Chapter Text
Ava doesn’t drink alcohol; she doesn't. She treats her body like a temple in pursuit of her tennis dream, but right now she feels like she’s drunk—utterly drunk—drunk on this buzzing feeling of finally winning a slam and drunk on BeaBea as she in a fit giggles and fiddling fingers struggles to undo BeaBea’s belt as she and her stumble towards their hotel room bed.
“Come here, you stupid thing.” She growls at the belt on BeaBea’s waist.
BeaBea giggles too, her hands on Ava’s hips, her forehead touching Ava's, watching giddy like Ava. “Don’t tell me my Grand Slam Angel can’t undo a belt now.”
Ava shakes her head and keeps giggling. She keeps struggling with the buckle of BeaBea’s stupid belt. “Where’d you get this thing from? It’s like you wanted to make it difficult for me, cheeky BeaBea.”
“Oh woe is me, oh!” BeaBea bemoans to the ceiling playfully. “Help! I’m trapped by my evil belt! Help me, my love!”
Ava laughs harder; fuck she wants to marry BeaBea; she wants to; but fuck this stupid belt; she needs it off, and it just won’t. “Don’t worry, BeaBea! I’ll save you!” BeaBea’s legs hit the end of the bed, and they fall to its plushy plushness in a tangle of limbs and laughter.
“Help Angel! Help!” BeaBea rolls on the bed struggling below Ava as Ava keeps fiddling too happy, laughing too much in utter joy to release BeaBea from her captivity.
"BeaBea, hold still! I can’t!” She complains and almost gets the belt undone, but BeaBea rolls about and squirms up the bed, making it even harder.
She follows and traps BeaBea by sitting on her waist. But BeaBea, being her silly squirmy self, won’t stop moving about. “Darling! Why aren’t you releasing me from my evil belt? Help! Help!”
“I’m trying!” She giggles and finally unbuckles BeaBea. “Wooo! I got it!” She raises her arms in celebration, still in her outfit from centre court, bar the cap and the wristbands. She’s been way too eager to celebrate with BeaBea to take time to change, and why would she change? BeaBea loves her tennis outfits.
“Come here!” BeaBea tackles Ava back to the bed in a breathless act, and Ava lands on her back completely flushed, completely happy, and completely in love. BeaBea sits on her lap now, and the laugh she laughs, the smile she gives down to Ava, swells Ava’s heart. She looks up at BeaBea, her hair messy out of its tied-up form, her freckles, her cheeks that are completely red, and places her hands on her hips. Eager. "Why, hello down there, champ, would you like your reward for playing such a great game tonight?”
Ava bites her lip and nods. "Yes, please, Coach BeaBea. I played really hard tonight, and I gave you that mention in my interview. I really deserve it.”
BeaBea grins and starts to trail her palms down Ava’s hips. She trails them both down the fabric of Ava’s white skirt. Ava watches, heaving for breath, excited for BeaBea’s expert work and excited for everything tonight with her and the days in New York to come where they’ll go anywhere and everywhere, enjoying the sights before returning home.
Home. Her and BeaBea’s home is what she wants to call it as well as Brighton, and she is. She is calling it that. Beatrice reddens as she moves her chin on Ava’s skirt, looking up at her with hungry but so happy eyes.
"I meant every word.” She tells BeaBea with love.
BeaBea looks down shy as she keeps travelling downward, and she loves to see it. She loves BeaBea blushing for her—feeling loved by her—appreciated.
“One day I don’t know when I’d love to call you BeaBea Silva.” She says, and BeaBea flaps up her skirt and hides under the fabric. She laughs again, revelling in how silly BeaBea is with her.
“I’d love that too; we’ll get there, but first you need you’re need your prize.” BeaBea looks utterly silly like this; she’s just a bump under Ava’s skirt, and Ava laughs still until BeaBea roughly rips down her undershorts and anything else that’s under her skirt down to her knees in a rushed movement.
“Oh fuck, yeah, I need my reward." She throws her head back to the bed beneath her, and BeaBea acts—desperate for her too. She plants her lips, her mouth on her clit, her nose buried in her curls. “Yes,” she sighs in relief, happy, and turned on—feeling all of those emotions and feelings and more and more.
“Who’s my slam winner girl?" BeaBea requests against Ava’s folds then licks upward immediately. Ava arches her back up into BeaBea’s mouth and grips the bed with both hands firmly.
“Mmm me, baby. Me.” She whines to the touch of BeaBea, where BeaBea belongs now.
“So wet, so wet, mmm.” BeaBea licks her tongue all over Ava’s folds so fast it catches Ava’s breath, and she completely stiffens in place. Her mouth wide open, her back staying curved, her eyes fluttering to the ceiling. BeaBea’s always so good, and she’s unbelievable again. Fuck this means more than the slam. Of course it does; this is way more than any slam. This is everything.
“I love you, I love you; yes, that’s it right there, fuck right there.” She gulps hard and flops to the bed as Beatrice adds her fingers to the party and so quickly finds the perfect spot with her pointed tongue and flicks quick and repeatedly. Right there, yes, right there, BeaBea’s found just the right spot as she buries her face hidden from view in Ava’s clit. “I need to see you.” She flaps her skirt away and almost cums into BeaBea’s mouth at the view she finds. So perfect, so right. BeaBea’s nose in her curls her mouth on her clit. She moves her fingers through BeaBea’s hair and pushes her further in. "More, baby, give me more. I love you so much. Give me more.” She begs, and Beatrice provides by increasing her finger speed and licks fast. Her eyes lock on Ava’s like they both love. Neither of them blink; not for a second do they blink. BeaBea rubs her side with her palm and gives her a little slap. “Uh.” Ava moans and pushes her scalp into the bed hard. Yeah, she loves that, as always she loves it.
BeaBea keeps licking and keeps pushing her two fingers inside, and Ava’s already close. It’s too good, as always. BeaBea’s too good; this moment is too perfect, but she doesn’t want to let go right now. She wants to stay at the peak, but fuck it doesn’t matter; she’ll cum more than once for BeaBea tonight; she’ll cum for her with ease as she always does.
“Taste yourself.” BeaBea quickly moves her lips inches off her folds and pulls her fingers out. It makes Ava jerk, and she opens her mouth for the fingers to go inside her mouth; she wants to taste BeaBea’s work. She grabs BeaBea’s wrist, brings her fingers to her mouth, and wraps her mouth around them both. BeaBea keeps going with her flicking tongue.
Ava tastes herself; she always prefers BeaBea’s taste, but she loves it just fine. She loves the feeling of Bea’s fingers in her mouth inside her.
BeaBea starts to suck on her folds and hard-bobbing her head as she does and lights out. That’s it. Ava can’t hold back; she can’t resist the pull to cum in BeaBea’s mouth. It’s too good too good. She jerks and jerks. She cums and cums, but she never looks away from the woman who she loves—the woman who’s her world, who she thinks she’s going to spend her life with and protect and never let go of for as long as she breathes. She never imagined finding a love so strong, so quick, so easy—so what her heart has yearned for, but she has, and she already knows this BeaBea is her soulmate. It’s just how it is. It’s just the truth she won’t run from. It’s her truth; it’s her desire; her heart's words to her. BeaBea is it for her.
——
Clothes gone completely in the throes of passion Beatrice grips Ava’s thigh up to her side under the covers of her and Ava’s bed as she moves her wet folds over Ava’s. Her lips are not coming off Ava’s. No way are they coming off Ava’s. Her tongue isn’t coming away from hers, her breasts resting on top of Ava’s aren’t—her hand on Ava’s cheek isn’t—her other palm on Ava’s strong arm, and neither are Ava’s hands rubbing all over her back, as she and Ava make love.
What a night, what a moment this is. She’s with her angel after she utterly dismantled Adriela and lifted the US Open trophy high. But in the moment of victory, when Ava came up to her in the stands, Ava worried for her; she saw she was crying and fussed over her even in such a huge moment for her. She was thinking of her wanting to be with her, making sure she was okay before she celebrated completely. That's who Ava is; that’s the person she loves so much. She’s the thing she yearned for but didn’t think was real; she’s her inspiration; she’s the person who has made her want to forget the past, move on from it, and never look back.
“Mmm.” Ava whimpers as Beatrice strokes her palm delicately on Ava’s cheek, and Beatrice kisses more needfully. She caresses and adores. She doesn’t let Ava’s lips go. She won’t let Ava go. She doesn’t want to ever. She’s it for her. She feels it; she knows it; she wants it. Not everything will always be easy, but this is what she knows; this is what she feels. Ava Silva is it for her. She is. She’s it, and she’ll fight every day to have that be the case. She’ll always fight for Ava. She’ll support her, she’ll adore her, she’ll love her and love her, and she'll tell her she’s perfect as much as she can. Hard days, sick days, absolutely sucky days—she'll love her. Ava’s stuck with her; she’s unequivocally stuck with her now. She is.
She loved the sound of BeaBea Silva earlier. It sounded right. It just did, just like now, as she moves herself over Ava’s folds, feels right as she keeps Ava’s thigh by her side in a firm grip in the way Ava loves. It felt like music to her ears. She wants to discard the name Laine; it’s given her nothing but grief. She wants to be Ava’s family; however long that takes to become a reality, she wants it. No doubts, no overthinking, none of it.
She increases her pace into Ava and gets a little moan, and she moans too—lost in completely savouring this night with Ava. She’d not tired from her match; she barely broke a sweat. She’s probably exerted more energy on this than that.
She gives Ava’s thigh a little tap, and the moaned, muffled laugh into her mouth is blissful to feel reverberating through her body in reply. Ava herself is blissful to feel—to love—to be devoted to. It would take other people a lot longer to get to this frame of mind. This stubbornness in wanting to spend their life with someone—well, she and Ava aren’t those people. This is the speed she and Ava set; this is what she and Ava are. This has been what they are since their first perfect night together. This is represented through gifts and bracelets and the necklace around Beatrice’s neck that touches Ava’s chest as she moves and moves into Ava feeling so warm in every way.
There were moments of disbelief and moments of wanting to be cautious. But every single one of those moments was shattered. Everything has been. This is just too right, too good, and too much to fight to push against purposefully. Just too much. Far too much. She wishes the time apart the hurting Ava never happened, but it did, and it won’t ever happen again. Beatrice swears it. She swore it to Ava’s parents, and she meant it with every fibre of her being. Never ever will she hurt her angel again. Never. There may be moments of just having a bad day, and either she or Ava may feel a bit more irritable than usual, but then and every other time like it, she won’t hurt Ava. The woman she met in Paris and fell for with such utter ease she will never hurt, never let go of. As the song she danced with Ava to said. Broken hearts aren’t hide to find, but thank God Ava found hers. Thank God she did, or rather thank the inner courage Beatrice found that pushed her to finally approach Ava in Paris after years of being too scared, too nervous, and too in awe of her to get her autograph. It turned into the best decision she’s ever made. Well, the 3rd time she approached Ava in person was, but the point remains. Ava is the best choice, the best leap into the unknown she’s taken in her life.
—-
Months pass after Ava’s US open triumph; more competitions go by; more travelling is done with BeaBea. More cities explored together, more love made, more kisses, endless kisses shared, and Ava has felt so alive in that time. She’s felt alive since she met BeaBea in general, but she’s felt so alive in the months and months that have just passed, and now as she’s returned home with BeaBea in tow, of course, to Lisbon for their first Christmas together, she feels more of that feeling. She feels ready for numerous Christmas’s with BeaBea.
They’ve spent time in Brighton seeing BeaBea’s friends and such and will continue to, but the little cut-off home of Ava’s in Lisbon by the sea is where Ava and her girlfriend wanted to be on their first Christmas as a couple.
But the thing with the girlfriend part of that sentence is definitely something Ava is in the process of wanting to upgrade on this Christmas morning as she puts on her big red Christmas jumper that quickly covers her shorts down to her knees in her bedroom, smiling wide and happy in front of her bedroom mirror.
She’s bought the ring she’s going through with it; she just wants the perfect moment. It could be today on her first Christmas with BeaBea, or it could be on some other special day like back in Paris for the French Open in the new year? She just doesn't know. But she’s ready, and she knows BeaBea is too.
She admires her comfy jumpy with Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer sewn on to its fabric and makes sure she keeps remembering where’s she’s hidden the ring. It’s downstairs in the living room behind a picture of her mom and dad.
“Today?” She asks herself with a huff toward her reflection and puts her hair over her head. This is so perfect a day to do it. Is this the perfect moment? Could she get on one knee after Christmas dinner later? Or do it when she and BeaBea open presents together for the first time. She doesn’t know. She wants to do it so much she can’t wait months for a return to Paris; she wants to do it today. “Yes. Today.” She takes a deep breath and palms her jumper. “Today, today.” She decides and feels more than a bit nervous. She’s just going to speak from the heart and propose, and hopefully it’s a perfect memory for her and BeaBea.
Does she suspect BeaBea is planning to propose too? She knows she wants to be married like she does, so yes, she does suspect, but she doesn’t want to wait. Or does she? Does she wait for BeaBea? “No? yes? maybe?” She asks herself uneasily. Maybe she should talk with BeaBea. But she wants it to be a surprise for both her and BeaBea in the same breath. “Oh poop.” She frowns. “Urgh! I don’t know!” She groans and flaps her long sleeved arms that cover her hands. She goes out of her room feeling indecisive again. BeaBea’s downstairs at the moment after getting out of bed first as per usual. Ava’s definitely the bedhead of the relationship she likes to stay in and sleep while BeaBea gets up early, eager for a new day.
She gets to the top of the carpeted stairs and starts to travel down on her bare feet. She quickly feels such a feeling of excitement as she sees downstairs again. The Christmas tree in the living room that she and BeaBea decorated before December 1st—the tinsel on the walls that they put up together—the Christmas cards on the shelves around the TV are all fully on display.
She keeps traveling down and gets a whiff of Christmas breakfast in the air. She smells something sweet on top of bacon. She instantly hurries down the steps and jumps to the floor, expecting to find BeaBea in the kitchen. She would’ve loved to have made Christmas breakfast with BeaBea. But her girlfriend loves to surprise her in the morning, so as she sees the kitchen table filled with bacon on plates and pancakes pilled high, she doesn’t feel too guilty. She likes to surprise BeaBea too.
She licks her lips. rubs her hands together and steps forward, but stops. Where’s BeaBea? She hears some keys of her piano in her music room begin to play, and she smiles goofy and wide. She and BeaBea love to play the piano; they’re both pretty good at it. BeaBea’s better, but still they both love it.
She jogs excitedly to the room beyond the kitchen, reaches the doorway, and finds BeaBea in the same jumper she’s in, her hair up unlike Ava, and she’s sitting behind the piano next to the window. Ava doesn’t interrupt. She listens. BeaBea’s so talented.
Who I am by Wyn Starks.
“I've been closing the door. All my life, I held it in, but not anymore. Got two feet on the floor. This is it; I'm stronger than ever before.” BeaBea sings, and Ava stills completely. She loves BeaBea singing, but she already hears this is more than a usual song. It’s meaningful, and she grips the doorway with heavy breathing as she sees that it is.
“Pardon my imposition. But this is my conviction. I need to get this off my mind.” BeaBea plays so expertly; she sings so meaningfully that Ava feels her eyes burn. This is BeaBea. This is her singing about herself.
“I gotta be me; I gotta be I. Gotta be who I know I am inside. Can finally breathe, taking it in. Look at me flying!”
Ava cries tears of happiness; she’s so proud of Beatrice; she’s so proud of her. She’s been doing so well with moving past her pain, and now she’s singing this song, enforcing it, enforcing her self-esteem, her self-worth.
“It's always been there; it just took me a minute to find it. If I were to be anybody else, I'd just be hiding. Who I am!! Who I am!!” BeaBea sings with a louder, more passionate voice, and it’s too much for Ava—too much she can’t. It’s Beatrice; it’s her BeaBea; it’s her heart and soul on display.
“Lookin' back, back on a little girl. Never gave her a chance to ever be more. I didn't love her, but I'm going to love her right now and forever. It's time to push open the door.”
BeaBea’s words and the lyrics of the song tell her story, and Ava almost sobs at how proud she is—how much she loves this woman who’s battled through her pain through the horrible people in her life to reach this moment. She covers her mouth and shakes. How unbelievably proud can one person be of another because Ava doesn’t think there’s a limit on her pride in Beatrice, her BeaBea.
“Pardon my imposition. But this is my conviction. Ain't nothing left to hold me down! no!”
Ava decides now is the moment. Now is the moment to propose; she has to. But she can’t move, though. She can’t breathe. She’s completely enraptured by Beatrice completely utterly shaking because of her—crying so many tears for her—tears of pride and love.
“I gotta be me; I gotta be I. Gotta be who I know I am inside. Can finally breathe, taking it in. Look at me flying!” BeaBea plays with speed, more speed; she plays with delicate fingers; she sings so quick, so powerful.
“It's always been there; it just took me a minute to find it. If I were to be anybody else, I'd just be hiding. Who I am!! Who I am!!” BeaBea belts out to the ceiling strong, forceful, and impactful. Ava can’t leave to get the ring; she can’t leave watching this. She steps forward.
“It's always been there; it just took me a minute to find it. Who I am!!!”
Ava steps and steps forward and forward as BeaBea slows her playing, and Ava then starts to get down on one knee.
“Gotta be me, gotta be I. Gotta be who I know I am inside. Can finally breathe, taking it in. Look at me flying!”
She’s proposing now; she’s proposing after BeaBea finishes bellowing out this beautiful song filled with utter meaning, utter power, and strength.
“It's always been there; it just took me a minute to find it. If I were to be anybody else, I'd just be hiding. Who I am!! Who I am!!” BeaBea sings at the top of her lungs, and Ava’s tears feel like they’ll never stop. She’s trembling; she’s not breathing; she’s utterly sure. This is her soul mate; this is the love of her life. The person she wants to grow old with and love and never stop.
“It's always been there; it just took me a minute to find it. Who I am!!! Yeah," BeaBea sings the last word of the song, and she finishes playing. BeaBea lets out one heavy breath.
“Marry me, Beatrice? My BeaBea. Be my wife?” Ava asks. It’s tearful and crackling with emotion.
BeaBea turns with a grin, so knowing so unbelievably knowing. She gets up, moves away from the piano, then gets down on one knee too, and takes out a box from her pocket. She opens the box to reveal a ring diamond for Ava. “I will, Ava Silva, my angel, and will you marry me?” She asks, and Ava is gushing with tears, utterly completely overwhelmed, her breath hitching—her heart hurting in such a good way.
She nods hurriedly, unable to speak. This is more than perfect; this is everything she could’ve wanted. BeaBea puts the ring on her shaking finger and kisses it as she holds it with eyes looking up at her—unblinking love filled.
“I was going to…." She stops; she can't; she just can’t. She’s an utter mess of a person because of BeaBea right now.
BeaBea hugs her tight, hugs her so very tight, and kisses her cheek. “I suspected, Angel.”
Ava laughs in tears—utters tears. “What if I hadn’t woken up to hear the song?”
BeaBea shrugs in Ava’s loving arms. “Then I would’ve sang over and over until you did. I want this. I want to be your wife for the rest of my life.”
“I want that too. So…” She cries; she struggles so much. “So so much. I love you to the moon and back, BeaBea. This is so perfect; it’s so..." She sobs; she can’t go on; no, she can't; she can’t.
“You’re the love of my life, my beautiful Ava. Never doubt it. You are. You’re my home, my heart, my person.” Beatrice kisses all over Ava’s sodden, shaking cheeks.
She has to respond; she has to push through her emotions and reciprocate; she has to and has to and has to again. “You’re..you’re…Mine too, BeaBea. I’m never letting you go. Never ever.”
“And I won’t let go of you. I promise.” BeaBea pulls back from the hug and kisses Ava in a wet embrace. She’s found a BeaBea; she found the woman she never wants to part with; she’s really found the one for her, and she’ll never let her go. Never ever.