Chapter Text
Ava has been gone a week and it feels like fucking forever.
This notion annoys Deborah so much that she busies herself with aimless tasks and creates problems where there are none, much to her staff’s chagrin. The house never used to feel empty or quiet, but now it’s deafening.
Movement is the only way forward in her book, so she goes for a swim before lunch. But, now, even the pool has memories of Ava, which is ridiculous because Ava doesn’t even know how to swim. Deborah slices through the water in frustration, letting her muscles take the brunt of her thoughts.
Maybe it’s because it has been such a strange time? It’s been an upheaval of sorts. Being on the road and the ups and downs of a tour across the country…Yes, that must be it. It’s thrown her off, that’s all. She’s not used to it any more and so much had happened.
So much had happened with Ava, too…
Deborah thinks she had been careful with her kindness, hesitant even – especially after the whole email debacle. Once Ava had been punished enough so that Deborah had begun to feel bad about it, she let it seep back into the relationship between them. With their writing most of all, of course, once again finding that rhythm and voice that was so unique with Ava. But also with touches, like small pushes during the game of Celebrity when Ava was pouting and being a sore loser. Or when she taught her how to float in the Four Seasons hotel pool, Ava’s soft body as well as her trust in her hands.
She’d allowed the affection because Ava had been a balm to her self-criticism when things had seemed so uncertain out on the road. It hadn’t been easy to let down walls for the audience …hiding behind stories and jokes had been much easier than this truth-seeking honesty shit they’d set out on. Having someone close again was a relief. Ava would push her or be one step ahead in regard to writing, but she was also unwavering in her support and belief in Deborah’s comedy. So, Deborah had dared herself to touch more – a hand on the arm here and a light slap on the knee there. She had dared herself to get closer as her uncertainties slipped away. It was thrilling, because Ava let her without batting an eye as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Ava’s easy adoration made her feel validated.
When they were back in Las Vegas, ready to film the Special at the Palmetto, after the hellscape of Los Angeles and fighting for a place at the table with the networks, a punch-up gig had come Ava’s way. Deborah offered for her to stay at her ‘LA Side Mansion’ as Ava had called it, but Ava had mentioned her ex and that she would stay with her instead. The thoughts of Ava already moving on had distracted her from feeling one hundred percent about the show. She realised she would have to let Ava go and drop the suit. The Special had begun to look like an ending rather than a beginning after all.
Then, Ava – sweet, funny, irritatingly and wonderfully bold Ava, had arrived at the eleventh hour. The warmth that filled her when she heard Ava’s voice on the night of the taping had not gone unnoticed. It calmed her like no one had done since Frank. It was a thought she pushed away to deal with later. Ava had chosen to come back for her .
“I’ll probably watch your taping first, you know, since I’m here anyway,” Ava had said, joking about having tickets to Cirque du Soleil as the reason for coming back.
“I’m glad you are.” Relieved. Grateful. Deborah had to swallow down her emotions at the gesture.
The looks they had shared in the mirror had been open and honest. Ava had left the punch up gig early and her ex, and had chosen to be with Deborah for the taping of their show – Ava’s ideas and Deborah’s stories and their words. It was like a gift.
Ava walked her to the stage where they had squeezed one another’s arms for good luck. Neither said anything, but the look they shared said it all. After the welcoming claps and whistles went on for over a minute, Deborah shot a glance at Ava who stood in the wings with a look of adoration on her face as she tilted her head as if to say, they adore you as much as I do.
Deborah drank it all in, basking in the feeling, loving how it made her feel giddy. Ava mouthed the lines along with her from the wings, and Deborah filed away the sharp emotion she felt for later. In the dressing room afterwards, with drinks laid out and an entire buffet set up, all her people gathered round with smiles, it was Ava’s face she searched for. They went out for drinks afterwards, toasting the success of a good taping and a job well done, and Deborah felt Ava’s presence the entire night. It was like her body was humming.
When they all piled into taxis at some hideous hour, Deborah and Ava sat together in the backseat. Deborah was reminded of her Uber ride in Memphis with the forty year old Fed-Ex guy. She turned to tell Ava about this but she was asleep, head leaned back and mouth slightly open. She looked so young that it shocked Deborah enough to come to her senses. When they arrived home she paid the driver, then shook Ava awake and left her to get out of the car alone. The next morning she gave Ava the next two weeks off, claiming everyone was getting time off since the Special was being edited and pressed and they all deserved it. She pushed Ava to go spend time with her mom, take care of things back in Boston and have some needed closure. It hadn’t been quite a year yet since her father’s death. Ava reluctantly agreed.
It would also give Deborah time and space to think and process.
Now, Deborah leans against the stairs of the pool, panting from exertion. It’s been a week and the processing has been about zero. She tries to reason with herself; tries to tell herself to snap out of it. But the Special now feels like a consolation prize, which hurts. She wants it to not be the case, but that’s how it feels. Ava is slipping away, and she is going to have to let her for her own good. She gets out of the pool and wanders up to her room to dress, wrapped in a robe and towelling at her short hair as she goes.
Deborah isn’t sure how to feel about this closeness she’s created with Ava. It feels so right – there is the humour and the respect and the trust that she hasn’t felt with anyone for a long time. Sure, she is comfortable with Marty because they’ve known each other for over thirty years and it’s like slipping on an old shoe. It is easy and you know what you’re going to get. But she doesn’t trust him. Not really, and with good reason.
She pulls herself up at that thought – the relationship with Marty has always been based in sex or power plays, so why is she thinking of Ava in the same category…? She lets her mind dare to take the step. Am I attracted to Ava? Her logical mind scoffs, but her stomach drops and she feels warm all over. She knows herself too well and realises she is … curious … She had never really considered it before because why would she? She avoided women mostly because they only ever proved a threat or competition. Her staff were mainly men, gay of course, because that kind of adoration she could handle easily. Josefina was so practical that she could ask her to organise a 50 guest sit down meal for the next day and she wouldn’t bat an eye. Reliable to a fault. So, why was Ava suddenly making her doubt?
Perhaps because Ava had wormed her way in behind the carefully crafted walls and called ‘bullshit’. She saw Deborah for who she was – who she really could be amongst jokes and generosity…all the unkindness, jealousy, meanness and vulnerability – and said, ‘so what?’. Ava had been the first person to ever do that, and it scared the living daylights out of her, because now Ava would move on and what would that leave Deborah with? A gaping hole of a recognition no longer to be found?
But the other option was unconscionable – how could she, in any right mind, allow herself to pull Ava in close for something that would only ever be fleeting. Ava was not one to shame others, but this time she would be forced to. She’d be disgusted by the prospect, Deborah is sure. Ava looked at her like she was beautiful, but that was only because Deborah paid her wages. Just like she had said in her little email. Deborah’s mind begins to spiral with self-loathing and it takes a four hour shopping trip in several high-end department stores to soothe her.
At home, she has the dinner Josefina has made and takes the dogs on a little jaunt around the property. It is cooler now that the sun has gone down, but she feels uncomfortable in her skin. The thoughts of earlier linger in the shadows, and she pushes them away in anger. Anger at Ava for taking up space in her mind where she isn’t wanted…anger at herself for letting it get this far…anger at the world for the unfairness of it all…
When at last she lays in her bed in the enveloping dark of her room, where she is invisible even to herself, she allows the thoughts to return. She lets the thoughts of Ava fill her mind and a warmth spreads to her core.
She tries to stop it. It is wrong , her logical brain says. The other side goads her into stepping into those thoughts with both feet. It feels so good . She aches for the younger woman who had somehow upended her entire life. It feels forbidden, but images of strong hands and red hair and loud laughter fill her up. She gasps at the sensation of being satisfied somehow by the mere thought of Ava. Maybe it has nothing to do with attraction, Deborah thinks, as she turns over, squeezing her thighs together. Maybe working with Ava is just mentally stimulating and it has been satisfying to meet one’s equal at last…
She quivers, trying to reign in her thoughts. It was as simple as denying herself sweets and carbs. She will just have to find something else to fill up her days so she is exhausted and won’t lay here thinking.
Deny, deny, deny…
But god, she is sick of denying herself of things. Of food, of love, of joy in simple things like compromising with an annoying Zillenial just to see her smile…She must be going mad. Deborah punches her pillow, trying to get comfortable. She has never needed anyone before now, so why on earth should she need an entitled young woman like Ava?
Because you make each other better and funnier, her brain answers, unbidden.
The ache feels unbearable suddenly. Deciding to feel guilty and repent tomorrow, she gives in. No one can see her and judge her here in the darkness of her bedroom. She imagines Ava and the look she often wore of pure adoration. Ava, Ava, Ava …
Deborah groans are muffled amongst the softness of her high thread count sheets. Then, she turns her face into the pillow and lets out a sob. Not of guilt, but of knowing that this is something she will never have.
The next day, she gives herself a stern talking to and fills her day with working in the rose garden and swimming multiple laps in the pool again, then going through her caftan cupboard. She calls an acquaintance to have dinner and they stay out until late, so Deborah feels properly tired by the time she is home again.
To her surprise, when she checks her phone when she wakes, there is a message from Ava. Her shoulders stiffen in anticipation, half dreading what it could be and half hoping. She gets up to go to the bathroom and leaves the phone on her bedside table. It’s probably just some stupid picture with a meme underneath.
It’s not.
It’s a picture of Ava laying against her pillow and making a funny face. The wallpaper behind her is faded blue, so she is probably in her childhood room upstairs. Deborah sits down heavily.
SOS: Going crazy here…
Deborah smiles and types a message back to her. I didn’t realise I was your emergency contact.
Fair. 😂
Btw found a Bath and Body Works candle in the gazillionth box we were going through called something dramatic like ‘ Wealth & Wisdom’ and thought it should be your next signature scent on QVC.
Deborah snorts with laughter and grins down at her phone. So…Ava had been thinking of her?
Think Power and Luxury suits more, don’t you?
Fo’ sure. Ava texts back with a winky face. Mom is calling me downstairs. Send help…
Good luck . Deborah closes her phone and taps it against her knee.
Going stir crazy here in Vegas was no good. It was time to do something. She’d given everyone some time off anyway, so there was nowhere she had to be…
Deborah makes a few calls and then allows herself to look at the photo Ava had sent once more before getting up.
The white clapboard house with blue window frames looks the same as it did at Dennis Daniels’ wake. The tree at the front of the house near the mailbox has blossomed and hangs over the chain-link fence which is perhaps the only difference. Deborah feels a surge of butterflies now that she’s actually standing here. She feels hot from the humidity and afternoon’s strong sun. She’d opted for her natural hair and dressed practically for the trip in flats, loose fitting dark blue slacks, a dark, lightweight, lacy v-neck with a grey and black flowery satin button-up shirt left open over this.
The van Ava’s mom drives is not in the driveway, and when no one answers the door after she knocks she begins to regret her impulsiveness. The guttural sound of a lawn mower reaches her ears as she stands on the porch, so she walks around the side of the house on the cracked paving stones. When she looks into the back yard, she puts out a hand to lean on the gate. Ava.
Ava is in a white tank top and faded jeans, a navy Red Sox cap pulled low over her face. Her skin is slightly pink from the hot sun. Deborah follows the lines of her arms, noticing how they flex as she manhandles the old gas mower across the lawn. She looks masculine almost, reminding her of James Dean or another heartthrob from her youth. It surprises her and thrills her in equal measure. Ava looks different here on her home turf. Competent. At ease. It makes Deborah feel shy.
Deborah realises she is staring and feels weird, like the neighbours might call the cops if she doesn’t make her presence known. She waves when Ava makes her next pass. Ava startles and takes a step back. She pushes up the bill of her cap to get a better look and just stares, mouth slightly agape.
When Deborah smiles at her, Ava’s face breaks into a huge grin and they both laugh. She flicks a switch on the mower and it rattles twice before going silent.
Ava makes her way across the half-mown lawn to the gate with long strides. She pulls her cap off and wipes her forehead before pulling it back on. She holds Deborah’s eyes as she gets closer, and Deborah’s middle erupts with butterflies again.
“Hey,” Deborah says, smiling softly.
“Hi.” Ava looks up from under her cap. She is sweaty and red from the heat and exertion, but her face is shining from more than just sweat. Her eyes sparkle in delight as she looks Deborah up and down trying to understand and believe she’s actually here.
She’s gorgeous and looks like home, and Deborah has to lean on the gate again.
“I got your SOS.”
Ava laughs softly. “I didn’t think you would actually come rescue me…”
“Well…” Deborah shrugs and looks up at the house. “I felt a bit guilty as I insisted that you come here.” She pauses and looks back at Ava, catching her eye. “I thought it would help,” she adds somewhat sheepishly.
Ava tilts her head to one side and bites the inside of her cheek. They share a look and Deborah knows it’s both a thank you and it’s okay, you meant well.
Ava reaches for the gate. “Mom’s out. Come in.”
Deborah steps forward and lets Ava usher her to the back patio where there is a garden table set and an outdoor couch.
“You want something to drink? Iced tea? There might be a can of diet coke somewhere…”
Deborah smiles up at her from the couch. “I’m good.”
Ava looks at the mower and then back at Deborah awkwardly.
“Go finish,” Deborah says with a wave of her hand.
“Are you sure? It’s just that I promised my mom…”
Deborah smiles at her. “Go on. It’s fine.”
Ava walks away, then looks back over her shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re here!” She grins.
Deborah laughs. She is happy to be here. Seeing Ava relaxes the cacophony of whirling thoughts that had been in her head for the past week.
Ava pulls the string of the mower three times before the thing rattles to life again. She continues her rows, struggling on the turns with the heavy machine. Deborah watches her fondly, enjoying the simplicity of the moment. The afternoon sun is warm, but there is a little shade here on the patio. The neighbour’s dog is barking. Deborah turns her face towards the sun for a moment, letting it fully warm her.
The motor cuts and Ava has finished her task. She pushes the lawn mower towards the garage and leaves it on the paving stones. She walks back to the patio, holding Deborah’s gaze as she wipes her hands on her faded jeans.
“Come with me?” Ava asks. “I need a smoke.”
“You’re far too young to have bad habits…” Deborah chides easily as she stands and follows her to the garage.
The garage is full of fishing gear, garden tools and random sports balls. It smells faintly of gasoline and paint. There are boxes hastily labelled with things like ‘Xmas Stuff’ or ‘Tax Returns’ or ‘Grandma’s statues’ along one wall. A workbench in the far corner is more organised with little drawers for screws or other such things. Tools hang on the wall behind it. A half-started project with some kind of metal lays on the bench and Deborah wonders if Dennis had left it with the intention to return to it one day. She swallows hard. It’s like Nina hasn’t touched the garage and has left it as it was – Dennis’ domain.
Ava puts away the lawn mower. She opens a drawer on the workbench and finds a cigarette which she promptly lights.
“It’s the only thing that’s been keeping me sane this week. I’ll give it up again when I come back to Las Vegas…” She looks at Deborah somewhat apologetically as she leans against the workbench.
Deborah nods and looks around her.
“Have you been going through his things?” She asks curiously.
“Trying to organise it, but not really sure where to start out here. His clothes and stuff have all been given away or shared with the cousins. I guess my Uncle Mitch could use his tools…” Ava glances at her quickly before darting her eyes away again.
“Do you want to give them away?” Deborah suspects no one has really asked her that.
Ava shrugs. “It’d be the most practical thing to do…Mom won’t touch them and I’ll just hammer my thumb or something…”
Deborah smiles at that. Ava scuffs her toe against a box. Up close, Deborah can see a hole in the side of the tank top and a smudge of grease across the hem. Ava pulls off the cap and tosses it on the bench before scratching behind her ear, the sweat making her itch. She is deliciously dishevelled. Deborah clears her throat.
“How about that drink?” She says, smiling at her.
Ava smiles back and nods. “Let’s go to a bar.”
“What about your mom? Isn’t she exp—”
“I’m not going to ask you to stay for coffee because my mom will just spiral once she gets back from the store about not having the right brand for you and it will just complicate things even more.” Ava stubs out her cigarette. “I’ll leave her a note.”
“Because that won’t make her spiral?”
Ava chuckles. “I’m good with my words – what can I say?”
Deborah rolls her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “Uh-huh…”
“How did you get here?”
“I got a rental.”
“Okay, good,” Ava nods. “I don’t know if I could manage to take you on the back of my old bike.” She wiggles her eyebrows and Deborah chuckles. “Let’s go then.”
Deborah follows her into the house through the back of the kitchen. She watches as Ava writes a note on the pad by the phone.
Standing in the front room of Ava’s childhood home feels odd. There is a clock ticking down the hours left in her life like some kind of judge, and the fridge in the kitchen is old and wheezy. She notices the old Wedgewood gas range in the kitchen and it reminds of the one her grandmother once had. The breakfast nook off the farmhouse style kitchen has ships on the wall paper and an old formica table. The wooden cross on the wall is as oppressive as the silence. It is tidy in the house, and Deborah wonders if Ava’s chaotic messiness is the result of a mother who kept things obsessively neat.
This home is slightly more middle class than her own home had been, but she can see the traces of the working man here. She can imagine Ava’s father Dennis coming home from long hours of physical work to pick up his only daughter and hold her in his arms. Something to savour when she became too big. She recognises the feeling, remembering when DJ suddenly wasn’t interested in being cuddled anymore. The yellowed phone on the wall with the extra long cord makes her smile as she imagines Ava trying to find some semblance of privacy from her overbearing mother to take a classmate’s call about homework. It’s easy to imagine Ava’s life here. And the oppressive silence tells her more than she needs to know. Ava had been miserable here and felt she didn’t belong, not because she was snobbish or looked down on her social class, but perhaps because she knew that there was more out there for her. Life here wasn’t enough. Deborah had had the same feeling. She didn’t want to be like her school friend Patty and marry the quarterback and work at the factory until she had two kids. She had made the mistake of wanting more – she used to wonder if her life had been the penance for daring to dream. She wonders if Ava has ever felt that way.
It’s loneliness that had defined her childhood, Ava had mentioned offhandedly the last time they were here. The lack of friends or meaningful relationships, or the way she had bulldozed her way into LA and the mess that had become had all defined her loneliness. Deborah understands that loneliness, but it’s harder for other people to pin down for someone like Ava, who is constantly moving in order to not be fully seen.
Deborah gets it because she is constantly moving too, letting work eat up the hours of the day. She used to hate “free time” – what an utter waste of potential money making and what’s the point when there is no one to really enjoy it with? It was different when Ava came onto the scene because free time suddenly became time to try to make each other laugh or for her to teach Ava something about wine or to go shopping. It was easier with her, and she wonders if the loneliness had become easier for Ava too. Deborah hopes that she has eased some of that feeling.
Ava’s voice breaks her reverie. “Let me just get freshened up…” She moves towards the staircase.
Deborah has the compulsion to follow her up the narrow stairs. Wants to not let her out of her sight, as if it will somehow break the spell. Yet, she is nearly terrified to be caught by Nina like she’s there with bad intentions to corrupt her only daughter.
“I’ll wait in the car,” she chokes out.
Ava turns on the stairs, hesitating, like she feels what Deborah has been thinking and wants to invite her up. A thousand thoughts seem to cross her face.
“Okay. I’ll be quick.”
It sends a thrill through Deborah, like they are sneaking around like a couple of teenagers, trying to avoid the adults lest they suss out what was about to happen and forbid it.
The car is warm, the leather of the seats burning hot through the expensive material of her trousers.
Ava joins her after eight minutes, wearing a short sleeved loose fitting black button down shirt tucked into high waist jeans. She has a denim jacket and a small brown purse with her that she chucks in the backseat. Her skin is red like she’s washed her face of the sweat of the garden work and her hair is half pulled back. She is wearing a perfume that reminds her of something vaguely masculine – like Old Spice or something similar.
Deborah shoots her a smile. “Ready?”
“Yep.”
“Where are we headed?”
Ava gives her directions to the local bar. Paul’s Place looks a bit run down at the edges, like it’s heyday was circa 1989 and it never really recovered from the 90s.
“It used to be my dad’s local,” Ava explains. “He could walk home after watching the Sox with his drinking buddies. He took me here for my first beer on my 21st…”
Deborah smiles at her sweetly, happy to be included in this bit of Daniels’ history.
Inside, the walls are lined with booths and TVs hang above the bar, currently showing some kind of horse racing.
“You want a cocktail or wine?”
“Wine, please.”
She watches as Ava goes to the bar and orders for them, admiring the shape of her leg when she puts a foot up on the bottom rung of a barstool. She has a kind of confidence Deborah hasn't seen much of before.
When she comes back with their drinks – a Chardonnay for Deborah and a Tom Collins for herself – Deborah half wishes she would slide into the booth next to her instead of across from her.
They say a quick “cheers” before tasting.
“How has it been?” Deborah asks, finally feeling like they can speak.
Ava takes another long sip of her drink. “Harder and yet also easier than I imagined. She’s so lost…but is determined not to be, and it’s endearing and sad all at the same time.”
Deborah nods.
“We’ve been going through all his stuff,” Ava says slowly. “I’m trying to focus on the physical aspect of moving everything…think Mom is kinda drowning in the emotional side of it…I’m trying not to…you know…for her…”
“Good idea, since you can’t swim anyway…” Deborah quips softly, trying to cheer her up.
Ava grins. “But I can float now. Thanks for that.” She holds up her glass in a sort of cheers.
She takes another, longer sip, leaning back against the booth. “I feel like this is the first time I’ve sat down and relaxed all week…”
Deborah looks at her, noticing the strained hunch of her shoulders from stress and the bags under her eyes. The girl doesn’t moisturise of course, but the bags are from fatigue. She wants to protect her from the hardships and anguish – wishes she could just pay someone to magic it all away. Wishes that this bright young thing in front of her hadn’t had to face loss and the uncertainties of life so young like she had done.
“Maybe you need an evening off?” Deborah says without thinking.
Ava looks up from her drink, slightly surprised as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to her. “Yeah, but I don’t really have any friends here…” she says, looking away again.
A pang goes through Deborah at the thought of Ava feeling that this fact was some kind of failure, followed by a slight irritation that Ava hadn’t understood that she was suggesting they do something together. She rolls her eyes. “Am I not your friend?”
Ava’s face breaks into a genuine smile. “Does that come before or after ‘plaintiff’?”
Deborah laughs loudly and rolls her tongue against her cheek. “Hmm, well I’d have to say before…Seems like you could use a friend right about now…”
Ava swallows hard and her eyes lock on to Deborah’s. “Damn straight.”
“Well,” Deborah chucks back the last of her wine. “That’s settled then.”
Ava looks at her eagerly, reminding Deborah of Cara when she was a puppy.
“Finish your drink and we’ll go into Boston proper. I’ll buy you dinner.”
Deborah can’t be sure if it is the light in the bar or if Ava is blushing. It makes her feel powerful.
Chapter 2
Notes:
Google Maps and I did a tour around Boston, so apologies if there are any mistakes.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It’s a 25 minute drive from Waltham to Boston’s city centre. They get dinner at a place Ava finds with good Yelp reviews that she assures Deborah is “up to Vance standards”, which it absolutely isn’t, but Deborah is not going to tell Ava that. She seems so happy to be out and about in a place she knows well that Deborah doesn’t want to burst her bubble.
“After this, I know a great place for ice cream!”
“How can you manage more?” Deborah teases gently.
Ava raises her eyebrows and says seriously, “Oh, for Van Leeuwen’s I defo can…”
So, Deborah lets Ava drag her out to Seaport which has less sea view and more concrete construction than anything. She takes a few bites of the proffered honeycomb flavour ice cream and avoids the sprinkles Ava just had to have.
Deborah is indulging her, but by doing so she is also indulging herself, which feels oddly gratifying. She doesn’t let herself feel guilty for lightly poking fun or the banter or making jokes. Ava seems giddy and is trying to make her laugh even more than usual. It’s catching and makes Deborah feel light as air. If she thinks about it too long she gets all trembly and so she keeps making more jokes to keep her mind occupied. It makes her want another drink.
“I should find a hotel,” she says instead.
“Oh, yeah. Cool.” Ava looks away at the construction near the harbour.
Deborah nudges her shoulder with her own, realising Ava thinks this is their night coming to an end. “I want a drink and I can’t keep driving around if I do that. Let’s find a hotel so I can park the car and we can take a cab to wherever else you deem a culinary delight…It’s your night – we’ll do whatever you want.”
“Like laser tag!?”
Deborah arches an eyebrow. “Okay, clearly I need to set some ground rules…”
Ava’s eyes light up as she laughs, and she slips her arm through Deborah’s. “OMG I know just the place…they have the BEST drinks…”
Deborah drives them to The Langham. “It’s where I always stay,” she says, though she’s only been there once. She knows it’s impressive and expensive, and she wants, for some unfathomable reason, to show off. Not that Ava cares about that kind of thing, but it makes Deborah feel powerful when she throws money about. She senses that she needs a moment to feel this, as she is slowly allowing Ava’s giddiness to affect her. She wants to feel capable and in control of herself going into the next part of Ava’s night out.
She secures a room and a parking spot for the car. There is a valet that takes care of the car and a bellhop to take her suitcase. Ava stands with her denim jacket in her hands, shifting from one foot to the other as she looks around the impressive lounge.
“It was a former Federal Reserve Bank,” the receptionist says as he pushes the bill towards Deborah.
Ava just nods and raises an eyebrow at Deborah when she sees the amount. Perhaps throwing down a couple thousand for a suite wasn’t all that impressive to Ava afterall. Deborah swallows hard. She takes the keycards and steers them out onto the street quickly.
“So, where to?” She asks, hoping the spell of the evening hasn’t been broken.
Ava turns and grins. “Ready to have your mind blown?”
Deborah rolls her eyes. “Really?”
Ava laughs softly. “Just wait!” She has organised an Uber which arrives surprisingly quickly. It takes them to a place that looks like a warehouse. There is a small side alley that Ava leads them into, moving towards the sounds of thumping music. Deborah feels her heart beat slightly faster. What if I can’t keep up… She’s suddenly worried she’s about to be led into a rave.
She breathes a sigh of relief when the door opens. There is a small queue to get fully in.
“It’s a micro cocktail lounge,” Ava says loudly in her ear, leaning towards her. “They make infusions!” She grins, looking pleased.
Deborah isn’t entirely sure what all that means, but Ava looks really happy to bring her here, so she smiles back. “Great!”
Once they finally get all the way in and Ava orders their drinks, Deborah realises that, in fact, it is great. The drinks taste amazing and unlike anything she’s tried before. She can’t really hear what Ava is saying, but she catches bits and pieces. Something about that she partied a lot in college, so she knows a lot of places in the area, even though she isn’t a townie.
They are near Cambridge, apparently, so the clientele is fairly young. Deborah feels a bit out of place and is mostly quiet, content to people watch and sip her drink. Ava smiles at her and leans closer.
“Wanna get out of here and try another place?”
Deborah nods.
“Take your time – I’ll order us a ride.”
Thank god she at least wasn’t making them walk or take electric scooters or something crazy. Ava is being attentive and puts a hand on her back gently as they walk out to get their ride.
The next place is across the river in Cambridge proper, near MIT, and the bartender makes their drinks using lab equipment and a blowtorch. There are some pool tables in the back and Ava convinces her to play a round.
“I haven’t played pool for years,” Deborah protests, waving her drink. She picks up a pool cue anyway.
“Wanna break? I mean, you are a veteran ball-buster…”
Deborah cackles and nudges her hip with the cue. “Like you aren’t? Show me how it’s done.”
Ava breaks and plays solids. She isn’t half bad at it, and Deborah lets herself be impressed.
“I’m just lulling you into a false sense of security,” Deborah says as she misses another shot.
“Uh huh.” Ava grins as she sinks the second ball in a row.
In retaliation, Deborah leans on the pool table near the next ball Ava is aiming for, letting her cleavage show a bit more with the angle.
Ava’s eyes travel up. Being observed like this, deliberately, makes Deborah’s pulse thrum. She allows half a moment of guilt before admitting to herself that she likes it. Likes to know she’s still got it. Likes that it is Ava.
“Trying to distract me, Vance?” Ava says, with a smile.
“Only if it’s working,” Deborah quips, standing up straight again.
“I think you know it is,” Ava says under her breath. She misses the shot to the sound of Deborah’s laughter.
Ava eventually wins, though Deborah teases that she let her.
A young couple has been hovering nearby, and the woman blushes when she stammers, “My mom and I loved watching you on QVC every weekend. I’m a big fan.”
Her boyfriend grins and throws an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders. “Wanna play a round together?” He has a thick Boston accent and it takes Deborah a moment to realise what he said.
“Um,” Deborah looks at Ava who shrugs, but clearly wants to. “Sure. Losers buy the drinks.” She shrugs back then shoots the couple her stage smile.
The woman blushes again as she nods wordlessly, clearly unable to believe her luck.
Deborah pairs up with Ava who plays well again. Ava often stands close to her, murmuring about which ball to try for. Deborah feels like Ava is staking her territory by proximity. She likes it and it makes her cheer a bit more exaggeratedly each time Ava sinks a ball. It comes down to the black 8 ball. The young man misses his called pocket by an inch. Ava rounds the table, studying the angles. She calls the pocket where Deborah is standing, aims, then looks at Deborah with a smirk when she shoots. It sinks in heavily and wins them the game.
The couple invite them to a party on campus in lieu of drinks. Deborah looks dubious, but Ava thinks it sounds cool as it is being held in a lab currently under construction.
“I don’t want to be raided and thrown in jail with a bunch of frat boys and nerds,” Deborah hisses under her breath as they follow the couple.
“Dude, if it looks sketchy we’ll just go again, okay?”
“Dude? Really…?”
Ava grins. “Sorry.”
The party is in full swing when they get there. The lab is clearly being torn down and there are bricks and plywood scattered around. They have to access it through a large broken out window, which Deborah shoots daggers at Ava for. “I’m going to need a tetanus shot after this,” she grumbles as she lets Ava help her through.
Inside, there is music and lights and someone has reclaimed the bricks for a makeshift bar. Ava squeezes Deborah’s arm and says, “I’ll be right back.”
Deborah wanders amongst the various huddled groups of young people. Someone has used some plywood to make a beer pong table. There are people smoking and dancing and Deborah smells weed.
“Are you a teacher?” A young guy asks Deborah, eyes glazed over in worry and confusion.
“No, I’m your mother,” She snaps back, voice strained. She feels out of place here and it makes her skin crawl.
Ava steps up beside her, handing her a drink. “Hey, she’s with me.”
The guy holds up his hand and backs away. Ava puts a light hand on her hip, gently leading them away from the music. She doesn’t remove her hand when they stop moving, and Deborah thinks she looks a bit smug, like she pulled the cool girl at last and doesn’t need to prove herself anymore. Deborah decides she’s glad to give her that feeling, if it is, and leans into Ava’s touch a bit more.
“Is this safe to drink,” Deborah asks, sniffing the red cup.
Ava tastes it. “Yeah, but it sucks…” She downs it anyway and makes a face. “Wanna get out of here?”
Before she can answer the young couple from before hail them like long lost friends and hand around some hand rolled cigarettes. Ava takes one and so does Deborah, to be polite. Ava has a lighter in her bag and lights Deborah’s for her. Their fingers touch as she cups the flame and their eyes meet. Deborah nearly chokes on her first inhale in many, many years from the look Ava gives her. It’s intimate, like they are the only ones in this half torn down lab.
Ava lights hers and exhales upwards, letting the smoke disappear above them. The young guy from the couple is talking, but Deborah isn’t really listening. She takes another drag and realises the tobacco has been mixed with weed. It’s a strange taste and hurts her lungs after the years of not smoking. She coughs. Ava’s eyes flick towards her, narrowing slightly. Are you okay? Deborah reads in her look. She nods nearly imperceptibly, and Ava’s eyes flick back to the guy. She feels Ava shift her body slightly closer.
Ava blows smoke rings as she talks with the couple. It’s oddly attractive. She enjoys watching for once. It is a nice change from always being the centre of attention. Eventually though a few other students do stop on their way past, recognising her. She chats with them while Ava gets pulled into a discussion about climate change with two nerdy looking young men in addition to the couple. She watches Ava enjoy her new found confidence and preen under the popularity of being with someone who, somehow, still opens doors and gets them free drinks.
She sees young men (and some young women) look at Ava and follows their trains of thought, and it makes her warm to know that Ava still turns to look at her to see if she is there, to find her eye and communicate something across the room. It makes her thrum with an energy that only hitherto writing a great punchline or delivering her best jokes to a sold out show had given her.
Deborah’s life has been full of parties – she has always been simultaneously a night owl as well as an early bird, always able to stay up late and get up the next morning without a care for her head. She’s hosted parties and soirees, attended parties with the rich and famous, award shows and network gatherings…but here, in Cambridge, Massachusetts, with her co-writer on a night out as friends instead of coworkers or opposing legal parties, it feels like celebrating .
She accepted something inside herself the moment she got on the plane. She wasn’t sure where it would take her, except to Ava. And knowing that was enough. This woman, this annoying Zillenial kid , has changed her life. Deborah’s been in this business for over 40 years and she knows from experience that things are always changing and moving. So, while it feels strange to have a life changing moment now, it feels natural all the same.
The two nerds leave when Ava wins the light debate that had come up. The woman from the couple has become very chatty and keeps putting her hand on Ava’s arm. They pass around cigarettes again. Eventually, someone pulls the guy from the couple into playing beer pong and his girlfriend follows him, waving goodbye.
“I think they were trying to get either me or both of us to join them in a threesome…” Ava says under her breath.
Deborah cackles. “Oh boy, first weed and now this…takes me right back to the 70s…” Her brain flashes with an image of watching Ava and the young couple, and the thought sends a thrill through her…her body pulses momentarily with want, and she swallows thickly.
Ava does a double take. “Okay, well we are talking about that immediately – you’ve had a threesome?”
Deborah smirks and shakes her head. “I never kiss and tell…”
Ava pushes her shoulder with her own. “I bet you have, you dirty diva. Not that threesomes are dir–”
“You want the rest of this,” Deborah says, cutting her off and waving the cigarette at her.
“Yeah, but I can save it for later.” Ava takes it and stubs out the end carefully. Deborah notices that her lipstick has stained the other end. Ava puts it in her small bag.
“Come on,” Ava says, taking her arm. “Let’s find us a place you like…”
They clamber through the window again and put some distance between them and the party before Ava pulls out her phone. The grand buildings of MIT stand proudly nearby, lit by lights below, and Deborah looks across the manicured lawns, wondering what life might have been like if she’d had the chance to go to university.
“How about this place,” Ava says, showing her the screen of her smartphone.
Deborah waves her hand. “Whatever you think. It’s your night, remember.”
“Okay.”
They walk a short distance until they can see the Charles River. The lights of the city are reflected in the water. Deborah shivers as a breeze comes up stream, carrying the tang of the ocean.
Ava slips her denim jacket over Deborah’s shoulders and rubs her arms. They walk a bit further to a bench, both swaying a bit from the drinks. Suddenly she feels like she is wearing Bobby Janowsky’s letterman jacket all over again in senior year. He’d been a terrible kisser but she had “won” over the head cheerleader and got to wear Bobby’s jacket for about a month before she’d moved on again. With Ava she would always be in constant competition with younger, hotter offers. But she didn’t mind a bit of competition. She still knew how to win.
Deborah wonders if this is what it would have been like if they had met in the same lifetime…wearing letterman jackets and parties…But then again, Ava would never have made varsity. She chuckles at her own little joke.
“What?” Ava asks with a smile.
“I was just thinking you never made varsity…”
“Nor would I want to…the jocks all hated me…who wants to be popular anyway, am I right…?” She grins self-deprecatingly as she pokes fun at herself.
Deborah laughs and pulls Ava’s jacket tighter around her shoulders. She catches the smell of Ava’s perfume on the collar and it makes her shiver again. The car arrives and Deborah lets Ava help her in. Ava has been attentive all evening and Deborah feels like she is on a date even though she invited Ava out. She wonders at herself and her racing thoughts. Maybe she’s a bit drunk or it’s the weed laced cigarette. She feels both dizzy and elated all at once.
The next place is more subdued, with low lighting and a colonial style design. There is music but it is lower than the last few places, though Deborah’s ears are still ringing slightly from the music in the lab. Men in suits and some couples sit in booths which offer privacy and intimacy. The one Ava finds is rounded, so they can sit nearer to each other rather than shout across the table.
Ava slides in and picks up the drinks menu. “Let’s get some snacks…I’m kind of peckish…”
Deborah smiles. “Munchies?”
Ava’s cheeks redden slightly. “Maybe…”
“Well, it’ll soak up some of the alcohol…I’ll get something too…”
So, they agree on some snacks, like vegetable chips and olives and little squares of cheese, and Ava orders Deborah a dirty martini, while opting for a rum and coke for herself.
“You keep bringing me drinks like this, I might get the wrong idea…”
Ava blushes but looks…thrilled…Deborah feels they are verging on dangerous territory and it sends a wave of butterflies through her.
“And what idea might that be?” Ava asks sweetly.
“Are you always this ham-fisted?”
“Don’t you know me? Duh.” She grins widely.
“I’m sure the MIT couple are still up for something. Surprised you didn’t get their numbers.”
“I got all the numbers I need, baby! Wooo!”
Deborah raises an eyebrow, then laughs. “You’re drunk.”
“So are you, or do you think you are immune?”
“I just hide it better.”
“Sure, Deb.”
They taste their drinks and Ava pops an olive into her mouth. “Hey, thanks for bar hopping with me,” Ava says softly, smiling. The low light catches her eyes and makes them sparkle, or perhaps that is just Deborah’s imagination.
“It’s been fun. Makes me feel young again…”
“D–you can party harder than anyone I know. I think you make me feel young. You don’t even seem buzzed!”
Deborah laughs, swatting her arm.
‘I’m serious,” Ava laughs, nudging her knee against Deborah’s. “Though, I think the next place needs to be a club so we can dance…”
“I might have to leave that to you…” Deborah feels tired at the thought of dancing and the noise and the press of bodies, when all she wants to feel is the closeness of Ava’s. She licks her lips. She should probably drink some water…
“Oh, no, for sure – we can do whatever you want. I like just hanging out.” It’s said honestly, so Deborah nods. Ava’s eyes linger and it sends another slip of excitement through her.
Instead of freaking out like the logical part of her brain keeps rearing up to tell her to do, Deborah sits in the feeling. She has pushed the envelope more and more all night, thrilled at her own daring and reveling in the way Ava had looked delightedly at her from under long lashes. It curls within her, drawing her deeper into the feeling.
Maybe it’s because she’s had too much to drink or maybe because she’d come here with some yet unknown intention, but all she knows is that she had to see Ava. Now they are here. Maybe she was tired of waiting and hoping for the best. Maybe she wanted to know what it was like.
“What's it like with a woman?” Deborah finds herself asking. Ava nearly chokes on her drink but somehow smoothly covers it up with a slight cough.
“How’d you mean?”
“Well, what’s the big deal?”
“Big deal?”
Of course she would choose to be obtuse right at this inopportune moment. She waves a hand – “the deeper experiences you talked about…”
Ava’s eyes go wide in understanding. “Oh. That.”
Deborah rolls her eyes.
Ava fumbles with her glass. “It’s very…um… soft,” she begins, looking at Deborah’s face for her reaction. “There’s more …” Ava spreads her hands, searching for the right words. “Um…You know…”
“Wow, you should be a writer,” Deborah snarks, “Forget it.” She feels stupid and wishes she hadn’t said anything.
Ava clears her throat. “Let a girl think. I’m one point five sheets to the wind – you can’t expect the cogs to work double time!”
“When do they ever?”
Ava chuckles. “Ha, ha…”
She thinks for a moment, chewing her lip. “No, but seriously…Being with a woman is softness and comfort but also urgency and want…it’s giggles and chit chat and slow and fast. It’s…heartbreakingly good when you’re on the same page and she does what you need before you can even ask…when you’re in tune with one another…”
Deborah hums. “Sure, but that’s just about the person?”
Ava concedes to this point. “Yeah, I suppose so…”
“So that’s it? It’s just…that?” Deborah asks, slightly disappointed.
“I just like it more,” Ava blurts out, as if she is trying to defend her point. “I like that I can take or be taken, or drive her wild with my tongue and then make her come undone until she screams…I love how her skin is soft under my hands and the evidence of her pleasure is all over my face…I love holding her down and showing her how much I want her. I love cuddling after and letting it be sentimental…I like looking after her…I like…the emotional intelligence…”
Deborah’s mouth goes dry as her heart pounds in her chest.
Ava’s eyes blaze. “I love making her come again and again, all night if she’ll let me, because it makes me feel like I’m finally doing something right for once in my fucking life.”
Deborah blinks and looks away. That control and meaning is something she understands. And yet, sex had never felt that way for her, and she wonders why. Sex with men had always felt performative after Frank. She hadn’t known any better with him and he’d been so attentive and sweet those first years. But it didn’t feel like what Ava had described… purposeful .
She wants those things Ava said — wants to be held and cuddled and fucked like she was more than a prize or a means to an end. She hardly dares to admit to herself that she wants to be adored and worshipped. Not like her Little Debbies, no, but in the way that someone looks at her, sees her for who she is, and likes her despite it all. Someone like—
Ava clears her throat. She’s never been one to shy away from honesty so Deborah doesn’t know why she looks breathless and embarrassed now. “You want another drink?” Ava asks, standing.
“Sure.”
But then Deborah catches Ava’s wrist, and feels her fingers tingling as if they were burning at their touch. Ava startles, looking down at Deborah’s hand and back up to her face. “I get it. And you do a lot of things right, Ava.”
Ava’s face softens.
“There’s a fancy bar at my hotel…we could get something there?”
Ava licks her lips. “Absolutely.” She then motions for the bill and insists on paying. She brings up her app for a ride again.
“You have to let me pay you back for all these rides.”
“You literally flew all the way here, plus you got dinner and ice cream. Let me be the one to show you around my city.”
So, Deborah lets her. She likes being taken care of in this way. She has her own drivers and planes and assistants for everything, but tonight she truly feels like she’s being taken care of. Ava wants to do it, and it makes them both happy.
They sit close, legs touching, in the small car that shows up as their Uber. Deborah is still wearing Ava’s denim jacket. Ava leans forward as they drive and points. “Look, that’s where the Boston Tea Party took place.”
Deborah looks and sees a large three-masted ship by the wharf. Ava is leaning nearly across her. If Deborah turns her head, even slightly, they would brush noses. She tries to focus on the rise and fall of her chest as she calms her breathing. Ava’s hand that had pointed lands on her knee as she sits back. They don’t say anything for the rest of the short ride.
Notes:
I'll upload the next two chapters as soon as I can!
Chapter 3
Notes:
Potential E rating.
Chapter Text
In the bar of the hotel, Deborah orders, as if now they are suddenly back in her domain. She usually doesn’t like being out of control…throughout the evening she has felt it slip away, realising that Ava makes her feel out of control. She’s not sure if she minds so much anymore.
When the drinks arrive, Deborah says, “Hey, I nearly forgot! I’ve got a copy of the DVD of the Special. I’m flying out again on Sunday to shoot the promo with QVC.”
“That’s awesome! Can I see it?”
Deborah hesitates for half a second. Will it look inappropriate if I take her upstairs? “Of course. I have it in my bag.”
Deborah moves on autopilot. They carry their drinks to the elevator. Deborah avoids Ava’s eyes as they ride up to the fifth floor. She lets Ava open the door to the room while she holds the drinks.
Ava lets out a long whistle as the lights come on. “Damn, Deb – this is, like, bigger than my new apartment!”
Deborah chuckles and follows her in. There is a sitting area with a fireplace and further inside is the bedroom and ensuite. It is decorated in shades of blue and cream, and while slightly outdated, looks very inviting. Ava drops down into one of the cream sofas.
“Oh my god,” she groans. “It’s so soft…”
Deborah puts their drinks down on the coffee table. She rummages in her suitcase until she finds the DVD. She brandishes it at Ava. “Here it is.”
Ava makes grabby fingers for it, even though Deborah was already handing it to her. “Ooh this looks good ,” she says, and Deborah beams.
Ava turns it over and reads the back. “Hey, should we watch it?”
Deborah scoffs, but then sees Ava’s eager face. “Well, I mean…if you want to.”
Ava stands up immediately and makes a bee-line for the TV in the bedroom. The TV hasn’t been updated in half a decade, much like the rest of the decor, so there is a built in DVD player. Ava puts in the DVD and fiddles with the buttons. She bounces over to the bed and hops on it, toeing off her shoes. Deborah has no choice but to follow. She feels nervous suddenly, as if they hadn’t been flirting the whole night and she’d read everything wrong.
“Yeah, I wanna see what the menu choices are,” Ava laughs. “I hope they included interviews or, you know, Jimmy telling the sob story of you keeping him as manager.”
Deborah tosses the remote at her and sticks out her tongue. Ava grins and picks it up from the bedspread and switches the output to ‘DVD’.
“For the 10 year anniversary edition we should do a writers and director commentary so we can talk about how hard some of the lines were or Elaine can agonise over the incompetence of whoever…”
“If anyone even buys it…”
Ava pushes the air out of her cheeks. “Pssh, of course they will! You’re Deborah fucking Vance!”
There is such faith in the show in Ava’s words that, between the humour, it is quite touching. It implies that their work will still be relevant in ten years time, and that she expects them still to be working together. She chuckles, but her mind begins to whirl.
Can she really ask that of Ava though…to be stuck with her for another ten years of peddling the same shit? Ava is so much more than that…She nearly wants to pause the DVD and take Ava’s hand and tell her that she has got to go find her own stories to tell. It sits within her uneasily.
Deborah passes Ava her drink and they sip quietly as the show begins. Deborah remembers the thrill she had felt standing on the stage and smiles. Ava gives a running commentary with little anecdotes or comments like “that was a nice crowd shot – Elaine did good…” Eventually, she stops, clearly reflecting.
“Do you ever feel like ‘now what?’ when you finish something good?” she asks.
“Looking for that next fix? Yeah, that comedic high is something you’re always chasing. I have been for forty years…it is never enough. And yet…it’s everything…even when it shouldn’t be.”
“Don’t get me wrong – what we created is amazing, and I’m so happy about it. But I thought it would feel more like a win…”
Deborah puts her head to one side and studies Ava. “What does it feel like?”
Ava shifts in her seat against the propped up pillows. “Like…” she pauses and takes a breath before looking right at Deborah. “Like the beginning and the end all at once…”
Deborah’s breath stutters. It’s how it has felt for her and that Ava feels the same…She doesn’t know what to do with that. She can’t reassure her either way. “I know what you mean,” she says instead. “I’m glad I made this…with you. Even if it doesn’t work out.”
Ava’s cheeks go a bit pink. “Likewise.”
Deborah puts her tongue in her cheek then quips, “Besides, you’re falling up the career ladder – you’ve got decades to still blow it!”
“I’ll drink to that,” Ava says, laughing. “Cheers…”
They watch silently after that. When the second part kicks into gear, where she and Ava had written some of the best lines, she glances over. Ava is mouthing the words along with her on screen and chuckling. A swoop of emotion surprises her, making her feel nearly off-balance. This person…gosh, what an absolute treasure . She downs the rest of her drink, trying to quell the feeling.
The roar of laughter of the crowd and Ava’s next to her fills her ears. It pulses down her chest to throb in the centre of her being. It turns her on, and she realises that Ava’s laughter is what she was chasing the whole time she was doing the special. It’s what she wanted to hear most of all.
“God, you’re so hot,” Ava says apropos of nothing and gestures towards the screen. She licks her finger, then puts it against something imaginary and makes a sizzling sound. “Like, too hot to handle…on fiiiireee…”
She turns her laughing face towards Deborah. It falls when she sees Deborah’s serious look. Her expression goes from uncertainty to something else entirely. It’s like she could read the desire in Deborah’s eyes and likes it, but is equally terrified of what it means. She blinks as her breath falters.
Deborah panics and sobers up immediately. “I should sleep. It’s late. Do you need me to call a cab?”
“What?” Ava looks at her, confused. “Are you kicking me out?”
“I don’t…We can’t—”
“What’s going on?”
“Christ…” Deborah mutters as she rubs her forehead. “This is insane…”
“What’s happening right now?” Ava asks again. “I thought we were just watching this and reminiscing on how good we are together…? Or am I missing something?”
“For Pete’s sake,” Deborah breathes, crossing her arms. We are more than good together and that’s the problem…
“Hey, you said you were being my friend tonight, not the plaintiff, not my boss…” Ava isn’t whining, not yet, but it grates against Deborah’s ear anyway because she’s right.
“Do you do this with friends?” She gestures to the little space in between them, all but hinting at the charged air.
Ava gives her a pitying look that just makes her angry. Of course she does. Probably fucks whatever walks by . That feels uncharitable and mean, so she breathes out long and hard to dispel the anger. She is not angry at Ava but with herself. Angry that she panicked when nothing had happened. Angry that she doesn’t know what to do about how she feels. Angry that Ava could have anyone but still chooses her like it wasn’t going to end in disaster. Jesus Christ …
“You want me to go?” It is said quietly, and Ava looks like she would do whatever Deborah told her. She would too, Deborah realises, and that just makes her feel domineering.
Embarrassed by her abruptness, Deborah shakes her head and takes a deep breath. “No, no, of course not…no, sorry, I just got really tired.”
Ava pauses the DVD. She sways slightly when she puts her glass down on the bedside table, reminding Deborah that they are both a bit more than tipsy. “Sure. But if you want me to go, I can go…”
She’s put the ball nicely in Deborah’s court. With a sigh, Deborah says, “No, it’s just…won’t your mother be worried?”
Ava’s brow wrinkles, like she’d completely forgotten they were in Boston and she had been sleeping at her childhood home for the past week. “Oh…no, I said I wouldn’t be back…said I was going out and staying with friends in the city. But, I mean, it’s whatever…”
Deborah laughs loudly as her shoulders relax, all anger and panic dissipating. “Presumptuous little shit…”
Ava just grins at her, not even remotely abashed. She even has the audacity to ask if she can sleep in the bed instead of on the couch.
Deborah stands and goes to find her wash bag in her suitcase. “Well, I guess you’re staying then. Watch the rest while I get ready…”
And just like that, they slip into their old routine from the road – talking through an open bathroom door while Deborah uses her serums and creams, discussing jokes and punchlines from the Special.
When she is done, Ava slides off the bed to use the bathroom, and Deborah turns off the TV before getting under the covers. She turns off the light, unwilling to see if Ava walks back in with just a tank top and panties on, afraid of what it might make her feel. The room spins as she lays there, so she closes her eyes tightly. Why did I drink so much…?
She hears Ava come back in quietly. She feels the mattress dip and her heart quickens.
Ava yawns and the blankets rustle as she gets comfortable. “G’night, Deb. Thanks for a great night out.”
“Night…” Her voice is high and she doesn’t recognise it. She hopes Ava won’t notice.
As it is, they both fall asleep quickly, tired out after the night’s activities.
Deborah wakes some time later, head throbbing slightly on one side. She gets up and finds a glass for water in the bathroom. She stands in the doorway, looking at the rounded shape in her bed, currently gently snoring. Somehow, she’d gotten used to it…would listen for it on the bus. Between that and Damien’s sleep talking about her schedule, she would know her entourage was asleep and she wouldn’t be interrupted. She could let her thoughts roam more freely then.
She finishes her water and returns to the bed. It’s a bit past three in the morning and the headache is starting to ease.
Ava stirs when she lays down again. Her hand reaches out and lands on her hip. “Y’okay?”
“Yeah. Go back to sleep.”
And with a jolt, Deborah realises, here in the middle of the night, in a Boston hotel, after a night of what was probably a date if you squinted, that she is going to have to fire her co-writer. It’s been allowed to go too far, and now they are here, and her stomach is flying into her throat as she shakes with nerves about the utter want she feels for the young woman next to her.
She should be ashamed of herself…She shakes her head and tries to find a cold spot on the pillow. Christ, what an almighty fuck up this was.
“Y’were s’cool to go to the party in the lab,” Ava mutters, words flowing together as she is still half asleep.
Deborah glances over and sees that her eyes are closed. Maybe if she doesn’t answer Ava will go right back to sleep.
“Did you like it?” Ava asks with a yawn. Fingers flex against Deborah’s hip and she stops herself from shrinking from the touch. Stops herself from leaning into it, too.
“Yeah.” Her voice is husky with sleep and the cigarette she’d had. But she feels it has betrayed her when Ava slides over and curls into her side.
Deborah’s breath hitches. “What…?” She stops herself from asking Ava what she is doing. She doesn’t want an answer. Because she’s thinking about what Ava said about cuddling and fucking, and her chest feels tight when she realises she hasn’t been breathing.
She sucks in air, which makes her cough and dislodge Ava.
“Wha-?” She raises her head and cracks open an eye. “Y’okay?”
“Yeah, sorry…” Deborah coughs again.
“Want water?”
“No.”
Ava yawns again, rubbing her head until her hair is sticking up at a funny angle.
For some unfathomable reason, Deborah finds herself reaching over to stroke Ava’s hair from her forehead. Ava leans into it like a cat. It makes Deborah want to scratch behind her ears to see if she’ll purr. She tucks the soft red hair behind an ear instead, stroking her cheek with her thumb. She feels a slip of alarm run down her spine, but quells it with a deep breath.
“Go back to sleep,” she says softly, though unwillingly to stop her thumb’s errant movements.
Ava hums and leans closer to her touch.
It sends a flush through Deborah, her cheeks reddening with heat. She touches Ava’s arm with her other hand. She wants to push her away, but can’t seem to do it. The whole evening has led to this.
Hell, the whole tour has — their jokes and one-up-man-ships egging them on through the continental US... Ava was intelligent, she had realised once she had finally begun to understand half of what the girl was talking about. Her humour was attractive; her brain and wit were thrilling . Deborah felt she had finally met her equal. Someone who knew what she wanted to say nearly before she did herself. It makes the sudden intimacy of this moment feel less awkward. Deborah swallows hard nonetheless. “Ava…” she murmurs, her voice pitched low with emotion.
Ava opens both her eyes and freezes for half a second, waiting for her brain to catch up and tell her that she is awake. Deborah juts her chin slightly, as if she is daring her.
Then, Ava’s breath hitches, and it nearly sounds like she is about to say something when she leans in slowly and kisses Deborah fully on the lips. Deborah pushes her lips against Ava’s, feeling their softness. The desire it conjures in her sinks right down to her core, and she begins to tremble.
Ava pulls back slightly to look at her curiously, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. When Deborah doesn’t say anything, the corner of her mouth goes up in a slight smile, a hint of something like smugness there.
Ava, her movements slow and measured, puts an arm around Deborah and leans her back against the mattress. Deborah strokes Ava’s hair again, enjoying the soft feel and grounding herself with the motion. She likes the weight of Ava against her; likes how it makes her feel secure and safe.
She seems to be waiting, perhaps for permission. “Do it again…” Deborah whispers.
Ava finds Deborah’s lips immediately. The kiss is hard and urgent, so she adjusts her position so it’s easier for Ava to reach and guide her lips. Ava’s thumb caresses her cheekbone softly. Deborah relaxes more at that and suddenly the kisses become electric. They become everything.
She tastes of toothpaste and something sweet, Deborah notices. Ava’s lips are soft, then hard, then insistent. She opens her mouth as she tilts her head to get closer to Ava. With a low groan, Ava runs her tongue along her bottom lip. Deborah pushes forward, opening her mouth even more, goading Ava’s tongue. She tentatively licks into Ava’s mouth. They gasp simultaneously as their tongues meet, and Deborah pushes against Ava, seeking something more, feeling her core burst into flames as their tongues touch for the first time.
Her whole body seems to pulse, and her heart beat is loud in her ears. She breaks away, trying to catch her breath.
Ava kisses her cheek sweetly, nuzzling her.
“This is probably a bad idea…” Deborah chokes out.
She can feel Ava shrug. “Eh, maybe. Or one that’s getting better…I mean, I think it’s a great idea.”
Deborah chuckles. “You would.”
“Hey, I’m not the only one getting off here. It could be great for you, too. Don’t knock it until you try it, you know what I’m saying?”
“Christ, please never go into sales…”
Ava grins at that. “Deal.” She kisses Deborah again. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do…” she murmurs against her lips. “Is it okay? Do you want me to…?”
“Are you going to ask questions the entire night?”
Ava laughs loudly, then sobers when she sees Deborah’s face. “Oh, um…well…”
“I can’t concentrate if you keep talking…” Deborah sighs and rolls her eyes.
Ava giggles and leans in to kiss her, nipping at her bottom lip. “It’s not an exam you have to pass, D…just go with the flow…”
Deborah pulls her head back to look at Ava. “I want you so much, is that wrong?” She whispers frantically, eyes darting across Ava’s face. She is terrified of what the answer might be.
“Oh god,” Ava groans, closing her eyes. “Me too…so bad…Fuck…”
“Is it wrong?” Deborah asks again.
Ava opens her eyes. “No,” she says seriously, face honest and open. “We are consenting adults, right?”
Deborah nods and bites her lip. “You sure?”
Ava raises an eyebrow. “That I'm an adult or that I’m consenting?”
Deborah’s face relaxes as she breaks into a smile. “You little shit…” She laughs.
Ava strokes her cheek, waiting – it’s as if she can feel the hesitation still within Deborah.
“I’m…I want…” Deborah pauses, unsure.
Ava nudges her with her nose, indicating she should finish her thought.
“I’m not young…” she whispers, hating how vulnerable she sounds. “I want it to be perfect...for you.”
Ava leans into her body, breathing her in. “It already is,” she whispers back.
Deborah melts at that. Ava kisses her again, slipping her tongue inside, and Deborah slants her mouth, craving her nearness. It feels like they have finally arrived – at what, she’s not sure, but it feels good and right and familiar.
They move against one another. Ava is soft, but her mouth is demanding. Ava kisses like the thought had never crossed her mind that she wasn’t good at it. And she’s very good at it. Soft yet insistent. Deborah allows herself to want more.
“Touch me,” she husks and Ava whimpers, licking into her mouth and shifting to angle herself better. There is no use in denying it now.
They smile at one another and then Ava touches her, tracing the lines of her body, each pass of her hand more deliberate than the last. Hands tug at Deborah thrillingly, and she wants Ava to take her in a way a man has not been able to for years. She can feel the way Ava unashamedly desires her. She lets Ava take off her clothes, and she helps to pull off Ava’s. She wants and wants and wants, letting herself give into everything she’s ever denied herself.
Ava makes these noises as she mouths at her breasts and they continue to go straight to Deborah’s core. It is overwhelming to know that Ava is enjoying it – that she wants her. Deborah grabs Ava’s hair roughly, hoping to hear more of those intoxicating noises and to let her know she is desired too.
Ava rolls her hips in response and they both gasp.
“Please,” Deborah hears herself whimper.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous…the most beautiful woman…inside and out…” Ava doesn’t give Deborah time to scoff at that, but takes her into an embrace before squeezing her gently. “I…Can I…” Ava stops, unsure if she is allowed to request things.
“Tell me…” Deborah breathes, desperate to know.
“I want to make you come with my name on your lips…” Ava’s voice is low and husky by her ear, and Deborah shivers with anticipation. “Do you trust me?”
“Completely.” Deborah actually means it, which is perhaps a surprise to them both.
“Deborah,” Ava husks, leaning down, kissing along her cheek down her neck to her shoulder. “God I’ve thought of this…of you…I’ve wanted you for so long and felt awful about it, like I was abusing your trust or something…”
Deborah’s hips twitch at the thought of Ava thinking of her, perhaps as she had done only a few nights ago. She finds Ava’s lips again. “I thought of you too…I missed you so much I had to touch myself…” She can’t believe she just said that, but it doesn’t feel as embarrassing as she would have thought.
Ava’s jaw drops at this intimate admission.
After her brain catches up, it acts as some kind of ‘go-switch’, because suddenly her hands are everywhere. Fingers caress nipples and then the inside of Deborah’s thigh. Palms warm the skin along a leg, then smooth across a breast. And then, two fingers are sliding through the slick heat of her, and she arches her back at Ava’s touch. A nipple is sucked into Ava’s mouth so Deborah arches further into her. Hands grasp, urgent now.
As if she had read Deborah’s mind, Ava enters her with two fingers, setting a slow and even pace. The noises they both make encourage them, and they move together, finding a rhythm quickly. It’s different than a man, not as insistent or uncomfortable, Deborah thinks. Ava is circling up now, letting her palm gently touch her clit. It sends skittering sparks of pleasure along the back of her legs to her core. She clenches and Ava groans, picking up the pace as if it were her own release she was seeking.
Deborah leans her head back, closing her eyes. She can feel her mind trying to talk her down, not allowing her to feel this enormous pleasure too quickly. It was a battle she had often faced, the habit of denying any sort of self-indulgence. She tries to refocus.
“Don’t hold back, just let go…” Ava pants. “You feel so good…”
Christ, how did she know?
Ava brings her out of her head with deep kisses, using her tongue and lips to draw her head up off the pillow. The pace increases, and Deborah gasps.
“Right there,” Deborah manages right as Ava curls her fingers just so. Ava, Ava, Ava…
The tightness releases with a smothered cry. “Oh, Ava…” falls from her lips as she fights to regain her breath. The bed sheets are clenched in her hands, and she’s flying. Her legs clamp around Ava’s hand as she shudders.
Ava drops her head against Deborah’s hip, chest heaving. “Fuck…you’re amazing…” she kisses the nearest bit of her skin.
Ava slips her fingers out gently and moves on top of her, melding their bodies. “I want to feel you,” she husks, lips light against her neck.
Deborah arms go around her, hugging her close. “Relax on me.”
“I don’t want to squish you.”
“You won’t.”
Ava relaxes her weight, and Deborah tightens her grip.
“You okay?”
Deborah nods. “Yeah.” There is so much more talking than she is used to, like Ava had said, and because they know each other so well, it feels easy.
“You’re very good at that,” she admits softly, rubbing Ava’s arms and back.
Ava lifts her head and smiles down at her. “You are so hot.” She looks thoroughly pleased with herself and Deborah chuckles.
Ava kisses along her neck again, moving downwards. Deborah tugs at her. “Come back here a minute…”
Ava slides up, gasping slightly when their breasts roll over each other. Deborah’s hands reach down, cupping Ava’s ass and pulling her up to straddle her waist. “I want you right here…” Deborah squeezes her ass, making her giggle. She likes how her hands are full of Ava.
Deborah gives her a half smile before kissing her, using her tongue to deepen the connection. She wonders if she should be slower or more tender, to touch her face and kiss a bit more than she would with a man. But Ava moves against her with a grunt and reaches around to her hip to pull their bodies even closer and begins to move against her waist, seeking some kind of friction. It thrills her and excites her. She moves against Ava just as insistently, wanting more.
She stops thinking and just does what feels natural. She wants to take and take and take – to give in to something that feels like second nature somehow with someone who has consistently matched her, unafraid to go toe to toe.
Deborah flips them over, causing Ava to yelp.
“Fuck, I forgot you’re like a rowmaster fiend…”
“Uh huh…” Deborah latches on to her nipple, making a wet sound. Ava’s breasts are beautiful and sweet. She’s seen them before, but now it’s for her and not some ex in LA. This feels like some extension of their closeness. It’s as natural as if they were picking up a conversation. It feels like home being here with her like this. God, I’m going to combust, Deborah thinks as the realisation hits her.
“Have you been thinking about this all night?” Ava asks as she cups her head, pulling her from her thoughts.
“Yes…” she breathes and Ava whines, actually whines , and it goes straight to her clit.
“Jesus Chr–” Ava gasps loudly as Deborah uses her teeth. “FUCK!”
Deborah pulls her head up, concerned. “Did I hurt you?”
“Yeah, but apparently I like that from you, so…” Ava laughs, grinning down at her. “Go ahead…”
Deborah snorts and obliges, using her teeth against a nipple. Ava isn’t taken by surprise this time, so instead she rolls her hips up. “Put your knee between my legs,” Ava instructs. “Please…”
Deborah does, and Ava grinds down on it with a groan.
“Such a wet girl, aren’t you…?” Deborah purrs. Ava’s eyes shoot open as her chest and face begin to go red. The words just seem to fall out of her mouth – she hadn’t even consciously thought about it. It’s like all the dirty thoughts she’d ever bottled up about Ava are spilling out. Deborah repeats her attentions on Ava’s nipples, watching her with interest while mouthing at the softness there. Ava grinds down again and again.
“Is it okay?” She pants. “I’m not hurting you?”
“Not at all,” Deborah husks, letting her tongue slide up Ava’s chest to settle on her pulse point.
Ava lets out a sound that makes Deborah grab her hair again. It causes a long moan from Ava, and Deborah loves the way she lets herself go entirely.
Then, Ava is coming against her leg and hearing her cries of pleasure in her ear makes Deborah feel like the most powerful woman in the world.
Chapter 4
Notes:
Thanks for all the lovely comments so far!
Looking forward to enjoying Season 4 with you all, Hacks fam x
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
They don’t leave one another’s arms the rest of the night, and if they do it is only to take trips to the bathroom or drink water with two Tylenols.
Deborah finds it incredibly unfair that Ava can make her come while they are laughing together. But perhaps it was just another extent of their intimacy. Seeing Ava smile while using her mouth on her was certainly seared in her brain now.
The taste of her and the feel of her, wet and eager, doesn’t leave her mind either. She can’t believe she’s having the best sex of her life with someone who doesn’t know when to shut up and if she does, she only wants to hear the sound of her voice again. It’s infuriating.
They sleep off and on until mid-morning and order breakfast via room service. They move to the sofas and sit next to each other in white terry cloth bathrobes while they eat.
“I can’t believe you came to save me,” Ava says quietly, like it’s a revelation, over her pancakes.
“You didn’t need saving,” Deborah argues gently. She strokes Ava’s hair.
“Well, maybe you saved me anyway,” Ava says with a shrug.
“I should have saved you from myself…” A flash of remorse mixed with anguish crosses her face and Ava frowns.
“Don’t let me in only to push me out.”
“I’m not.”
Ava gives her a look and Deborah squirms. “I’m trying not to.”
Ava’s face relaxes. “Fair enough.”
The thought of having to fire Ava comes to mind again.
Ava’s phone buzzes for the millionth time, so she groans and gets up to retrieve it. “Fuck, my mom has called like five times!”
“You’d better let her know you’re okay.”
Ava texts, but then her mom calls again. She looks at Deborah helplessly.
Deborah says quickly, “Blame it on me. Tell her we’ll come in the afternoon.”
Ava nods and takes the call, relaying this amidst Nina’s neurotic rambling.
So, after a long shower together and lunch in bed, they stop to pick up coffee beans and cakes at The Tradesmen on their way back to Waltham. They hold hands while driving and Ava keeps staring. It makes Deborah smile to remember how she came undone under those hands.
The house looks the same as it did yesterday, but Deborah feels differently about it. There’s an undercurrent of guilt, like she’s snuck Nina’s daughter out with bad intentions. She reminds herself that wasn’t how it was and neither of them have done anything wrong.
Ava lets them into the house. Nina hugs her like she’d been gone for weeks and Deborah stops herself from rolling her eyes.
“I can’t believe you just left, Ava,” she admonishes. “I bought a rotisserie chicken.”
Unwilling to let Ava take any kind of blame, Deborah steps forward. “That’s my fault, I’m afraid, Nina.”
Nina looks at her like nothing could ever be her fault.
“I was in town for something else and wanted to celebrate the final cut of our Special.” She hands her a copy of the DVD. “You should see what your very talented daughter has been working on. She’s an incredibly hard worker.”
Ava smirks from behind her mother’s shoulder, but Deborah ignores her.
Nina seems to brighten at that, as if Ava’s work ethic is somehow credit to her as well.
“I brought you coffee,” Deborah adds, handing her the packaged beans. “As a thanks for letting me steal her away for a bit.”
“We’ve got some cake too,” Ava puts in, walking into the kitchen with the box. “Let’s have coffee, yeah?”
Nina gets flustered and begins to flap around the kitchen like a headless chicken, finding the grinder for the beans and pulling out her old fashioned measuring scale to do things precisely.
Ava shoots Deborah a look and mouths thank you. Deborah just smiles.
“I’m gonna show Deb my room. Be back in five, Mom.”
Nina just waves her hand and goes back to measuring.
Deborah follows Ava up the narrow stairs and grabs her ass when they are out of view because she can. It makes Ava giggle and sends shimmers of delight through Deborah’s middle. The last time she’d been in this room it was just after the funeral. Now, it seems slightly more organised and lived in than last, with yesterday’s clothes strewn across the end of the bed and a coffee cup on the desk, and an open suitcase in the middle of the floor.
Ava begins to tidy and move some things out of the way while Deborah looks at the photos on the wall. They are the same as last time, but it feels different now – as if they are windows into a person she knows so well now. They are a part of her.
“I wish you could have been there,” Ava blurts out, going slightly red. “Like all of the big things…it feels somehow weird that we’ve lived our lives and you weren’t there to see me stumble through first communion or embarrass myself in the school play…”
Deborah smiles and pushes the sense of panic down. Of course she’s infatuated…she’s so young…
“Well, maybe you’re glad I missed those particularly embarrassing moments, hmm?” She quirks an eyebrow at her.
“Yeah. Maybe.” Ava grins over at her. “Sorry. I know it’s crazy.”
“No. Don’t be. I like the sentiment.”
Deborah thinks for a moment. “I suppose, it would have been great to have you around for some of my first shows…would have made me a bit calmer.” She shrugs non-committedly, but still shoots Ava a smile.
Ava’s face changes with that revelation. She means something to Deborah and has a purpose. And not just at making her come. The realisation makes her look radiant.
The look Ava gives her makes her nearly swoon. The panicked thought of being her first love makes her want to run, but she’s been the first love for other people before and they all survived. She will too. Deborah doesn’t know what to do with her face as all of this sits within her. She wants to look away, but can’t.
“Then don’t look at me like you’re saying goodbye,” Ava whispers.
Deborah’s breath catches in her throat. Damn Ava for knowing her so well. It’s disarming. She likes to be in control of things, and Ava simultaneously makes her lose control and gain it right back. Tilting her head, Deborah looks at her and realises she has never met anybody who has made her lost for words so often.
Instinctively, she reaches for Ava. I will have to let you go… she brushes her red hair back behind an ear, her face softening. I can never let you go. It will take all of her strength when the time comes. She knows this like when she has her audience in the palm of her hand. For now, she will let the sensation of Ava’s lips empty her mind and fill her heart. She doesn’t want to think any more.
She pushes Ava up against the door, her lilac bathrobe cushioning the sound. She reaches down to undo her trousers and slides a hand below her panties, groaning as her warm heat greets her familiarly, welcoming her home.
A muffled “ohmygod” tumbles from Ava’s lips as she closes her eyes and lets Deborah take her. She shushes her gently when Ava moans a bit too loudly. She rolls her hips against Ava and moves her hand quickly, building her up in no time. Ava’s face breaks and she drops her head on Deborah's shoulder, burying her face in the crook of her neck as she pants.
To remember me by flashes through Deborah’s mind. She pushes the thought roughly away and kisses her dirtily, both of them open mouthed and panting.
Ava takes her hand and cleans her fingers with her tongue, holding Deborah’s eye the entire time. It makes her throb.
“We had better go down,” Deborah says quietly, the world around them breaking in again.
“Yeah,” Ava says weakly. “I’ll change.”
“Okay.”
“Stay,” Ava says, putting her hand on Deborah’s arm. Her eyes are asking watch me , and it sends a pang through Deborah. She’s so vulnerable here in her childhood home that it makes her want to save her all over again. So, she stays and helps her pick out a top and makes scathing jokes about the state of her wardrobe from circa 2006. They go down to the smell of freshly roasted coffee and squeeze each other's fingers before taking the last step down into the sitting room.
Nina has broken out the fancy Wedgwood ‘Wild Strawberry’ china from Ava’s grandmother and set it up neatly. “There you are,” she says smiling. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted the cake now or something else…”
Ava steps forward and helps with the last things while Deborah sits on the sofa and drinks her coffee. She watches Ava surreptitiously, realising she has fallen for her without meaning to. She wonders if you can be homesick for a person. I didn’t even know I was homesick until I met you , she thinks as Ava grins over at her.
They will fly to Philly tomorrow and cross the next bridge when they get to it. There will have to be some serious conversations, probably some arguments if she knows them at all. But for now, she just grins back and lets the warmth of the coffee remind her that she’s not just alive, but she is living .
Notes:
I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I did writing it.
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