to her assistance.

Molly was used to feeling helpless, but wound care was something she could do. Before she met Colin, she had been a field medic during the Archipelago War, and though it was hard, tireless work, she had liked being able to help. Things could be falling apart all around her, but there was something grounding to Molly about tending to the injuries of others: a sort of power in providing relief.

In the kitchen, Molly washed her hands and retrieved the tin first aid kit she kept hidden under the sink. Then she took three dish towels out of a drawer and wrapped two of them around chunks of ice from the icebox. She put the kettle on as well. A cup of tea could temporarily ease any problem, Molly always thought. Satisfied with her supplies, the brunette walked back into the living room where Doris was sitting silently with her hands in her lap. Molly slowly sat next to her and set the first aid kit on the coffee table.

“Here,” Molly said softly and handed the makeshift ice pack to Doris. “Put this on your eye. Let’s get that swelling down while I take a look at your cheek.” Doris paused and then did as asked. Molly took a bottle of isopropyl alcohol out of the first aid kit and poured some onto the third towel. She leaned closer to Doris, fully in her personal space now, and lifted the cloth to the red cut on Doris’ right cheekbone. “This might sting a bit. Sorry.”

Doris nodded in response and switched the ice pack to her other hand to make room for Molly. Molly gently cleaned the cut then applied ointment to it with a swab. As the cold paste touched her sore skin, Doris exhaled deeply. Molly looked at Doris's face when she finished, satisfied with how much less angry Doris’ cheek appeared now. “There.” Molly smiled. “Good as new.” Still in nurse mode, she added, “Now let’s take a break on the ice and reapply it in twenty minutes.”

Doris turned her head to make eye contact and handed the ice pack back to Molly, placing her hand on the brunette’s knee as she did. Molly blushed as she realized that this was the closest she had physically been to another person in a long time. Doris' eye looked much better now with the swelling almost entirely down, though a faint bruise had begun to appear under it. Molly still desperately wanted to know what had happened and if there was anything she could do to ensure that it never happened again. Before she could ask, Doris smiled for the first time that afternoon, rendering Molly speechless.

“Molly, dear,” Doris began softly, her hand lightly playing with the fabric of Molly’s skirt. “Thank you.”

The kettle in the kitchen shrieked and Molly moved away in surprise. “Oh! That’ll be the tea. Two sugars?”

Doris, jarred slightly by the sudden noise as well, smiled as widely as her facial injuries allowed. “You know me so well.”

Molly quickly grabbed the first aid kit to put away, leaving a bottle of aspirin and the ice pack on the table, as she got up to retrieve the tea. In the kitchen she turned off the stove, putting an end to the horrid noise of the kettle, and poured two cups of tea, adding milk to hers and sugar to Doris’. With a deep breath, she went back into the living room with both cups balanced on saucers and set them on the coffee table. She sat back down on the couch, selfishy just as close to the other woman as before. Molly handed Doris’ cup to her alongside two aspirins, receiving an amused smile in thanks in return. Molly watched as Doris blew steam off her cup of tea then took a sip, swallowing the pills with it. Satisfied, Molly took a sip from her own cup and faced Doris. Now it was time for answers.

“Doris,” Molly started, as Doris said, “Molly”. They both stopped talking, but Doris motioned for Molly to continue. “What really happened last night, Doris?”

Doris took a sip of her tea and sighed out of exhaustion, not out of exasperation for the question. “What happened to me is of no consequence,” Doris began. Then, in response to Molly’s look of annoyance, she added, “though I know you believe otherwise, which is very sweet of you, dear.” They both drank from their cups before Doris continued. “What is important is that, as of last night, my future ownership of the restaurant is no longer as set in stone as it was before.”

Molly had her suspicions, but this was still surprising news. It was common knowledge in the family and at the restaurant that Tom wished for his dear wife to inherit the buisness. He had made this very clear and made sure that it was set in his will as soon as he received his terminal diagnosis. Of course Colin, Tom’s son, would have objections to this regardless of the fact that he contributed far less to the restaurant than Doris had all these years. Everything was becoming clear to Molly now. The meeting had been an ambush, with Colin and Big Graham threatening Doris until she signed the restaurant over. Tom must be on death’s door for her horrid husband to dare to try such a thing, Molly thought, suddenly feeling nauseous.

“Oh, Doris. I am so sorry. About the restaurant. And Tom.” Molly reached out with the hand that wasn’t holding the tea cup in a small attempt to comfort Doris, resting it tentatively on her shoulder. Doris leaned into the touch. Molly was impressed with how well Doris was handling all of this. She was about to lose the two of the most important things in her life and had been hit multiple times while standing up for herself. Molly would have locked herself away in her room for days if she were in Doris’ position.

“Thank you again, Molly. You take such good care of me.” Molly just stared at the other woman. Of course she cared for Doris. How could she not?

Concluding that Molly had put all the pieces together, Doris broke the silence between them again. “This is a setback, I don’t deny it, but this unfortunate scenario has brought a new solution to light that I believe could benefit us both in the long run.”

Molly’s impossible dream of leaving Detroit with Doris flashed in her mind. Doris couldn’t be suggesting that… Could she?

Doris continued, proposing her plan as matter-of-fact, despite the fact that what she was suggesting was anything but. “Tom isn’t doing well. I doubt he will last the week, so time is not on our side. Colin is currently in possession of a document with my signature on it that will alter Tom’s will at the time of his passing. In order to ensure that this document does not become legally valid, ruining our rights to the restaurant, we will simply have to get rid of Colin, and the document of course.”

There were a few words that Molly was stuck on, mainly on the implication of “our restaurant”, but she chose to question others instead. “Simply? Get rid of?”

“Precisely.” Doris smiled. “Don’t worry. I will do all the dirty work. All you have to do is implicate Big Graham when questioned by the police.” Doris began to refasten her polka dot kerchief over her hair. Out of words, Molly impulsively reached over to assist the blonde in fastening the fabric under her chin. Anything to keep her close. Doris accepted the help then grasped Molly’s hands on her own. “You’ll be safe from him soon,” Doris stated softly, staring into Molly’s eyes. Then she released Molly’ sweaty hands and stood up, straightened her dress, and mopped up the melted ice on the coffee table with the towels. The ice pack had been completely forgotten.

Molly did not have to ask for clarification as for who Doris had meant, though it seemed silly to Molly that she was worrying about her when Doris was the one that had most recently been put in harm's way. A weight lifted from Molly’s chest anyway.

Doris walked to the door. It was evident that this sacred moment between them was over for now, but Molly followed her to the front step anyway. “I’ll be in touch soon, dear,” Doris said as she put her sunglasses back on. “Thanks again. For everything.”

“Always.”

Later that night, while she made sure all of her vital belongings were organized and ready where she always had them hidden in case of emergency, Molly realized that she hadn’t dyed Doris’ hair that afternoon at all. No matter, she thought. Doris had no doubt already factored this in and packed up all the needed supplies. They could continue that ritual wherever they ended up together.

 

Notes:

Thanks for reading! Special thanks to @leetheshark for edit/beta-ing and providing me with delicious Reprisal headcannons + content! And thank you to my irl besties who are cheering me on from the sidelines.
HER BOTTLE BLONDE PLAYLIST

Please kudo/comment if you want. Have a great rest of your week! ttyl, grag

Chapter 4: The Great Unknown

Summary:

Molly and Doris on the run

Notes:

Hello everyone, long time no see! I got to the point in this story where I wanted to finish most of it before I posted any more, so thanks for the wait! Soooo here’s chapter 4 of 8 with more coming soon (hopefully lol writing is hard!).

Also I don’t own Reprisal btw. If I did it would have been gayer and we would have a season 2 hehe.

Thanks as always to the wonderful @ leetheshark for beta-ing and bestie for commenting on last chapter <3 <3

Molly had been sitting in her living room, bag at her feet, looking out the window for what felt like an eternity when the car finally arrived out front. The afternoon had been a blur of lying to the police—who had visited that morning (Big Graham), where she was when she heard the gunshot (upstairs), and if she was absolutely positive that it was Big Graham who had killed her husband (she was). All Molly wanted to do now was get out of her eerily silent house and never return.

That morning Doris had appeared on Molly’s front step, four days since she had last stopped by. Doris wore a thick layer of makeup, disguising what was left of her injuries. She looked surprisingly well for someone whose husband of eight years had passed away during the night. Molly had welcomed her in and offered tea as if nothing was wrong in a vain attempt to have some normalcy. She also didn’t want to give Colin reason to suspect any abnormality of Doris’ visit. He had been out again the previous night when Doris had called to notify Molly that their plan was in motion, and therefore was none the wiser. Molly had tried to give her condolences to Doris over the phone but Doris had brushed her off in favor of reiterating the scheme. Doris’ directions had been just as cryptic as when she had first brought up her plan in person, but Molly understood her role perfectly: the sad, distressed, clueless wife. Molly figured that she would properly comfort her friend later after the business with her husband was sorted and the two of them were safely on their way out of Detroit.

Doris had politely stated that she would make her own tea in the kitchen while she and Colin “discussed some restaurant business” and Molly took that as her cue to leave her friend and alert her husband of their guest. Colin had been hungover and belligerent as always as he barged into the kitchen to see “what all the fuss downstairs was about.” As expected, Colin was not amused to see Doris at all.

Molly trusted that Doris was capable of what she had alluded to the past two times they had spoken, since she doubted that Doris would have suggested it if she was not. However, Molly had more concrete evidence as to what Colin was capable of, so she had decided to sit nervously in the living room—out of sight but still in earshot— just in case something went out of hand. Luckily, or unluckily for Colin, things went just as Doris wanted, for after a tense few minutes of talking, Molly heard her husband choking and then a gunshot. Then Doris emerged from the kitchen unharmed and seemingly unphased. Molly had wanted to jump up and embrace Doris, but had found herself frozen to her chair barely able to look at her, wondering if she had ever done something like this before. In response to Molly’s silence Doris had offered the simple reassurement of, “Okay Molly, as we discussed”, and left as effortlessly as she had arrived. Molly stayed in her chair, looking anywhere but the doorway of the kitchen until the police arrived. Then it was showtime as planned.

Now that the police had left, it was finally the moment Molly had been anxiously waiting for all afternoon: driving away with Doris. Walking down her driveway, bag in tow, Molly was surprised to see a man in the driver's seat. For some reason she had expected that it would just be her and Doris, though upon retrospection she felt silly for assuming that the two of them could effectively run off alone without any assistance or raising suspicion. Of course they would need help, and of course Doris had friends other than her, Molly thought. Molly chastised herself for getting too wrapped up in daydreams. If this was going to work out, she had to think as realistically as possible.

Doris, her hair once again covered with a polkadot headscarf and her makeup retouched, greeted Molly with a kind smile. Molly tried to offer a smile back, but it came off stilted. After years of being friends with Doris, Molly sometimes still did not know how to respond to Doris’ unphased aura in the face of unprecedented situations. Molly stood awkwardly in the road as Doris took Molly’s luggage and placed it in the trunk of the dusty white Ford with wooden trim.

“Molly, dear, this is Witt,” Doris stated, gesturing toward the man in the driver's seat, as she opened the door to the backseat for her. The silver-haired man in question grunted and gave a small wave in response. Molly was sure she had seen him around the restaurant a few times, but never amongst any of Colin’s friends, so she hadn’t paid him any mind. She wonders now who else she missed: how many other friends Doris had all these years that Molly didn’t know about.

The three of them drove south for hours, crossing over a few state lines as they did, the afternoon sun setting into dusk. Witt and Doris whispered to each other in the front seat and fiddled with the radio. Molly remained quiet in the back, replaying her favorite soap opera plotlines in her head and pretending to be invisible just like she did as a young girl on long car rides with her parents. She still didn’t know what she wanted to say to Doris, just that she would prefer to be alone, no offense to Witt. With the apparent length of their drive it seemed as though she had plenty of time to figure it out.

It was dark when they made their first stop to use the restroom and grab some sandwiches to go. In the relatively clean truckstop restroom, Molly overheard Doris on the phone with someone named Ethan. Molly only caught a few words, but as the two of them washed their hands she noticed a shift in Doris’ cool, unshakable demeanor. Molly on instinct asked if she was alright, but received no clarification, only a new set of nouns she didn’t recognize. “Bash,” “Ghouls,” “Ethan”; more names to add to her mental list of mysterious men Doris apparently knew.

It made Molly’s stomach twist with something akin to jealousy, but she scolded herself. Just because Colin kept her from having any real connections outside of the family, and goodness forbid any male friends (not that Molly was interested in the first place, but she did laugh at Colin's hypocrisy), it didn’t mean that Tom was the same. For all Molly envied and was inspired by Doris’ independence, Molly was out of practice herself. Then again, it seemed clearer and clearer that Doris’ independence and self competence were skills she was forced to learn. Doris was like a puzzle—Molly loved puzzles—but Molly had been told long ago that she wasn’t supposed to view people as them, regardless of that being how she tended to make sense of the world.

Molly resigned to the thought that Doris was probably not going to explain any of her surprise acquaintances anytime soon. Molly would just have to wait and see: slowly continue to chip off the paint covering Doris and her past until Doris told her or Molly had enough clues to figure it out. As things were going, it would probably be the latter, but Molly found that she didn’t mind as much as she probably should. Back in the car, Molly leaned her head against the cold window and tried to silence her mind with some sleep. She didn’t have the appetite for her sandwich anyway.

Notes:

Thanks for reading! Kudos + comments are always appreciated <3

Chapter 5: Spotlight Television

Summary:

The Donuts and Duvets Motel

Notes:

I’m back!

Shoutout to lee for beta as always <3

Also I have bestowed some of the greatest gifts I can give a blorbo upon Molly: my OCD, gluten intolerance, and migraine disorder. It is not explicitly mentioned in this fic but, to me, Molly uses she/her, sie/hir, and they/them pronouns too :)

Stream:
1. mollycore

2. the official her bottle blonde playlist

3. songs that inspired this fic series

Thanks for waiting. Enjoy!

The next time the car stopped, the sun had just begun to rise and Molly had left an unflattering drool print on the window. Embarrassed, she wiped the window clean with her cardigan sleeve. Molly read the faintly glowing sign that marked their destination. “Duvets and Donuts,” Molly muttered to herself. “They better have glazed old-fashioneds.”

Doris, who had gone in to get their keys (and doughnuts) from the front desk while Molly was still waking up, opened the car door for Molly and offered her a hand. Molly gladly took it and climbed out of the car, her legs wobbly from the 7 hour plus drive.

“Sorry I didn’t get you one, Molly,” Doris addressed her sheepishly. She had given a chocolate frosted doughnut to Witt, who was leaning against the front of the car quietly eating it. She was holding a glazed doughnut with a bite out of it. Doris had some sugar stuck to her lip. “I know you try to avoid gluten for your headaches, but I didn’t want to assume…” Doris continued.

“It’s alright,” Molly interrupted. She had wanted one but Molly knew she probably shouldn’t unless she wanted to be in pain in a few hours. “Thanks for remembering.”

They exchanged small smiles before Witt, done with his doughnut, walked around to the back of the truck and opened the trunk. Wanting to be useful, Molly grabbed as much luggage as she could and followed Witt and Doris to their ground floor room.

“Here we are, Room 113,” Doris announced, opening the door and leading them inside. Molly set down the bags, sat on a bed, and began to take in her surroundings. The two twin beds were obvious and yet they caused her pause. It didn’t look like Witt had gotten any keys for a room, so she concluded that the three of them would all be staying in this one. She trusted Doris enough to know that her friend wouldn’t ask her to share with Witt. A not so secret part of herself hoped that she and Doris would be in the same bed, as opposed to Witt and Doris. She still didn’t understand the nature of their relationship, and she tried not to feel bitter about it.

The sink, stove, and small icebox were more out of place to what she assumed would be part of a standard motel room. Molly hoped that there were pans either in the stained cupboards or at the front desk to borrow. Maybe Doris would let her walk over to the store across the street to get some eggs sometime. She wasn’t sure. If she didn’t already trust Doris more than she probably should, this whole ordeal could surely be categorized as a kidnapping.

At least there is a nice TV if I am going to be stuck here, Molly thought, even if Witt said there’s no cable. She wondered if she could get some cleaning supplies from the front desk or store too. Scrubbing the mildewed counters and pressing the stained sheets would both be relaxing and pass the time.

Doris’s clear voice snapped Molly out of her daydreaming. “Molly dear, Witt and I will be back in a bit.” She walked over to the TV, turned it on, and passed Molly the remote, their fingers brushing. Molly felt annoyed that Doris felt she had to provide entertainment for Molly as though she was a child.

“Stay put dear. I’ll see you soon. You’re safe here,” Doris told Molly as she walked to the door. Witt silently followed behind. Molly just stared at them until they left, then got off the bed and locked the door and the deadbolt. She then showered off the car sweat, got into her pajamas, and climbed into bed despite it being barely seven in the morning. She flipped through the channels until she found the beginning of Brief Encounter. The tragically romantic film allowed the tears Molly had been holding for the past twenty four hours to be released into two of her handkerchiefs. Molly, emotionally exhausted but calm, drifted off to sleep again only to be plagued with disjointed nightmares of being chased by a zombie Colin.

After tossing and turning for a couple hours, Molly woke up to a salad on the bedside table and Doris sitting on the other bed reading the newspaper. The tv was still playing softly in the background. Warm light seeping through the half opened window blinds filled the room. Witt was not there.

Doris and Molly sat in companionable silence until the title card of Now Voyager flashed on the TV screen and Doris excitably turned up the volume. Molly thought that she was lucky she had already run out of tears for now. Doris was the person she trusted most in the world but she hated feeling vulnerable in front of people. They watched the whole film with full attention and then the war film that followed with less. Unnerved by the sudden genre change, Molly suddenly needed to know how Doris felt about the recent abrupt shift in their lives. When Molly asked Doris how it felt to kill Colin, Doris replied, “I don’t feel much at all.”

Once it was evening again, Witt returned to the room and Doris announced that they were leaving again. They had had a nice, quiet afternoon that almost felt normal, but now Doris was once again going out with no explanation. The tender chin touch Doris gave her as she left was sweet but only distracted Molly from reality a little.

Since they left Detroit, Molly felt as if Doris was almost a different person. Molly knew from their six years of friendship that Doris was an expert of compartmentalization, yet things had to be pretty serious for Doris to seemingly shut down her emotions this much. However, since Doris had shot a man this morning it was probably a logical coping skill to employ. Goodness knows Molly was trying herself and she didn’t pull the trigger.

Thinking about Colin made her chest hurt. Against her better judgment, Molly was homesick. The last time she left Detroit was to visit her twin sister Grace in Troy, Michigan last year. Molly had never left the state until now. In her dreams, running away from her old life had always included Colin finally drinking himself to death. Then she and Doris would drive to wherever Doris picked and the two of them would live out the rest of their days in a robin egg blue house with pink and purple roses out front. They’d start their own restaurant too— a nice family friendly place with no bar or shady dealings going on behind the scenes. It was pure fantasy, but dreams were allowed to be. Now, in reality, all Molly hoped was that Doris would truthfully tell her what the hell was going on. Molly hated to be left in the dark, metaphorically and literally.

Without thinking, Molly picked up the phone on the bedside table and dialed her house. She knew it was probably a bad idea but she just needed to hear someone's voice, preferably her sister’s. There would be people over there mourning Colin no doubt. She should be there too. Maybe she made a mistake in leaving with Doris. Maybe she could go back and pretend nothing ever changed: go back to her routines, the restaurant and monthly hair dying sessions with Doris. No one took her seriously—they would forgive her. The operator patched Molly through. Grace picked up the phone and Molly cried for the second time that day.

When Doris and Witt finally returned late into the night, Molly was awake but pretending to sleep. She heard the various rustling noises of Witt and Doris getting ready for bed and brushing their teeth. Then, just as Molly had started to assume that she would have the bed to herself tonight, Doris came around to the side of the bed, stood there as if stalling. Molly squeezed her eyes shut in nervous and giddy anticipation. After a minute passed, the old twin mattress creaked and dipped as Doris climbed in, then settled facing Molly’s back. It was a tight fit but there was still about a foot between them. To Molly, the distance might as well have been a canyon. As she began to finally nod off, Molly thought she heard Doris whisper, “Goodnight, my dearest.” Molly smiled to herself and dozed off to the soft sound of Doris breathing and Witt’s snores.

Notes:

Thanks again for reading! Kudos + comments are always appreciated <3

Chapter 6: Breaking Down

Summary:

Molly goes stir crazy.

Notes:

hi i’m back stan loona. sorry this took so long but i am pregnant lol. short chapter today but the next chapter is the one that started it all and it's juicy! coming soon to a theater near you!

in the meantime, Stream:
1. mollycore

2. the official her bottle blonde playlist (the chapter names are song titles from this playlist :3)

3. songs that inspired this fic series

Molly woke up in the motel twin bed next to an empty one, so neatly made up it looked as if no one had slept in it. The sun had just begun to rise and Doris was curling her hair at the mirror and sink right outside the bathroom. Molly had cried herself to sleep the night before but had slept well after the stress of the past few days. She pretended to be asleep until Doris snuck out the door. Then Molly got to work.

The entire day Molly spent engaged in a cleaning spree that bordered on manic. After drinking too much coffee and borrowing cleaning supplies from the front office, Molly turned on the television loudly and scrubbed every inch of the motel suite. Once she was satisfied and the worries in her head had been replaced with static and exhaustion, Molly ate the snacks she had packed in a hurry, then began to iron her and Doris’s clothes. Eventually Witt and Doris returned, they ate dinner together, then the two of them left again. Molly, homesick and increasingly lonely, fell asleep, once more waiting for Doris to come back to their small shared room.

A couple days passed similarly, with one variation being the day when two men named Earl and Cordell unexpectedly paid a visit to the motel room. They barely spoke to Molly, and after turning down her offer of tea, politely waited for Doris and Witt to return. Other than that event, which Doris never bothered to explain, Molly just cleaned, waited for Doris to return, and planned a way to get back home. She knew she actively made all the choices that have led her to this spot, as Doris continued to remind her, but that did not stop Molly from yearning for something other than being stuck hiding in a motel while Doris ran around doing something mysterious and dangerous.  

Molly soon brought all of this up to Doris and confessed that she was going  to take a train back to Detroit. She was homesick, mostly craving the mundanity of her old life, but she brought up her plan to Doris in an attempt to elicit some emotion from her. Molly was shut down and Doris left again with no explanation. Feeling a million emotions, Molly went back to ironing the dresses that she and Doris had packed in a hurry.

Molly was still ironing when there was a knock on the motel room door. The man at the door was Big Graham's lawyer and a friend of her late husband. A shiver went down her spine as the blond man 

pushed his way through the door and locked it behind him. Molly walked back to the abandoned ironing board near the bed farthest in the room and froze as the man, whose name escaped her, began to menace her. She could barely hear the words he was saying with all the blood rushing in her ears as the man began to warp a hanger into a garotte. Years of verbal abuse from Colin had toughened her skin so the barbs about Colin’s infidelity and how weak she was didn’t phase Molly so much as make her angry. How dare Colin continue to torment her through the malice of his friends; he was finally dead and his abuse should have died with him. By the time the man stepped closer with the wire with threats to kill her painfully slowly, Molly snapped. 

Molly grabbed the still-hot iron and hit the man in the face with it, as hard as she could, his glasses flying as he yelled obscenities at her. She then, without thinking, placed the iron on his chest above his heart, exploding it as she had seen in a mobster film once. There was a lot more blood than she expected and the next thing Molly knew she was covered head to toe in blood and viscera, the kitchette of the room similarly covered in gore, and the man well and truly dead. Molly, dazed and overwhelmed by the sickly smell of burning flesh and hot blood, stood near the beds, not wanting to ruin the sheets she had recently pressed. It could've been hours of waiting, but Molly felt nothing until pure relief when Doris walked into the room.

Notes:

thanks so much for reading! if you waited over a year for this, you are a real one! <3
once again a million thanks to @ leetheshark and @ moonbeandragonfly for beta and encouraging me to finish this fic!

Chapter 7: Matrimony II

Summary:

Doris washes Molly’s hair.

Notes:

hi! two chapters in one day after a year long hiatus? woohoo! this is my favorite chapter so PLEASE ENJOY!

Heat and metal and burning smell the sound and blood oh so much blood… What had just transpired in the once spotless motel room was all a blur, though Molly had a sickening feeling that once she remembered, the gruesome details would haunt her dreams no matter how deeply she buried them. At the moment, as she vaguely was aware of being shuffled into a car and driven off, away from the room Molly wished was in flames, Molly was desperately trying to keep her mind from floating away from her body. To ground herself, and to distract from the blood on her clothes soaking into the car’s leather seats, Molly grasped at Doris’ hand. Doris, who sat next to her, held on softly to Molly’s stained hand, face as inscrutable as ever.

Once Earl drove them to a house in the suburbs, Molly took off her shoes and was shuffled quickly upstairs to a bathroom. As Doris followed her into the bathroom and shut the door, Molly watched her friend’s carefully crafted facade crumble faster than she had ever seen. Doris quickly walked up to her in an obvious attempt to provide comfort, but Molly just stood there on the tile, still dazed, blood dripping from the hem of her dress and onto the floor. Molly couldn’t think of anything else she wanted more than for Doris to hold her as soon as possible, but she did not want to get any of that horrible man’s blood on the other woman any more than she already had. 

“Doris?” Molly squeaked, still unsure if her voice would work properly as she slowly came out of shock. 

“Yes dear?” Doris answered as she halted her advancing embrace and instead brought her hand up to gently cup Molly’s face.

“Your pretty green dress- you shouldn’t get blood on it,” Molly said leaning into the touch. Doris let out a small laugh that instantly calmed her down. There was Doris’ smile. Molly had missed it. 

“Right, of course,” Doris smiled softly. “My dress.” She stepped out of Molly’s space and moved to turn on the showerhead, testing the water temperature with the back of her hand. “Yes, well, it looks like we can still salvage mine, but I am afraid yours is toast sweetheart. How about you just step into the shower, clothed, and we’ll work our way from there?” Molly nodded, missing the warmth from Doris' caress, but quickly stepped into the shower, suddenly eager to be as clean as possible. 

As she stood under the spray watching red water and viscera swirl around the drain, Molly attempted to get out of her ruined dress, annoyed with her past self who decided to pick out this particular white button up dress with blue and green flowers this morning. She had loved this dress, but now it was going right in the garbage. Currently the dozen buttons in the front were putting up a fight against her slippery fingers. The soaked fabric, the spray of the almost too hot water from the showerhead, and her shaking hands weren’t helping either. Suddenly she was too overwhelmed to do anything at all. 

Hours ago she had almost been tortured and killed by one of Colin’s friends; a man she had seen at family barbecues for goodness’ sake! But she hadn’t been, she reminded herself. Instead, in a burst of anger, fear, and frustration at always being ignored and misjudged, she had used a clothes iron on her assailant. All of that blood… and now she cou ldn’t get out of this stupid dress.

“Molly, dear, are you alright in there?” Doris’ soft voice cut through Molly’s spiraling thoughts. Molly took a deep breath that was more of a gasp. She had been sobbing she realized, twisting and pulling at the offending top buttons. 

“This stupid dress won’t come off”, Molly said plainly, though this caused her to cry harder, for some reason. She was a murderer now; though so was Doris. They had been through so much just in the past few days, yet this was her final straw. 

“Oh sweetheart,” Doris said, standing right outside the shower curtain so Molly could hear her despite the spray of the shower. “Would you like some assistance?”

Molly, a little surprised, thought about the offer for a second then nodded- what was the harm? She trusted Doris implicitly and she needed to get out of this soaked dress as soon as possible. 

Doris spoke up again. “Molly? Did you hear me? May I join you in the shower to help with the buttons?” Molly nodded again, then remembered that Doris wasn’t able to see her at this moment.  

“Oh! Uh yes. Yes please.” Molly answered, twisting at the tiny pearls that made up the necklace she always wore. Molly heard the clink of jewelry being set on the sink. 

“I will have to take off my dress. Is that alright Molly?” Doris asked. Molly pulled back the shower curtain and stared at her. 

“Yes. Come on Doris, I’m not a child.” Molly said, a little more desperately than she meant to. 

Doris unzipped her own dress, stepped out of it, and then took off her stockings. “I’m sorry Molly. I don’t mean to be condescending.”

Molly nodded again, satisfied with the apology she didn’t expect, as Doris stepped into the tub. With Doris in just her bra and underwear, Molly could see faint scarring on the back of her neck, similar to the faint marks on her wrists that were typically hidden behind gloves. 

“Oh my goodness Moll y! This water is freezing!” Doris exclaimed, breaking Molly out of her daze. 

“Huh,” Molly stated, still a little mesmerized by how plainly beautiful Doris looked. “I hadn’t noticed.”

 “Here,” Doris said, and reached past her to twist the dial Molly must have accidently messed with. The spray Molly was under immediately started to warm and she stopped the shivering she hadn’t realized she was doing. 

Doris brought her hand up to Molly’s face again, this time to softly push wet hair out of her eyes. Molly thought she must be dreaming. 

“Better?” Doris asked, smiling in her unbearably kind way. Molly nodded for what she thought must be for the hundredth time, but she didn’t trust herself to speak at this moment. She was too busy trying to commit every detail of this moment to memory to replay later when everything else that had happened that day threatened to overwhelm her again. “Perfect,” Doris responded. “Now let’s get you out of that dress.” 

Molly closed her eyes and let the hot water wash over her as Doris made quick work of unfastening each button on the front of her dress. It was too overwhelming to look at Doris now, so Molly just enjoyed the closeness between them. Molly was too exhausted to think about the embarrassment she thought she should feel about this situation and instead focused on how lucky she was to have Doris here taking care of her. 

Once Doris had undone the buttons at Molly’s hips, Molly shrugged the sleeves off her shoulders, and let the ruined dress fall into the tub. The rest of the buttons running down the front end of the dress were superficial. Before Molly could feel self-conscious, or anything else, about the two of them standing in their underwear together in a stranger’s shower, Doris grabbed a bottle of shampoo Molly hadn’t noticed before. Smiling, Molly wordlessly turned around to face the spray as Doris began to shampoo her hair, just as Molly had done a countless number of times for her. This time the tears that sprang to Molly’s eyes were ones of relief instead of stress or fear. 

Once Molly’s hair was clean Molly turned to face Doris again. “Darling,” Doris said softly. “I am going to get out of the shower now. You finish washing up.” Doris began to step away, but Molly, without thinking, grabbed her hand and pulled her close. 

“Wait. Please,” Molly almost begged. “Just one more minute. Please.” Molly didn’t know when she would be able to be this intimate with Doris again, if ever, and she wasn’t going to waste any more time. 

“Come here,” Molly said over the spray. Doris nodded and stepped into Molly’s arms. They stood there, near naked bodies pressed to each other, and Molly sighed in relief, reaching a hand up to run through Doris’ hair. Doris, slightly dazed, leaned into the touch. 

“Thank you,” Molly whispered. Doris smiled a dazzling, beautiful smile, and as she began to exit their embrace, Molly surged forward. She was tired of waiting; it had been nearly ten years since she first laid eyes on Doris, and she could not wait another moment. Quickly, Molly kissed Doris on the lips. Doris made a surprised noise but leaned in. Once the kiss ended, as quickly as it had begun, and before Molly could sputter an apology, thanks, or anything at all, Doris rested her forehead against hers. 

“Thank you, my brave girl,” Doris whispered. Molly closed her eyes, and Doris finally stepped back. Molly began to sputter an apology, thanks, something, but Doris politely interrupted her. 

“We can talk about all of this later, darling,” Doris said kindly, once again soothing Molly’s racing thoughts. “I am going to leave you now to finish washing up,” Doris started. Molly looked at her panicked. “I'll be right outside the shower putting myself together. I’ll be right here.” Molly nodded and Doris got out of the shower. Molly heard her dry off with one of the towels left for them. 

Suddenly aware of how much water they had wasted, Molly quickly stripped herself of her underwear and bra, then slathered herself in the body wash in the shower. As she finally became totally clean, she heard Doris humming to herself as she blow dried her hair. 

Once Molly was done she turned off the water and stuck her hand out from behind the shower curtain, searching for a towel. Doris wordlessly handed her one. Molly dried off, wrapped the towel around herself, and stepped out of the shower. Suddenly exhausted, Molly sat on the edge of the tub and watched as Doris, who was now fully dressed again in her dark green dress, put her jewelry back on. 

Doris looked at Molly softly. “I have some business to discuss with Earl and Cordell,” Doris began. Molly frowned. Doris continued, “I will bring you some clean clothes and meet you in the guest bedroom soon. Is that okay, dear?” Doris asked. 

“Yes Doris,” Molly said. “But you must let me know what is going on; we must be equals,” Molly pleaded. 

Doris looked at her incredibly softly. “Of course Molly. I will fill you in tomorrow morning once we are both well rested. It has been one hell of a day.”

“Thank you,” sighed Molly. “We are in this together right?” Molly asked.

“For better or for worse sweetheart. For better or for worse.” Doris replied. Once she made sure she looked put together in the mirror, Doris left the bathroom, and sure enough then returned with Molly’s  pyjamas. Doris left the bathroom again but this time pecked Molly on the cheek first. Molly sat in a giddy haze on the side of the tub until she was too cold in just a towel.

Notes:

hehehe. thanks a million to @ leetheshark and moonbeandragonfly for beta and rejuvenating my love for this show and this fic!
as for you, beloved readers, i promise you all won’t have to wait another year for the final chapter.
hope you are all well! love ya, grag

Chapter 8: Heaven

Summary:

Molly and Doris go to sleep.

Notes:

yes the chapter title is mitski again and that is all i have to say other than this is the last chapter: ENJOY!!!!

After minutes had passed, Molly finally decided it was time to go get dressed. Though she was unsure as to in what outfit since she did not grab her bag as she was ushered from the motel room dripping in blood. Molly shivered. Standing up and tightening the damp towel around her, Molly quickly opened the bathroom door and dashed across the hall to the guest room she vaguely remembered hearing Bernice telling Doris about when they first arrived. 

The room was empty but cozy. A queen bed sat in the center with a small table and lamp on each side. The comforter was a pale blue floral pattern with matching pillowcases, a pair of pyjamas on each pillow. One was a green pinstripe pant and collared shirt combo that Molly immediately recognized as the pyjamas Doris bought years ago on a shopping trip they went on together. The other pair was an unfamiliar dark purple long nightgown; short sleeve, and slightly ruffled. Doris must have gotten it from Bernice. Molly figured that the nightgown was for her and put it on. 

Coming to the conclusion that Doris was having an important conversation with Earl and Cordell, and that they did not require her presence, exhausted, Molly climbed into the left side of the bed, leaving the side closest to the door open for Doris. She worried that the day's excitement would keep her awake, but the second her drying hair hit the pillow, Molly was sound asleep. 

Molly awoke a few hours later to the creak of the door opening, light pouring in, and Doris entering as quiet as she could. Molly shifted, wiping drool from her face.

“Doris? Is that you?” Molly whispered. 

“Yes dear,” Doris replied, shutting the door behind her and turning on the lamp on her side of the bed. “Go back to sleep.”

Molly blinked sleep out of her eyes and watched as Doris silently took off her dress, her back facing Molly. Molly was embarrassed at staring but mesmerized as she noticed the extent of Doris’ scarring that she was too shell-shocked in the shower to place. All of Doris’ back was pebbled with silver scars. Over the years Molly had noticed the scars that cuffed Doris’ wrists, but she had never asked about them. Doris religiously covered them with her elegant gloves, so Molly concluded that Doris wanted to keep them private. Now, she was taken aback by the extent of the scarring. The scars at the back of Doris’ neck, ones that Molly had felt under her fingertips while she washed the blonde’s hair many times, continued down her back. Molly felt burning in her eyes as she tried not to cry. Doris took her green pyjama set off the bed and put them on. Molly would leave her questions about the scars for another day. 

Molly wiggled under the covers as Doris climbed into the bed. Molly had assumed they would be sharing a bed on this part of their adventure but she had yet to process what that actually meant. Doris turned off the lamp and pulled the covers up to her chin, settling with her body and face towards the door and away from Molly, hoping not to bother her further. Now completely awake and aware of the other woman’s warm body next to hers, Molly tapped Doris on the shoulder. Surprised, Doris turned towards Molly in the dark. 

“Yes dear?” Doris questioned, searching Molly’s face for any distress. There was none. 

Bravely, Molly decided to vocalize what she suddenly craved. “Hold me?” she whispered. 

Doris reached to hold Molly in her arms and they melted into each other. Forehead to forehead they breathed in eachothers air, pressed their chests together, and tangled their legs. Completely at peace and suddenly giddy, Molly tilted her chin and pressed her lips to Doris’ mouth. Doris grinned into the kiss and Molly gently cupped the back of Doris’ neck. Molly felt like she was flying; she was brave and strong and invincible. She loved the woman in her arms so much and it was overwhelming and scary but oh so wonderful.

Molly and Doris kissed and kissed until they gently broke apart. Their foreheads touched again and they just held each other in silence. Neither of them wanted to speak so as to not ruin the moment. The adrenaline of the day suddenly crashed upon Molly’s shoulders, and the realization that she has just been kissing the woman she has loved for at least a decade, Molly giggled like an exhausted child at a sleepover. Doris smiled in response, placed a peck on her lips, and turned around in Molly’s arms, content.

Molly buried her face into Doris’ hair after placing a gentle kiss on the thick lined scar on the back of Doris’ neck. Maybe they will talk about the kissing tomorrow, or maybe they won’t, but either way Molly did not mind as long as they got to kiss again as soon as possible. In the dim light filtering through the thin window curtains, Molly could see that Doris’ roots were starting to show. She would have to remember to ask whether they could make a quick stop for hair bleach so she could patch it up again on their road of revenge. Molly was unsure as to what the future would bring, but as long as they faced it together, hand-in-hand, Molly was ready for anything.

Notes:

thanks x1000 to @ leetheshark and moonbeandragonfly for supporting me on this fic journey!
and thank YOU, beloved readers for your patience and reading this whole fic.
during the writing of this fic i did fertility treatments, got pregnant, and had a baby! pretty cool!
see you next time! love ya, grag

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Her Bottle Blonde