Chapter Text
Deborah Vance is by no means a saint. Raunchy segments belong to her standard repertoire and she never turns a deaf ear to hot gossip.
But since meeting Ava Daniels, the meaning of Too Much Information has never been more apparent.
Creative partners or not, she knows Ava more intimately than any employer should and there's no acceptable explanation for why the uninvited details about her life burrow so deeply into Deborah's mind.
She can admit there are usable jokes hidden among her chatter, sometimes ideas that Deborah could perfect. But too often what comes out of her mouth could be labeled under 'keep this to yourself'.
The one perk is that Ava has given her all the strings to pull when Deborah wants to see her squirm.
The list is endless.
Ava prefers masturbating on her stomach. She's stopped shaving since last year. Her folder for ethically produced porn is causing processing issues for her laptop. A week without touching herself is like a week without water. Impossible.
She's a sexual deviant, Deborah has learnt over the years, one who most recently needed two partners to satisfy her. A more neutral description would be attention depraved, fickle young woman. The sex she has is probably nothing extraordinary, but Ava could be easily wooed and she runs her mouth like it pays her money. All in all, her bedroom habits sound awfully exhausting. Good for Emily and Dev for dumping her.
Of course, while Deborah enjoys herself plenty, she doesn't have the libido of a twenty-nine year old. But even when she was younger, sex or masturbation were never something that haunted her constantly.
And this afternoon, when it couldn't be more obvious that Ava has just shoved a hand down her pants, Deborah barges into her office.
"Ava, I need the—"
"Oh my fucking god," Ava's a startled, flustered mess behind her sturdy desk, squirming on her chair like a caught thief without an escape plan. "Almost a century old and you can't knock?" Riled up Ava spits. Her face shines like a bright red ruby of embarrassment — and something that burns even deeper than shame.
The heady look that Deborah has witnessed too many times in too many places. Under her own roof, on the tour bus, in dimly lit bars and shared hotel rooms.
With her eyebrows raised, Deborah clicks the door behind her and steps wordlessly into the space. Guilt seizes Ava like clockwork.
"Fuck—I'm sorry," she sighs and drops her head against the desk with a thud, "I didn't mean that."
"By thirty I'd expect you would've figured out how locks work, even if your mother didn't let you have one on your door," Deborah says, taking a seat on the incredibly bland armchair facing the desk. The head writer's room is in desperate need of furnishing; it couldn't be farther from an inspiring work space. Aesthetics have never been on top of Ava's priority list but Deborah would be more than happy to help her.
Deborah crosses her legs and smooths her pants, waiting for Ava to compose herself. At least the girl had the decency to shut the blinds before getting to it.
"Yeah.. She didn't," Ava responds hollowly after a moment. "What do you want, D?" She lifts her messy head, pained hazel eyes meeting Deborah's.
"Well, I had some questions about tomorrow's script but you seem to have your hands full. Miraculously." Deborah smiles, bright and innocent. It's been a while since her last quip about Ava's catcher's mitts. A welcome classic.
She peers at the girl, who stays hunched over the desk with her hands tucked just out of sight, perhaps still between her thighs or resting on her lap, staining her slacks.
Ava clears her throat and straightens up, arms staying down.
"It's, it's ready — just the Susan Sarandon bit needs a couple of tweaks. It'll be yours in a jiffy. An hour, max," stammering Ava assures, eager to be left alone.
Unfortunately for her, Deborah is little too amused to leave.
"You have a problem, you know?" she pokes at Ava.
Her reddening expression reveals she knows exactly what she's being accused of, but decides to play oblivious anyways. Her big brave girl often proves to be a big stupid girl, too.
"It's all good actually, just minor fixes. I fucked up the formatting—"
"Can't behave for a day? Wait until you get home?" Deborah pushes further, backing her to an imaginary corner.
"I…" Ava breaks their eye contact, fidgeting on her seat, the panic and frustration flashing on her face almost adorable.
"God, can't even imagine what the HR will say about this," Deborah interrupts again, pretending to inspect her nails.
"Relax okay, I-I wasn't doing anything indecent."
Deborah snorts. Ava Daniels and lying have never been a working duo.
"Do you think I don't remember that face? Try again."
Each time she's walked in on Ava's post-orgasm bliss or been disturbed by the noises from her room, is seared in Deborah's mind. Just like the the sight of her during her little basement photoshoot.
"Fine, look. We don't have to make this a problem. You can't prove anything, plus the HR hates us both. Surely you don't want another panties episode?" As always, Deborah could hold up a royal flush in front of her and Ava would still try to get the upper hand.
It doesn't have to become a problem, no, but Deborah can hardly resist an opportunity to chide Ava when she so deliberately hunts for trouble. It's an addictive cycle. Winding the girl up is her favorite drug.
Deborah leaves her chair and for a split second Ava looks hopeful, until her heels don't turn for the exit.
"Get up."
"W-What?"
"Get up," Deborah repeats, making her way around the desk, "Since you weren't up to anything."
Deborah doesn't have to be a mind reader to know Ava prays the earth could swallow her. Still, bravely she does as told, slowly standing up and pushing her chair back. Deborah trails her fingertips along the edge of the desk as she reaches her side and takes a long, unsurprised look at her.
Ava's high-waisted slacks are loose by her hips thanks to an unbuckled belt; under her blazer her white shirt is untucked with its last few buttons open. She hasn't changed a bit. Deborah sighs.
"Come here." She curls her finger and Ava complies, stumbling towards her. "You don't have anything inside you, do you?" Deborah squints, reaching for her belt loops.
"N-No," Ava protests, "I'm not that brave. Yet." The look Deborah gives her gets her to quickly add an emphasized 'kidding' before she looks down between them, where Deborah's hands are claiming her hips.
"Good."
Deborah draws her in and Ava's jaw nearly hits her shoulder. She's stiff and awkward, which is the usual effect Deborah's proximity has on her.
Truth to be told, Deborah expected her to have grown out of it by now but Ava's crush on her persists through every high and low. It's almost admirable — even impressive considering that Ava has never made a move on her. At least not one that counts in Deborah's books, nothing beyond pestering her to 'explore her sexuality'.
Her longing looks and dreadful flirting could be disregarded because, frankly, Ava would flirt with a tree, especially if it had a pair of tits. No, if Ava has ever attempted to earnestly confess to her, Deborah was too drunk to remember it.
Either way, the most indulgent and possessive parts of Deborah are glad Ava is stuck to her. The lengths she's gone to just to stay by her side, thrill Deborah inside out. Rationally, she knows nothing about their dynamic is healthy or sustainable and Ava would eventually break out of her spell.
"You play stupid games, Ava," Deborah whispers now, finding the zipper of Ava's pants and carefully pulling up. Standing still surprisingly docile, Ava mumbles something incoherent and closes her eyes as Deborah buttons up her slacks.
"There's nothing I can do for you if someone like Rob found you like this." Deborah feels the thin belt around her waist. "Or what about one of your writers? Is this the example you want to set?" She tugs at the leather and adjusts the buckle, the movement making Ava sway again, and Ava steadies herself by grabbing her sides.
Deborah opens her mouth to tell her to keep her hands to herself, but Ava's voice emerges before hers.
"Could help me though."
"Excuse me?"
"Help me finish."
Ava's touch veers to Deborah's lower back as she stares at her with a charged look of affection. It messes up her every train of thought. Deborah's cheeks turn pink at the blatant attempt to get her to cross the line that she works tirelessly to maintain.
"If you.. Wanna," Ava quietly cues in, somehow having the nerve to act shy after asking her boss to get her off.
She's never touched Ava, not exactly for the lack of wanting, but because of the daunting mountain of consequences. Overconfident Ava could push past it, and it leaves Deborah as the only one with any resemblance of self-control. The leash that keeps both of them at bay is in Deborah's hands and Ava finds a way to ease her grip, time after time.
"Did you hear a word I just said?" Deborah whispers.
Ava shakes her head and before her lips can turn into a grin, Deborah lowers her palm over the girl's clothed crotch.
She squeezes, not hard like she would a man who's irritated her, but enough to make Ava whimper. The sound gives Deborah an instant rush, a need to hear it again.
"You really are shameless," she says as Ava calls out her name, her breath hitting Deborah's ear.
"I-I didn't think, you'd actually—Ah," she whines, high-pitched as Deborah nestles her hand further between the warmth of her thighs.
"Keep your voice down before you get both of us fired," Deborah doesn't intend to sound gentle but with Ava's clumsy, clutching hands around her and her head resting on Deborah's shoulder, she's too defenseless.
Their clothes rustle, Deborah's silk chafing against the rough of Ava's blazer as Ava strokes herself along her hand. She does her best to trap her whines behind her lips, but staying completely quiet would be too much to hope for.
"Y-You're the only one who wants to see me," Ava mumbles, "Rob probably doesn't even remember I have my own office—f-fuckh," her voice squeaks as Deborah's fingertips press harder into the seam of her slacks.
"It's not about wanting. If your writers are any good they have to see you."
"May—Maybe they're jerking off somewhere too—oh that's, that's so good, D," Ava fawns and presses a kiss to her shoulder through her blouse. "You get me so wet," slips from her tongue with a sweet sigh and Deborah's chest tightens.
She tries to focus on the sea like scent of Ava's shampoo, anything to stop herself from imagining the soft body underneath the layered fabrics, craving her touch. The flooding thoughts of how evidently sensitive Ava is, reacting to the smallest flicks of her wrist.
"If you drool on my shirt I'm not stepping within five feet of you again."
"Liar… You lose your shit if I get out of your sight," Ava murmurs.
Well… It's the truth. Running into the ocean for her not too long ago didn't help proving otherwise.
The only thing worse than not knowing Ava's whereabouts was to see her with someone else. Could she ever understand that?
"And if you'd kiss me you wouldn't have to w-worry."
Deborah wants to stuff her mouth shut.
"I'm not kissing sloppy office perverts." She prods Ava pointedly with her thumb and the words climbing up the girl's throat crumble into a groan.
"Don't argue. Hurry up."
Her order is effective. Ava's hips rise more urgently, determinedly searching for relief with Deborah's limited help. Jesus, she must ache down to her bones to resort to this. Behaving like she hasn't been touched in years when she has no idea what its like. Ava would stay glued to her forever if allowed to, wouldn't she?
"Silly girl, all upset just because you weren't quick enough," Deborah muses, bringing up the jab upon her arrival. "With your naughty little habits you can't be that pent up."
"D-Deborah…" Ava clings to her tighter.
She's surprised Ava's hands haven't wandered at all. Deborah in turn snakes her own free hand to Ava's back, running her palm over the girl's firm behind, which she has recently clad in actually fitting clothing. Her sense of style isn't great but it has improved somewhat, almost as if Ava is starting to finally appreciate her shapes, at least on some days. Deborah knows, because lately she's been tempted to give her a little pat as she passes by.
Now Ava squirms, torn between pushing her ass further into Deborah's palm or focusing on grinding her front.
The problem resolves on its own as Ava suddenly clasps Deborah's hand between her legs. She helps her fingertips to press hard over her clit, to rub her roughly until her thighs clamp together.
"T-Too hot, Deb, D," Ava babbles under her breath and Deborah hushes her, pressing Ava's sweaty head down to muffle the soft, final cries of her name.
Ava lingers enough on her mind as it is but Deborah doesn't pretend for a second this wouldn't come back to haunt her: the arousal coiling deep in her stomach as Ava trembles against her, sounding even sweeter than in her dreams.
Although Ava is heavy, slumping in her embrace and breathing hard below her chin, Deborah doesn't push her away. She curls her fingers in red hair and lets the moment stretch; their bubbles are doomed to always burst too soon. Warmth rolls everywhere inside her as her heartbeat refuses to calm down.
"Better?" Deborah directs her attention back to Ava.
"Mmh—Could stay like this forever. Not really cause my legs are jello and you're in heels but I like the idea. You know, it's kinda hard for me to come like that—"
"You've told me, yes." Sometimes she needs penetrative sex — yes, yes, it's not what Deborah can think about right now, not as she tries to snuff out the heat inside her. She can't let Ava, can't let her greed to turn her senseless. She has to swallow her urges for both of them.
"Ava," Deborah begins to withdraw and tilts Ava's head to force her to look at her. "You can't keep this up." There's real worry, the heavy weight of reality in Deborah's eyes but Ava refuses to see through the pink fog in her brain.
"I agree. It's only a little weird we haven't kissed yet, don't you think?" Ava purses her lips.
"Don't push your luck. Move your ass — I need that script in thirty minutes."
"Please?"
Deborah rolls her eyes and sits Ava back onto her chair. Deborah could give her the moon and she would ask for more.
"Okay okay I get it, jeez," Ava reaches to hold her hand but Deborah swats her away, leaning her back against the desk. They cross their arms at the same time.
"Wow. This is definitely the fastest anyone has regretted having sex with me — and you'd be surprised by the competition in that category," Ava huffs.
"This was not sex."
"Eh, it's down to definition. But fine; this is definitely the fastest anyone has regretted not having sex with me." Ava's offended look changes cartoonishly quickly into satisfaction.
Deborah covers her eyes. Jesus.
Why does she have to be so hung up on this imbecile?
"Oh? You smiled. I saw that." Excited again, Ava scrambles back up and invades her personal space, this time successfully grabbing both of Deborah's hands. Deborah can't stop herself from smiling, but Ava still needs to hear her out.
"Sweetheart, listen to me." Maybe it's the pet name, maybe her tone that gets her to finally fall serious.
"Listenin'," Ava says, wide-eyed.
"This was... A one-time favor. I don't want you doing this again, not here. Understood?"
Deborah has a track record of bailing them out of virtually everything, and it definitely hasn't helped with Ava's tendency of 'fuck it, we ball', but since getting Late Night Deborah has felt increasingly out of control. More powerless day by day. Screwing up is out of the question.
Ava rubs Deborah's hands with her thumbs before squeezing.
"You're cute when you worry." Her sincerity makes Deborah blush for the umpteenth time today. "Yeahhh this was stupid, a new low for me if you can believe it. I-I'm glad it was you walking in." Ava glances down at their joined hands, playing with one of Deborah's rings.
"Also, thank you. If—If you ever need a favor, I'd love to help. Anytime. Just HMU and I'll get summoned, like seriously. I'm always close by. Don't plan to crash out and run away again," Ava's cheeks start to glow the longer she rambles.
If she was anyone but Deborah Vance, her much older, nightmare of a boss with a precious reputation, she'd whisk her away on an instant and let Ava kiss her senseless. But she's still Deborah and enough lines have been crossed.
She needs Ava to stay at an arms length. Maybe closer, when Deborah can trust her again to not get any ideas.
"You're welcome. Do I look alright?" Deborah touches her hair, trying to feel anything out of place.
"Ten outta ten. Gorgeous. Drool free." Ava shows her a double thumbs up and does one last check, scanning her upper body.
In the middle of it, her face lights up as she's struck with an idea. A new joke landing on her tongue. Ava's eyes flick up from her chest and Deborah can't wait to hear what leaps out of her mouth this time.
"Hey, D. Do you know what you and Susan Sarandon have in common?"