Chapter Text
Mikey doesn’t even know how she got dragged here, she doesn’t even like the beach. The sand gets everywhere. The water dries out her skin like crazy and if she gets it in her eyes it’ll make them even worse than they already are, which is already pretty fucking bad.
She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. They slide right back down. Fuck hot weather. Fuck summer. Fuck Gee for begging Mikey to come with her to this two-week comic expo. Gee never mentioned where they would be. Fucking Florida and their fucking islands— Mikey had to take a ferry to get to this place, if you can even call that dinky little pontoon a ferry.
Deux Island. Say it out loud and it sounds like shit. And it’s so hot, Gee never mentioned how damn hot it would be. Gee also never said she’d be leaving Mikey alone at a strange island beach all day long to go sit in a writers’ workshop.
Mikey thought a comic expo would be fun to see, you know? All comics all the time, maybe reading some exclusive new parts of some series she’s into, whatever. The part that Gee just so happened to leave out of her pitch was that this wasn’t a comic reading expo— no, no, this is a comic writing expo.
And Mikey’s got creativity and shit, she could totally come up with an amazing plot for a comic, don’t get her wrong. But her creative environment isn’t exactly sitting in a stuffy room, with people who think they’re better than her, splitting hairs and throwing fits over the tiniest plot details. It’s totally cool that Gee’s more into that, though.
See, no matter how much the beach sucks (and it fucking sucks), sitting here outside the hotel, staring out to the sea, letting the waves come cool her soles— this is where Mikey’s creative environment is. Maybe part of the creativity comes from the discomfort of it, but who gives a shit about that.
And— as long as she tries her hardest to ignore the itchy feeling of sand beneath her— she can pretend to feel at peace. She can get all quiet and still. Oh, Mikey loves being still, it’s one of her favorite things. It's an energy reserve and a big energy spender.
It’s easy, she just focuses on where she is in space, gets all into the present moment, really feels where her limbs have landed. Then she takes a breath into her stomach and lets it sit there. Lets it smooth her out, relax every part of her face.
Mikey has just managed to find peace on this god forsaken beach when she gets run over. It's violent. Bloody. Okay, maybe not bloody, but the way Mikey’s limbs thrash around after impact is pretty violent.
Mikey reins in her expression of immense shock at the attack (a minute widening of the eyes) and glances over at her attacker.
She’s hot. Like, really hot. It definitely eases the blow. She’s got this bright purple shirt, slightly cropped, with some unfortunate neon green text that Mikey can’t read. There’s something white and glossy clipped onto the bottom of it.
“Why’d you stop me?” the girl asks.
Mikey blinks. “What?”
The girl huffs. “I was trying to catch it. Why did you stop me?”
Mikey stares at her for a few seconds but she doesn’t elaborate, leaving Mikey even more confused.
“You were… what?”
The girl rolls her eyes and it is honestly so hot Mikey has to bite the inside of her lip to keep from doing anything about it. The girl points behind herself, Mikey leans and looks over. There’s a blue frisbee on the sand a few feet from them.
“Soooo,” The girl drags the word out longer than will ever be necessary, “whatever. Your glasses are falling off.”
Mikey pushes the white-trimmed, slowly fogging glasses back up her nose. They slip right back down again. Stupid fucking heat.
The girl stands and brushes the sand off. Without the wrinkles from sitting, Mikey can read her shirt: “ CURRENT (SH)IT GIRL ”. Clipped onto the bottom of it, right over a thin stretch of stomach, is a small laminated card. The text is too small for Mikey to read from where she’s sat, so she knee-walks over and leans in close.
She can make out the word “Staff” across the top, but the other writing is still too small to see. Mikey pushes her glasses up again, they slide right back down, and she leans in a little closer.
The girl laughs from above her, “Buy me a drink first, I’m not that kind of girl.”
Mikey then realizes she’s a breath away from this random girl’s crotch, staring with determination. She’s being such a creep right now, holy shit, abort mission, she’s about to get charged with harassment.
Only, when Mikey leans back and looks up at her, she doesn’t look all that upset. In fact, she’s smiling . Maybe Mikey won’t be getting charged with harassment after all.
The girl points a manicured finger at the card. “Pete. I get off in 10.”
“Mikey,” she replies, far too breathless for regular conversation, “I get off whenever.”
Pete pinches her face together. It takes a moment, nobody ever said Mikey was the sharpest tool in the shed, but when Mikey realizes the words she just said she goes as flustered as she can go. So, like, maybe an eye twitch.
“I don’t— I just mean with the— I don’t have any plans, I could uh— where do you work?” Smooth, Mikey. Her voice always makes sure to exhibit whatever emotion her face can’t. It really is a problem. It’s practically chronic. Fuck. She swallows loudly.
Pete giggles and it’s way too cute, like that seriously can’t be allowed, and what is with Mikey suddenly calling a girl’s giggle cute ? She might be coming down with something, holy hell.
“Well, I’m supposed to be behind the bar,” Pete says, all cute and faux-guilty.
Mikey clears her throat, “Right, so, in ten?”
“In ten,” Pete flashes her a smile and speeds off as quick as she’d come. Mikey stands there awestruck for almost a full minute before she pulls herself together enough to sit back on her towel.
A kid runs up and grabs the frisbee, looking confused but quickly shaking it off the way only kids can. Mikey just stares.
There’s no way she can settle into any kind of peace now. Not when hot girls are running around trying to catch frisbees and flustering the most stoic girls imaginable. Mikey can’t deal. She stands and starts walking off the beach, when she’s suddenly attacked again .
Thankfully this time she doesn’t find herself thrashing around on the sand. Maybe her reflexes have gotten better in the last few minutes, who knows.
Instead, she finds herself face to face with Gee, who is gesturing her right hand so aggressively Mikey has to dodge it.
“—But you have to come with, and, oh god what do I wear to something like that? Mikey. Mikes. Are you hearing this? What am I gonna wear?”
Mikey reaches into her back pocket, pulls out a squashed and humidity-dampened pack of cigarettes, and sets one between her lips. She doesn’t have a lighter. She raises an eyebrow.
Gee gets the hint and lights it for her, clearly deciding to keep talking despite Mikey’s silence.
“They can’t expect much, can they? Can they? Mikey, can they? Fuck, let’s just start now, c’mon,” Gee grabs Mikey’s wrist and pulls her all the way back to the doors of the hotel, where Mikey diligently flicks her cigarette on the ground (after a few luxuriously long pulls, of course.)
It’s after the third outfit change and second freakout that Mikey remembers Pete’s invitation. She checks her watch, completely pointlessly– hours have passed since Pete got off work.
Shit, a missed opportunity at a night with a hot girl. Oh well. Pete works here, she’ll be there tomorrow, right?
“Okay, this works, yeah? Yeah. Okay,” Gee’s far too winded right now, she’d panting through every word. The stress is getting to her. Hopefully she doesn’t sweat through her button-up, or Mikey is going to have to sit through another flurry of outfit changes.
The single window in their room faces the beach. Mikey watches the waves fall and scatter, breathing through her annoyance.
Gee turns to her and gasps, ripping Mikey’s attention away from the waves.
“You’re not wearing that,” She says, which is totally uncalled for because Mikey’s outfit is probably great. All of her clothes are the same silhouette these days— tight shirts with tight pants, add some kandi and a long pendant if she’s feeling nasty. Today is no exception. Plus, it’s a comic expo, it’s not like she has to look like a Wall Street broker.
Gee rummages around in her suitcase and throws a big gray thing at Mikey. Mikey smirks.
Gee points at the heap of fabric, “Just— yeah. That works,” She looks back at the mirror and breathes out, “eyeliner.”
Eyeliner? Gee must really want to impress this crowd. Mikey stares for a minute at the pile of fabric in her own arms, wondering how it will impress anyone. Gee lines her eyes in the mirror. Mikey puts the gray thing on, buttons it all the way up, and walks over to the mirror by Gee, who immediately starts honking out a laugh.
“Shut it,” Mikey says, slapping her on the shoulder.
But, yeah, It’s pretty bad. It’s this big cloak thing with a whole new silhouette for Mikey to tackle, all pin-straight square 60s mod with a light flare at the knees. It would be verging on dress territory if not for Mikey’s jeans.
It’s not too bad, though. It’s soft. Like, really soft. And the thickness of the fabric leaves Mikey feeling as warm as she did earlier on the beach, sun-warmed. It’s especially nice since the mixer is, according to Gee, in the hotel, and they’ve got the A/C cranked up insanely high in here. It seems like an attempt to compensate for the heat outside, but to even compare they had to make the hotel a freezer.
There’s something about the cloakiness of this gray thing that leaves the same impression as a weighted blanket, too. So, fuck Gee, it’s relaxing. She’s wearing it.
Gee clears her throat.
“So, at the mixer,” She’s fidgeting with her collar, “there’s someone, uh…” Gee trails off and Mikey gives her a Look.
“What’s her name?” Mikey asks, because why not get right to the point. Honestly, she’s pretty disappointed at herself for not noticing anything before. Of course Gee has a crush. Fucking eyeliner !
Gee doesn’t even seem surprised that Mikey knew what she was getting at. She stops fidgeting with her collar and makes eye contact with Mikey in the mirror.
“She’s a server and she’s adorable and you need to make sure I don’t fuck this up,” Gee turns around to face Mikey, smiling, “Patricia. Goes by Pat.”
Mikey leans over Gee’s bag and grabs a tube of lip gloss, handing it to Gee.
“Isn’t lip gloss too slutty for a mixer?” Gee asks.
Mikey scoffs, “Thought you were against slut shaming. Nothing you own is too slutty for a island mixer.”
Gee shrugs and slathers the lip gloss on, “It’s not slut shaming if I’m reclaiming it.”
***
The mixer sucks, but at least the lighting is low.
Mikey didn’t even need to be a wingwoman. As soon as they’d walked in, Pat pulled Gee into an intense conversation about Batman, keeping a hand on Gee’s leg the whole time. So, basically, Mikey doesn’t have any more excuses for being here. But she is.
The bar stools creak. Mikey has sat on all of them by now. All of them creak. What are the chances of that?
Mikey decides after a half an hour of testing bar stools to be on the prowl for someone to do tonight. It’s sleazy. She knows she’s sleazy about it. But, who gives a shit? Well, the girls probably give a shit, but Mikey only promises them a good night. She doesn’t promise them anything after that.
It’s public service, really. She knows she’s good at fucking girls, so she does. Charity work.
But, as Mikey finds out, she didn’t even need to go looking. Fate’s on her side tonight, bringing the fun right to her.
“Come here often?” a voice whispers into her ear.
She turns and finds a girl with curly brown hair sidled up next to her.
Mikey leans toward the girl’s ear and replies, in a low tone, “Where, hotel bars?”
The girl laughs far too loud for the lack of a joke. She sits on the stool beside Mikey, which lets out a loud creak that has her cringing.
“They all do that, don’t worry,” Mikey says to ease her.
The girl’s head cocks to the side, “So you do come here often.”
Mikey ignores her, “Do you wanna get out of here?”
The girl’s eyes widen and she chuckles lightly.
“I mean, I’d love to, but could I get a name first?” She says.
Mikey holds out a hand, “Mikey.”
The girl shakes it, “Jo.”
“Do you wanna get out of here, Jo ?” Mikey’s laying on the sleaze voice as thick as she can now. The sooner she gets out of here, the better.
Jo doesn’t respond, pulling Mikey out of the room by her wrist. Outside the doors, she slams Mikey up against a wall and pulls her in for a rough, sloppy kiss that sends shivers up Mikey’s spine. Mikey gives back as good as she gets, fisting a hand in Jo’s hair and spinning them around so Jo’s the one with her back to the wall. Mikey bites Jo’s lower lip and gets a half-moan half-choking sound as a reward.
“Fuck,” Jo pants, eyes blown out and lips swollen, “you wanna head back to your room?”
“Can’t,” Mikey says. Gee knows about her… promiscuity, but she tries not to be a burden with it. Mikey’s a good sister every once in a while. Plus, if she manages to steer the conversation away from the DC Universe, Gee might just need the room tonight.
“Oh, okay,” Jo looks a little put out, as if going back to Mikey’s room is the only way they can have sex. It seems to dawn on her a few seconds later. Jesus, all it took was a bit of kissing and this girl’s already going spacey.
“Wait, come to mine,” Jo says, not asking but verging on begging. It’s a little pathetic.
“Sure,” Mikey replies, then pulls Jo back in for another kiss, this one slower and deeper than the last. She lets it go on for a moment before pulling back because they need to get this show on the road.
“ Fuck ,” Jo pants, “fuck, you’re good at that.” Mikey tugs on her wrist and steps back.
Jo gets the memo, “Right, yeah, follow me.”
***
“Oh fuck yes! Right there, don’t stop, fuck!” Jo moans. She’s loud. Not that Mikey minds when girls are loud, but she’s loud . Mikey thinks they might get a noise complaint if Jo doesn’t come soon, so she doubles down on her efforts, pressing her tongue harder in a circle and sliding another finger in her.
Jo clamps her thighs around Mikey and comes apart against her tongue, closing her eyes and practically screaming, then goes completely boneless and throws an elbow over her eyes. Mikey wipes her face on her sleeve, tugs her pants back on, and grabs her gray coat. Thank god for Jo covering her eyes. Mikey can leave without having to suffer through pillowtalk.
The walk back to her and Gee’s room is long and mental. The hallways’ carpeting changes every floor, each one uglier than the last.
She opens the door to their room and finds herself immediately greeted with the smell of sex. Gross. Mikey throws her cloak thing on Gee’s suitcase and gets in the shower.
She lets the water get rid of any lingering guilt she has at running out of Jo’s room. Mikey really hates that part, she’s still not used to it after all of these years of one-night-stands. Mikey’s probably not the right kind of person for hookups, she would probably get way too attached after a second night with the same person, but the calling chose her, not the other way around. There’s no logical downside that Mikey can see, so she just keeps track and makes sure not to go back to the same person twice. The system has not failed her yet.
She towels off and walks back over to flop onto her bed, some extra movement catching her eye before she does.
Pat’s still here and she’s wrapped in Gee’s arms, both of them completely naked. Mikey groans and buries herself under her own sheets and pillows, because ew , and also Gee is such an inconsiderate older sister it’s crazy .
Mikey goes to bed easy. She always gets worn out after having sex, but this glowy kind of worn out that feels like she just won a triathlon and got to fuck the girl in 2nd place right after. Mikey’s kind of a whore, whatever, who cares, just sleep it off.
***
The next morning she wakes up late to an empty room. She rolls out of bed and gives a cuttingly disgusted look to the discarded pile of Gee’s sheets on the ground.
She heads down to the beach, because what else is there to do?
When she steps onto the sand she remembers Pete, her stupid shirt, and her cute giggle. Pete works at the bar, right? Maybe a drink would help this beach seem less uncomfortable.
She finds a patio with a couple little gazebo bars on it. It’s too bright out to see who’s working under each one, so Mikey takes a chance and starts walking over to the center one. She gets close enough to see the back of someone’s head.
Suddenly, a loud pop echoes out from the center gazebo. A gunshot. The person working there turns around. It’s Pete, and her face is completely splattered with blood.
“Oh my god, Pete!” Mikey screams and sprints over to her, holding her face and pulling her close when she feels Pete shaking. Huge tremors wrack through Pete’s body, and Mikey doesn’t know what to do. Where did the gunshot come from, anyway?
Mikey pulls Pete away from her, holding her at arm's length, and is about to ask her what happened when she notices Pete holding back a laugh. This, obviously, throws Mikey for a loop.
“What?” Mikey asks.
Pete doesn’t reply, instead holding up her hand, which is holding some sort of metal contraption, and using it to point back at the counter. Oh. The counter is covered in piles of cherries. Pete was pitting cherries. Oh.
“Yes I was,” Pete says, because apparently Mikey said that out loud, “but I really enjoyed the whole knight in shining armor routine. Very noble.” Pete puts a hand on Mikey’s arm that’s still holding her.
As it turns out, the hotel has a specialty “Jack & Cherry Cola” cocktail that Pete needs pitted cherries for. Plus, bullets don’t echo. Mikey feels a pit of embarrassment grow at her reaction, but Pete keeps reassuring her it was cute, and that’s causing a whole host of other problems.
Mikey shouldn’t be sitting around being cute with girls, that’s not her style. Even if said girls are really hot and keep touching her and smiling so bright they take Mikey’s breath away. Mikey coughs into her hand after that thought. She’s definitely coming down with something.
“I was planning on freezing you out, you know,” Pete murmurs, sounding amused.
“Yeah?” Mikey presses, “what for?”
Pete swats at her shoulder, “‘Cause you stood me up, asshole.”
Mikey looks at her shoes. She didn’t think Pete would actually care about that, but, now that Mikey really thinks about it, of course she cares. Mikey really is an asshole, wow.
“Sorry, my sister was having a crisis,” she says, as placatingly as she can.
Pete smiles again, that heart-stopping smile, “It’s alright. As long as you follow through this time.”
“Of course,” Mikey’s agreeing without thinking about what they’ll actually do, “when are you off?”
Pete looks back at the piles of cherries, “Actually I’m off today. This is a favor for a friend. Well, okay, I bet her 2 shifts worth of prep work that she wouldn’t sleep with this girl she was crushing on and she actually did it so,” Pete waves her hands around, “I’m stuck pitting cherries.”
Mikey paused. Wow, there are a lot of lesbians here. What is it about the beach and attracting sapphics?
And, plus, what is Mikey even planning to do with Pete? If they sleep together, Mikey can’t come back again, and Mikey doesn’t want to get rid of Pete yet. Maybe they could just have a drink.
“How long do you think it’ll take?” Mikey asks.
Pete sighs, “A while. There’s this mixer tonight, some writers’ crowd. Maybe I’ll see you there.”
Mikey smirks, “Maybe you will.”
***
This mixer is a lot better than last night’s, even though it’s in the same exact hotel ballroom.
Gee was stoked that Mikey wanted to come again, or at least that she wasn’t protesting. Gee didn’t even bother asking Mikey to wingwoman her, as soon as they’d entered Pat appeared and started hanging off of Gee. Mikey steered herself toward the snack table as soon as things started to get PG-13.
“Fancy seeing you here.”
Mikey turns toward the voice and finds Pete standing next to her, looking stunning as ever.
Mikey says, “Likewise,” and stuffs a hunk of cheese in her mouth.
Pete reaches a hand out to Mikey’s waist, “I really like this top on you. It really accentuates your,” She drags her hand up, “features.”
Mikey can feel herself getting flustered. Mikey doesn’t want to be getting flustered. She wants to do the flustering. It’s so much more fun to do the flustering. She swallows the piece of cheese as fast as she can without choking.
Mikey wraps her arms around Pete’s neck and stares into her eyes, using her hand to try and brush Pete’s hair away from her eyes, though it just bounces right back to where it was. Mikey sets her other hand on Pete’s shoulder.
“Yeah? You a fan of my features ?” Mikey teases.
“Don’t fish,” Pete says, then she puts her other hand on Mikey’s waist and pulls her in so there’s no space between their bodies.
“Did you finish pitting the cherries?” Mikey asks, trying to take this interaction to calmer territory. It’s not that Mikey isn’t enjoying this— she most certainly is, maybe even a little too much for how tame it’s been so far.
“I didn’t,” Pete replies, leaning over to speak to the shell of Mikey’s ear and lowering her register to a sultry tone that’s making Mikey weak in the knees, “you gonna tell on me?”
Mikey shakes her head. She tries again to calm them down, trailing her hand down from Pete’s shoulder to her upper arm. Pete grabs that hand and holds it to her chest, brushing feather-light over the knuckles. Mikey’s heart is beating so loud she’s convinced she’s jerking forward with every beat. Blood is rushing in her ears, louder than the waves outside.
Through it all, Mikey hears Pete ask, “Why don’t we take this somewhere more private?”
Only, Mikey is intrigued by Pete. She doesn’t want to lose Pete yet. She wants to hang on to her a bit longer. She can’t sleep with her right now, this is all too exciting to be gone the next morning.
“I’m not in the mood tonight,” Mikey says, trying her hardest to seem bashful and hoping she didn’t just ruin her chances entirely.
But Pete just keeps on smiling, keeps on brushing her fingers over Mikey’s hand, and says, “Would you like to get dinner tomorrow night?”
And Mikey, even with how relaxed she is in Pete’s space, internally freaks out at this. Mikey doesn’t want to lose Pete, but Mikey doesn’t date. She hasn’t dated. Ever. She’s tried, and it has always ended with a one-night-stand that just so happened to start at a restaurant instead of a bar. Mikey is a good fuck. Mikey is not a good date. Shit.
Pete, probably feeling the wave of fear radiating off of Mikey, looks concerned, and continues, “Nothing serious, just a burger or something. I’ve got connections in the kitchen. It’s only dinner ‘cause I get off at 4, I swear. And, hey, I’m not expecting anything after, alright?”
Mikey quells her freakout. Nothing serious. She can do nothing serious. Mikey’s an expert at nothing serious. A one-night-stand and a “nothing serious” dinner are the same level of chill, right? Mikey’s totally cool with that, probably. She relaxes her face.
“Sounds fun,” Mikey says, “where should I meet you?”
Pete drags her fingertips up Mikey’s arm and onto her cheekbone, tracing.
“I’ll find you,” she says.
There’s something about the way Pete’s touch is centering her, or maybe it’s the fondness peeking through her tone, but either way, Mikey is feeling a whole lot more relaxed about this whole thing.
***
“Nothing serious” ends up being a pretty apt description for their dinner. It’s in the back of the hotel kitchen with two chairs shoved up against a counter, with two freezer-burned burger patties charred a bit too much over the stove, so they slather them with ketchup and stick them on potato buns.
Mikey finds that spending time with Pete is fun. So much fun. She’s laughing so much she’s convinced she’ll have abs by tomorrow, and all because Pete decided to reenact Hamlet with an extra hamburger bun, because she thinks she’s clever or something.
She’s butchering it so badly, and it really isn’t that funny, and Mikey would endlessly tease anyone else who did it, but for some reason she’s cracking up at the whole display. Maybe it’s the setting, maybe it’s the ridiculousness of the whole scene. Maybe it’s Pete.
“Your burger’s gonna get cold, idiot” Mikey manages between giggles.
Pete gives a not-at-all-convincing look of offense, “This idiot is providing you with dinner theater, be grateful!”
Mikey pushes her plate towards Pete’s chair, “I am very grateful, and I enjoyed the show, but I would enjoy it even more if she ate with me.”
Pete grins and puts down the bun, sitting down next to Mikey and joining her in choking down the burnt burgers.
Once they’ve finished their meals, and cleaned up the counters as best they could, there’s an air of something remaining. Mikey knows that Pete said she didn’t expect anything, but, well, maybe Mikey wants something to happen.
Hookups can be casual, right? Maybe Mikey can hook up with Pete and not lose her entirely. Maybe Mikey can have her cake and eat it too. Casual hookups are definitely a thing, and they’re definitely nothing serious. According to Pete, they’ve got the kitchen for another hour. Mikey makes her mind up.
“Can I kiss you?” Mikey asks, breathing out.
Pete nods and Mikey pushes her up against the counter and pulls her into a kiss. It’s deep and it’s dirty, unashamedly tongue-first, which means this is definitely going somewhere.
Pete hops up onto the counter, breaking the kiss momentarily, and spreads her legs so Mikey can fit between them. Mikey does her best to kiss Pete within an inch of her life, grabbing her waist to pull her close while Pete’s hands flail for purchase on the rack behind her.
Mikey drags a hand to the front of Pete’s jeans, pressing gently with two fingers. Pete whines and hitches her hips up to meet Mikey’s fingers. Pete starts tugging on the end of Mikey’s shirt, so Mikey leans back and lets her pull it all the way off. Mikey tugs Pete’s shirt off, too, though it’s significantly harder since Pete doesn’t seem to want to disconnect their mouths.
Pete is probably the most gorgeous person Mikey’s ever seen. That might be the lust clouding her eyes, it might just be how Pete’s gasps are making her breath catch, but Mikey is absolutely floored. She has to stop and stare, making her eyes weigh a heavy drag up and down Pete.
She’s not wearing a bra underneath her shirt. Her tattoos stand out against her skin. Mikey can’t help but trace the collar bone crown of thorns with her tongue. Pete reaches a hand up to play with her own nipple, but Mikey bats it away and takes over the task.
Mikey moves to take off Pete’s jeans, a little breathy “Yes,” from Pete egging her on. She slips off her jeans, finding no underwear underneath and just the fact that Pete’s been walking around all day without any underwear is so hot that Mikey has to spend a good minute kissing her as hard as she can.
Mikey slips a finger through Pete’s folds, then drags that same finger down her thighs, teasing.
“Please, Mikey,” Pete moans. Mikey spends a few minutes tracing circles on her thighs, inching up closer and closer. When Mikey sinks a finger into her, she gasps loudly and moans. Mikey pumps her finger in and out, letting her thumb come up to circle Pete’s clit.
Pete keeps kissing her and whining, even as her whines get higher pitched. Mikey slides another finger in and curls them up, keeping a steady rhythm on her clit all the while. She sucks on Pete’s lower lip and gets another moan out of her.
“I’m gonna—,” Pete whines, letting her hips buck up to meet Mikey’s hand with every thrust in. Mikey doesn’t slow down, keeping the rhythm steady, playing Pete as best she can.
Pete stills and jerks forward, moaning loudly into Mikey’s mouth and coming all over Mikey’s hand. Mikey doesn’t slow down her motions until Pete’s twitching against her and pushing her hand away. Mikey pulls back and they both catch their breaths.
“Fuck,” Pete says, “fuck.” She pulls Mikey in by the back of the head, kissing her with a surge of energy. She hops down from the counter and pushes Mikey back against the island. She pulls back slightly and whispers, “Your turn,” against Mikey’s lips.
Pete sinks down to her knees in front of Mikey and starts mouthing at her thighs.
“Fuck yeah, baby,” Mikey breathes at Pete starts slipping her jeans down her legs, kicking them away and letting Pete just look for a while.
Then Pete, the hottest girl Mikey has ever seen, laves her tongue over the front of Mikey’s panties, bites at the bottom edge of them, and drags them all the way down Mikey’s legs. As she drags them, she stretches a slick string connecting the panties and Mikey’s cunt.
Pete spreads Mikey’s thighs, massaging them lightly, then reaches up and runs a finger through Mikey’s folds, gasping as she makes contact.
“You’re so wet,” she says, almost in awe, “god, that’s hot.”
Pete adds another finger, dipping them into the slick folds. She pulls them back and into her mouth, moaning around them and, okay, Mikey really can’t taste that good— her diet is absolute shit— but she appreciates the theatrics and smirks anyway.
Pete leans up and attaches her mouth to Mikey’s clit, sucking hard immediately. Mikey has to bite down hard on her bottom lip to keep from making an embarrassing whining noise. She’s pretty sure she draws blood.
Pete licks around, teasing, and nips right below her clit, licking at the dripping hole below it.
“Stop—” Mikey starts, then Pete nips again and she has to grunt before continuing, “stop teasing. It’s mean.”
Pete leans back a bit, “Then stop holding back. I wanna hear you.”
Pete licks back in, lapping around Mikey’s clit, and Mikey lets out a moan. Pete hums happily and rewards Mikey with a hard suck. Mikey chokes off another moan at the feeling.
Mikey can feel her stomach clenching already, rolling her eyes up and letting Pete pleasure her for a few minutes.
“Next time,” Mikey says through a moan, “next time I’m fucking you with my strap.”
Pete moans and it shakes through Mikey. She looks up at Mikey, they make eye contact, Pete looks absolutely destroyed , and that’s it. Mikey shakes violently and tugs hard on Pete’s hair while her vision goes completely white. She’s pretty sure she’s making some extremely embarrassing sounds, but she really couldn’t give a shit. It feels so goddamn good.
Pete keeps lapping at her as she rides out her orgasm, eventually pushing her away after it starts to verge into being too sensitive. She catches her breath.
Mikey pulls Pete up by her hair and kisses her, tasting herself on Pete’s tongue. Pete’s eyes are glazed over, her face blissed out, and Mikey kisses her until she’s back in the present again. Pete bites at Mikey’s lip and Mikey sweetens the kiss, taking it farther from heat and closer to an embrace.
“That better have been a promise,” Pete says, against Mikey’s cheek.
Mikey leans her forehead onto Pete’s shoulder and kisses it lightly.
“What?” She asks.
“The strap,” Pete says, stepping back from Mikey and starting to get dressed again, “that better have been a promise.”
Mikey smiles and watches her slide her shirt on.
“Damn right it was.”
***
Pete becomes a part of Mikey’s routine so easily it should scare her more than it does. It does scare her, of course it does, but it happens so easily Mikey still feels like it’s nothing serious. It’s too easy for it to be a relationship. She just has the cutest, funniest, best casual hookup imaginable.
Mikey meets Pete at the beach patio every morning. If Pete’s working, she’ll sit and joke with her through her shift. If she’s not, it becomes Mikey’s favorite day ever, because that means Pete’s about to take her exploring the secret rooms of the hotel. Mikey lives up to her promise of fucking Pete with her strap, and she ends up doing it in a conference room with Pete bent over the head of the table.
Mikey doesn’t go to the nightly mixers anymore. She doesn’t think Gee does either.
But, because of the morning meetings, because Mikey meets Pete by walking through the stretch of sand between the hotel and the patio, because of the waves crashing on the mornings when Pete’s working, Mikey starts to associate the beach with Pete. And the beach becomes less scary. The sand gets less uncomfortable to be on.
They have a lot of sex, because it’s fun and because they can. They sneak quickies in abandoned lounges and conference rooms and one of the days Mikey spends hours in an empty suite seeing how many times she can make Pete cum in a row (6 is the current number to beat). They never fuck in Mikey’s room. They never fuck in Pete’s room— does Pete have a room? Does Pete live in the hotel? Mikey doesn’t ask. She shouldn’t care about that.
Mikey’s walking back to her room after one of those shifts where she joked at Pete while she was working, but a bachelorette party decided to rock up to the bar and take up her and Pete’s precious time, so Mikey gave her a look that said “We’ll meet up later” and decided to go annoy Gee.
As she makes her way down the hallway to her room, she remembers this adorable thing Pete does where she’ll start saying her next thought while still laughing at the last thing and she gets all wheezy and grabs at Mikey’s hand or leg or shoulder like a lifeline and Mikey can’t help but smile at the thought of it. She’s still smiling as she walks in the room.
“Are you high?” Gee asks, genuinely concerned.
“Why aren’t you mingling with comic writers?” Mikey counters.
Gee waves a hand at Mikey’s cluttered suitcase and the piles of clothes beside it, “You should probably clean up. We’ve got to be out of here in two days.”
Mikey puts on her best face of concern, “Gee, did you just tell me to clean ?” Gee rolls her eyes, flipping Mikey off, and Mikey gasps, “Married life has changed you!”
Gee shrugs and looks back down at her phone, giggling when it buzzes. Actually giggling.
“Are you high?” Mikey asks, even though it isn’t all that weird to find Gee giggling at anything. It’s just weird for Mikey to catch her in the act, usually she’s less blase about it.
“Pat texted me back,” Gee is clearly so happy about that fact that even Mikey, whose singular duty in life is to give Gee shit, doesn’t want to rain on her parade. So, she changes her clothes and loiters around until she starts to get jealous of her sister for having a cute girl on her other line.
There’s a knock at their door and Gee goes to answer it, immediately getting jumped on by a tiny blond Pat.
“I’d stay longer but Pete’s swamped down there and I still owe her,” She gives Gee a forehead kiss, wrenching Gee practically in half to do it, and Mikey sneers. Fucking Gee and her fucking adorable relationship. Whatever, Pete’s hotter than Pat anyway. And Mikey doesn’t even have to go on awkward dates with Pete. Score.
But, wait, Pat works with Pete? Mikey smacks herself internally, because of course Pat works with Pete.
“I’ll come with,” Mikey pipes up, ‘cause this might just get her a whole day of hanging out with Pete, which is always Mikey’s goal these days.
“Yeah,” Pat replies, distracted and still staring into Gee’s eyes.
***
Pete ends up switching places with Pat, but the bachelorette party has come and gone so it’s kind of pointless. But, Pete still switches places, giving Pat a giant hug and leaving the patio pulling Mikey by the hand.
They walk for a while through the maze of the hotel halls in a comfortable silence with clasped swinging hands between them, eventually landing together on an empty corridor’s couch. Mikey stretches out against the back and Pete lays down next to her, face to Mikey’s chest, braced by Mikey’s arms.
Mikey sticks her nose into the top of Pete’s head, kissing it lightly. They lay there for a while. Mikey can feel herself drifting off into a nap, but a thought rises within her that she feels the sudden need to share with Pete.
“I haven’t ever slept with someone more than once,” Mikey admits into Pete’s hair, “not intentionally.”
Pete stays quiet, but presses a kiss to her chest in encouragement.
“But you,” Mikey breathes in, recognizing Pete’s shampoo and letting the foreign sensation of recognizing someone wash over her, “I couldn’t let you go that easily.”
Pete tightens the arms around Mikey, squeezing her in the most uncomfortable and intimate hug Mikey’s ever been a part of.
Mikey shifts them upright so they’re sitting beside each other, feeling too serious lying down.
Pete looks at her and grins lazily. Mikey grins right back. Pete bunches Mikey’s shirt in her hand and pulls her in, kissing her deeply and letting the sensation drown whatever Mikey could have been thinking. Pete swings a leg over Mikey’s lap and scratches gently up her back.
They move together, familiar already, and Mikey kisses from her cheek to the place behind her ear where Pete loves to be kissed. She sucks on the skin there, making the mark that’s already there darker.
Pete hums. “I’m taking the day off tomorrow. Let’s go swimming.”
Mikey, the biggest beach hater ever, someone who absolutely despises swimming, finds herself nodding at this and pulling Pete in for another kiss.
***
“Take off your shirt,” a voice calls from behind Mikey, and she knows before she turns that it’s Pete running toward her. She crashes into Mikey’s arms, holding tight and spinning them around.
“I can’t believe I got you on the beach and smiling ,” Pete says, and Mikey is smiling, because it’s only right when she’s got an armful of pretty girl, “I’m a miracle worker.”
“You really are,” Mikey replies.
Then Pete is stripping off her shirt and shorts, leaving only a black bikini underneath, and she’s yelling “C’mon!” so Mikey does the same, and they run into the waves, stomping at them.
“Fuck, it’s cold!” Mikey squeals. Pete laughs loudly, proof of her feeling the cold too, but keeps running into the waves.
Mikey stands where the water reaches to her knees, new chills running through her everytime the waterline rises. She watches Pete dive under a wave and come back up gasping for breath. Mikey knows her face is too unguarded. She blames it on the beach.
Pete spits out a mouthful of water, shouting, “Get over here, babe!”
Mikey chuckles. For some reason unknown to her, those words are enough to get her moving forward, further into the frigid depths. She treads over, keeping her head and glasses above the water.
“There you are,” Mikey says, grabbing at Pete’s waist under the water. Pete just laughs and latches on, pulling Mikey in for an especially damp, salty kiss.
They bob with the waves, just holding each other for what seems like forever. At one point, Pete sucks a breath into her chest and starts floating on her back, to which Mikey stretches her arms out underneath her to make sure she doesn’t sink. Mikey can’t stop smiling. Her cheeks hurt. It’s the beach.
They start to paddle back to shore, Pete swimming backwards and pulling Mikey by the arm. When the water gets to waist high, Pete stops, leaning in for a kiss but stopping a few inches away. Mikey pulls her the rest of the distance, wrapping her arms around Pete and kissing her tenderly. It’s soft. It’s new. It’s really fucking nice.
They get back to the drier sand, and Pete’s immediately wrapping a towel around Mikey, muttering about how stupid Mikey is for not bringing her own and thank god she brought an extra or Mikey would be air-drying into an icicle.
“There’s a bonfire later, a staff end-of-the-month thing,” Pete says, fussing with Mikey’s towel, clearly trying to be casual. Unfortunately, Mikey’s gotten so used to her speaking voice over these two weeks that she can read right through it: Pete’s nervous. Mikey smirks.
“Yeah?” Mikey lets her fuss with the towel a bit more.
Pete stops her fussing and pats Mikey’s chest, twice, “ Yeah ,” she breathes, “you should come.”
Mikey loves a good bonfire. It’s always a place for dramatics, bonfires are where the shit goes down. Bonfires are where the sloppy regrettable makeouts take place. Bonfires are where even the less-aesthetically-fortunate get to look ethereal in the tinted glow.
Mikey doesn’t need to say yes. They both know she’s going to go.
***
The bonfire lives up to Mikey’s expectations, with flames so huge and dramatic Mikey forgets she’s sitting on itchy, hellish sand. Or, it just doesn’t bother her the same way, though that might have something to do with the towel underneath her or the Pete wrapped up in her arms, her back against Mikey’s chest.
Pete turns back to say something to Mikey, but Mikey swoops down and kisses it off her lips. The kiss is gentle, just like their embrace, just like earlier. God, it feels good. This fucking beach.
She voices this, “This is so good.”
Pete smiles and pulls her in for another kiss.
They end up in Mikey’s room that night, because it’s closer, because Mikey’s pretending not to care that it’s the first time Pete’s been in there. Gee’s stuff is packed and Gee is nowhere to be found.
They make out under Mikey’s sheets. Pete borrows a shirt. Mikey watches the waves move under the dark sky as she slips it on. It’s calming. She wishes she could hear them. Mikey slips off her jeans. They fall asleep without taking anything else off, wrapped in each other.
***
Mikey wakes up next to Pete with last night’s underwear still on. It’s new. It's weird. It throws her for a loop. Her arm is stretched lazily over Pete.
She glances at her suitcase. Fuck, she’s supposed to leave today. Fuck, she forgot she was supposed to leave today. Gee’s still not back in the room, presumably enjoying her last day of bliss with Pat.
Lips on her arm take her attention back to who is in her bed. Pete kisses up her arm, half-asleep, and lingers a kiss on Mikey’s palm. Mikey starts to panic. She has to leave today. She has to pack, she has to check-out, and most importantly, she’s got to get Pete out of her room.
Pete yawns and sits up next to Mikey.
“Morning,” Pete says, still tinged with sleep.
Mikey rolls out of bed, slides her glasses on, and clears her throat.
“Well, I leave today so, you know,” Mikey shrugs, “it’s been nice.”
Pete blinks.
“You’ve got to be out of here before Gee gets back,” Mikey continues.
Pete visibly grows in anger, balling a fist, “You don’t even want to try ?”
Which confuses Mikey, because phone sex really isn’t that great, and now Mikey’s afraid she’ll have to break this news to Pete.
“What, hookup over the phone?”
Pete scoffs, stays quiet for a moment, seemingly waiting for a response Mikey can’t know, and scoffs again. “Is that all this is? A hookup?”
Mikey is a little lost now. She thought they were on the same page here. Whatever happened to “nothing serious”? Now she’s starting to feel sad, though, ‘cause, shit, she has to try and let Pete down easy now.
“I mean,” Mikey swallows. Fuck, this is hard. “What else would it be?”
“Oh, I get it,” Pete laughs, “I get it. What, you’ve got another hookup coming over in ten? Make sure to wipe down your strap between girls.”
“It’s not like that, Pete,” Mikey says, because it’s really not like that. She’s leaving today, she’s just being realistic.
“What is it like then? Huh? Because I really don’t see a good reason why you’re kicking me away other than,” Pete stops, “You don’t feel anything, do you?”
Mikey snorts. What kind of a question is that? “Of course I feel things.”
Pete gives Mikey a stare with so much emotion behind it that Mikey just can’t decipher all of it. She knows there’s anger in there, but there’s something else beside it. Too tender to be sad.
“Don’t laugh , Mikey. I meant for me.”
Mikey doesn’t know what Pete wants from her. She’s known her for two weeks. Pete’s cute, Pete’s a good fuck, Pete’s funny, Pete’s got a horrible sense of fashion, and Pete’s got the most adorable blush. Mikey has come down with something deadly.
“I like you, Pete. I really do.”
“God, I always do this. I hate that I always do this,” Pete slips out of the bed and shoves her clothes on. She grabs her messenger bag and slings it over her shoulder all in one motion. She makes eye contact with Mikey and she looks broken. It hurts to see. It hurts so fucking bad.
“Goodbye, Mikey,” Pete says.
“Pete?” A sudden grip of panic overtakes Mikey. They’re not supposed to— Pete can’t just leave. She can’t do that. She just can’t.
“Pete, don’t leave!” She raises her voice, but she’s too demanding, fuck, she shouldn’t be demanding.
“Oh, now you want me to stay. Go fuck yourself, Mikey Way. I’m sure I don’t have to say this, but, don’t come after me.”
Pete turns and leaves. Mikey wants to follow. For the first time with a hookup, she wants to follow. She has to tell herself over and over that Pete doesn’t want to see her, just to keep her rooted in place. God, what a mess.
Mikey opens the window and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it with Gee’s lighter and taking a firm drag. The waves are exceptionally loud this morning. She leans on the windowsill with her elbows and ignores them.