Jen 💌

20 winners love winning <3

[jdwbb]

Alright i have something to say 🤓☝️

I don’t know who pissed in your cereal, who didn’t fuck you right, or who raised you for you trolls to keep making accounts but truly yall are getting ANNOYING !!!! and it’s TIRING🫩 having to see a # for players and all it is literally you unemployed mfers looking into the girls following, who they speak to, what they do or don’t say, who’s likes their in.. and the list keeps going BECAUSE YOU BITCHES ARE WEIRDDDD

Like leave them alone: if Paige and Azzi haven’t stated anything i don’t see why it’s any of your business to care, they are unbothered so should u be idk who you’re trying to convince that they’ve broken up except yourselves but do some self reflection and get out the #’s 🫩

[eclipscee]

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 (𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟔 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘)

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐦

– tennis star!paige bueckers x rival!azzi fudd

MAIN MASTERLIST BREAKPOINT MASTERLIST

tags: part one, rivalry, undefined relationships, blurred lines, plot smut

word count: 8.6k

“Don’t you get tired, Az?” “Tired of what,” Azzi ground out, looking up at Paige from beneath her lashes. “Of pretending you don’t want this as much as I do.”

𝐀𝐎𝟑 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊

[purplepaigepurple535]

to everyone asking why i’ve been less active on here:

this app is so fucking toxic and it’s gotten to a point where it’s honestly much worse than twitter or even tiktok. it’s one thing to be a fan and it’s another thing to involve yourself in their business and create false (degrading) narratives. these are not characters from tv shows or books. these are REAL people with REAL families and REAL reputations that they’ve worked tirelessly to build. if you cant respect that, get off your phone, get a job, and find a therapist. i’m done interacting with that shit and i hope all 2000 of you that follow me are too. if not then there’s no space for you on my page.

anyway. i’m a lot more active on twitter (@fuddfor3) if u wanna go follow/interact and i would suggest dming me on there if u wanna talk abt anything!!

i love love love talking to those of you that are respectful and kind and it’s a shame this app has become so fucked up. please don’t hesitate to dm me on here or the bird app!!

i am also turning my anons off, so if you have something to say to me, you’re more than welcome to say it loud and proud.

as always, please just block/report troll accounts. nothing they say is true and even if you post about them negatively you’re giving them the attention they want. if everyone just blocks and moves on, it becomes no one’s problem.

that’s all, i love you guys, dw i’ll still keep checking this app at least once a day to respond to all of u! please stay safe and blessed! 🙏🏼

- V ❤️

[buffalo1221]

big brown eyes

Summary: Paige figured she’d fall for a set of big brown eyes when she walked into the Dallas Humane Society. She just didn’t expect them to belong to the volunteer behind the counter. Suddenly, she comes to the unsettling realization that adopting a puppy might not be the biggest commitment she’s about to make.

tags: happy ending, lots of flirting, cute fluffy dogs, very brief mentions of animal abuse

wc: 8k+

The Dallas heat is stifling as Paige crosses the parking lot, phone to her ear, the sun bright enough to make her squint because she’s pretty sure she left her sunglasses at the training facility. Again. Her gray practice tee clings to her back, shorts hanging loosely above her knees, which are still red from having ice bags strapped to them during the drive. 

“I promise I thought this through, mom,” she whines, stepping off the curb and adjusting the assortment of bracelets dangling from her wrist. “I wouldn’t just… do this.”

She listens, jaw tightening slightly. 

“Yes. I know it’s a commitment.” A pause. “Yeah, I have all that lined up. I am an actual adult. Like… you know that right?”

A car door slams somewhere nearby and she glances up automatically, the familiar rush of anxiety of constantly being noticed bubbling up. But the couple that piles out of their car pay her no mind, so she keeps walking toward the building ahead. The sign is visible now, big blue letters mounted above the glass doors that fill her with excitement.

“Stop trying to talk me out of this,” she groans, softer but more pointed. 

Paige exhales through her nose, pushing a hand back through her hair where it’s still damp at the edges, not sure if it’s lingering from the grueling practice or from being out in the hot sun.

“I’ve looked at my schedule. I’ve talked to the trainers. I know when we travel.” She hesitates, listening. “Bro, I’m not making a rash decision because I’m lonely. Are you for real right now?” 

She slows as she reaches the sidewalk and glances up at the building again, at the streaked glass doors and the bright, hopeful logo on the window.

“Okay, mom. I’m here. I’ll call you later.”

She ends the call before the response comes through and lowers the phone. Staring at the dark screen for a second, she rolls her eyes. Of course DiJonai had decided that Paige’s very mature and well-thought-out decision to get a dog required a full risk assessment and unsolicited group discussion.

Paige slips the phone into her pocket and lets out a quiet breath, a mix of irritation and nerves. She loves DiJonai. She really does. But sometimes her friend forgets that Paige is capable of making decisions like an adult. And okay, maybe that has something to do with the fact that her fridge is never full of actual food, her snack drawer consists of potato chips and slim jims, and she insists her national championship net is actual decor, but that’s really beside the point. Paige has a lot of love in her heart and she wants to share it with someone. Preferably someone with a soft coat, and four legs; that won’t get mad if she doesn’t text back.

She reaches for the handle and stops, fingers curling around the metal.

Dallas Humane Society.

The letters stretch across the top of the building in thick blue letters, bright against the washed-out brick building. For a second, she just stands there, heat pressing at her back, heart beating a little faster than it should for something like this.

Then she tightens her grip, pulls the door open, and steps inside.

The first thing Paige expects when she walks into the Dallas Humane Society is dogs. Or at least animals, like a whole variety pack of them. Arike had told her once, very casually, that she adopted a ferret from here. Paige hadn’t asked follow-up questions at the time because the mental image of Arike living with a ferret was already too much. Although, Franklin is pretty cute. 

So okay, dogs, but also cats and birds and rodents. Maybe even some fish if that’s a thing people rescue? 

And, to be fair, when she steps inside there are animals. There’s noise, and barking that ricochets off the dirty tiles, and a woman holding a leash while a dog drags her like it’s late for a very important meeting while another person pets the most massive white bunny Paige has ever seen. 

But that isn’t what Paige notices.

Nope.

What Paige notices is the woman behind the counter.

She’s standing there with her elbows braced on the surface, looking down at something she’s writing like the chaos in the background doesn’t exist. Her black hair is half braided tight along her scalp, neat rows that look like they took patience, and the rest is pulled into a bun that sits high and a little messy, like she ran out of said patience or decided she had better things to do. Her face is stunning and it makes Paige’s brain go quiet because it needs to stop all other thoughts to make room for the fact that this might be the most beautiful woman she has ever seen in real life.

It hits her so hard she almost stops walking entirely, right inside the doorway. Then the woman looks up and Paige’s stomach drops when those big brown eyes lock on hers. 

And honestly, Paige's brain forgets how to work for a second. Which is embarrassing. She has played in packed arenas, in front of hostile crowds, with cameras pointed at her face while trying not to vomit from adrenaline. She has stared down defenders who wanted to prove a point and smiled through interviews that were designed to get a rise out of her. And yet, she can barely walk up to a counter without losing her ability to form a coherent sentence. 

The woman’s mouth curves slightly, and oh my God, she has the cutest dimples and bunny teeth. While Paige is trying to remember how words work, the woman steps out from behind the counter and meets Paige halfway.

“Hi, I’m Azzi,” she says, voice light and easy, and absolutely fucking not what Paige expected. “How can I help you?”

Paige watches her approach and realizes, with a jolt of panic, that she is going to have to respond to this woman. Out loud. With words. Like the adult she just promised DiJonai she is.

“Dog,” she manages.

It comes out too blunt, and Paige wonders where her rizz has vanished to, because there is certainly no trace of it in her body right now. 

The woman’s brows lift, maybe slightly amused, but still attentive. “Okay,” she says, drawing the word out a touch. “What kind of dog?”

Paige opens her mouth. She has a list in her head. She did research, watched videos, and made notes. She talked to trainers and absolutely has opinions on energy levels and temperament and the merits of different breeds.

None of that survives the direct hit of those eyes.

“Beautiful brown eyes,” Paige stutters.

There’s a fraction of a second where the woman just stares at her, like she’s making sure she heard correctly. Paige doesn’t even try to backpedal. She can’t. Her brain is still stuck on the part where she accidentally said the quiet thing out loud and she could try to salvage it but that would probably make it worse. If that’s even possible. She’s not entirely sure. 

Then Azzi’s mouth twitches, the smallest hint of a smile, and she tips her head like she’s studying Paige. 

“Right,” she says. “Well… that’s… really helpful information.”

Paige presses her lips together, because the alternative is admitting she’s completely aware she sounds insane. And Paige is going to live in the delusional world she’s created where this interaction is still salvageable. 

The woman reaches behind her, grabs a clipboard off the counter, and flips to a form. Her tone stays friendly, but it shifts into something more official.

“Let’s get some details on you,” she says, pen poised. “Just so I can make sure you’re fit to own a dog before I let you back.”

Paige’s heart skips a beat. “Before you let me back?”

“Yeah,” Azzi replies. “Into the adoption area. We don’t just let anyone wander around back there. You’ve got to get approved.”

Paige’s mouth opens, then closes. She wants to argue on principle, mostly because she’s used to being allowed places, which is a gross thought but also completely true. Instead she just studies the clipboard like it might provide some sort of explanation on why the universe saw fit to have her vetted by the prettiest person she’s ever seen.

Azzi taps the top of the paper with the pen. “Okay,” she says. “What’s your name?”

Paige’s eyes narrow before she can stop herself. She doesn’t mean to make it a thing. It just happens; it’s almost automatic at this point. It’s the same look she gives a ref when they call something questionable. She’s never really been great at controlling her facial expressions.

Azzi looks back at her, unbothered, expectant.

Paige lets another second pass, then says, “You don’t know who I am?”

Azzi’s brow lifts. “Should I?”

It’s not rude or necessarily sarcastic, but she looks at Paige like she’s just a random stranger who walked in off the street. Like there’s not an entire billboard with Paige’s face on it a few blocks away. 

Paige’s confidence, which usually never takes a day off, pauses to regroup. For a second she almost laughs, because this is somehow the most disorienting thing that’s happened to her all week.

“No,” she says, forcing herself back into motion. “No. Sorry.” She clears her throat. “Uh, it’s Paige. Paige Bueckers.”

She thinks that might get a beat of recognition from her interrogator, but Azzi writes it down without hesitation, like it’s the same as if Paige had said her name was Emily from accounting.

“Okay, Paige,” she says, sliding her pen down the form. “Address?”

Paige gives it. 

“Do you rent or own?”

“Rent. For now.”

“Do you have any other pets?”

“No.”

“Anyone living with you?”

Paige hesitates. “Not permanently.”

The woman’s eyes flick up, curiosity flicking through them. “Meaning?”

Paige can feel herself starting to smile, because apparently she has no self-control in front of this woman. “Meaning I have teammates who think my apartment is their second home.”

That earns her a quiet look that Paige could interpret as skepticism. But Azzi doesn’t comment on it, just keeps writing.

“Yard?” she asks.

“No.”

“Okay. What’s your schedule like?”

Paige hears the trap hidden inside the question and tries not to tense. “Busy,” she admits. “But manageable.”

“Mhm,” Azzi hums, still writing. “And what do you do for work?”

“I play professional basketball for the Dallas Wings.”

The pen finally stops.

Azzi sets the clipboard down on the counter with a calmness that feels a little too deliberate, then looks fully at Paige. Her stomach drops. She watches Azzi’s face carefully, waiting for the normal reaction. The recognition, the excitement, the comment about a game she caught, the question about her stats. Or, there’s the “my cousin loves you,” or a request for an autograph.

Instead, Azzi’s eyebrows knit together and she says, “Doesn’t that involve a lot of traveling?”

Paige stares at her, thrown for a beat. “Yes,” she says, careful. “It does.”

“And you want a dog.”

It’s not really a question, but it still lands like one. Paige feels judged so fast she almost laughs again, not because it’s funny, but because she can practically hear Dijonai in her head going, “See? Even the shelter lady agrees with me.”

“I do,” Paige says, keeping her tone steady, even as heat creeps up her neck that has nothing to do with Dallas. “And I have a plan.”

Azzi leans back slightly against the counter, arms folding, like she’s giving Paige the floor but also not giving her a fucking inch.

“A plan,” she repeats.

Paige nods quickly, probably too quickly but she’s kind of sick of everyone questioning her choices. “A whole plan. I have a dog sitter lined up and someone who can do overnights when we’re on longer trips. I’ve already looked at trainers and have the best vet in Dallas on speed dial. I know what I’m getting into.”

Azzi’s eyes stay on her, assessing. Paige thinks she’d absolutely get lost in those warm brown pools if she didn’t care so much about passing this test.

“And you’re sure?” 

Paige holds her gaze. “I’m very sure.”

“Mhm,” Azzi hums again, like she’s cataloging the answer but not quite buying it yet. “Because I’m not trying to be difficult, Paige. But it's my job to make sure a dog doesn’t end up back here in a month because the person who wanted it didn’t think past the cute part.”

Paige’s stomach twists. She’s not necessarily offended. She gets it. She really does. Still, she can’t stop the small edge in her voice when she says, “I did think past the cute part. I know what I want and what I’m capable of.”

Azzi watches her for a second longer, then sighs and reaches for the clipboard again.

“Okay,” she says. “Tell me your plan.”

Paige exhales slowly through her nose, then nods, convincing herself can handle this. She’s handled DiJonai so certainly this can’t be any worse. However, she wasn’t really prepared for the person holding the pen and doing the questioning to look like that while she did it.

After some back and forth, Azzi finishes the last few lines on the form, pen scratching steadily across the page in a delicate scrawl while Paige stands there, shifting on her feet awkwardly, trying not to look like she’s back in high school waiting on a scouting evaluation. 

“Okay,” Azzi says finally, flipping the forms back and setting the clipboard aside. She smooths a hand over the stack of papers and Paige feels like she’s sealing her fate. “Why don’t we go into the back and you can see who we’ve got.”

Paige blinks. “So I passed?” 

Azzi pauses halfway around the counter, brow furrowing slightly. “Passed what?”

“The little test,” Paige says, twirling her finger at the paperwork. “Y’know. The vibe check.”

Azzi’s lips tighten like she’s fighting back a smile. “That wasn’t a test. It’s just paperwork.”

Paige narrows her eyes, not believing that for a second. It certainly felt like a test. A hard one at that. “But I passed,” she insists. “Right? Because you’re letting me go back there to see dogs.”

There’s a beat where Azzi just looks at her, and then she laughs.

It’s easy and warm, hitting Paige somewhere in the ribs like a chest pass that Arike put too much muscle into just to be a dick.

Paige has heard entire arenas scream her name. She has heard the snap of the net on a buzzer beater that sent her team into the playoffs. She has heard commentators lose their minds on national broadcasts.

Literally none of it compares to that laugh. If she’s being honest, she wants to hear it every day for the rest of her life. 

Azzi’s laugh settles into a smile that lingers, eyes softening in a way that feels… admittedly not professional. “Sure,” she says with an exaggerated nod, still smiling. “You passed.”

Paige feels ridiculous and pleased at the same time, which is a dangerous combination. She does a small, subtle fist bump at her side, muttering “yes”  under her breath because if there’s one thing Paige loves, it’s winning. No matter the context. 

Azzi steps toward the hallway leading deeper into the building, gesturing for Paige to follow. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s see if anyone matches your very specific criteria.”

Paige wants to kick herself for the earlier failure, now that she’s regained her footing, but Azzi is smiling at her so there are worse things in life. She  falls into step beside Azzi, her heart beating faster than it has any right to. 

The barking grows louder as they move down the corridor. This must be where the dogs are, she thinks. But as she watches Azzi walk ahead, Paige has the disorienting realization that she would’ve followed her down any hallway she chose without a single question. Literally none. 

The door swings open and the sound hits Paige first.

It’s louder back here, a layered kind of noise that’s part barking, part whining, part nails scratching against kennel doors and concrete floors. The air is cooler than outside but still warm and a bit stifling with an unfavorable smell. Every few feet a pair of eyes tracks them. Some bright and hopeful. Some wary. Some tired in a way that makes Paige’s chest twist a little bit. 

Rows of kennels stretch down the corridor, metal and concrete with hand-written tags clipped to doors. A volunteer in rubber gloves walks past with a mop bucket, murmuring to a dog like it’s a coworker. Paige’s gaze flicks from cage to cage, trying to take it all in without looking like she’s about to lose it.

She forces herself to breathe, then glances at Azzi as if Azzi is the only part of this that makes sense.

“So,” Paige says, aiming for casual. “What do you do for work?”

Azzi looks at her like Paige has asked what the sun does. She extends her arm slightly, then opens both arms and gestures around them, the barking, the corridor, the chaos, like the answer is so blatantly obvious.

Paige feels heat rush up her neck so fast it almost makes her dizzy. “Oh,” she says, voice catching on the word. “Right. I guess I thought people just volunteered here.” She clears her throat, scrambling for recovery. “I didn’t know you could actually work here. That’s… that’s fire.”

“I’m actually the executive director,” she says. “But we’re short staffed, so here I am.”

Paige’s confidence snaps back into place “Must be my lucky day then.”

Azzi smiles and dips her head, and Paige watches it happen. There’s a faint pause, a second where Azzi’s eyes flick down like she’s composing herself, and Paige’s mind supplies the extremely unhelpful thought that she made her blush.

Azzi straightens, voice professional again. “Go ahead,” she says. “Look around. If you like any of them, let me know.”

Paige nods, trying to look like she is a person who can behave normally in the presence of a beautiful woman with big brown eyes, even when all she’s done thus far is prove she absolutely cannot.

She starts with the first kennel on the left, a shepherd mix who sits calmly, head tilted like he’s evaluating Paige right back. Paige crouches and holds her fingers out through the bars. He sniffs, accepts the contact, then turns his head away with a dignity that makes Paige feel like she’s bothering him.

“Hi,” she whispers anyway. “You’re very handsome, sir. You also seem like you don’t give a shit about me. Respectfully.”

Azzi makes a noise that might be a laugh but quickly covers it with a cough.

Paige stands and moves to the next kennel. This one, a two year old cattle dog mix named Betty, according to her plaque, is bouncing, paws hitting the gate, blue eyes bright and frantic, tail whipping so hard it rattles the metal. Paige pets her through the bars and gets immediately licked, which makes her grin even as her hand gets wet with slobber.

“Okay,” she murmurs. “You’re adorable, Miss Betty. You’re also clearly a full-time job.”

The third kennel they come across is a pair of Chihuahuas, both small and trembling and dressed in tink pink jackets, pressed into the corner of the kennel like they’re trying to disappear into the concrete. Paige crouches again, lowers her hand, keeps her voice soft. They watch her with wide eyes, but don’t move.

“Those two are a bonded pair. They have to go together,” Azzi supplies. “We have someone coming to look at them later.” 

Paige swallows, glad for an excuse to not make up an excuse to keep walking. She stands slowly, giving the dogs space as she continues her journey down the line.

In the next kennel is a lab mix who shoves his face toward the bars and demands affection. He’s soft and wiggly and so undeniably adorable. Paige gives her attention willingly, scratching behind his ears, baby talking without shame.

“Oh hi, Captain! You’re so cute,” she says, her voice doing that ridiculous soft high-pitched thing that she can’t help. “You’re such a good boy. You could be famous. You could have brand deals.”

Captain pants happily, tongue lolling, and Paige smiles, but the feeling doesn’t click into place the way she thought it would. She’s charmed, but she’s not sure he’s the one, so she decides to keep perusing for her new best friend.  

After another couple kennels, Paige looks down the long row and lets out a deep sigh. The corridor stretches on, and the sheer number of kennels settles on her shoulders. It’s hard not to feel the sadness under the chaos, and the reality that for every dog here, there are more that never make it inside.

She finds Azzi’s gaze.

“There’s so many of them,” Paige says quietly.

Azzi nods once. “Yeah,” she says. “We have to turn a lot away, too. It’s tough.”

Paige’s mouth tightens. Her instincts kick in, that ever present feeling of wanting to fix any issue she encounters. “Should I maybe get two to help?” she blurts, then winces slightly. It’s impulsive, and she knows it. She barely passed the test-not-test for one dog, she doubts the director would let her leave with two. But she also knows she would do a lot of things if it meant easing the heaviness in Azzi’s eyes.

Azzi laughs. “I appreciate the concern, but why don’t you try your luck with one first, superstar.”

Paige’s chest lifts with pride at the nickname, even though it’s clearly meant to be teasing. Because Azzi didn’t know who she was, so she clearly doesn’t know that Paige is, in fact, a superstar. She tries not to smile too hard but fails miserably.

“Well,” Paige says, as they start walking again, “do you guys take donations?”

Azzi glances at her. “The adoption fee is a donation. We don’t just give them away for free.”

Paige shakes her head quickly. “No, I know that,” she says, keeping pace. “I mean extra. Like… the Wings are always looking for charities to sponsor, and maybe we could do an adoption night at a game or something.” Her words come faster as the ideas start stacking one on top of another. “You could have some dogs there, and like, I don’t know, we could do a feature on the jumbotron. Maybe a little segment. We could get people to sign up to foster. Or donate supplies. Or…” 

She falters when she sees Azzi’s eyebrows narrow slightly, not in annoyance, though. At least Paige hopes not. She slows, suddenly unsure if she just said something stupid.

“What?” Paige asks.

Azzi shakes her head, and her voice softens. “Nothing,” she says. “You’re just… really sweet to think about all that.”

Paige grins before she can stop herself, because Azzi just called her sweet. And she’ll take that to the grave with her because holy shit, is Azzi flirting back?

“Right… um,” she rubs the back of her neck, not sure what to do with that new bit of information. “I’ll… uh… have our community relations team reach out,” Paige says casually, like she isn’t already picturing Azzi standing beside her at center court, smiling while holding a bunch of wiggly puppies in their arms. Because that’s one hundred percent the image in Paige’s mind right now. 

Azzi nods and hums, and they keep walking. The barking shifts around them, louder in some stretches, quieter in others. Azzi’s gaze flicks from kennel to kennel automatically, calling out their names because she knows each one.

“You know,” Azzi says after a beat, “maybe you could do a photo shoot here to raise some awareness. I’ve been trying to get some Cowboys players here, but if you and your teammates are interested…”

“Bet,” Paige says immediately, blue eyes lighting up in wonder. Because Azzi wants to see her again, and even if it is just to use her fame and charm to rehome dogs, Paige will take what she can get. Also, Azzi wants to take pictures of Paige. And she… wouldn’t want to do that if she didn’t think Paige was pretty, right?  

“I’ll get my whole team to show up. And I know CeeDee Lamb on the Cowboys, so he’ll bring some of his boys too.” Paige’s hands start moving as she talks, ideas spilling out in rapid succession now that she has a runway. “This place will be empty when I’m done with all these ideas in my head.”

Azzi laughs again, and Paige gathers that laugh like a reward.

“Is that so?” Azzi asks, amused.

Paige nods, dead serious. “Trust. We’ll do a whole calendar spread. And I’ll match all donations. Or maybe like one of those things where I donate for every point I score. I dunno… I’ll think of something good.”

“And do you score a lot?” 

“What?” Paige squeaks, trying to cover it with a cough as her mind ventures into extremely unhelpful territory. 

“Points… “ Azzi clarifies, eyes sparkling with mischief that let Paige know she’s keenly aware of her effect. “Do you score a lot of points?” 

“Right,” Paige clears her throat, reining in her thoughts that definitely did not discern Azzi’s question as something else. “Yeah, I mean… I’m pretty good.”

Azzi hums. “Maybe I’ll check out a game sometime.” 

This information does something irrevocable to Paige’s brain. The image of Azzi sitting courtside at her game, dressed in something other than muddy jeans and a humane society polo—not that she isn’t also rocking that out—cheering for her, flashes through her head.

“You… uh. Yeah. You definitely should.” 

They share a look that warms Paige’s entire body, before Azzi turns and keeps walking, leaving Paige to clamor after her.

“So what other great ideas do you have?” 

Paige keeps going, because momentum is a disease and she is currently infected. She starts listing more ideas, partnerships, themed nights, social posts, player features, sponsors. She’s halfway into her spiel that’s legitimately three steps away from becoming a full on strategic marketing plan when she realizes Azzi has stopped walking.

Azzi is just looking at her, expression unreadable in a way that makes Paige freeze mid-sentence.

Paige clears her throat and forces herself to dial it back, suddenly aware she might be insulting Azzi, like she doesn’t have all these ideas already. “Well,” she says, slower now, “I mean… you’re the boss. So whatever you think will work.”

Azzi’s lips press together, and when she speaks, there’s something honest under the dryness. “I’ve been trying to do literally all of that for years,” she admits with a sigh. “Just haven’t been able to get in front of the right people.”

Paige’s confidence returns, steady this time. She tilts her head slightly, meeting Azzi’s eyes and leans forward to adjust the wrinkled collar of Azzi’s navy blue polo.

“Well,” Paige says, pulling her hand back, “you’re definitely standing in front of the right one now.”

Then she winks. It’s subtle and quick, but it’s also the move that usually works for her. 

Azzi’s stare holds for a second longer than it should, and Paige has no idea whether she just flirted successfully or signed herself up for another round of judgment. But then her eyes land on a kennel past Azzi's shoulder, full of fuzzy husky puppies. Like, an actual pile of them. Her eyes widen with pure glee. Their little gray-and-white faces are pressed up against the bars, tiny bodies wiggling, ears not fully sure what they’re doing yet, paws too big for the rest of their bodies. 

Paige points before she even thinks about it, the words flying out of her mouth with zero thought for her dignity.

“Please let me in there. Pretty please.”

Azzi glances over, then back at Paige, like she’s taking in the fact that Paige Bueckers, professional athlete, is begging like a kid to be let into a room of puppies, hands clasped in front of her and everything. 

She grins. “You’re serious?”

Paige nods emphatically, already stepping toward the kennel, running her sweaty palms over her shorts to dry them off like these puppies will judge her for it. “So serious, bro.”

Azzi shakes her head like she’s humoring something ridiculous, but she walks over and unclips the latch. “Alright,” she says, stepping aside. “Go ahead.”

Paige doesn’t even hesitate. She slips in and plops right down on the floor, gangly legs crossed, hands out, inviting the chaos. The puppies swarm immediately, climbing her thighs, shoving their faces into her hands, pawing at her shirt and Paige makes a noise that is absolutely not a normal adult sound. It might not even be really human. 

“Oh my god,” she shrieks, laughing, voice going soft and high in a way most people would think her incapable of. “Hi. Hi, you’re all so cute and perfect and insane. I love you all.”

She lets them crawl all over her like she’s a jungle gym. One puppy wedges itself under her leg, another tries to crawl up her shorts, while the most bold of the bunch climbs her shoulder like it’s a mountain.

Paige runs her hands over their fur, helpless and completely addicted to the softness. “Who wants to come home with me?” she coos, like she’s not talking to animals that will forget she exists in ten minutes. “Who wants me to feed them off my plate and chew on all my furniture?”

One of the puppies tries to chew on her sleeve, and she just grins. “Oh, hi little guy,” she says. “Please don’t do that, sir.” 

Azzi chuckles behind her but Paige barely registers it. She’s too enamored by fluff and puppy breath and tiny sharp little nails pressing into her arms and legs. 

“Who wants to come home with me and snuggle in bed every night?”

She glances up at Azzi on that one and winks, because Paige is Paige, and she literally cannot help herself. But then she turns right back to the dogs like she didn’t just flirt with the executive director of the Humane Society while being attacked by tiny fluffy husky puppies. 

One of them, an especially determined light gray and white boy with darker eyebrows and stunning blue eyes, starts tugging on Paige’s shoelace with tiny teeth, growling like it’s a real fight. Paige laughs and gently boops his nose.

“Hey,” she tells him, mock-stern. “You are stupidly cute but these are new, buddy.”

He ignores her, obviously, and just tugs harder so Paige scoops him up. Lifting him easily, the puppy immediately licks her face and then shoves his cold, wet snout into her neck, settling there like he’s decided Paige is his and that’s that.

Paige could picture it now. Curling up on the couch after a long day of practice, eating a bite of her Wingstop herself before sharing one with the puppy melted across her lap. She’d order plain wings, obviously, but Nai would still scoff. Or how’d she’d sneak him into the practice facility, dodging José who would definitely be fucking pissed about it. Nola would help her keep the secret. Probably. And she’d also need to order the cleaning staff lunch a few times during the whole potty training phase, but the DoorDash sponsorship would help with that.  

Paige’s smile softens as she cuddles him tight and thinks about all the adventures they’ll have. She looks at Azzi over the puppy’s head. “Is he available?”

She holds her breath when the words leave her lips.

Thankfully, Azzi nods. But Paige doesn’t feel relief because there’s a look on her face that Paige can’t place at first. It’s not really annoyed or disapproving, but there’s something under the surface that doesn’t read like joy at another dog leaving the shelter. 

Paige’s grin fades slightly. “What’s wrong?”

Azzi leans a shoulder against the kennel door, arms—arms that are actually quite muscular, not that Paige is looking—folding loosely over the chest, ruffing her polo a bit. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” she says, then she exhales. “It’s just… everyone always wants the puppies.” Her eyes move over the pile of fluff climbing all over Paige’s legs and the little one tucked on her chest. “These guys will be gone by the end of the day.”

Paige nods slowly, processing. She sighs and kisses the puppy once on the top of his head, then lowers him back down with a careful gentleness to rejoin his littermates. 

She stands, haplessly brushing fur off her black shorts, then looks at Azzi having just made a decision.

“Show me the dog who’s been here the longest.”

Azzi’s brows lift. “Are you sure? I’m not trying to guilt you if you think that puppy is the right fit…” 

And again with the people telling her what to do. 

Paige nods without hesitation. She steps out of the kennel and gently nudges the puppies back inside as they try to follow. “Someone will be here for you cuties soon,” she promises, voice a whisper like she’s keeping a secret from the rest of the dogs there. “Bye. I love you all. Be so good and have the best, most happiest lives.”

Azzi laughs at that and Paige grins, pretending it isn’t her favorite sound in the world. She follows Azzi down the long row, past more kennels until she stops at one near the end.

Inside, tucked into the back corner, is… a dog.

That’s literally the first thought Paige has. Just a dog. Not in the “what a handsome boy” way or really anything that involves being cute, per se. This one looks like someone took the leftover genes from five different breeds and tossed them in a blender. 

His fur is curly in places, straight in others, patchy along his back like it can’t decide what texture to commit to. The brown color of his coat is uneven, fading lighter around his muzzle, darker and almost muddy near his tail. One ear flops forward while the other sticks out to the side and his tail is too thin for his body and slightly crooked at the end.

If Paige had to guess, she’d say there’s some doodle in there. Maybe a retriever or lab. Definitely some pitbull. Maybe a shepherd. Probably something that once barked at a shepherd. She’s not entirely convinced a DNA test would come back with anything other than: Yes, this is a dog.

He’s pressed low into the corner of the kennel, paws tucked awkwardly under him, head dipped eyes wide, but not wild. He looks more unsure than anything, and is, objectively, not the dog that would get picked first. Or maybe even last, which Paige supposes is why he’s still here. 

And yet… there’s something about him.

Paige feels the pull before she understands it.

Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t budge when they approach, or how his nose twitches cautiously instead of snapping or retreating further. Maybe it’s the way his fur, despite the uneven curls and questionable grooming history, looks unbelievably soft right at the top of his big fat, disproportional head.

Or maybe it’s the way he watches them. His sad eyes not hopeful, just waiting, like he’s resigned himself to living in this five by three foot cage for the rest of his life so it’s not even worth getting up to try. And for some reason, that makes him the most endearing thing she’s seen all day.

“This is Lenny,” Azzi says quietly, with a sigh like she’s already waiting for Paige to find a polite excuse to pass.

Paige crouches. “Lenny, huh?” Her voice turns soft on instinct and she glances at Azzi. “What’s his story?”

Azzi’s shift. She seems a little caught off guard, but her eyes narrow, expression more serious now. “He’s eight,” she says. “He came to us almost a year ago after his owner passed away.” She pauses, eyes on the dog, offering him a contrite smile. “He got passed around by family members for a while. Some of them… weren’t very kind to him, so he’s a little skittish at first.”

Paige’s jaw tightens, muscles tensing as she thinks about what kind of vile human can lay a hand on such an innocent being. And then her mind drifts to the way she was passed around after her parents divorce. Admittedly, it’s not the same thing. Plus, she eventually settled in with her dad and then got Drew. But still, deep down, she knows that listless feeling, of not knowing where home is. And this certainly isn’t a place any dog should call home permanently. 

Azzi keeps going, voice cracking just slightly. “He’s so sweet,” she says. “But everyone passes him up because he’s not the most social. The kennel situation gives him a lot of anxiety. He does better in quieter spaces. He just doesn’t show well in here.” 

She keeps her tone measured, but Paige has spent decades reading tells on the court and Azzi has them too. Paige sees the way Azzi’s eyes soften when they land on him, how her fingers wrap around the latch like she’s itching to go in there and pet him. This is someone who has spent months memorizing the way this dog breathes and there’s something achingly tender about it. The way Azzi talks about him like he’s misunderstood instead of inconvenient. Like he’s worth defending even when no one’s asking her to. 

Paige can tell he means a lot to Azzi, and that makes Paige tread lightly. “Can I go in?” she asks, quieter now.

Azzi studies her for a beat, like she’s deciding if Paige is worthy of him. Then she lets out a reserved sighs, unclips the latch and opens the door. “Yeah,” she says, handing Paige a treat from her back pocket. “Go ahead.”

Paige steps inside and lowers herself to the floor just inside the door, knees bent, hands resting on her thighs. She extends one hand out slowly, palm up with the treat resting on it, giving him room to decide.

“Hey, Lenny boy,” she murmurs. “How are you today?”

Lenny’s eyes stay locked on her hand, but he doesn’t move at first. His whole body looks braced for something bad.

Paige doesn’t let that deter her. She keeps talking in a low, gentle voice, the way she used to talk to Drew when he was a baby and Mila, now, when she’s trying to convince her to lie so Phee doesn’t yell at her for the whole ice cream after bed thing. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” she tells him. “You can just sit there and judge me. That’s fine. I get it. I’m kind of a stranger.”

She shifts slightly, sitting down fully, careful not to crowd him. Arm extended, hand lying on the floor beside her, Paige lets the minutes pass, humming an Olivia Dean song absentmindedly. Paige can feel Lenny’s eyes on her and Azzi’s eyes on her, but she doesn’t feel pressure. Doesn’t rush it.

Eventually, Lenny’s body loosens by a fraction. He inches forward, and takes one cautious step, then another. Then he pauses again like he’s fighting his own instincts, a war waging inside him. His eyes flick up to Azzi who just offers a soft, “It’s okay, Lenny.” 

Paige stays still, only wiggling her fingers slightly, inviting him. “There you go, bud,” she whispers, eyes wide, as he inches closer again. “That’s it. You’re doing great.”

He finally reaches her hand and sniffs, long and slow, then nudges her fingers with his nose before cautiously grabbing the treat with the most dainty bite. Paige’s heart clenches as he backs away to eat it. She casts a glance over her shoulder, catching Azzi with an absolutely beaming smile as he steps back into Paige’s space. She slowly slides her hand up and rests it on his head, fingers sinking into the curls. And she was right. They are soft. Impossibly soft. 

Lenny doesn’t flinch when Paige starts rubbing slow circles, murmuring nonsense in a soft stream, telling him he’s good and safe and sweet, like the words might rewrite the past year if she says them enough times.

After a few minutes, Lenny’s body shifts even closer. He hesitates once, then settles his front paws onto her leg like he’s testing her. Paige holds her breath, doesn’t move, just shoots Azzi a proud smile like she can’t believe he’s coming around. 

Then, like something in him finally gives up the fight or maybe he just senses the pureness of Paige’s heart like they say dogs can, he climbs fully into her lap. Curling against her, he lets out a long, shaky sigh that comes from somewhere deep.

Paige swallows down the knot in her throat when Lenny lifts his big dopey head and looks up at her. 

Those big brown eyes are soft and a little sad, but still beautiful in a way that makes her chest feel like it’s in a vice. Paige feels something inside her quiet, like there’s been tension buzzing under her skin for weeks or maybe even years and she didn’t notice until it was released.

“You wanna come home with me, Lenny?” she whispers.

Lenny just stares at her like he doesn’t have the energy to do much else, and Paige stares back like she’ll find the answer in his eyes. She can feel it, the certainty settling in as he gives her face one big lick before dropping his head back onto her lap. 

She looks over at Azzi. “This is my dog.”

Azzi’s expression is careful. “Are you sure?” she asks. “I know you really liked the husky puppies. And having an older dog can be hard. There’s an adjustment period and Lenny is a special case.”

Paige knows what Azzi is doing. She isn’t trying to talk her out of it. She’s protecting Lenny, making sure Paige understands what she’s saying yes to. But Paige’s hand just keeps stroking Lenny’s head, a newfound sense of calm washed over her. “I’m sure,” she says, and she means it with a certainty that surprises her.

Azzi exhales reluctantly. “Lenny is my favorite.”

She steps into the kennel and lowers herself beside Paige, reaching out to scratch Lenny’s head. Lenny relaxes even more, then rolls slightly in Paige’s lap, exposing his belly like he’s offering trust without reservation.

Azzi’s fingers move gently through his curls, though they get stuck in the more matted parts. “He’s had it rough the last year,” she says quietly. “He really deserves the best for the short time he has left.” She looks at Paige with a sense of hesitation. “Can you do that?”

Paige meets her gaze and nods assuredly. “I can definitely do that. I promise I’ll give him the best life.”

Azzi nods once, decision made. “Okay then.”

She stands and grabs a leash from the hook on the wall, clips it onto Lenny’s blue collar, then hands it to Paige, hesitating just a beat like she’s passing over something fragile. 

“Let’s go finish the paperwork.”

They take care of all the paperwork up front in a blur that feels surprisingly efficient and not nearly long enough for Paige’s liking. Which is saying something because there’s a lot to cover. Like more, Paige thinks, than she had to sign when she signed her rookie deal with the Wings. 

Still, she signs where she’s told, initials where Azzi taps with the pen, listens to the rundown about microchips and food transitions and follow-up vet appointments. And the whole time, Lenny stays pressed against her legs, sitting directly on top of her shoes like he’s making sure she doesn’t disappear without him. Not that she would dream of it. 

Every so often Paige feels his weight shift, a small sigh escaping him, and she glances down with a warm smile, squatting down to pat his head a few times and feed him one of the treats Azzi insisted she take. 

Finally, Paige slides her card across the counter and tries not to think about how different this feels from any other purchase she’s made in the last five years. So much more permanent. 

“Thank you,” Paige says when it’s done, meaning more than the transaction. “I promise I’ll take the best care of our boy, okay?” 

Azzi nods, tucking the paperwork into a folder with a sigh as she meets Paige’s gaze. “I know you will,” she says. “And I’ll look out for a call about some promos from the Wings.”

Paige grins. “You will. I’ll give our community relations director a call when I get home and get Lenny boy settled.”  

Azzi smiles and walks them to the front doors. Right before Paige reaches for the handle, Azzi crouches down in front of Lenny and wraps her arms around him, pulling him into the tightest hug, pressing her cheek into his mess of soft curls. “You’re the best boy in the whole world,” she murmurs, voice soft in a way Paige hasn’t heard yet but absolutely wants to hear over and over again. “Be so good, okay? I love you and I’m gonna miss you, but I know you’re going to be so so spoiled just like you deserve.” 

Lenny leans into her like he understands every word, and maybe he does. 

Paige watches the whole thing and something warm spreads through her. It’s impossible not to see how much this place, and these dogs, mean to Azzi. Especially Lenny. 

Azzi stands slowly, brushing her hands down her shorts, and for a second their eyes meet and Paige swears she sees a tiny tear forming in the corner of Azzi’s eyes.

Paige takes a breath and reaches for the door.

Then stops.

She can feel her heart starting to sprint again, and she hates that it does that around Azzi, that she’s not in control. She shifts her weight, then turns back around before she can talk herself out of it.

“Hey,” she says, trying for casual but not coming close as she trips over the next words that leave her mouth. “Can I… um… maybe get your number? You know. In case I have any problems.”

Azzi’s mouth curves. She reaches into her pocket, and grabs a card and extends it toward Paige. “That’s the shelter’s direct line,” she says.

Paige looks down at the card, then back up at her a little dumbfounded. She thought she was being pretty straightforward. “Well like… what if it’s after hours?”

Azzi tilts her head. “Then you wait until we open the next morning?”

Paige frowns. “Okay, but like… what if it’s an emergency.”

God, she’s never had to try this hard. If anything, girls usually read too much into what she’s saying, not the other way around. 

“I thought you had a trainer and a vet all set up,” Azzi replies smoothly.

Paige huffs, because she walked right into that. “Okay, yeah, I do. But you and Lenny are like… friends.”

Azzi’s brows lift, amusement pulling the corner of her lip up into that adorable dimple. “Friends?”

Paige nods, smiling in a way that she knows probably looks a little unhinged. “What if he misses you? I mean, I gotta keep Lenny happy. It’s really for his quality of life if you think about it.” She gestures vaguely toward the dog who looks like he’s ready for his fifth nap of the day. Honestly, so is Paige with all the mental gymnastics she’s doing. “And you know… he doesn’t have a lot of years left, so we gotta make them good.”

She throws Azzi’s own words back at her without shame. 

Azzi just laughs. Then, without warning, she steps closer and reaches into Paige’s back pocket.

The contact is brief, her fingers just lightly brushing against Paige’s hip as she pulls the phone free, but a sharp jolt runs straight up Paige’s spine like that one time she shoved her finger into an outlet as a kid… or maybe it was college. 

Azzi holds the phone up in front of Paige’s face until it unlocks itself, then types in her number, and hands the phone back. Their fingers linger for half a second too long, the cool metal iPhone half in each grip.

“Lenny really likes ice cream,” Azzi says, looking up at Paige through long eye lashes.

Paige nods, trying to remember how to breathe.

“And so do I,” Azzi adds, softer with a smile that almost borders on shy.

Paige’s grin spreads before she can stop it, cheeks warming under the fluorescent lights. She knows Azzi can see how red she is, but she doesn’t even care. “Noted.”

She shoves the phone back into her pockets, and reluctantly pushes the door open, the suffocating rush of sweltering Dallas humidity hitting her again.

As Paige walks to her Jeep with Lenny at her side, leash secure in her hand, she glances down at him and smiles.

“We’re gonna get you another mom soon, Lenny,” she murmurs, rubbing his fluffy head with her free hand. “Don’t you worry.”

[azcraz35]

don't forget to vote for ALL 3 HUSKIES 💙💙💙

[azzibuckets]

your lips, my lips

apocalypse!pazzi; chief!azzi x scavenger!paige, lowkey evil!azzi and smartass!paige; enemies to lovers

main masterlist

chapter one

[jdwbb]

cessa fics >>

[mygaynesshasnolimits]

very BIG fan of her face

[bueckersburn]

Frequent Flyer - P2

Masterlist

Part 1

Pazzi (WNBA Paige x Nurse Azzi)

Word Count: 21.5k+

Summary: After striking a deal, Paige is determined to stay healthy and win more than just Azzi's phone number

Warnings: language, brief descriptions of injury

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a/n: here is the highly requested (demanded) part 2. i was not expecting for so many people to love this story so much. hope this lives up to your expectations!

═══════════════════

Paige Bueckers had never been so healthy in her life. 

She had been drinking so much water her team trainers thought she might have a UTI with how often she had to pee. She wore two ankle braces, and a brace on her left wrist. Kinesiology tape wrapped both shoulders, elbows, knees, shins, and ankles, in addition to the standard knee sleeves she wore as a precaution. She even made the team trainer tape her fingers before practices and workouts. Every. Single. Finger. Just in case. 

And all of her teammates noticed. 

“Dude,” Maddie said suspiciously as they suited up in the longer room moments before practice was set to start, “what is going on with you? You look like a mummy with all that tape. But you’re also…glowing?”

“Thank you,” Paige replied. Deciding to ignore the mummy comment. “It’s because I’m in love.”

Her reply was far too casual, slipping out without thought before she coughed, nearly choking on her own tongue. 

“–with basketball!” she quickly amended. “Obviously. With basketball. The sport. My job. I mean, all of our jobs. We’re all in love with basketball,” she tried and failed to cover up her slip. 

Dijonai, who had been tying her shoes and ever so nosy, snorted. “Sure. Didn’t realize basketball had curly hair, scrubs, and a nursing degree now.”

Paige gasped dramatically, thrusting her index finger towards her vet. “You stay outta my personal business.” 

“Oh, so there is personal business,” Arike chimed in, triumphant. 

“No comment,” Paige grumbled.

“Uh-huh,” Maddie dragged out. 

They knew. Because, of course they knew. Subtley had never been Paige’s strong suit. 

But she didn’t give into her teammates, not yet. Instead, she repeated fourteen days, over and over in her head. Fourteen days. No ER. She could do it. She would do it. Paige was nothing if not competitive. She would win her into Azzi Fudd’s heart through perfect health and sheer stubbornness alone. 

——

To say that she wasn’t playing like her usual self that practice would have been a drastic understatement. She played like her bones would spontaneously shatter at any given moment. She avoided any and all unnecessary contact – sometimes even necessary contact. Set screens like she was made of glass, guaranteed to break if she was merely grazed. She even passed up on open drives, electing to dish the ball to her teammates out of fear someone might simply breathe too aggressively near her.

Her coach blew his whistle so hard Paige thought he might pass out. Then worried he could potentially blow out her eardrum and slammed her hands over her ears to avoid the risk.

“Bueckers!” he bellowed, angrily calling her over. “What in the hell are you doing out there? You’ve passed up three open drives. Three. Drive the fucking lane!” he scolded her. 

“And risk my body?” she guffawed. “What about my bones? My head? What about my spleen, Coach?” she argued. 

He stared at her, dumbfounded. “Your what?”

“No spleen, no number. No number, no coffee,” she said quietly with a grave determination.

Her coach blinked. Once. Twice. “...Are you having a stroke?” 

He looked at her again, eyes slowly dragging from her head to feet in a silent appraisal that felt very judgemental. “And why the fuck are you wearing so much tape?”

Paige opened her mouth to respond, then shut it.

The scrimmage resumed. Paige caught a long pass in transition, only one measly defender in her way. The rim taunted her. Score, or protect my body for the cause? she asked herself. 

In that moment, Azzi’s smile flashed in her mind. The rare one that reached all the way up to her eyes. That had her dimples popping out.

Paige immediately passed the ball back out to Arike at the top of the key. Her coach benched her for the rest of practice. 

—

An hour later, as the players slowly started making their way through their locker room post practice routines, Maddie approached Paige with an unopened gatorade, holding it out like an offering. Paige, who had been in the process of peeling away the excessive amount of KT tape from all over her body, grabbed it tentatively. 

“Okay, spill,” Maddie demanded. “Who’s the nurse?”

“What nurse?” Paige asked, doing an exceptionally poor job of feigning confusion. 

Maddie didn’t dignify her with a verbal response. Just pointed firmly at the whiteboard where Paige had written:

DO NOT LET PAIGE DIE FOR THE NEXT 14 DAYS

It was underlined three times, and accompanied by a #getthemdidgits written beneath a poorly drawn coffee cup. 

“Uh,” Paige faltered. “Team goal?” she tried. Then doubled down, incredibly serious. “It’s important for teams to have shared goals. Builds better chemistry.”

Dijonai scoffed, obnoxiously loud. “Oh give it up. Don't try to play cool, you're not good at it,” she heckled Paige, then turned towards Maddie. “She’s in love with her ER nurse. She’s been to the hospital like a hundred times this month with made-up injuries just to get her attention.”

Paige jumped up from where she was sitting.

“Traitor!” she shouted at Dijonai, who just cackled at the blonde’s dramatics.

“Paige,” Maddie admonished. “Is that true?”

The blonde sunk back into her seat, burying her increasingly reddening face in her hands. “Ugh, fine,” she relented. “Yes, it’s true. But you don’t understand. She’s incredible. And she’s pretty much like…completely immune to my charm.” Dijonai scoffed at Paige’s relentless self-assuredness. 

Paige ignored her, continuing on. “Except for these like, tiny almost-smiles she sometimes gives me that I think about like eighty seven thousand times a day,” she griped. 

Maddie all but squealed with joy at seeing the state the nurse had her in. “Stop it. That’s adorable.”

“No it’s not,” Paige argued. “It’s painful, and embarrassing.”

“It’s endearing,” Maddie countered, making Paige feel marginally better.

Dijonai chimed in again, never able to resist poking fun at the blonde. “And you call yourself nonchalant. Ha!” she laughed. 

“Man, fuck you,” Paige said, with no real bite to her words. It just made Dijonai laugh harder. 

“Wait,” Maddie interrupted, stopping the two of them from the inevitable bickering that was about to begin. “That doesn’t explain why we have to keep you alive for two weeks, though,” she clocked. “Didn’t Nai say you’ve been faking injuries to see her? Why stop now?”

Paige groaned, giving Dijonai the stink eye. “I have not been ‘faking injuries’,” she protested. “My injuries have all been very real, thank you. They just haven’t technically been emergencies that need to be seen in a hospital. At least that’s what Azzi tells me,” she sulked. 

“Azzi’s the nurse,” Dijonai supplied to Maddie, unhelpfully. Paige threw a shoe at her. 

“I figured,” Maddie said patiently, trying not to smile at Paige’s expense. “Thanks though.”

Then the forward turned her attention back on Paige. “Stop getting distracted. What’s with the fourteen days thing?”

Paige sighed, long and deep. “She finally agreed to give me her number and let me take her out for coffee. But only if I can stay out of the hospital for the next two weeks.”

“I still can’t believe you wore her down,” Dijonai antagonized. 

“Hey!” Paige said, obviously insulted. “I’m very charming, you asshole.”

“Please,” Dijonai began with a smirk, “you’re about as charming as my–”

“Okay,” Maddie interrupted loudly, stopping yet another round of bickering before it began. “Don’t worry, Paige. We’ll keep you alive,” she promised.

“We will?” echoed Dijonai.

“We will,” Maddie repeated firmly, raising her eyebrows at the vet, daring her to disagree. 

Paige’s eyes shot back and forth between the two of them, determining just how serious they were being.

“Ugh,” Dijonai groaned. “Fine.”

Paige grinned. 

“But only if you stop playing like you’re going to snap in half if someone comes within three feet of you on the court,” Dijonai brokered. “Season starts in a few weeks, can’t have you playing like you’re that fragile.”

Paige squinted her eyes, like she was deep in thought, debating the proposal. After a moment of silence, she let out a resigned sigh. “Fine. But I’m still gonna wear the KT tape.”

“You’re impossible.”

—

It had been exactly a week, and Paige had proudly remained uninjured. She had kept her promise to play hard, and Maddie and Dijonai held up their end of the deal, making sure she didn’t do anything too stupid. It had been a week straight of no injuries. And a week straight of Azzi consuming her every thought. 

More often than not, Paige’s mind replayed how Azzi interacted with the little boy with the broken ankle. The smile she gave him, dimples and all, seared into her brain. But her thoughts couldn’t help but wander to the nurse’s explanation as to why she stopped playing. Couldn’t get the hint of wistfulness in her voice out of her head when Azzi told the kid she “used to play, but not anymore”.

Since she wouldn’t be seeing Azzi for fourteen whole days – which was a form of psychological torture if you asked the blonde – Paige decided to google her. It wasn’t creepy, she was just…doing research. 

What she discovered was far from what she could have ever imagined, however. Azzi didn’t just play basketball. She was a prodigy. How in the fuck have I never heard of her? Paige berated herself internally. She received her first college scholarship offer when she was just twelve years old. She had broken – no, shattered – multiple shooting records across the country. Had won countless awards. Tore her ACL in high school and came back even stronger. Even received a full scholarship from UCLA. Paige was devastated to read that she only got to play for a couple months before destroying her ACL and losing her spot on the team her freshman year. 

Then she found film. And watching, actually seeing Azzi play, was even more impressive than reading about her accomplishments. She had the greatest shooting form Paige had ever witnessed. Holy shit, Paige thought to herself. She doesn’t fucking miss. She was more certain than she had ever been in her life that Azzi would be shattering records in the W right beside her if UCLA hadn’t made the world's stupidest decision to let go of the greatest player she had ever seen.  

After watching as many highlights as she could find – and there were a lot – Paige knew she was a goner. Not only was Azzi beautiful, kind, quick witted, intelligent, and someone who quite literally held people’s lives in her perfect hands; she was also the greatest basketball player the world would never know. She didn’t think she could fall any faster than she already had, but once again, Azzi proved her wrong without even meaning to. Without even knowing it. 

She wanted to know everything about Azzi. But she wanted to hear about it from the nurse herself. So with more self control than she had exhibited in a long time, Paige forced her laptop shut. 

—

Azzi Fudd prided herself on being unshakable. She could handle blood, panic, death, obnoxious late night drunks, arrogant doctors who thought they were smarter than everyone else in the room, and overconfident patients who believed they were indestructible. 

One particular overconfident patient, however, was proving to be a growing problem.

It had officially been eleven days. It was the longest streak in her and Paige's entire nurse-patient relationship. And Azzi absolutely detested that she had noticed.

She was stocking up on necessary supplies for an incoming trauma patient twenty minutes out – though her mind was currently on an irritating blonde – when her coworker, Caroline, entered the room. She knocked Azzi out of her thoughts by elbowing her in the side, waggling her eyebrows.

“She’s cute,” she said. 

Azzi side eyed her. “Excuse me?”

“The patient you’re currently day dreaming about?” she teased. She had known Azzi far too long, knew all of her tells. Knew when her mind was somewhere else. And in all the years she had known her, she had only seen her eyes soften in the way they did when she was around – or even just thinking about – the blonde once. Only once. So she knew she was special. 

Azzi scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied, stonefaced. 

Caroline gave her a look. “The one with the stitches. And the dramatic elbow. And the imaginary concussion. And the wrist,” she listed off. 

The tips of Azzi’s ears burned hot. “She’s a patient,” she said shortly. 

Caroline snorted. “She’s been in more times in the last month than most people come in within ten years,” she retorted, not letting Azzi off the hook that easily. 

“She’s over dramatic,” Azzi concluded, trying to shut down the conversation.

Caroline wouldn’t allow it. “Maybe,” she shrugged. “But she’s smitten.”

Azzi opened her mouth to deny it. But the argument died on her tongue. Because the truth was, Paige was not subtle about her infatuation. In fact, she was glaringly obvious. 

Her golden hair, that bright, gummy smile. The way the apples of her cheeks were always so prominent around the nurse. Striking blue eyes that never failed to light up the moment Azzi walked into the room.

Azzi had noticed. And she didn’t hate it. Truth be told, deep, deep, down, Azzi kind of loved it. But that was the problem. She didn’t want to. Couldn’t afford to.

“She’s reckless,” Azzi said sharply. “Self-destructive. And maybe even a little bit stupid.”

Caroline grinned. “Yeah. Stupid for you.”

Azzi just scoffed. She turned back to her supplies, doing a remarkably good job of pretending her heart rate hadn’t grown tachycardic at the mere mention of Paige. “It’s complicated,” was all she could say. 

“No,” Caroline said plainly. “It’s really not.”

Azzi absolutely refused to think about how Paige’s flirting had started feeling less irritating, and more…addictive. 

Focus. She told herself. She had to stay focused on her work. A career she cared about – one that saved her from the overwhelming disappointment of a future she had lost. A heart she kept locked up tight. 

The problem was, Paige was persistent. Annoyingly so. She didn’t know when to quit. Kept pushing, kept showing up. And instead of that tenacity driving her further away like it normally would, she somehow found it endearing. 

She’s not exactly sure when the flip switched. Initially, when the triage nurse told her she needed to stitch up Paige Bueckers, she had begged her to assign her to someone else. She knew who she was. Everyone did, you couldn’t drive more than two blocks in downtown Dallas without seeing her face plastered on a billboard. 

She’d seen her in commercials, unwillingly seen clips of the woman on her social media feeds. Azzi had assumed the blonde would be arrogant and big headed. She wasn't necessarily wrong. But...she was also so much more. 

She was annoying, relentless, and far too confident for her own good. But she was unapologetically herself. She was kind and goofy. Charming in an irritatingly endearing way. And she had a good heart. She saw it in the way she interacted with everyone she spoke to, treating her coworkers with respect and intention.

But she especially saw it with the boy with the broken ankle. The boy who spent the rest of his time in the ER bragging to Azzi that “the Paige Bueckers” signed his ankle, lighting up when he described how she told him he could go pro if he worked hard enough. 

She shook her head, physically trying to shake Paige Bueckers out of her mind. Annoyed with herself for how frequently the blonde had managed to take up residency in her thoughts as of late.

She had a job to do. She needed to focus. She couldn’t afford any distractions. And that’s exactly what Paige was; nothing but a distraction. 

—

Meanwhile, just a few blocks away, Paige had been sat on Dijonai’s couch, in the seat furthest from the sharp corner of her coffee table. Paige wasn’t taking any risks this close to reaching her goal. The vet had forced the blonde to come over for dinner and hang out. 

It took far too much convincing on Dijonai’s part, having to guarantee Paige there would be no immediate threats to her life. Telling her she wouldn’t allow the blonde to spend the next three days hiding out in her apartment to avoid any trips to the hospital. 

They were in the middle of a movie Dijonai had picked out, against Paige’s wishes, when the older woman suddenly hit pause. 

“Bro, why’d you stop it,” Paige complained. “It was finally starting to get good.”

“Oh please,” Dijonai started. “It’s been good the whole time. Stop pretending you don’t like it.” She rolled her eyes. “But I want ice cream.”

“Bro, you have like seven thousand different tubs in the freezer. Just go pick one,” Paige sassed. 

“No.” Dijonai said. “I want good ice cream. Let’s go to that new place that opened. It’s close, like a ten minute walk.”

“Are you crazy?” Paige asked, appalled. “Do you realize how dangerous that could be? I swear, it’s like you’re trying to get me killed.” 

Dijonai had already stood up, looking for where she had kicked off her shoes when they first came in. “Paige, I can’t deal with your bullshit tonight. Stop being so dramatic.”

Paige scoffed, offended. “I am not being dramatic. I’m being careful. I’m three days away. Can’t risk it. ‘S just not safe.”

Paige felt one of her own shoes smack against the back of her head. She whipped to face her vet, expression one of horror. “NAI!” she yelled. “You coulda concussed me!” 

“Paige,” Dijonai said sternly, entirely fed up. “Put your shoes on.”

“Fine,” Paige relented. “But if something happens to me, I will haunt you.”

Paige threw on her hoodie before reaching for the shoes Dijonai had so conveniently (and dangerously) thrown at her. She tied her laces in triple knots. Just to be safe, she told herself. Can’t take any unnecessary risks. She followed Dijonai out the front door, making sure to carefully watch her step as she moved, wary of any potential tripping hazards. 

As they made their way towards the elevator, Paige broke off to the left, making a bee line for the stairwell. 

“Where are you going?” Dijonai asked. 

“To the stairs,” Paige said slowly, like she was talking to a child. 

“I live on the ninth floor.” She looked like she’d had just about enough of the blonde. 

“Exactly,” Paige said. “A nine floor drop from an elevator would be deadly.”

“Oh you’ve got to be– “ Dijonai started, before interrupting herself. “You know what? I don’t care.” There was a ding and the elevator doors started to open. “I’ll meet you down there.”

“Bet,” Paige said, as she made her way to the stairwell. She began her descent. Very slowly, very cautiously. 

When she finally exited the stairwell on the first floor, Dijonai had probably been waiting for at least ten minutes. She was less than thrilled to see Paige’s unhurried steps towards where she was waiting near the front of the building.

“About damn time,” she muttered.

“Hey!” Paige admonished. “You should be grateful I’m putting myself in this much danger just so you can get ice cream.”

As they headed towards the exit, Paige reached for her phone in her back pocket, muttering a curse when she realized it wasn’t there. 

“Dammit. I left my phone upstairs,” she told the vet. 

“Paige,” Dijonai leveled her with an annoyed look. 

“Hold up, I'll be right back,” she turned back for the stairwell.

Dijonai grabbed her arm before she could take another step. “Absolutely not. I’m not waiting down here for thirty minutes while you crawl up nine flights of stairs. Just get it when we come back.” she told her.

“Bro, I need my phone,” Paige said desperately.

“God, you’re irritating,” Dijonai groaned. “Fine. I’ll go get it then. You just…stay here.” She turned on her heel, pressing the button to call the elevator rather aggressively. 

Dijonai had been gone for a total of about thirty seconds before Paige got bored and decided to wait for the older girl outside. As she stepped out of the entrance doors, she immediately collided with another body. 

She was barely even knocked off balance, but Paige overreacted, panic flooding through her system sending her arms flailing and body staggering. She swore her life flash before her eyes. Her last coherent thought being, this is all Nai’s fault. I am 100% going to haunt her. 

Then she felt two firm hands at her waist, steadying her. A familiar, dizzying scent overwhelming her senses. She looked up.

Azzi. In scrubs and a crewneck that read “emergency department” in a funky font across the front. 

“Whoa. Easy, Bambi,” she said, in that soft raspy voice that had been haunting Paige since she first heard it. 

Paige’s mind went blank. Unable to form a single thought, let alone coherent sentence.

“You– I– what– how–,” Azzi removed her hands from Paige as the blonde struggled to form a sentence, instantly missing the feeling of the nurse’s hands on her.

“I was getting coffee,” Azzi said simply.

Paige’s face lit up in a shit eating grin, sense slowly coming back to her. “Without me?”

Azzi shook her head, trying hard not to smile. “I’m on break. And you don’t have coffee privileges yet. You haven’t met our deal.”

Paige puffed up proudly, a chest jutting out. “I’m injury free. Haven’t busted anything in eleven whole days.”

“Miraculous,” Azzi deadpanned. 

Paige smirked, goofy and crooked. “You could kiss me as a reward.”

Azzi’s eyes flicked to Paige’s lips. Just for a second. Just enough to ruin Paige’s life and set her heart racing beneath her chest. 

“We said coffee,” Azzi replied, voice too soft to be purely professional. 

“Yeah…but coffee can lead to–”

“Paige,” Azzi warned. It was a fond warning, but a warning none the less. 

Paige opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the sound of the elevator dinging, announcing its arrival. Dijonai stepped out, already talking to the back of Paige’s head from where she stood in the doorway. 

“I don’t get how stairs are safer than the elevator. You’re way more likely to trip down a flight of stairs than die in an elevator, idiot,” she said, irritated at having had to go back up. 

Paige turned to her, eyebrows furrowed, arms crossed, ready to argue as Dijonai crossed the lobby to make her way over. “I can control my own steps. I can’t control an elevator if the cable snaps. Or if there’s a fire and we’re caught inside. Or if–”

Dijonai shoved her in the face with her hand, shutting her up. 

“Bro, careful! You coulda broke my nose,” she admonished, violently ripping her head back. 

“Paige, I swear to god, I am this close to putting you in the hospital mysel–” she cut herself off, noticing Azzi watching the interaction with an amused look on her face.

Dijonai looked her up and down, then grinned. Recognition flickering in her eyes.

“No way,” she started. “Are you the nurse Paige is obsessed with?” she delighted. Paige swatted her in the chest with the back of her hand, eyes wide. 

Paige quickly turned to Azzi. “I’m– I’m not obsessed. She’s exaggerating,” Paige tried to deny.

“I’m not exaggerating,” Dijonai said. She handed Paige her phone before sticking her hand out toward Azzi. “I’m Dijonai. Paige’s teammate slash babysitter. You’ve made her an even bigger pain in the ass than she normally is,” she said. 

The nurse shook her hand. “Azzi,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”

But the thing that sent Paige all out of whack was the fact that Dijonai received a smile. And she didn’t even have to earn it.

“What the...?” Paige mused out loud in utter shock, resulting in both women turning their attention to the blonde, the smile gone from Azzi’s face, as they waited for her to explain her little outburst.

Paige's eyes darted between the two of them several times in quick succession, head moving along with her eyes like she was watching a tennis match, before they settled on Azzi.

“You smiled at her,” she said, indignant. 

“Dude,” Dijonai said resigned, looking at her teammate like she was an idiot.

“Nah, you be quiet,” she said to Dijonai, glaring at her for a less than a second before her attention returned to Azzi. “I gotta work so hard to get even the tiniest smile from you. And she gets one just like that?” She was basically whining. “That’s so unfair.”

Azzi just shrugged, unperturbed. “She seems less annoying.”

Dijonai barked out a laugh, not expecting Azzi’s swift, unbothered response. Despite the blonde having told her vet about the nurse's quick mouth on many occasions. Paige supposed that witnessing it in person was different. 

Paige just scoffed, speechless, a small pout forming on her lips. And even though Azzi may not have been smiling at Paige directly, her eyes were shining with amusement as she watched the blonde’s reaction. 

The three women chatted for a few moments. Azzi was somehow even more charming outside of the hospital. And Dijonai had apparently made it her life's mission to embarrass the blonde. Going so far as to inform the nurse that the training staff had to double their KT tape purchase order this month. She even tried to show Azzi a picture, but Paige smacked Dijonai’s arm away before she could pull one up. 

An alarm went off on Azzi’s phone, effectively pulling her out of the moment.

“I have to get back to work,” she said. She turned to Dijonai first, a small, but sincere smile on her face. “It was nice to meet you.”

Then she turned to Paige, smile vanishing in an instant. “Paige,” she said with a curt nod, eyes alight. And with that she began making her way down the crowded street. 

“Damn,” Dijonai said, eyes wide. “I get it now. She’s hot.”

Paige just sighed in awe, watching her until she was out of sight. 

“I know,” Paige finally breathed out. 

—

Thirteen days. 

Paige had officially gone thirteen days with no injuries, no necessary (or unnecessary) trips to the emergency room. Thirteen days with absolutely zero medical drama. 

It was honestly a miracle, and Paige was on top of the world. 

She had less than twenty four hours left of perfect health and she would earn that number. Earn that coffee. Earn Azzi’s smile. Earn whatever this thing between them was becoming. In Paige’s mind, she only had to make it twenty four hours before she had the last first date of her life. Convinced Azzi was it for her. 

She only needed to make it one. more. day. She would make it one more day. She was sure of it. And Paige was never wrong. 

Practice was light. A few new practice players had been brought on to the team, and the coaching staff wanted to make sure they were settled and comfortable within the system before they went hard. So practice consisted of film review and a light scrimmage. Nothing that would jeopardize Paige reaching her goal. 

But life seemed to have a twisted sense of humor.

Late in the scrimmage, one of the new practice players panicked. He was young and over eager to prove himself. Figured locking down Paige Bueckers would do just that. It wasn’t intentional by any means. A clumsy elbow. A mistimed step. A tangle of limbs. And then–

Paige hit the court. Hard. 

Her head ricocheted against the hardwood with a sickening thud. The sound reverberated against the walls of the gym. 

 Everything went white. 

When she opened her eyes again, the gym wouldn’t stop spinning. All Paige could feel was a ringing in her ears, and something warm spilling from her head down past her eye, pooling beneath her cheek and the floor as she fought to keep her eyes open. 

She vaguely registered the sound of someone shouting her name. The way they had called it sounded panicked, edged with terror. But it echoed, the sound coming in and out.

“Paige! Hey– Paige!”

Dijonai was hovering over her as she knelt by her side, eyes wide and filled with fear. The team trainer was shouting instructions she couldn’t quite process.

Paige tried to speak, but the words came out slurred and strenuous. Entirely incoherent. She wanted to tell her teammates I’m fine. DO NOT TAKE ME TO THE HOSPITAL. I can't break the deal. But she couldn’t get the words to come out no matter how hard she tried.

Instead, her vision blurred. Darkness creeping in from the edges until everything went black. 

No more jokes. No more pretending.

This one was real. 

—

Azzi had been slammed since she walked in through the doors at the start of her shift. Back-to-back traumas, multiple STEMI’s, and two stroke codes. She was steady through them all. Never wavering. She had always been that way. Found calm in the chaos. Where everyone else panicked, she felt herself focus. It was what made her so good at her job. 

But when the sliding doors of the ambulance bay burst open, and she heard the name Bueckers leave the paramedic’s mouth, her heart stopped beating in her chest. 

She turned and saw the gurney. Saw the familiar blonde hair. Saw the dried blood extending from the edge of Paige’s hairline down a pale cheek. C-collar wrapped stiffly around her neck. 

Then she saw that Paige was unconscious. Those normally bright blue eyes hidden beneath dark lashes. 

And for the first time in her career, Azzi’s hands shook. 

She forced her voice to come out steady. “I’ve got her. Trauma bay two.”

The other nurses exchanged glances. Azzi never volunteered. For anyone. Especially not this close to the end of her shift. 

She followed alongside the stretcher as they made their way to the room, eyes never leaving Paige’s motionless body as the paramedics relayed the handoff report. 

Something about a fall, a brief loss of consciousness, possible LOC again en route. A two-and-a-half centimeter laceration above the right temple with moderate bleeding. Controlled with direct pressure. No obvious skull deformity. Vitals stable en route. 

The paramedics had made sure to mention that they were not responsible for the copious amounts of KT tape covering almost the entirety of her arms and legs before they left. Something that would have made her laugh under any other circumstance. 

But Azzi barely processed the words. Because Paige’s chest rose in small, uneven breaths and her lips moved like she was trying to speak in her sleep.

As soon as the paramedics transferred her to the hospital gurney, Azzi rushed to her bedside, leaning close enough to smell a mix of sweat, blood, and something uniquely Paige.  

“Paige. Hey. Paige, open your eyes.” When she got no response she repeated herself, bringing her hand between the girls shoulder and neck to perform a trap squeeze as she spoke. 

Paige flinched, then let out a weak groan. “Ow,” she murmured. “Quit it.”

Her blue eyes fluttered halfway open, disoriented and glossy. It took a moment for her eyes to focus. But once they did, and they registered Azzi in front of her, a small, droopy smile made its way to her face. 

“There you are,” Azzi breathed.

“Hi,” she whispered, dazed. The smile fell away the second she realized where she was. A look of pure panic washing over her features. “No,” she said, shaking her head for only a second before she realized just how painful the motion was. 

“No,” she repeated again, her tone filled with dread. “Fuck. Fuck! I– I didn’t mean to. I–”

Azzi cut her off. “We’re going to run some tests, okay? I need you to stay awake.” 

The nurse brought a hand up to Paige’s face, gently cupping her cheek to steady her head. Her thumb subconsciously stroking the skin there as she shined a penlight into her eyes. She felt Paige lean into the touch. It was subtle, but Azzi didn’t miss it. 

Paige had tried to stay still. To be a good patient, be cooperative. But the feeling of Azzi’s fingers on her skin sent sparks through her own, traveling directly to her heart.

And the monitor betrayed her instantly.

Beep. Beep-beep. Beep-beep-beep.

Azzi froze.

Her eyes flicked to the monitor, then back to Paige’s flushed cheeks. 

“...Seriously?” she asked, dumbfounded. 

Paige just blinked at her, dazed. “What?” 

Azzi swallowed. Lips twitching as if she were fighting a smile. An undeniable hint of amusement in her eyes as her tone slipped into something dangerously close to fond.

“Your heart rate just shot up over twenty points the second I touched you,” she chastised. 

Paige’s eyes widened. “No it didn’t,” she denied, agonistic even in her current state.

Azzi arched an eyebrow. “You were at sixty-eight resting. Now you’re at ninety-four," she said flatly. “So yes. It did.”

Paige made a strangled noise in the back of her throat. “That…that’s because I’m concussed.”

“Mhm,” Azzi said, wearing a small smirk. “I’m sure that’s all it is.”

Paige attempted to shoot a glare at the nurse, but it came out more like a pout. 

“You’re cute when you blush,” she murmured before she could stop herself. 

The monitor beeped even faster.

Azzi continued on with her exam. “I’m ignoring that.”

—

Paige had no idea how long it had been since she had opened her eyes to see Azzi’s worried face looking down at her. All she knew was that everything hurt, she couldn’t move her neck due to some incredibly uncomfortable contraption forcing her head straight and up. A contraption she complained about and tried to pry off, but Azzi told her she needed to keep on until a CT scan confirmed she was okay enough to remove it. 

If Paige wasn’t used to so much attention, she would have been incredibly overstimulated. It reminded her of what happens between takes of a photo shoot. Everyone focused on their own tasks, working symbiotically alongside each other. There was a team of nurses in different colored scrubs running multiple tests on her simultaneously, taking turns to give her instructions and ask her questions. 

Through it all, Paige’s eyes followed Azzi. She looked as calm and focused as ever, but there was something buried beneath the mask. It took Paige a moment to figure out what it was, but once she did, she couldn’t let it go. 

At first the blonde thought she was imagining it, that it was something her concussion was falsely creating in her mind. But she wasn’t. Azzi was scared. Paige could see it in the way her breath shook slightly when she exhaled. Could see the trace of terror in her eyes, as they constantly darted back to Paige, as if she needed the reassurance that the blonde was still here and breathing. 

Paige was desperate to explain herself, to convince the nurse that this shouldn’t count. That her admission tonight shouldn’t void their agreement. To try and broker a new deal. But there were too many people around, too much going on. And if she was being completely honest with herself, she was scared of the answer she was going to get. 

The doctor walked in, but before Azzi could relay the information she and her team had collected, he looked Paige up and down, a frown of confusion gracing his tired features. 

“Why are you covered in so much tape?” he questioned his patient, suspiciously. 

Paige grimaced, voice coming out gravely from disuse. “I was tryna be…precautios. Y’know, avoid injury,” she explained. 

“How’d that work out for you?” he asked, with a smile bordering a smirk. He must’ve trained Azzi, Paige thought to herself. Either that or there’s a sarcasm prerequisite to work here. 

Paige, always ready to rise to the challenge, snarked back, though it came out somewhat slurred and tired. “I’mean everything wrapped s’fine. Maybe if my head was too… I wouldn’t be here,” she tried to sneer, but the motion hurt. 

The doctor let out a small, but hearty laugh. “I like you. You’ve got some fire in you.”

Paige smirked, small and weak. But proud of herself none the less. 

He turned to Azzi. “So what’s the story?”

Azzi filled him in. She was in full nurse mode, and Paige could do nothing but watch in awe. The way she rattled off what happened, her symptoms, her vitals. Something she called an GCS score that was fluctuating between 12 and 14. 

The word “score” had Paige’s ears perking up, suddenly feeling that familiar sense of competitiveness. She made a mental note to ask Azzi what the score was out of later, just to be sure she was at the top of it. 

The doctor filled Paige in on what would happen next. Letting her know what she needed to get a CT scan to rule out any potential bleeding, fractures, or other concerns. 

He left with a goodbye, letting her know he’d be back to read the results of the scan when they came in. But before he took the final step out the door, he turned towards the remaining nurses. “And someone peel that ridiculous tape off of her.”

—

Azzi walked beside the gurney as transport wheeled Paige towards CT. One of her hands was loosely wrapped around the side rail. Not quite touching the blonde, but close enough that she could if she needed to. Or wanted to. 

Her face was the epitome of calm, controlled, and professional. Perfectly practiced neutrality. 

Paige was more alert now, tracking the movements around her. Though her eyelids felt heavy and her words still slurred slightly. Her right temple was now bandaged, blood matted into her hair. 

The monitor attached to the stretcher beeped softly. Paige didn’t understand what most of the numbers and waveforms on the screen meant. The only thing she recognized was HR. So she focused on that. 72, she said to herself. Not bad. I bet I could raise it. She took a few quick breaths trying to get the number up. When she looked again, she had gotten it up to 78, and smiled proudly to herself before it settled again. 

Until Azzi stepped closer. 

Then. Beep-beep-beep-102. 

Paige blinked up at her, a mix of surprise and reverence overtook her face. “You’re…still here.”

Azzi opened her mouth to speak, then quickly shut it, swallowing whatever she was initially going to say. “I’m making sure you don’t fall off the bed. Apparently you can’t be trusted to stay upright on your own.”

Paige gave a tired smile. The monitor ticked upwards again, now reading 106. 

Azzi’s eyebrows knit, a small line forming between them as she studied the screen in front of her. “Your heart rate’s elevated again.”

“Yeah well…” Paige’s gaze drifted subconsciously to Azzi’s hand perched on the rail. “‘S kinda your fault.” Her voice trailed off at the end, eyes fluttering shut against their weight. 

“Paige.” Azzi leaned in. “I need you to stay awake for me. Open your eyes.”

Paige forced them open, slow and heavy, lifting them to meet Azzi’s brown that are filled with unbridled concern. The monitor responds like it’s wired directly to Azzi’s voice: 114. 

Azzi looks from the monitor back to Paige, and her typically sharp features shift into something…softer. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” she chastises gently. But it’s not annoyed. Not tonight. 

After a series of twists and turns through hospital hallways that all look the same - Paige was sure she’d get lost if she left there on her own - they reach CT. 

The technician stepped forward, reaching for Paige’s bed in the exact spot Azzi was holding. “We’ll take her from here.”

She felt Azzi stiffen, not letting go. Before Paige could protest the mere thought of no longer being in Azzi’s presence, Azzi beat her to it. 

“I’m coming in with her.”

The way she’d said it left no room for the tech to object. It wasn’t a question. She was merely informing him of a decision she had already made. Paige would have been a little intimidated if she wasn’t so relieved that it seemed Azzi wasn’t eager to leave her side either. 

The CT room was cold and nearly echoed with the sound of machines humming. There was a large circular machine in the center of the room with a table that went straight through the middle. The blonde tried not to shiver.

As they gently transferred Paige onto the table, she flinched, wincing at the movement. One of Azzi’s warm, careful hands immediately came up to her shoulder to steady her. 

“Easy, Paige. You’re okay, just relax,” she cooed. 

Beep-beep-beep-118. 

The tech glanced at the monitor before looking at Azzi, an edge of concern in his wide eyes. “Uh…should I be worried?” 

Azzi answers without taking her eyes off of Paige. Her thumb brushing just once against the back of Paige’s shoulder. 

“No. She’s just…reactive.” It came out softer than she had probably intended. 

Paige manages a hoarse whisper just loud enough for only Azzi to hear. “‘M only reactive…to you.” Her eyes are only half open, but still trace the features of Azzi’s face like she’s trying to sear it into her memory. 

Azzi freezes. Her hands still. Her breath catches. And Paige hears it. A sharp, quick intake of breath that nearly echoed in the quiet of the room. 

And the monitor goes absolutely wild: 128. 

Azzi exhales shakily. “Paige, you need to calm down.” 

“Can’t,” Paige murmured. “You’re right there.”

Azzi attempts to regain some semblance of professionalism and fails miserably. Her voice coming out soft. “Listen to me; take a deep breath. In,” she paused. “Now out. Good.” She coached Paige through a few more breaths, heart rate coming down. “The faster we finish this scan, the faster we can get you treated and resting. So I need you to hold still, okay? I know that’s hard for you, but no moving. Understand?”

Paige nodded weakly, but her gaze drifted to Azzi’s fingers still resting on her. Like she was memorizing the feeling. 

Azzi leans closer, her lips inches away from Paige’s ear. Voice a whisper meant only for the blonde to hear. 

“Good girl.” 

The monitor explodes. 

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-148. Alarms start to chirp as lights flash on the screen. 

The CT tech startles out of whatever he was prepping from the control room. “Whoa! What the hell–”

Paige’s eyes go wide, face flushing despite the pallor of her skin. “Azzi!”

Azzi jerks back instantly, cheeks burning. “Jesus, Paige!” she scolds. “Breathe. Deep breathes. What are you–”

Paige cuts her off, mortified as she squeaks out, “You can’t– you can’t say things like that to me– not here–”

Azzi slaps a hand over her own mouth, a strangled mix of horror and laughter escaping behind it. She’s never been so close to losing her composure on shift. 

“Bueckers,” Azzi whispers harshly, voice minutely trembling. “Get it together.”

Paige smiles lazily, face still flushed. “You first.”

Azzi curses under her breath. And then gently, as though she couldn’t help herself, she squeezes Paige’s hand. 

The monitor jumps again, but not as drastic. Steadier this time.

The quiet in the space between them is soft. Paige swears Azzi can feel it too.

The CT tech clears his throat. Loudly. “We ready?” he asks the two, unamused. 

Azzi steps back, cheeks faintly dusted with a light pink. “Yes. Sorry. Go ahead.” 

She moves behind the large protective window of the control room. But her eyes never leave Paige. Not even for a second. 

—

By the time Paige was transferred back into her room, she was exhausted. She had to fight to keep her eyes open, making a formidable effort to pay attention to what the doctor was telling her. Despite the fact that his voice sounded further and further away the more he droned on. 

But Paige got the gist of it. The CT scan was clear – no bleeding, swelling, or fractures. She was lucky it wasn’t worse. Would be spending the night for observation, just in case. Something about monitoring symptoms and making sure she was on an upward trend. 

Her eyes kept drifting to Azzi, beyond her control. Every time Azzi caught her from where she typed away in the corner, she would send her a subtle glare. Mouthing at her to “pay attention”. 

It wasn’t until the doctor started to explain what her recovery timeline would look like that she actually gave him her full attention. The words “limited activity” snapping her mind out of its Azzi induced haze. 

“But once I’m outta here, I don’t gotta do all that, right?”

“Wrong,” Azzi supplied. Paige shot her a dirty look, turning to the doctor, hoping he’d be easier to convince than the hard headed nurse. 

“Doc,” she started. “I’ve had concussions before. I just gotta be more careful than normal. Ease back into practices. But I can still do other stuff, right?”

“As I was explaining, once you’re stable and your symptoms are improving, we’ll send you home with someone who can stay with you the first day. For the next 24-48 hours, you’ll need a lot of rest. Both physical and mental. That means simple cognitive tasks, no practice, no workouts, and limited screen time. Just let your brain settle,” he explained patiently. 

“Okay…” Paige started slowly, eyes narrowing at the doctor standing in front of her bed. “But the simple cognitive task of say…a coffee date. That’d be okay, right?”

Azzi let out a sound from where she was charting, a mix between a squawk and a scoff of disbelief. The doctor glanced at her briefly before returning his attention to Paige, taking a deep breath before answering his evidently stubborn patient. 

“Your brain needs rest. Low stimulation. That means no intense conversation, no bright lights. No dates. At least for the first few days.” 

Paige opened her mouth to argue, but the doctor continued explaining what the rest of her recovery timeline would look like, effectively silencing the blonde. She barely paid attention. The team doctors would put her on their own strict schedule, no doubt. 

By the time the doctor finally left, Paige was drained, in pain, and in a foul mood at the news the physician had given her. Azzi remained quiet, charting away on the computer attached to the wall as the blonde slowly lost the battle to keep her eyes open. 

—

She was stirred awake what couldn't have been more than twenty minutes later by the sensation of something warm and damp swiping gently against her cheek, the rhythmic beeping of the monitor ever-present. Her eyes fluttered open to find Azzi perched at the side of her bed, a stack of moistened gauze in her gloved hands. It was just the two of them left in the room now. Alone for the first time in almost two weeks. The beeping quickened. 

Azzi’s eyes flicked up, startled. Then they softened, understanding flickering beneath them. She continued to work wordlessly. Hands steady, and purposeful in their soft movements as she finished cleaning the dried blood off of Paige’s soft, pale cheek. 

Sure, the nurse had taken care of her before. But never like this. Like she was something delicate and precious. Like she was someone who truly mattered to Azzi. Who deserved the utmost care and reverence. It made Paige’s breathing pick up, chest rising and falling with quick, shallow puffs. 

Azzi noticed. Because…of course she did. She threw the soiled gauze into the trash, followed by her gloves, before returning to her seat beside Paige’s bed. Blue eyes tracked every movement. 

The nurse hesitated. Then slowly, deliberately slid her fingers between Paige’s. 

The monitor climbed another five beats.

Paige groaned. “‘S this thing gonna snitch on me the whole time?”

Azzi’s answering smile was so soft it was barely visible. “It’s doing a pretty good job so far.”

Paige squeezed her hand, weakly. She took a deep breath to steady herself, to prepare for what she is going to say next. She’d even practiced what she was going to say to the nurse during her CT scan. 

“Are you mad at me?” she blurts out, instead. 

Azzi scoffs, incredulous. “Mad at you? I’m not mad, Paige. I was– I was terrified. Do you even realize how serious that could have been? How fucking lucky you are that you’re walking away from this with nothing but a concussion? You could have died Paige. Do you understand that? You walk around acting like–”

She cut herself off, noticing the grin steadily growing across the blonde’s face. 

“Why are you smiling right now? What about this is funny to you?” she accuses. She moves to pull her hand out of Paige’s grasp, but the blonde tightens her grip, refusing to let her go. 

“You care about me,” she states, like it’s a fact. Like she wouldn’t believe Azzi even if she tried to deny it. 

Azzi inhaled sharply. The kind of breath that someone takes when their heart stumbles. Her exhale is shaky and wet. Tears welling in her big, dark eyes before she quickly averts her gaze from the blonde. 

Paige sobered instantly. “I’m sorry,” she said. When Azzi wouldn’t meet her eyes, she squeezed the hand still tightly grasped in her own. “Azzi,” she waited until their gazes connected before she continued. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to break the streak.”

Azzi pressed her lips together, as if she could physically stop them from quivering. “I don’t care about the stupid streak, Paige!” It was the most emotion Paige had ever heard out of the nurse. It left the blonde with her mouth half-parted in stupid shock before Azzi continued. “I care about– I just– You scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Paige whispered, scared to shatter the moment. To break the nurse. “But I’m okay, Az. I promise. ‘S just a lil’ bump on the head.”

Azzi sniffed, trying to force her mask of casual indifference back on. She was unsuccessful, but Paige didn’t call her out. “You’re lucky you have such a thick skull.”

Paige’s thumb gently traced the edge of Azzi’s palm. Her lips pulled into a small smirk. “Gotta have a thick skull to protect my big brain,” she countered. 

“Just because you have a big head does not mean you have a big brain.” Azzi didn’t hesitate. And Paige smiled at the return of her snarky nurse, despite the fact that the snark was currently aimed at her intelligence. 

“Hey!” Paige protested, if only to see the nurse’s lips twitch upwards at her feigned offense. “Well…do me and my big head still get your number and that coffee date?” she asked, eyes brimming with tentative hope. 

Azzi thought about it, face scrunching in concentration. “I mean, technically, you didn’t actually–”

“Azziiii,” Paige whined. 

Azzi laughed. Quiet and soft and a little bit wet. “Fine,” she relented with a roll of her eyes. “Yes, Paige. You win.”

Paige was about to celebrate in a very uncool, uncalm way, before Azzi’s next words made her pout. 

“No date coffee though. Not yet.”

“What? Why not?” Paige started, trying to sit up on the narrow hospital bed. She argued better when she was upright. 

“You heard the doctor. You need to take it easy for a little while,” she told Paige gently. 

“I think we should discuss it more in a little bit. When my head stops pounding, and I can make better rebuttals to your dumb rules.”

“They’re not dumb, they’re medical protocols.”

“Whatever,” Paige mumbled, eyes heavy, voice coming out mumbled from exhaustion. “You’re just lucky you're pretty.”

Azzi looked at their hands to try and stave off the blush at Paige’s concussed compliments. Looked at how naturally they seemed to fit together. Her thumb brushed the back of Paige’s knuckles, slow and trembling.

Every time she touched her, the monitor made it known.

Beep-beep-beep.

Paige’s cheeks warmed, and she let out a loud, overexaggerated groan. “I hate that you can literally hear how much I like you.” Her voice was laced with sleep, but still filled with admiration. 

Azzi shook her head, expression aching. “I don’t,” she whispered, nearly inaudible.

She didn’t let go of Paige’s hand until long after the blonde slipped into unconsciousness. 

—

After a few hours and several more checkups, Paige was being moved up a couple of floors to spend the night in the ICU. Something the blonde vehemently protested against after learning Azzi would no longer be her acting nurse. 

“I need to stay here.” she told Azzi, tone the embodiment of seriousness. “What if something goes wrong?”

“The nurses in the ICU are more than capable of looking after you,” the nurse responded, unmoved by her excuses. 

“But you’re the most capable. And I need–“

“Paige, I’m going home. My shift ended hours ago,” she interrupted. “I wouldn’t be your nurse even if you stayed in the ED.”

“But what about– wait. It did?” she asked. She hadn’t thought about the time once since she was admitted. Too enraptured by all things Azzi. Did she really stay just for me? She asked herself. Fuck, she’s way too good for me. I think I’d spend the rest of my life in here if it means I’d get to spend it with her. 

“Yes. Now stop complaining,” she ordered. “Let them take you. I have to be back here in like nine hours. I need to get some sleep. And so do you.” 

Her tone left no room for argument. But Paige needed to make sure she’d see her again as soon as possible. “Will you come visit me up there tomorrow?”

“I might. If you stop throwing a tantrum and let them move you upstairs right now.”

“Okay,” she relented, defeat weighing her shoulders down. Then she perked up. “Kiss goodbye?” 

Azzi rolled her eyes, but Paige didn’t miss the way her eyes darted quickly to her lips or the subtle dusting of pink that formed across her cheekbones. She rolled her eyes and gave the blonde’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Goodnight Paige. Get some sleep.” 

When Azzi left, Paige heard her tell the nurses waiting outside her room to try again. They were shocked to say the least by the blonde’s sudden willingness to cooperate. 

—

It was safe to say Paige was not a fan of the ICU. Or more accurately, she was not a fan of her new nurse. She had grown much too accustomed to all things Azzi, and he was a far cry from the beautiful curly haired nurse she adored. 

He didn’t smell, sound, or look nearly as good as Azzi did. And he was constantly checking on her. Like every single hour. He’d come in and run tests, ask her the same stupid questions, stab her and poke her and steal her blood. 

But her results kept improving, and she wouldn’t have to stay a full twenty four hours. She would be free to leave soon enough. At least that’s what the non-Azzi nurse told her after her last complaint. 

Truth be told, if it were Azzi doing all of those things, she wouldn’t have minded. In fact, she would have reveled in the attention. But it wasn’t Azzi, and Paige was not enjoying that fact. 

On the bright side, Azzi finally gave Paige her number. Told her it was for “emergencies only Paige, I’m serious. You’re not supposed to be using screens”. And Paige had agreed. It wasn’t Paige’s fault that they had very different definitions of what constituted an emergency. 

7:03pm – Paige: Yo

7:03pm – Paige: U sure u can’t be my nurse?

After no response for almost ten minutes. Paige deemed it necessary to text again.

7:11pm – Paige: My new nurse sucks

7:12pm – Paige: His scrubs might be even tighter than urs 

7:14pm – Paige: But u look good in yours

7:15pm – Paige: He makes scrubs look kinda gross

7:19pm – Paige: Lowkey it might just be saran wrap he painted to look like scrubs

7:22pm – Paige: Stop ignoring me

7:23pm – Azzi: I’m not ignoring you. I’m working

7:24pm – Azzi: And you're not supposed to be on your phone. You’re sensitive to light right now

7:24pm – Paige: I got the brightness turned all the way down. I’m being safe

7:27pm – Azzi: That is not how that works

7:27pm – Paige: I’m dying of boredom Az. U should just come up here and distract me

7:28pm – Paige: Promise I won’t be on my phone if ur with me

Azzi stopped responding. Paige pouted, shutting off her phone with unnecessary force before tossing it in the sheets beside her. She tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep, but her mind wouldn’t quiet. She kept her eyes closed anyways, trying to trick her brain into unconsciousness. 

She didn’t open them when she heard footsteps walking into her room, assuming it was her nurse in the too tight scrubs coming in for yet another round of neurological exams. Futile as it was, she hoped he’d leave her alone if she pretended to be asleep. 

Paige felt soft, ungloved fingers delicately sweep her hair out her face. Fingers that most definitely did not belong to Mike or Mark or Max or Marge or whatever her ugly male nurse’s name was. Her eyes shot open. Azzi. A part of the blonde thought she might’ve died and gone to heaven, seeing the bronze skinned, curly haired angel nurse hovering above her. 

“You’re– you’re here,” she stuttered dumbly. 

“I mean, you did text me twenty seven times,” Azzi teased, an increasingly familiar fondness in her voice. 

“It wasn’t that much, bro,” she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re being dramatic.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “I’m being dramatic? I almost had to block you.”

Paige gasped loudly. “You wouldn’t.”

“Is that really something you want to test?” the nurse challenged.

The blonde held her stare for a moment, blue eyes squinting as if she were trying to assess how serious she was. Then she deflated. “No,” she huffed.

Azzi smirked, triumphant. “That’s what I thought.”

Paige broke out into a face splitting grin. “Gonna admit you miss me down there?”

“I’d be more likely to perform open heart surgery,” she snarked. “So no.”

Paige pouted. “But you came up to see me,” she argued weakly. “Besides, I could totally see you doing open heart surgery.”

“I came up here to tell you to leave Mac alone. He’s about five more minutes with you away from quitting,” she looked Paige up and down. “Or dosing you with something and making your death look like a tragic accident.”

Paige’s head cocked to the side, like a confused puppy. “Who’s Mac?”

Azzi looked at her bewildered. “Mac?” she said slowly, like she was talking to a not so bright child. “Your nurse. You know, the one with the ‘saran wrap’ scrubs?” she used her fingers to air quote Paige on the last part of the description. 

“Ohhh” Paige drew out, recognition overtaking her face. “You mean Mike. Magic Mike. Who looks like he’s about to rip those scrubs off of himself like some cheap tear away pants and start a strip tease.”

“Paige!” Azzi admonished. “His scrubs are not that tight.”

The blonde stared at her. “Azzi, yes they are.”

Paige watched the nurse purse her lips in an effort to hold back a smile. 

“Okay, maybe they’re a little bit tight,” Azzi admitted. “But you have to be nicer to him.”

Paige would never admit it, but she was being a bit difficult.

“I have been nice to him. ‘S not my fault he’s so sensitive,” she grumbled. 

The look she gave Paige told her she didn’t believe her for a second. “You told him he seems like the kind of guy to microwave fish at work and watch Sophie Cunningham edits.”

“…Did I?” Paige asked, feigning innocence. 

“You did.”

“That’s kinda funny though, you gotta admit it.” she smirked, a little proud of herself. 

“No, Paige. He’s traumatized. The poor guy asked his charge nurse if he could switch units,” Azzi chastised. 

“Well good,” Paige humphed, crossing her arms stubbornly. “Maybe next time he won’t come at me with so many damn needles.”

Azzi took a deep breath in, before releasing it slowly with a shake of her head. “He was drawing evening labs.”

“He stabbed me,” Paige retorted, head cocked and eyebrows raised. 

“He gently poked you with a very tiny needle.”

“That’s technically still a stab,” Paige argued. 

Azzi stared at her like she was exhausting. “You’re insufferable,” she grumbled. 

“And yet, you’re still here,” Paige grinned, giving Azzi what she herself considered to be very nonchalant finger guns. 

Azzi pushed one of them down with one of her own long skilled fingers. “I’m only here to keep you from scaring off my coworkers and causing a county wide nursing shortage. Not because I enjoy your company.” 

Paige’s grin turned entirely too smug. “Aw, you enjoy my company?”

“That is so not what I said.”

“That’s literally exactly what you said. You just added extra words in front.”

Azzi opened her mouth to argue, then quickly shut it realizing that arguing with the blonde only seemed to encourage her. Making her somehow impossibly smugger. 

Instead, she changed the subject, tried to move on. “Your neuro checks have all come back normal by the way. I assume they’re adjusting for your baseline level of delusion.”

Paige lit up, a lopsided smirk tugging at the corner of her lip. “Yeah? You wanna test me again? I don’t mind when you do it. You can get real close to my face again, check my pupils. Or how ‘bout my reflexes? Or my–”

The nurse smacked a hand over her face, throwing her head back dramatically. “Oh my god.”

Paige’s smirk grew as she wiggled her eyebrows. “That wasn’t a no.”

“You need to sleep,” Azzi deflected. “You’re injured.”

“Actually,” Paige pointed at herself proudly, “scan came back clear remember? They said I’m all good. I’m pretty much perfect.”

Azzi leveled her with an unamused stare. “It’s nice to see that your unwarranted overconfidence wasn't affected,” she said dryly.

“Oh, speaking of tests and scores and stuff,” Paige sidetracked, remembering a very important question she had. “What was that score you gave me? Started with a G I think? I don’t remember exactly what you called it.”

Azzi’s head cocked to the side, eyebrows furrowing. “A GCS score?”

Paige lit up. “Yes! That! What did that mean? Like, my score?”

“It’s the Glasgow Coma Scale,” Azzi instantly went into nurse mode. “We use it to assess neurological status. It evaluates and assigns point values in three different categories, which are then totalled. So we check motor–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paige interrupted, “that’s cool. But I mean like, how did my score do percentile wise?”

“Percentile wise.” Azzi repeated slowly.

“Yeah, you know?” the overly competitive blonde began. “Like, I scored higher than most people, right? I mean, I probably set a record–”

Azzi laughed. She didn’t intend to, it just slipped out without her permission. Soft, warm, and barely there, but Paige heard it. 

Paige froze, eyes widening, like she’d just witnessed lightning strike a rainbow. She pointed at Azzi accusingly. 

“You laughed,” she stated in shock, voice nearly a whisper.

Azzi’s cheeks flushed subtly. “No I didn’t,” she denied.

“Yes you did!” she declared. “That was a laugh. Like, a real one. With sound and everything.”

“Stop.” 

“Oh my god,” Paige exclaimed, entirely too excited. “I think I just peaked in life. If I died right now, I would die happy.”

“Paige.”

“Tell Dijonai I’ve always been better than her at–”

Azzi reached out and flicked her hard on the shoulder. “You’re unbearable," she complained.

Paige didn’t even try to hold back the smile that stretched across her face, filled with an undeniable reverence as she gazed at the nurse. “You’re cute when you laugh.”

Azzi straightened immediately, face dropping into what Paige could almost call a pout. “I’m leaving.”

“No don’t leave,” Paige panicked, voice coming out rushed. She quickly reached out and grabbed Azzi’s wrist – with a speed that would have impressed the nurse had she been assessing her reflexes at that moment – tugging Azzi back to her. “I’m sick.”

“You’re not sick.”

“I’m injured.”

“You’re mildly concussed.”

“And bored and lonely,” Paige added dramatically. “Like…this level of boredom and loneliness could potentially be fatal.”

Azzi sighed. It was long and suffering, but it lacked a certain level of annoyance that Paige had almost grown accustomed to. This sigh almost sounded…fond. Like she was even trying very hard not to smile again. 

“Fine,” she caved. “Five more minutes.”

Paige’s entire face lit up like a child whose parents just told them they could stay up past their bedtime. “Really?”

Azzi’s eyes softened, just a bit. “Really,” she echoed. 

Paige let herself sink back down into bed, head relaxing into the pillow behind her. She was triumphant, smug, and beneath it all, radiating warmth. “See?” she goaded, unable to help herself. “I knew you liked me.”

Azzi pulled the visitor's chair to the side of the bed, sliding into it with an exaggerated huff. “I said you could have five more minutes. Not a confession.”

But her hand rested on Paige’s forearm, thumb stroking gently against the soft skin beneath it every few seconds. 

And Paige heard her heart rate monitor betray her. The nurse noticed, eyes flicking to the screen before returning to Paige. That tiny almost-smile tugging at her full lips.

“That’s really not fair,” Paige complained. “There’s gotta be a way to shut that off. What happened to medical ethics? ‘Cause this seems unethical. Didn’t you have to take an oath when you became a nurse?”

Azzi couldn’t help the small smile that graced her lips at Paige’s ridiculousness. I keep making her smile. I even made her laugh. Paige thought. I’m funny. Then thought to herself more seriously: I want to make her laugh forever.

“You should rest,” she said softly, eyes shining with warmth.

Paige was suddenly aware of just how heavy her eyelids were. Felt sleep tugging at her. The kind of tired that felt warm and safe. 

She tried to fight it. Didn’t want to miss a moment with Azzi, desperate to be in her orbit. But it was a fight she couldn’t win. Not when Azzi was sitting beside her, her presence along with the thumb steadily stroking her arm bringing Paige a sense of peace and contentment she wasn’t used to. 

I want to fall asleep next you for the rest of my life, was the blonde’s last coherent thought before she drifted off. 

—

Paige was already dressed in the clean clothes Dijonai brought her, sitting with her legs hanging over the edge of the bed, bent over and tying off her last shoe when her nurse returned with the paperwork. 

“Wow,” he deadpanned. “Eager to leave, huh?”

“I was kept here against my will for days,” Paige said dramatically, pulling her hoodie over her head. 

“You’ve been here eighteen hours,” he said, unimpressed.

“Time moves different in the ICU, okay?” she sassed. “I don’t think you understand. I went from having Azzi Fudd as my nurse…to you.” 

He raised his brows at her.

“...No offense,” she amended after silence stretched uncomfortably between them. 

A quick knock sounded at the door before it slid open. Dijonai entered like a mother walking into a room she knew contained nothing but disappointment. 

“There she is,” she remarked, hands coming up to pinch Paige’s cheeks like an overzealous grandmother. “The very reason I found my first ever gray hair.”

Paige beamed. “Hi mom.”

Dijonai held her face, uncomfortably squishing her cheeks together as she maneuvered her head to check for damage. 

“You have a tiny cut, but other than that you seem fine,” she concluded, dropping her hands. “Suspiciously fine.”

Paige lifted her chin. “I’m very brave.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Dijonai corrected. 

The nurse handed Paige the discharge instructions. Paige immediately passed them to Dijonai like a child turning in their homework. 

Dijonai took a moment to skim them, reading what she deemed the most important bits outloud. “Okay. No screens for a little while–”

“That’s impossible,” Paige countered.

“No strenuous activity–”

“That’s also impossible.”

“No arguing with your teammates–”

Paige glared at her. “Liar. It does not say that.”

“It should,” Dijonai muttered, flipping through the rest of the papers before looking at Nurse Mac. “Is she good to go?”

“She is all yours,” he said, eager to be done with her. 

“Thank you for dealing with her. I apologize for whatever it is I’m sure she put you through,” Dijonai said to the nurse. 

As they headed towards the door, Paige paused, turning to Mac. “Hey Marge, lemme know what size scrubs you wear. Imma send you a pair as a thank you.” Then she smirked. “In a size up.”

Dijonai swatted her in the shoulder with a loud smack, muttering something about being nice. The two of them made their way down the halls, following signs until they reached the elevators. 

When they stepped inside, Paige leaned back against the rail, looking at Dijonai with a rare hesitation. 

“Are you gonna stay with me tonight?” she asked. “Just in case something goes wrong and I like…die or something?”

“You’re not going to die,” Dijonai said, rolling her eyes. “But yes. I’m babysitting you. For at least a couple of nights. I should have babyproofed your apartment before I picked you up, but I didn’t have time.”

When Paige looked at her confused, she elaborated. “You know? Like when parents put foam padding over all the sharp and hard edges so their babies can’t smack their heads into them?” 

Paige pouted. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” she grumbled.

“But at the very least I will be hiding your knives.” Dijonai continued. “And your phone.” 

“What? Why my phone?” 

Dijonai smirked. “Because if you concuss-text Azzi one more time, she’s going to change her phone number.”

Paige gaped. “How do you know about that?”

“Oh did I not tell you?” Dijonai asked innocently. The elevator doors opened. “I ran into her on my way in today. We had coffee.” 

She stepped out of the elevator, leaving Paige frozen in shock behind her. 

—

Paige had barely clicked the buckle into place in the passenger seat of Dijonai’s car before she started complaining. 

“I feel like this seatbelt is too tight,” she griped, tugging at it theatrically. 

Dijonai didn’t take her eyes off of the road. “You’re buckled in normally. Stop fussing around.”

“It’s cutting off my circulation.”

“It’s across your chest.”

Paige slumped. “Exactly.”

Dijonai inhaled deeply through her nose. The long, exhausted exhale was one of somebody who had known Paige far too long to be surprised by her dramatics. “Lord give me the strength,” she prayed quietly. 

When they reached a stoplight, Paige turned her head slowly. She stared at her teammate with the expression of someone who thought she was being subtle. She wasn’t.

Dijonai side eyed her. “What,” she said.

Paige continued staring, eyes roaming her face like she was trying to uncover something. 

“What,” Dijonai repeated, louder this time, more pronounced.

“Nothing,” the blonde said, continuing to study her.

“Paige,” she said, tone almost a warning.

“Fine,” she folded. “Did you really run into Azzi? Did she say anything about me? Did you guys actually have coffee? What did she say about me? Does she miss me?”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Dijonai groaned. “Here we go.”

“Okay, but I’m serious though,” Paige insisted. “You actually ran into her?”

“Yes, Paige,” she said slowly, like she was talking to an insolent child. “I got there way too early to pick you up, ran into her and she looked exhausted, so I grabbed coffee from the place down the street.”

Paige blinked. “That was nice of you.”

Dijonai looked at her, saw the genuineness on her face and rolled her eyes before the light turned green and she continued driving. “Yeah well, Azzi actually seems really cool. You realize she is way out of your league, right?”

Paige couldn’t help but smile at the answer. “Yeah, I know.”

“Damn dude,” Dijonai chuckled softly. “You’re whipped. You think everyone is in your league. Where’s your delusion? Did you hit your head that hard?”

“No,” Paige grumbled. “Azzi’s just…different. I mean, she’s beautiful, yeah. That’s obvious to anyone with eyes. But she’s also funny, and caring, and ridiculously smart. She’s just…I don’t know how to explain it. She’s different. I feel different when I’m around her. Good. Really good. Even when my hand is gashed or my head is split open.”

“Fuck,” Dijonai said, sounding suspiciously worried. “That concussion really did mess you up.”

“Shut up,” Paige mumbled, suddenly shy. “You gonna tell me what she said or not?”

“We didn’t actually talk for that long. She was ridiculously busy. I don’t know how she does that job. It’s insane,” she said. “But when I showed up with a coffee she said she loved me and–”

“WHAT?” Paige interrupted. “She told you she loved you? You’re lying. No she didn’t.” The blonde was shaking her head repeatedly, in denial. 

“Yes she did, and then–”

“That’s so unfair! I can’t believe she told you she loves you and won’t even admit that she likes me. As soon as I’m clear to drive I’m bringing her coffee at work every single day. I swear to–”

“Paige,” Dijonai cut off her rant before it could truly begin. “Do you want to hear the rest? Or do you want to keep spiraling?”

Paige crossed her arms and humphed. “I wanna hear the rest,” she sulked. “Did she mention me?”

“She told me you’ve been disobeying doctors orders and using your phone,” she scolded as they pulled up to another light. “And that you were terrorizing her coworkers.”

Paige threw her arms out in bewilderment. “I was not terrorizing them.”

“Paige,” she deadpanned. “You told your nurse his scrubs were so tight he was a walking sexual harassment claim just waiting to be filed.”

“He was!”

“He was not!”

“He looked like he was shrink-wrapped!”

Dijonai let her head fall forward onto the steering wheel for a moment. “What crime did I commit in a past life to deserve you?”

Paige gave a proud little smile, kicking her feet up onto the dash. “Light’s green.”

“Feet down,” Dijonai reprimanded.

Paige lowered her feet like a scolded child. 

After a few moments of the sound of the radio filling the quiet between them, Paige spoke up again. Voice more vulnerable than it had been moments ago.

“You think I got a chance with her, like for real?”

“I think she gave you her phone number. Came up to see you. And gave me very detailed instructions on how to take care of you,” she admitted. “That counts for something.”

Paige’s whole demeanor lit up. “So you’re sayin’ she likes me?”

“I’m saying she tolerates you,” she corrected. “And that’s a pretty high bar for you to reach.”

They pulled into Paige’s lot.

“Still can’t believe you got to see her and I didn’t,” Paige whined. “And she told you she loved you before me.”

—

Dijonai used Paige’s keys to unlock the front door to the apartment, guiding the blonde inside like she was an old grandmother with severe dementia who would wander off the second she wasn’t being watched. 

Once inside, Paige pulled her phone out of her sweatpant pockets, ready to text Azzi when Dijonai snatched it out of her hand. 

“No screens,” she reprimanded, snagging the phone out of Paige’s hand before dragging a kitchen chair in front of the refrigerator and placing the phone on top of it towards the wall. The one place Paige couldn’t reach without at least a stepstool. “Doctor’s orders. Azzi endorsed.”

“That’s messed up,” Paige complained.

“It’s concussion protocol.”

“Still messed up,” she muttered.

Paige made her way to the couch with her vet in tow, where she slumped down. She pretended to sit quietly for a total of ten seconds before she casually wandered into the kitchen. She quietly climbed onto the kitchen counter and reached up towards the fridge. 

“Paige,” Dijonai warned without even turning around. “Get your ass down from there right now.”

“I’m getting water,” Paige lied. “I’m supposed to stay hydrated.”

Dijonai turned. Paige froze, caught. Fingertips just grazing the edge of her phone from where she was blindly feeling for it, keeping an eye on her babysitter. 

“Uh-uh,” she admonished. “Get. Down. Now. Before you fall and hit your head again. Don’t make me count to three, Paige.”

The blonde hopped down in record time, nearly twisting an ankle in the process. Dijonai in mom mode could be truly frightening. Her kids are gonna be so well behaved, she thought to herself. That mom voice is fucking terrifying. 

“Okay, sorry,” Paige sulked. 

“What could you possibly need your phone for right now?” 

“I was just gonna see if Azzi texted me,” she said, feeling effectively scolded. 

Dijonai snorted. “She didn’t.”

“She could have. You don’t know she didn’t,” Paige muttered under her breath. 

“Stop moping,” she ordered. “Sit down, hydrate, and rest your brain cell.”

“Bro,” Paige objected. “I got more than one brain cell.”

“Really? Since when?”

Paige flipped her off as she walked past her. 

After one more failed attempt to climb the fridge, and a very stern lecture from Dijonai, Paige ended up on the couch under a warm blanket. Dijonai sat beside her, placing a gatorade for Paige on the table in front of her before stealing some of the blonde’s blanket for herself. 

“You good?” she asked, eyes studying Paige. 

Paige shrugged, suddenly appearing much smaller than she normally does. “Yeah. Just…kinda tired I guess.”

Dijonai softened. “Your head still hurt?”

“A little,” Paige admitted, staring at the blanket. “I guess I just– I dunno. I just feel a little weird. The doctors and nurses all kept telling me how lucky I am. That it coulda been so much worse.”

Dijonai angled towards her a bit more, expression solemn. “You scared me, P. Like really scared me.”

Paige looked at her, eyes filled with inquisition. 

“I’m serious,” Dijonai affirmed. “You were out cold. For a second I was scared you were never going to wake up. Then I worried you were gonna wake up and forget how annoying you are. That you wouldn’t be my overdramatic, annoying rookie.”

Paige snorted softly. “Impossible,” she said. “I’m not a rookie anymore.”

Dijonai rolled her eyes softly. “Of course that’s what you took away.”

“I– thank you,” she said. “For taking care of me. For staying with me tonight.”

Her vet bumped her shoulder before gently throwing an arm around Paige’s shoulder. “Of course, P. You don’t have to thank me. We’re family. Family takes care of each other. You know I’ve always got you.”

Paige blinked fast, emotion pooling in her eyes she didn’t want to admit was there. It was an accumulation of exhaustion, the past couple of days, and the unbridled support Dijonai gave her all piling on at once. 

“I always got you too,” Paige said, voice thick with sentiment. 

“Uh-uh. You’re not allowed to cry,” she warned softly. “Because if you cry, I’m going to start crying. And I still have my makeup on.”

“‘M not crying,” Paige sniffled.

“You so are,” Dijonai teased lightly. 

“Man, shut up,” Paige whispered, ducking her head onto Dijonai’s shoulder.

And Dijonai let her stay there. No more teasing, no more jokes. Just a warm hand rubbing slow, soothing circles between Paige’s shoulder blades. 

Paige exhaled, eyes drifting closed, weighed down by exhaustion. And for only the second time that day, she actually slept. 

—

Paige woke up to the distinct sensation of something vibrating under her pillow. She had finally managed to sneak her phone off of the top of the fridge after Dijonai had gone to bed. 

She pulled the device out from underneath her, blindly reached for her glasses on her bedside table and threw them on before squinting at the screen. It was way too early and the bright light offended her sensitive head until she realized why her phone was buzzing so much. 

She had three new messages. All from Azzi. She couldn’t control the grin that split her face. 

9:14am – Azzi: Good morning. How’s your head feeling?

9:15am – Azzi: And don’t lie. I won’t believe you if you say “it’s good”

9:18am – Azzi: I can come check on you if you want. I’m off today

Paige’s heart started doing somersaults in her chest cavity. Her stomach fluttered with excitement. She typed back so fast she had to retype the sentence three times due to all of the spelling errors. 

9:20am – Paige: Morning. I’m okay. Mostly. Just a lil dizzy

She paused. Hesitated before sending the next text.

9:22am – Paige: U wanna come over?

She regretted it immediately. 

The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Then reappeared again. 

9:24am – Azzi: Dijonai said she has to go to practice in the afternoon. Worries about leaving you alone

Paige thought about for a second before she thought, fuck it, and pressed the call button next to Azzi’s name. It rang twice before she picked up.

“Hello?” she asked, voice just as angelic over the phone. “Good morning,” Paige husked, voice gravely and laced with sleep.

“You called me,” Azzi stated, it was almost a question. But not quite. “I’m not supposed to be looking at screens, remember? This is me bein’ responsible.”

There was silence between the line, and Paige shifted her phone to her other ear before she continued talking. 

“So you know Nai’s schedule now?” “We text,” Azzi replied simply. 

“You text?” “Mhm.”

“You and Dijonai? Like, Dijonai Carrington?” “That’s the one. Do you know a lot of other Dijonai’s?” Paige could hear the teasing smirk in her voice. 

Paige wished she could see her face. I should’ve facetimed her. Fuck, I’m an idiot. She scolds herself internally. Maybe this concussion really did fuck me up. Would it be weird if I switched to facetime right now?

“Do you guys text a lot?” “We text sometimes.”

“Like…more than me and you text?” “You and I,” Azzi corrected. “But I don’t think anyone texts me as much as you do, Paige.”

The blonde smiled, flopping on to her back, happy with the information despite the fact that it most certainly wasn’t intended as a compliment. 

“What do you text about?” Paige pried. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“It’s totally my business,” Paige argued. “My teammate and my future wi–”

Paige cut herself off quickly. It wasn’t her fault. She was still half asleep. She hadn’t been thinking. Plus, she was still freshly concussed. 

“Excuse me?” Azzi said, brain unfortunately up and running for the day. “Hello? You the– cut out– second there,” Paige pretended, doing an awful job she had an unstable connection. 

But Azzi didn’t cut her a break.

“Sure. You got cut off. What were you saying? Something about your teammate and your future ‘wi–’? You want to finish that?”

Paige panicked. Sitting up fast in the bed, color draining from her face. She tried to maintain any semblance of dignity. 

“Yeah. My uh– my future wise nurse who’s coming to check on me. Y’know, cause you’re a wise nurse…who’s coming over to make sure I’m good?” 

Paige smacked herself in the forehead with her palm. There were two problems with that. First, it was loud. Loud enough that the phone most definitely picked it up. Second, she had a concussion. And that hurt. Bad. 

She couldn’t help the pained wail that left her mouth, the dull throbbing in her head now roaring. Azzi’s voice devoid of any modicum of amusement that had been there only seconds prior.

“Paige. Did you just hit yourself in the head?” “No?” Paige tried. But it came out distressed, and as a question. 

“Don’t lie to me. I heard the smack. I honestly think it might’ve echoed.” “Okay. Fine. But it was an accident,” she muttered, every word squeezing out through teeth clenched in agonizing pain.

She heard Azzi sigh, long and deep. Her voice came out even softer, quieter. Like she knew every sound made the pain worse. She probably does dipshit, Paige told herself. She’s a nurse. Of course she knows. She basically knows everything.

“Paige. You have to be careful. Please. Head injuries aren’t something to mess with.”

She said it so delicately Paige swore her voice somehow reached through the phone and wrapped itself around her brain, easing the pain more than any medical procedure ever could.

“Okay,” Paige whispered. “‘M sorry. It was an accident. I’ll be more careful.” “That means no more climbing on counters, either.”

“What the– Oh I’m gonna kill Nai. How often are you guys texting, damn.” “She’s keeping me updated on your adherence to concussion protocol.”

“Why don’t you text me to check that?” “You’re not supposed to be on your phone, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paige sulked. “Did you still wanna come over? Y’know…to check on me?” “I think I might have to after you just socked yourself in the head.”

Paige audibly scoffed. “It was a light smack, not a socking,” she corrected. “Sure.” Something shuffled on the other end of the line, like Azzi was adjusting. “I’ll bring coffee. You’re not allowed outside yet without supervision. Apparently you can’t even be in bed without supervision.”

“Hey if you’re volunteering, I’m not gonna say–” “Paige.”

Paige just chuckled softly. “Okay. Fine. I’ll see you soon, though?” “In a couple of hours. Go back to sleep. Stop hurting yourself. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

Paige smiled so hard her head throbbed. 

—

Paige nearly face planted three different times in her rush to answer the door, socked feet slipping on the hardwood floor.  Damn, maybe I should’ve kept those grippy hospital socks, she thought to herself. 

“No running!” Dijonai reprimanded as she flew past her. 

When she finally arrived at the door, miraculously unscathed, she paused. Forcing herself to take a deep breath. Trying to calm her nerves and excitement. “Nonchalant,” she muttered to herself under her breath. “Be nonchalant.”

She swung the door open to find Azzi standing in front of her in sweats and a matching hoodie. Her curls were free of their usual updo, spilling behind her shoulders. She held a coffee in each hand, and had a small tote bag hanging from her shoulder.

“Oh my god,” Paige whispered, reverent. “You’re– you’re casual.”

Despite her previous reminder, she was indisputably not nonchalant. In fact, she was just about the furthest thing from it. If you were to look up antonyms for the word, an image of Paige standing in front of Azzi would be the first result. 

Azzi blinked slowly. “And you’re concussed.”

Paige blushed slightly at her own ineloquence. “I just meant– you just look–” she sighed at herself, flustered. “I’ve never seen your hair down. You look soft.”

The nurse raised an eyebrow. “I look soft?”

Paige panicked, worried she’d insulted her. “Not like– not soft…weak,” she stuttered. “Soft…beautiful.” Her eyes widened, face getting warmer. “I mean– not like–  just– you look…good.”

Azzi smirked lightly at the blonde’s inability to remain coherent, let alone unaffected in her presence. She raised one of the cups she was holding, extending it towards Paige. 

“I got you a hot chocolate. Dijonai mentioned that you don’t drink coffee. Something about having the palate of a child?” she teased. But the thoughtfulness behind the action made Paige’s heart stutter. 

She took the coffee with a shy “thanks,” trying to ignore the way it felt like her fingers burned from where they grazed Azzi’s as she took it. “I don’t think I like your guys’ newfound friendship,” Paige muttered.

Azzi waited a beat. “She also said you’d probably lie and say you do drink coffee to try and impress me.”

Paige turned bright red. “She’s a snitch.” she grumbled.

Azzi’s lips quirked. “She just knows you well.”

Paige didn’t respond. Too busy tracing every inch of Azzi with her eyes. Trying to memorize this new version of the nurse in front of her. The blonde didn’t think it was possible, but she was somehow even more beautiful in casual sweats standing in Paige’s doorway than in her scrubs.

Azzi’s eyebrows raised at Paige’s silence, rolling her eyes when she realized the blonde had most certainly zoned out, eyes raking over her features. The nurse crossed her arms and loudly cleared her throat, breaking Paige out of her thoughts. 

“Are you going to invite me in? Or did you want to keep doing,” she gestured to all of Paige, “that?”

Paige’s eyes widened slightly in realization of her poor host skills. “Oh, yeah. Come in. Come in.”

She stepped aside, holding the door open for Azzi to walk in. When she walked past her, a whiff of her perfume hit Paige and she melted. At least, her brain did. 

“Uh…” she blanked. Panicked at having her so close. Having her in her home. “May I…may I take your coat?” 

Azzi blinked at her, fighting yet another smirk. “‘May you take my coat?’” she repeated slowly, teasingly. 

Dijonai had made her way over to the door just in time to witness the blonde's utter lack of cool, practice bag slung over her shoulder. “Smooth, P. Real smooth,” she teased, grabbing her keys from the small side table. 

Paige grimaced. Azzi smiled. 

“Welp,” Dijonai said. “I’m off, kids. Good luck with her, Azzi.” She gave her a quick side hug. Paige was instantly a little jealous. 

Then the vet turned towards her, pinching her cheeks between her thumb and forefinger. “You behave,” she said sternly. 

Paige swatted her hand away, going red in the face at Azzi having witnessed Dijonai treat her like a literal child. The blonde sulked until the door shut behind her.

Azzi huffed out a small, breathy laugh. “She really is your mother,” she said, as she let herself walk further into Paige’s apartment. Paige trailed behind her like a lost puppy in her own home 

The nurse sat on the couch, opening her bag and pulling out a BP cuff, stethoscope, and penlight. Of course she’s actually gonna do a full on assessment, Paige thought to herself, rolling her eyes. 

Regardless, she plopped down on the couch next to Azzi. Though “next to” might have been a gross understatement. She was nearly on top of her. Every inch of their sides pressed together. Paige smiled entirely too pleased with herself. 

Azzi side eyed her, but didn’t move away yet. Not until she actually began the exam, shifting over so she actually had adequate space to work. Paige missed the warmth of the nurse pressed against her, but she wasn’t about to complain when Azzi’s hands were still on her as she went through her assessment. She would never complain when she was close enough to count the freckles on her smooth skin. 

—

By the time the nurse completed her annoyingly thorough exam, their drinks were long gone, and the two of them were chatting on the couch. Paige eager to learn everything she possibly could about the nurse. Hanging onto every word. Absorbing every drop of information she gave her. 

Eventually, though, Paige grew restless. She was essentially on house arrest, and it was not something she tolerated well. She was eager to do something. Anything, really. As long as it was with Azzi. She just wanted to get out of the apartment. 

It took an excessive amount of convincing, but Azzi finally agreed to let Paige go for a small and slow walk. With her supervision, of course. 

So a few minutes later, Paige was bundled up in a hoodie and sunglasses she insisted she needed for concussion reasons, not because she thought they made her look cool. 

The streets were surprisingly empty, as most people were inside due to the storm clouds rolling in. The wind tousled their hair every time it blew in harsh gusts. The sky looked like it was about to split open at any moment. 

They walked side-by-side, the backs of their hands brushing every few steps due to their close proximity. Azzi kept a mindful pace. It was painfully slow. Like walking with a toddler who had just learned to walk on their own and refused to be carried or sped up. 

“You don’t gotta go this slow,” Paige said, even though she absolutely needed to go that slow. 

“You almost tripped three times putting your shoes on,” Azzi reminded her. “Yes we do need to go this slow.” 

“Okay but that was like…gravity’s fault. Not mine.”

Azzi let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sigh. Amused despite herself. 

“Thank you for coming and checking on me,” Paige said sincerely. 

Azzi didn’t look at her. She kept her eyes forward, but the tips of her ears turned faintly pink.

“Yeah well, you’re…” she paused, hesitating for a moment. “...my former patient,” she decided.

Paige smirked. “Oh, so you checkin’ up on all your ‘former patients’ like this?”

Azzi scoffed. “Only the ones that text me three hundred times a day.”

Paige kissed her teeth. “I do not text you three hundred times a day,” she protested. “It’s like, ten times a day. Maybe twenty…one time thirty.”

“That’s not any better,” Azzi laughed softly. 

Paige bumped her gently with her shoulder. Azzi didn’t pull away. Not even a little bit. Just pursed her lips to hold back a smile. 

“For real though,” Paige said. “Thank you.”

Azzi finally met her eyes. “If your head starts hurting more, we’re turning back.”

“Azzi,” Paige groaned. 

“No, Paige. I’m serious,” she said. “You need to tell me if the pain gets worse. Are you feeling dizzy at all? What about nauseous? You have to be honest with me. How is the light sensitivity? Do you have any–”

“God, Az. Is this how you’re always gonna be? Even when we’re gray and old?” Paige asked her, exasperated.

Then the significance of the question she had unintentionally let slip out hit her harder than the court that concussed her. She felt heat rush to her face, burning with embarrassment. 

Azzi didn’t say anything, but she was looking at the blonde, eyes wide, brows raised.

Paige immediately tried to explain herself. “I mean– I didn’t– it’s not like I’m sayin’ we're gonna get married. Not right away– I mean eventually– wait– I– no–,” she rambled fast, unable to complete a thought before cutting herself off and slipping into the next. She was in full panic mode. 

Azzi didn’t put her out of her misery. Instead, she just continued to watch her, eyes glowing in amusement. Paige might’ve noticed the small, undeniably fond smile on the nurse's face if she hadn’t been refusing to look at her. 

Paige finally paused her incoherent rambling, exhaling a sigh so deep it nearly rustled the leaves of the trees in front of them. “It’s ‘cause I got a head injury,” she declared. “You gotta pretend the last two minutes didn’t happen. I am concussed, remember?”

Azzi still didn’t speak, just allowed the hand that had been brushing against Paige’s every couple of steps to make contact again, this time gently intertwining their fingers as they continued to walk. 

Paige’s head shot towards their interlaced hands. Like she needed the visual confirmation that she wasn’t imagining it. A surprised, breathtakingly beautiful smile slowly grew on her face.

“You’re an idiot,” Azzi finally said. Tone laced with affection. 

Paige held tighter, heart squeezing in her chest. “Yeah well, you’re really pretty,” she mumbled. 

They walked the rest of the way back to Paige’s apartment like that, hand in hand. Even as the sky opened up and soaked them through their clothes, rain pelting against them. 

They only let go when they crossed the threshold back into Paige’s building, trailing water behind them. The blonde missed her touch instantly.  

—

When they got back inside, Paige kicked off her shoes and immediately went to her room, grabbing some clean dry clothes for the both of them to wear. She handed Azzi an old, worn-in, oversized UConn hoodie, clean socks, and a pair of warm green plaid pajama pants. 

Azzi looked at the clothes and hesitated. 

“Azzi.” Paige rolled her eyes at the woman’s reluctance. “Your clothes are sopping wet. Just put them on. I’ll stick your clothes in the dryer. They’ll be ready before you leave.”

The nurse looked like she was going to decline, but then a shiver wracked through her body. “Fine,” she mumbled. “Thank you.” 

Paige led Azzi to the bathroom before returning to her own room to change into dry clothes. When she returned to the living room, the site in front of her made her freeze.

Azzi was sitting on the couch wrapped in her hoodie. Wearing her cozy fleece pajama pants. Looking like she had just walked out of a dream that Paige had had recurrently since her first time meeting her nurse. She looked so soft. She looked like she belonged in her space. In her clothes. Like she belonged to Paige. The thought ricocheted in her brain, eyes glossing over with pure unadulterated adoration. 

Azzi noticed her standing there motionless, staring at her with her mouth agape. She rolled her eyes fondly. 

“Sit,” she ordered, pointing at the couch. 

Paige blinked. “You’re kinda bossy. Anyone ever tell you that?” 

Azzi ignored her. Paige made her way over to the couch, flopping dramatically onto the cushions far too close to Azzi. 

The nurse gestured at her head. “How’s the pain?”

Paige shrugged, noncommittally. “Headache’s like…a three?”

Azzi stared, unimpressed. 

“…a four.”

Still nothing. 

“Like…a five? Ish?” Paige said, uncertain. 

Azzi raised a single eyebrow. Daring Paige to lie to her one more time. 

“Fine,” Paige relented. Sighing. “Six. But only ‘cause you made us go on that stupid walk.”

Azzi laughed at the last statement, knowing full and well how stubbornly Paige had begged to go. Paige beamed with pride at the sound of Azzi’s soft, breathy laugh. Her chest filling with warmth. 

Azzi looked at her. “You need to rest. At least ten minutes. And then you can be annoying again. I have some paperwork I need to do anyways.” She pulled out her phone.  

“You’re not leaving yet though, right?” Paige questioned.

“No. My clothes are still in the dryer, remember?” She reminded her. 

So Paige let her head fall back against the couch cushion. Let herself feel the heat of Azzi beside her. Breathed in the subtle scent of her shampoo as she rested her eyes. 

Ten minutes later, Paige set up with a suspicious amount of energy for someone recovering from a concussion. Thunder crashed outside, sending streaks of lighting through the sky. 

“So,” she said causally. Far too casually. “Since you’re already here…and it’s your day off so you’re definitely not in a rush…you wanna watch a movie?”

Azzi gave her an unamused look. “No.”

“What?” Paige’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “ You didn’t even hear the options! I got like, every streaming service.”

“You’ll get overstimulated. The screens, the noise? It’s all bad for your recovery.”

Paige pouted. “But what if we watch it on mute?”

Azzi blinked at her. Once. Twice. “You want to watch a silent movie?” she asked slowly. “You. Silent?”

“Yup,” Paige said confidently. “Ain’t that supposed to be artistic? Or emotional or something. Who knows, maybe you’ll feel things.”

Azzi pinched the bridge of her nose, looking like her head hurt worse than Paige’s. “No, Paige.”

Paige leaned impossibly closer. “Aw come on, Az,” she goaded. “You’re already sitting on the couch. That’s like 75% commitment.” 

“We’re not watching a movie,” Azzi repeated. Tone final. “You’re on a screen limitation.”

“Okay, fine,” Paige conceded. “Let’s just sit here then. We don’t even have to talk.”

Azzi hesitated. “Fine. We can sit. But I don’t believe for a second that you can go more than thirty seconds without talking,” she snarked. “You like the sound of your own voice too much.”

“I like the sound of your voice better,” Paige countered smoothly. 

Azzi rolled her eyes, and adjusted so that both legs were tucked underneath her on the couch. In doing so, however, there was now a small space between them.

Paige didn’t appreciate that. She scooted closer, closing the distance so that Azzi’s knees brushed against her thigh.  

Azzi pretended not to notice. Paige noticed her pretending. 

“So…” Paige started after about twenty seconds of silence, unintentionally proving Azzi right. “You checked my pupils earlier. You should probably do it again if you want.”

Azzi narrowed her eyes at the blonde. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“Nah, nah,” Paige said, all faux innocence. “Nothing like that. ‘S for medical reasons. The thunder is loud. Been hurting my head. Just wanna make sure everything’s still all right up there.” 

“Well I can tell you right now that nothing is all right up there,” she snarked, pointing to Paige’s head. 

Paige smiled, but then winced at the next bout of thunder. It honestly wasn’t even intentional. It really did hurt.

Azzi sighed upon seeing her reaction. “Fine. But don’t move,” she ordered. 

She reached for the small penlight she had returned to her bag, turning it on with a small click. And gently placed a hand along Paige’s jaw to steady her. 

The warmth from her touch shut the blonde's brain off completely. Her heart beating erratically and irregularly in her chest. Pounding so loud she was certain Azzi would have been able to hear it if not for the rain pelting against the glass windows in heavy sheets. 

“Look straight ahead,” Azzi murmured. 

Paige did not. She looked at Azzi’s mouth. Unable to pull her eyes from her full lips. 

Azzi paused, mid exam, blinking. “Paige.”

“Hm?,” Paige hummed noncommittally, unfocused. 

“You’re not looking where I told you,” she scolded. 

“I am,” Paige argued softly. Voice low. “Just…not at the light.”

Azzi’s breath caught. Just barely. But Paige could feel it from how close they were. 

The nurse tried again. “Eyes forward.”

Paige tried. She really did. Honestly. 

But Azzi was so close. Too close. Close enough for Paige to smell her perfume and count each individual eyelash on her big brown eyes and notice the way her lips parted just a little. Close enough to notice the way her breathing had picked up–

“Paige,” Azzi whispered again. But it wasn’t reprimanding this time, just aware. The blonde could feel the air of her name puff against her own lips as it left Azzi’s mouth. 

“Sorry,” Paige whispered back. “You’re distracting.”

Azzi’s fingers tightened ever so slightly on Paige’s jaw. And then she made the mistake of looking down at Paige’s mouth. 

Just for a second. But it was long enough. Everything went still. The noise of the storm faded into nothing. 

Neither of them moved. 

“Paige,” Azzi said softly. One last warning. “You’re concussed.”

“So I’ll go slow,” Paige murmured. “I’ll be gentle.”

Azzi swallowed. And the tension snapped. Paige leaned in. Barely. Just lightly brushing her lips against Azzi’s. Testing. Asking. 

Azzi exhaled shakily before sealing the distance. 

The kiss was soft and careful. Slow enough not to hurt Paige’s head, but deep enough that Azzi’s fingers curled behind her ear, anchoring her. 

And Paige melted. Electricity shot through her like a current flowing through her veins. More charged than the lightning outside. She had never experienced anything like it. Azzi’s lips were so soft. And she was so warm beneath Paige’s hands. 

Just as Paige moved to deepen it, Azzi pulled back, breathing unsteady, chest rising and falling in shallow waves. Her eyes were wider than Paige had ever seen them. 

Azzi shook her head gently. “You’re concussed.”

Wow, Paige thought to herself. My last first kiss. 

—

It was still early but the sky had gone dark with the weather, clouds blocking out the sun. The storm was right above them now. Lightning striking frequently, sending bright flashes of light through the apartment window, thunder nearly rattling the building. Dijonai texted that she’d be home late. Something about road closure due to flooding and shitty Texas roads. 

The two women were still on the couch, backs resting against opposite ends, legs intertwined in the middle. Paige tried to pretend she wasn’t exhausted. 

Azzi saw right through her. “You’re tired,” she said.

“‘M not tired,” Paige sulked, but the way her words came out slurred and her mouth split into a yawn negated any ground she had to stand on. 

“Mhm,” the nurse said, not believing her. She stood up, holding a hand out to Paige. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

As much as she didn’t want to sleep, Azzi offering to let her hold her hand and walk her to her bed was far too tempting of an offer to resist. So she let the nurse help her up, tangling their fingers together and leading the two of them down the hall to her room. 

Paige was suddenly embarrassed about the state of her room. Never having assumed that Azzi would actually be in it. Her bed was unmade, and there was a pile of clean laundry she hadn’t yet gotten around to folding on the ottoman. 

But Azzi didn’t comment on any of it. She entered the room behind Paige, hands still intertwined, as she looked around observantly. Like she was studying everything about the room that made it so Paige.

Paige slowly made her way over to her bed, like walking the last few feet was draining her of the last of her energy reserves, tugging Azzi along behind her. She only separated their hands to pull the sheets back. She climbed in, scooting over to the far side. 

When she realized Azzi wasn’t planning on napping with her, she sat up. Azzi pushed her back down and began to pull the covers up over her, effectively tucking her in. Paige’s heart would have swelled at the notion had she not been so distraught about the fact that it seemed like Azzi was about to leave her.

“Wait,” Paige sat up again, capturing her wrist as she turned to leave. “Where are you goin’?” she asked sleepily.

Azzi looked at her, eyes soft and filled with affection. Paige almost looked away, suddenly shy under the affection. 

“I’m going home,” she said quietly. “I’m tired too.”

“Are you crazy?” she asked, disturbed. “You can’t go out in this. Drive in this.”

As if the weather wanted to prove her point, thunder crashed so loud it shook the walls, rain pelting loudly against the window in the quiet of the room. 

“Just…stay with me. Nap until it dies down a little. S’not safe right now, Az,” she said quietly, genuine concern in her voice. 

Azzi wavered, eyes flicking between Paige and the door. Like she was torn and couldn’t make up her mind. Fingers toying with the sleeves of her borrowed hoodie. 

“Just a nap, Azzi,” Paige said, eyes earnest. “I promise. Scout’s honor.” She held up one hand like she was swearing an oath.  

“You were never a scout,” Azzi deadpanned.

“Okay, but I could’ve been,” Paige whispered, smiling.

The next crack of lightning made the decision for her. It was so loud that Azzi jumped. “Okay, fine,” she caved. “Just until the roads are safe,” she justified, more for her own sake than Paige’s. Paige laid back down on her back, eyes watching Azzi.

She climbed in next to Paige, pulling the covers over herself, turning so her back faced Paige. A solid six inches of space between them. But Paige could still feel the warmth radiating off of her. 

Paige went completely still, not wanting to scare her off. Somewhat in shock at the fact that the nurse was in her bed. With her. On purpose. The small space between them felt massive in the silence filled only by the sound of the storm and their uneven breaths.

Lightning cracked again. After almost a full sixty seconds, Azzi moved. Flipped over and shuffled closer to Paige, placing her head on her chest. Nose nestling between the juncture of her shoulder and neck as she swung a leg over the blonde’s waist. Her arm swung over to rest across her stomach. Essentially molding herself to Paige. 

And Paige felt all of the tension melt away as it left her body. The arm pinned halfway underneath Azzi wrapped up around her back to hold her tightly. The other coming across her body to tangle in her hair, keeping her pressed securely against her. She let out a deep breath, somewhere between a sigh of relief and utter contentment. Nestled her face into Azzi’s curls, breathing her in deeply before placing a kiss to the crown of her head. She felt Azzi snuggle in closer at the act.

Paige was asleep within minutes. It was the best sleep she had ever had. Wrapped in a feeling of safety and warmth she knew now that she had experienced, she could never go without. Wrapped in Azzi. 

—

Paige woke up a few hours later, warm and groggy, Azzi overwhelming her senses in the best way. She felt the body laying half on top of her trying to peel itself away. Her arms tightened around the nurse, pulling her closer as she grumbled a sleepy protest.

She felt more than heard the soft, raspy chuckle Azzi let out low in the crook of her neck. She tried to pull away again, but Paige’s grip only tightened against her. 

“Paige,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “I have to go home. The storm’s pretty much done.”  She tried to push Paige’s arms off, though the attempt was suspiciously weak.

The storm outside had quieted from a loud roar to a gentle hum. Lightning long passed. The rain was now just a soft drizzle tapping faintly against the window.

“Paige,” she said again, a little more firmly this time. “I really have to go.”

The blonde groaned. Slowly letting her arms fall from the nurse as she pulled away. Azzi’s hand dragged across Paige’s stomach as she pushed herself upright, and the blonde’s breath caught embarrassingly fast.

The blonde groaned dramatically, but finally let go. Azzi slipped out of her arms, and Paige missed her warmth instantly. She threw an arm over her face and took a deep breath. Then peeled the blankets back and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

Azzi noticed immediately. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, brows furrowing, curls mussed from sleep in a way that made Paige’s heart go wild in her chest.

Paige just stared at her, genuinely confused. “…Walking you out?”

Azzi ducked her head so quickly Paige almost laughed, turning toward the doorway before the blonde could see the pink dusting her cheeks. But it was too late, Paige had absolutely seen it. 

She smiled proudly to herself at the fact that she had managed to fluster the nurse. She grabbed her phone – and Azzi’s, which the nurse had left practically buried in the blanket in her rush to escape – before following her out into the living room.

She saw Azzi stuffing her now dried clothes into her tote bag before throwing it over her shoulder. Paige didn’t comment on the fact that the nurse seemed to have no intention of returning her clothes. Though the thought of Azzi casually wearing Paige’s hoodie around her own home made the blonde’s pulse rate double. 

Paige dangled Azzi’s phone in her hand. “You forgetting something?”

The nurse snatched it from her hand with mortified speed. “I did not forget. I was going to grab it before I left.”

“Oh yeah? What…you just wanted an excuse to go back to my room?”

Azzi shot her a warning look. “Don’t start.”

Paige put both hands up, surrendering. “I’m just sayin’, I wouldn’t blame you. Kinda smooth actually.”

Azzi gave her that exhausted, fond, look. “You’re unbelievable.”

Paige beamed. “Thank you.”

She rolled her eyes as she walked by Paige to reach the front door. Pausing when she realized the blonde was hot on her trail, with no intention of saying goodbye at the door as she slid her slides on. 

“You’re not walking me all the way down,” she said.

“Azzi, yes I am.”

“You’re a fall risk,” she reasoned.

Paige smirked, “Like you’d let me fall.”

“I might,” Azzi muttered under her breath. Paige caught it, but chose to ignore it. 

“What if you fall on the way back up?” the nurse challenged.

“Just a risk I’ll have to take I guess,” Paige said smugly as she opened the door. “After you.”

Azzi sighed, defeated. She lightly bumped her shoulder against Paige as she walked past her, grumbling something Paige couldn’t quite make out. Though she did catch the words “irritating” and “pain in the ass”. 

—

“You seriously don’t need to walk me all the way to my car,” Azzi said as they stepped outside into the aftermath of the storm. The light breeze gently blowing the nurses hair back as she spoke. 

“Try stopping me,” Paige shot back.

“Just seems unnecessary," she grumbled. 

“It’s chivalry,” Paige countered. “I’m being a gentlewoman.”

The nurse side eyed her, eyes landing on her feet. “You’re wearing mismatched socks.”

“Chivalry isn’t about socks, Azzi.”

Azzi shook her head, but Paige could see it. The tiniest smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. She never smiled fully when Paige teased her. But that almost-smile? Paige was convinced it was one of the most beautiful things she’s ever seen. 

Paige walked close enough that their arms brushed every few steps. The blonde pretended like it was accidental. It definitely wasn’t. But Azzi didn’t move away, and the realization made Paige swoon.

When they reached her car, Azzi stopped, keys dangling in her hand.

“Well,” she said softly. “Thanks for…walking me out.”

“Of course,” Paige grinned. “Thanks for coming over and making sure my brain is still good. And for the hot chocolate. And for taking me for a walk. And for sleeping with me.”

The nurse blushed. “I didn’t sleep with you. I…just happened to fall asleep next to you.”

Paige raised her eyebrows. “You were practically on top of me.”

Azzi pouted, brows furrowing slightly as her bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly. Paige’s eyes couldn’t help but to track the movement. Fuck, she’s perfect, the blonde thought to herself.

“I’m not complaining about it though,” Paige added on, throwing her hands up in surrender. “Like…I’d be down to do that every day. Actually, you know what? We probably should. Yeah. Definitely should. So…same time tomorrow?”

Azzi tried to look unimpressed. She wasn’t successful. Her dimples betrayed her. Paige couldn’t resist raising her right hand up to gently poke one, smiling as twisted her finger into the soft flesh. 

Azzi swatted it away with a roll of her eyes. “Goodnight, Paige.”

Paige stepped closer, heart tripping over itself. Before she could overthink it she wrapped her arms around Azzi’s waist, pulling her flush against her. 

Azzi froze for a moment before melting into it. Her arms snaking around Paige’s shoulders. It was warm. And tight. And intimate. Careful in that way Azzi always was with her, even when pretending not to care.

Paige tucked her face into her shoulder, breathing her in. Azzi’s arms tightened around her, her hands curling into her hoodie, like she didn’t want to let go. 

The nurse stepped back first, but only barely. Still close enough that Paige could feel her breath. Her hands were still loosely holding Azzi’s waist.

Emboldened by the proximity and the warmth still radiating through her from the hug, the blonde pulled the nurse just an inch closer and leaned forward the tiniest bit.

Then she pressed a warm, feather-light kiss to Azzi’s forehead. She lingered for a breath, barely touching, then pulled back. She stuffed her hands into her pocket so she wouldn’t pull her back in for more than just a kiss to the forehead.

Azzi stood completely still, eyes lowered, breath uneven.

“…That wasn’t fair,” she murmured, voice softer than Paige had ever heard it.

Paige smirked, her hand coming up to rub at the back of her neck. “Yeah well, neither the way you look in my clothes.”

Azzi’s lips twitched, head ducking slightly in an attempt to hide her blush. “You should get inside before your head starts hurting even worse,” she deflected. 

Paige lips pulled into a soft smile. “You gonna check on me later?”

Azzi rolled her eyes like she wanted to pretend she wouldn’t. “I’ll text you.”

Paige bit her lip. “Or you could come check on me in person again…tomorrow would work.”

Azzi hesitated. A second too long. A second that gave her away.

“Maybe,” she finally said. “We’ll see.”

Paige’s grin was devastatingly smug. “That’s basically a yes.”

Azzi turned toward her car. “It is not a yes.”

“It’s so a yes,” Paige said, as she reached around Azzi to open the car door for her. Azzi paused, giving Paige a look that was half fond, half defeated, mumbling a shy “thank you” as she climbed in. 

“Drive safe,” Paige told her before shutting the door with a quiet thump. 

Paige waited for Azzi to drive off, but the car never pulled forward. She just sat there with the engine idling, looking at Paige expectantly, almost impatiently. Like she was waiting for her to do something. She rolled her window down, mouth opening to speak but Paige beat her to it. 

“You havin’ second thoughts about leaving?” Paige smirked. “‘Cause you can come back up if you want. I don’t mind.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Azzi scoffed. “I’m waiting to make sure you make it back into the building without collapsing.”

“Well…I was waiting to make sure you got out of the parking lot without crashing,” she shot back, rocking on her heels.

“Paige.”

The blonde relented, shooting her a bashful smile. “Night, Az.” She made her way back to the apartment entrance, smile never leaving her face. Never faltered, even as her head throbbed with every step.

—

Paige had barely crossed the threshold into her apartment. Hadn't even kicked off her wet slides yet when her phone buzzed with a notification from Azzi. Her whole face lit up the second she saw her name. 

5:35pm – Azzi: Did you make it back up?

5:35pm – Paige: Yup. I survived Icl I kinda love how worried u r about me

5:36pm – Azzi: I wasn’t worried about you I just didn’t want your death on my concious 

Paige smiled at her phone like an idiot. It drove her absolutely crazy that Azzi wouldn’t just admit she cared about her. Admit that she liked her. 

5:37pm – Paige: I wouldn’t haunt u if I died Matter a fact I’d prob be ur guardian angel

Paige flopped onto her bed, anxiously awaiting a reply. Her sheets smelled faintly of Azzi and the recognition made her dizzy. She lay in the spot the nurse had just occupied, burying her nose in the covers. 

5:48pm – Azzi: Just because it’s you, I’d still consider it a form of haunting

5:49pm – Paige: So rude I would totally protect u

5:50pm – Azzi: Protect me or annoy me? 

5:50pm – Paige: Who says I couldn’t do both

5:55pm – Azzi: You’re doing one of them right now

Paige laughed softly, holding her phone close to her heart as she thought of a reply that would get a reaction out of the nurse. She didn’t mean to, but she ended up falling back asleep. The day had taken a toll on her. A good one. But it left her head hurting and her body exhausted none the less. 

—

When she woke up hours later, she was overjoyed to see Azzi had texted her again.

10:01pm – Azzi: If you start feeling dizzy or nauseous, or the pain is worse than usual, let me know. You pushed yourself today. Probably too hard. 

Paige grinned. She’s thinking about me, she thought to herself. She was smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. It’s 10pm and Azzi Fudd is thinking about me. Her chest felt like it was about to explode with the way her heart started beating. 

10:03pm – Paige: Ur allowed to just say you miss me

Azzi took a moment to respond. Those three dots appearing and disappearing a few times before she finally committed to a message. 

10:05pm – Azzi: I miss patients who actually adhere to their doctors orders You’re just…medically concerning

Paige laughed, wincing at the sharp pang in her head that accompanied the sound. 

10:05pm – Paige: U kissed me tho

10:06pm – Azzi: I think you’re remembering that wrong. You kissed me

10:06pm – Paige: U kissed me back tho

There was another long pause. Another round of appearing and disappearing dots. Paige wondered if the nurse knew she could see when she was typing. 

10:08pm – Azzi: Go to sleep, Bueckers

10:08pm – Paige: Night Azzi 😘👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 See what I did there? U like those emojis?

Azzi didn’t reply.

Not for almost fifteen minutes. Paige stubbornly refused to close out of the text thread, still hoping for a response.

Then she heard the ding.

10:21pm – Azzi: Stop smiling at your phone and go to bed

Paige looked around her dark room like she’d just been caught. As though Azzi might’ve somehow seen her. 

10:22pm – Paige: Bro how did u KNOW

10:22pm – Azzi: Goodnight Paige

Paige fell asleep smiling again. Dreaming of dimples, a soft laugh, and full lips. 

—

They had been spending an obscene amount of time together. Initially, Azzi under the guise that she was making sure Paige was taking care of herself post-concussion. Paige under the guise that…well, it was Azzi. How could she not spend every free second with the woman. But Paige had been cleared for weeks, the season had started and Paige still spent every free second between practices and games with her. 

And by the grace of god, the nurse never seemed to get sick of her. Aggravated? Sure. Annoyed? Absolutely. But that was just Paige. She expected it, in fact, she secretly adored it. Loved the way Paige argued with her. The way her eyes would light up. The way Paige would try so fucking hard to make her laugh. Like it was her life's mission. Loved the way she remembered the little things that Azzi mentioned, like every detail was important. How she would surprise her at work with coffee and lunch and flowers and a goofy, lopsided, overconfident smile. 

And once Paige had realized it was okay to touch Azzi, she couldn’t stop. Whether it was interlacing their fingers, a hand on her lower back or her thigh, an arm slung over her shoulders. It didn't matter. She just needed some form of contact. She craved it. A craving so intense she worried it might cause irreparable damage. It only seemed to get worse the longer they were together.

They were currently lying on the couch in Paige’s apartment, under the pretense that they were watching a movie. A movie Paige couldn’t remember the name of, let alone the plot, as Azzi was curled into her on the couch. Bodies pressed close, faces only inches apart in the minimal space between them.

“Admit it,” Paige whispered, voice low.

Azzi’s eyes didn’t move from her lips. “Admit what?”

“Admit that you like me.”

Azzi’s brown eyes snapped up to meet Paige’s blue. She attempted to glare, but the half-lidded state of eyes rendered her glare entirely ineffective. Instead, it came across as a mix of yearning and seduction. 

“You’re insane,” she retorted. She was so close that Paige could feel her breath puff warm against her lips. 

“Azzi,” Paige coaxed. “Just admit it.” Her hand came up and gently cupped Azzi’s jaw, holding it as if she were something precious, delicate. Her index finger softly stroking the shell of her ear. She pulled her closer, ever so slightly. Their noses brushing.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Azzi challenged. Refusing to give in, even as her own hand tangled into the soft hair at the back of Paige’s neck, trying to pull her closer. To close the gap.

But Paige wouldn’t budge. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Azzi closed her eyes, exhaling a shaky breath that Paige could taste. She was so close. It took every ounce of willpower, every ounce of restraint, not to give in. Azzi’s eyes opened again, boring into Paige’s for just a moment. Paige registered the brown of her eyes nearly entirely engulfed by blown pupils before they landed back on her lips. 

“Paige,” Azzi choked out, strained. “Please.”

And Paige broke. Closed the nearly nonexistent space between their mouths. It started slowly. The blonde gently took Azzi’s full top lip between her own. Let herself memorize the feel of it. The softness, the warmth. Explored the way they fit together so perfectly. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. Like they had done this before in a thousand different lifetimes, and had finally found each other again in this one. 

She switched focus to Azzi’s plump bottom lip, giving it the same tender attention. She swiped her tongue along it in a gentle caress, memorizing the taste, taking advantage of the small gasp Azzi let out at the sensation to enter her mouth. The soft whimper that escaped Azzi the moment their tongues met sent white hot heat coursing through every nerve ending in Paige’s body. 

The kiss shifted from gentle and inquisitive to heated and bordering desperate in the span of a breath. Paige shifted so that she was on top of the nurse. The hand lightly cupping Azzi’s face slid into her hair, tugging gently at the soft curls she found there. Her other hand gripped her waist, fingers caressing the soft skin between her shirt and pants, before inching lower. 

Azzi’s own hands weren’t any less restrained. Sliding from her hair and dragging down her back, landing on her hips, just above the swell of her ass. Pulling her impossibly closer, like she could somehow fuse them together by sheer will and desire.

When her lips started to trail kisses down Azzi’s jaw to her neck, sure to pay extra attention to the spots that had the nurse gasping beneath her, the front door swung open aggressively with a loud bang as it smacked against the wall. The two women jumped apart in an instant, trying and failing to look like they had just been sitting on the couch watching the movie the entire time. 

“This is the only time I will be grocery shopping for you,” Dijonai complained from the doorway. “You have the shopping list of a literal child. Do you know how embarrassing it was to check out with a cart full of–”

She cut herself off as she rounded the corner and saw the two of them, skin flushed, hair tousled, lips kiss-swollen, and chests heaving. 

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” she said appalled. “Ew. I feel like I just walked in on my child sneaking a girl into the house!” 

“Nai!” Paige exclaimed, cheeks heating in embarrassment at her vet’s analysis. I never should’ve given stupid Dijonai that key, Paige thought to herself annoyed. That woman just lets herself in all willy nilly. 

Dijonai ignored her, pointing an accusatory finger at Azzi. “And you,” she started, “I still can’t believe you’re actually dating her. I thought you were smarter than to fall for her stupid ass.”

“Hey!” Paige shouted, indignant. 

Azzi just shrugged. “I mean, they say opposites attract.”

Dijonai laughed. 

Paige finally processed the insult. “Hey!” Paige said again, mouth hanging open in offense. Azzi brought a hand up to carefully close it for her, stroking her cheek once before dropping her hand on to Paige’s thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

Paige’s face was so red Azzi worried she wasn’t getting effective blood flow to the rest of her body. And of course Dijonai noticed. 

The vet cackled, doubling over in laughter. “No wonder all she can say is ‘hey’, all of her blood is in her face,” she teased. 

Paige just groaned loudly, letting herself collapse into Azzi, face falling into the crease of her neck to hide her humiliation. 

But she heard Azzi laugh, soft and warm and raspy against her ear. The sound even more beautiful so close to the source. And she felt one arm wrap securely around her waist, holding her close, while the fingers of her other hand carded gently through her hair.

And in that moment, Paige knew what her future looked like. Knew what true happiness felt like. Knew now that she had it, she would never let it go. 

═══════════════════

a/n: please let me know what you think! i really appreciate any comments or thoughts. thank you guys so much for all the love and support, i honestly can't believe how much you all seemed to like this story. i had a great time writing it. truth be told i could have kept retweaking and adding scenes to this forever, so i had to just get it out. but i hope you all enjoyed it. maybe i could be convinced to write an epilogue or another one shot in this universe in the future if that's what the people want

═══════════════════

[hcneymooners]

౨ৎ i want to be something useful, like in love.

best friends to lovers!pazzi. men & minors dni.

wc: 15.2k

synopsis: paige and azzi have been blurring lines since they were kids. eventually, the lines disappear entirely.

cw: medium burn best friends to lovers, mutual pining, emotional repression and yearning like you wouldn't believe, gaslighting yourself into believing you and your best friend are just platonic, angst, injury, jealousy, communication issues (they're so bad at talking; let's hear it for avoidant attachment), codependency but make it romantic, religious imagery, sexual content, non-sexual intimacy, neither of them knows how to be normal about each other.

notes: friends to lovers, you will always be famous. we are playing fast and loose with the timeline, okay, including roster. so bear with me, please. i hope you all enjoy. as always, let me know what you think. all my love. x

PRELUDE. SARASOTA / RIGHT HERE / LIL PEEP

with every flex of azzi’s shoulder blades, paige felt a warm urge rise. it’s how she knew she was in trouble, the first sign of falling, like a fin cutting through the water beneath their feet.

the morning had come with strength, glazed with light and collared thickly with heat that made the air feel wet and spoke of lasting a full day’s length. paige watched as the room grew skin and bone, the shadows beaten back by the fervent gold kisses of the sun, light singing across her face as she shifted carefully so that azzi settled further into the shaded dip of the bed’s dusty pink pillows. there was something nearly religious in it, the way dawn made its claim without mercy, always assuming there was space for its presence—this way it thrusted everything into living.

sarasota was symptomatic of the typical florida feeling: flat palms, white roads, a sky too blue to be trusted backed by the wide rise of dimpled dunes in the distance. this was a state that promised a dream that always threatened to linger for far too long, that began to feel heavy around the mouth and eyes until you were blinking tiredly with the hope you’d wake up somewhere else. everything here felt half-remembered, had the lingering quality of a grip around the wrist that refused to break.

paige glanced down at where azzi was tucked into her body, coiled slightly as if moments from bursting into motion. she always began the night in fetal position, her limbs drawn into her like a secret, the entirety of her body sheltered by someone who loved her. then, like a flower, she opened and opened until she was pressed fully out, nearly knocking the other girl loose from the bed entirely.

but paige always adjusted, always found a way to resettle in a way that allowed them to touch and prioritized azzi’s comfort. this was a language they could utter in the dark, syntax built from years of sleeping in the same bed, an endless communication of need and accommodation.

eventually, summer took the remains of the evening by the teeth and wrung out every bit of darkness, biting and biting until its gold painted itself onto the plump of azzi’s cheek. with a groan, azzi curled into a tighter spiral before stretching out into a full line, her ribs layered for a moment onto paige’s own.

paige smiled softly, lips splitting with slight discomfort provided by the dehydration of sleep. she bent down, nosing at the dark crown of azzi’s head before thumbing back a patch of curls to press a kiss to the temple.

“up, princess. we have a date to keep.”

azzi groaned again, but paige felt her toes curling against her calf underneath the linen duvet as she began to stretch.

the bathroom held them in its small white throat, made smaller by their bodies moving around each other in the steam. paige stood at the sink, toothbrush working mechanically, while through the fogged glass of the shower she could see the ghost of azzi—head tilted back, throat exposed to the water's violence.

she looked away. looked back. looked away again.

she could hear her mother like a choir’s call in her head: girls, there are six bathrooms in this house alone. you don’t have to share one.

but why would she go somewhere where azzi wasn’t?

when paige took her turn under the spray, the water still seemed to hold azzi's warmth, and the air was thick with the scent of her shampoo: coconut and vanilla orchid, a sweetness that landed neatly at the back of paige’s tongue, enough to make her mouth water. she stood there longer than necessary, letting the heat work at the knots in her shoulders, trying to wash away the feeling that had been strengthening since dawn.

by the time she emerged, azzi was at the mirror, bent close as her fingers moved in careful circles as she worked sunscreen into her skin. the cream disappeared in small increments, absorbed into the brown warmth of her face. paige watched the ritual of it, transfixed by the deliberate slowness, by the way azzi's lips parted slightly as she concentrated on the vulnerable skin beneath her eyes.

"you're staring," azzi murmured, the words tempered with affection, never once looking away from her reflection.

"making sure you don't miss anywhere," paige said, moving into the narrow space beside her. their elbows knocked. "your ears. you always forget."

azzi tilted her head in offering, and paige dabbed the cream behind her ear, along the hinge of her jaw. the touch stretched longer than it needed to, her thumb following the curve where azzi's pulse beat visibly beneath the skin. in the mirror, their eyes met, something passing between them as quick as lightning, gone before it could scar.

“thank you, paigey,” azzi teased, eyes crinkling as she smiled. paige knew she was baiting her, and so she rose to it dramatically, rolling her eyes ‘til the blue of them was at the sky and then back to her again.

“what would you do without me?” paige sighed, crossing her arms before breaking into the wide stretch of her smile, the pink tip of her tongue peeking from between her teeth.

azzi shoved her lightly as she ducked back into the room to grab her swimsuit, laughing as paige pretended to stumble from the non-existent intensity.

they drove from the rental house with the windows down, hair already sticking to their necks after ten minutes spent sitting in the driveway as they argued over aux, salt freckling on their skin as the breeze burned itself out in the same loop.

azzi was twisted away from paige, face always turned to the water, but she smiled when she heard the beginning riff of “right here” by lil peep spill from the speakers. paige felt the motion rather than saw it, and she dropped one hand from the creamy leather of the land rover’s steering wheel to the console, where she turned it upward so that azzi could slide her palm on top. their fingers entwined, and azzi settled further into the seat, looking forward now, sunglasses taking the brunt of the day’s radiation.

paige knew that her eyes were most likely closed beneath the lenses, those dark lashes lush and eternally romantic against the high bones of her cheeks. she wanted to reach over and lift them, just to check, just to see if she was right, but she kept her hand where it was, thumb stroking absently across azzi's knuckles. the rhythm matched nothing but her own heartbeat.

they drove in silence, their shared playlist doing the work of holding conversation, only breaking when paige squeezed azzi’s hands so that she could see the wild horses disappearing into the vast horizon—coats brindled, feet wild, eyes dark as her own.

the parking lot was half-empty and composed of crushed shell and white dust, gulls wheeling overhead in patterns that could’ve been symbolic to someone more spiritual. paige pulled into a spot near the weathered walkway, and they unloaded the boards from the roof rack. paige did most of the lifting while azzi steadied them, her fingers trailing tentatively on the waxed surfaces.

the boards themselves were perfect illustrations of how well they worked: paige's a cream white with a thin navy stripe running down its center, the fiberglass worn smooth from years of use, scarred in places where rocks had kissed it recklessly; azzi's a pale pink scattered with hand-painted hibiscus, delicate and almost too precious for the water, chosen because she'd gasped delightedly when she saw it leaning against the rental shop wall.

they walked the wooden planks toward the water, past sea oats genuflecting in the wind, past the scattered abandonments of towels and umbrellas. the gulf stretched before them, turquoise bleeding into navy where the sandbar dropped away into nothing.

"ready?" paige asked, board under her arm, eyes always ahead.

azzi looked at the water, then at paige, then back at the water.

"ready," she echoed, but her voice snagged halfway. paige reached to the side, squeezing the side of her stomach before beginning to walk. she waded in first, the cold a bright shock against her sun-spoiled skin, and turned to watch azzi follow more slowly, testing each step as if the bottom might give way. as if the whole world might.

paige bit her bottom lip, that familiar feeling tugging at her belly, that desire to protect azzi from everything, even her own fears.

now they drifted, the boards swaying where the gulf turned from light to dark. azzi sat stiff-backed, a different picture than the version of her in the car and even the holiday house. she was overly cautious, eyes darting between the horizon and the glossy water that hid whatever lived below. paige watched her shoulder blades shift, like an angel searching for the reassurance of their wings, stomach contracting as she tried to keep her rising anxiety at a shallow level.

here it felt strange and wide, for her; far from safe. paige couldn’t help the uptick of the corners of her mouth, her eyes falling to the way azzi’s fingers were clenched along the round edge of her board.

“you okay, princess?”

“i can’t see the bottom,” azzi said, voice thin and high.

it reminded paige of their middle school days, when she would coax azzi into watching a horror film—slasher or creature horror, never “elevated”, whatever that meant—only to relish in the feeling of her best friend practically climbing into her lap, eyes screwed shut tightly, hands over her ears.

“that’s okay. don’t need to.” paige paddled closer, knees brushing azzi’s thigh as the boards bumped. “you got me.”

the world narrowed to this: the hum of cicadas from somewhere offshore, the slide of water against fiberglass, the sun leaning in as if to commit them to memory. paige reached to steady her, fingers at azzi's waist, skin damp and sun-warmed. she slid them down, always keeping contact, fingertips playing with the docile bows of azzi's bikini bottom.

this swimsuit was one of paige’s favorites, a bright cobalt that made azzi's skin look like something poured bronze straight from a tap. the top was a simple triangle cut that tied behind her neck, the bottoms sitting low on her hips with bows at each side like two small promises waiting to be broken. the color reminded paige of the deep end of pools, those spaces where light couldn't reach, of drowning as a choice rather than an accident.

she’d texted azzi a week before, reminding her to bring it.

around her neck, azzi had tied a beaded choker—white and blue ascending wth each breath, glittering proudly in the sunlight—and paige found herself watching every shift, every single thing about how azzi moved, like she was down to seven more minutes living and was trying to never forget.

azzi breathed shallowly, chest rising under the spaghetti straps, eyes blinking warily.

paige tilted her head, touching her chin.

“princess, look at me.”

azzi obeyed, that cervine gaze peering up from underneath her lashes, her cheek momentarily dimpled as she chewed the inside of her cheek to pieces. for a moment, paige didn’t think and leaned forward, loose strands of blonde tumbling from her bun with the movement. she thumbed at the bottom of azzi’s lip with her index finger, slipping it slightly inside when azzi’s teeth parted, and tugged the tissue from between her molars.

“stop it. you know it’s gonna hurt you later.”

“yeah,” azzi said quietly, “thanks.” her breath ghosted warm against paige's finger. neither moved to sever the contact, the moment pulled taut as wire, singing with the tension.

paige looked at her then, and it was as if the sea had vanished. there was only the shimmer of light across azzi’s eyes, the dark bloom of her curls—the volume slightly dampened with saltwater—, and the faint tremor that ran through her body as she tried to keep steady on the waves. paige felt the shake of her own pulse move up through her arms, a tide she couldn’t turn back.

“you’re okay,” paige murmured. “just breathe. just look at me.”

paige knew, even then, that something in her had begun to tip. a shift too subtle to name, but irreversible. the sluice of her blood to a single point of gravity. she felt it in the hush that followed, in the fever snaking beneath her skin and working at her neck. in the way, azzi’s gaze never left its fixed point on her face, muscles relaxing as she gazed deeply at the one thing she had always known how to love.

there was a knowing then that they both were teetering at the edge of a cliff with rocks at the bottom, black and jagged, aching for a fall. whatever it was had already started to pull paige over, and her only thought was to twist so that it was her against the stone, and azzi against only her.

always this. always her body as the barrier between azzi and the breaking.

I. MINNESOTA / STELLATE / SAMIA.

when azzi arrived like the following july, like summer itself—immediate and without warning—paige had been half expecting her in the way you learn to expect a storm by the air’s sudden weight and the ache in the injury that’s spent half your life wounding you. all that dragging and the sudden onslaught.

paige could always feel it when azzi was near, even her entrance past state lines. she’d dubbed it their “twin thing” affectionately in high school, mostly because it was true, but also because every time she said azzi would correct her, so automatic.

paige, she’d protest. we can’t have that. we’re best friends.

can’t we? paige would always murmur, fingers stretching out to thumb at some part of azzi that was within reach. we could be the first.

and azzi would always fold, her smile fleeting but so tender. it felt good to be on that podium, even when azzi was only letting her win.

so, at the tail end of july, when azzi came sailing easily through paige’s front door, words tumbling over themselves in their excitement, landing on the forest green cotton hill of her beloved weekend duffle before sliding to the floor, sentences breaking apart before they could finish forming—paige was not as shocked as someone else might have been.

and by the time paige had fully registered her presence, the familiar cut of that gentle dove-like voice cutting through the once-impenetrable minnesota heat, settling into every inch of the negative space coalescing around her body as she stood frozen in time on her carpeted stairs, azzi had already climbed past her and begun the pilgrimage to her bed.

she turned at the last moment, mouth soft and pink as she beamed, pleased with herself, and said,

“grab me something, will you? or like, make your snack plate twice as big.”

paige usually would balk at sharing her well-earned snacks, but this time she did nothing but grin back, hands bunching at the hem of her oversized sweatshirt bought from the state fair, the same confectionery pink as the cotton candy they always got sick on.

when paige returned to her bedroom, azzi only allowed her a few minutes to set the plate (packed to the brim) on her nightstand before she tugged the other girl down so that she could climb eagerly on top of paige's stomach, straddling her with the unfaltering confidence of someone who had done this a thousand times before and would do it a thousand times over.

"i did it," azzi said, breathless, her hands braced on paige's shoulders like she was trying to hold the world—her world in place. "i fucking did it. i committed to uconn."

the pajamas she wore were almost indecent in their brevity, a matching set in striped grey and white, the shorts so short they barely qualified as clothing, riding high enough that the white band at the waistband cut into the soft give of her hips. the tank top was thin enough to be translucent where paige’s lamp light hit it, so flimsy and forgiving, spaghetti-strapped and pulled taut across her chest in a way that made it impossible not to notice the shape of her, the rise of her breasts and how they had always sat so nicely; the way her body had continued its relentless work of becoming hers.

paige felt something lurch in her chest, a fish hooked and thrashing.

"you're fucking with me," paige managed, but she was already grinning, her hands coming up instinctively to rest on azzi's hips, thumbs sliding beneath the hem of the tank top to press against skin that was exertion-warm, damp from the heat. she felt the joy grow, the spiral dizzying and setting a buzzing off in both rows of teeth. "you actually did it?"

"i actually did it." azzi was bouncing slightly, unable to contain the energy thrumming wildly through her body like an electrical current, and each movement sent a matching voltage through paige's stomach, made her fingers tighten their grip until she could feel the bones of azzi's hips pressing back against her palms. "we're going to play together. can you believe it? we're going to—"

"—be everyone’s worst fucking nightmare," paige finished, and she sat up slightly, engaging her core to bring herself closer, enough to wrap her arms fully around azzi's waist and pull her in. the shift in position brought them chest to chest, azzi's knees bracketing paige's ribs, thighs pressed warm and solid against her sides, and for a moment they just stayed there, pressed together in the pale wash of moonlight that filtered through the window and painted everything the color of pearl, of something delicate enough to perish with a single touch.

paige nearly wept at the feel of it, this closeness.

always this, she thought desperately. always this.

paige could feel azzi's heartbeat slowing to replicate the path of her own, could feel it hammering away like a flock of birds attempting jailbreak from the skin, could smell the faint scent of her lotion, something bright and wane that made paige think of tiare flower and wedding arrangements and white dresses and white suits, mixed with the clean smell of recently washed skin and underneath it all—something earthier, more animal.

azzi’s hair was still damp at the ends, as if she’d climbed into the car drenched and frantic to get to the woman she had beneath her now, curling slightly as it dried, so dark, so beloved. paige found herself staring at the way it stuck to her neck, at the way droplets of water had gathered in the glistening hollow of her throat—brown column gleaming—and sat there glittering like gems cut to the smallest carat.

she wanted to press her mouth there. apply pressure.

she wanted to taste the freshwater, the sweat, the salt.

the thought came unbidden and left her breathless, a hummingbird state of mind. it left her feeling like she'd been running sprints in the heat until her lungs burned and her vision went white at the edges. she forced herself to look away, counting to twenty seconds and cutting five short as she did her best to focus on something else, anything else, but there was nowhere safe to look. everywhere was just more of azzi: pictures of her, chicly faded from many a photobooth, the curve of her shoulder, the demanding jut of her collarbone, the way her stomach flexed with each intake of air, the small gold pandora heart at her throat catching light.

"can’t believe you drove in matching pajamas to come and tell me this," paige said finally, her voice rougher than she intended, scraped raw. her hands had started traveling of their own accord, fingers tracing idle patterns on azzi's sides, feeling the give of her waist, the way her body was all softness layered deceptively over something stronger, the tension of ambitious muscle beneath the yielding.

azzi pulled back enough to look at her, eyebrows raised, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. the movement made her shift in paige's lap, made everything worse.

"do you have an issue with my pajamas, bueckers?"

"mmm, no. promise. not much of anything to have an issue with anyway." paige's eyes dropped again, helpless, tracking the way the shorts had ridden up even higher, the way they revealed the dark expanse of azzi's thighs, smooth and endless. azzi struck her shoulder playfully at the comment. "they're just very, um, coordinated. like always. always matching."

"so?" azzi's cheeks were flushed, though whether from excitement or their mixed body heat or something else entirely, paige couldn't tell. didn't want to guess. "i like to match. it's cute."

"it is cute," paige agreed, and then, because she couldn't help herself, because the proximity to her favorite girl on earth always made her reckless and azzi was sitting on top of her looking like every slick, sweet dream paige had ever tried to forget and failed, she added: "i bet your underwear matches too. let me guess—" she tilted her head, made a show of thinking about it, even as her thumbs pressed more firmly into azzi's hips, even as she felt the hitch in azzi's breathing. "grey? no, wait. white. has to be white to match the waistband."

azzi went very still. the flush on her cheeks deepened, spreading down her neck to disappear beneath the neckline of her tank top, and paige watched it go, watched the way azzi's skin betrayed her, the way her body could never keep a secret, always spilling its guts if paige showed a hint that she wanted to know. "no. shut up."

paige cracked out a victorious laugh, a flash of pride searing through her.

"i'm right, though, aren't i?" paige was grinning now, wolfish, enjoying the way azzi's composure had cracked, the way she was suddenly the one who didn't know where to look. "lace, too, huh? so predictable, princess. everything matches. your entire life is color-coordinated."

"that's not—" azzi started, then stopped, bit her lip. her hands had moved from paige's shoulders to her own thighs, fingers splayed wide like she was trying her best to hold herself together. "you're being annoying."

“i’m just someone who knows you," paige murmured, voice just shy of revealing, and she couldn't stop staring at where azzi's teeth sank into her bottom lip, at the way the tissue went bloodless under the pressure before flooding that warm, dark rose again. she wanted to reach up and tug it free the way she had in the water in sarasota, wanted to tell her to stop before she hurt herself, but she was afraid that if she moved her hands from azzi's hips, she'd do something stupid instead.

something devastatingly irreversible.

"come on, princess,” she egged, pupils almost fully blown. “just admit it. then i’ll let it go.”

"i am not telling you what color my underwear is, paige,” azzi said, but she was laughing too now, aerial and solar in power, and the sound of it made something shudder open in paige's chest, a pressure point that could send her catatonic if she didn’t ignore it as much as she worked to. "you're such a pervert. should be ashamed of yourself."

"mmm, i'm just observant." paige's fingers had found the hem of the tank top again, had begun playing with it absently, brushing against the skin dipping across azzi’s belly. she could feel the muscles jump underneath the touch, could feel the way her hands were forced up then down as azzi’s breathing went shallow and quick. "it's called paying attention. i notice things about you. it’s what all good best friends do."

"yeah?" azzi's voice had gone low, velveteen and uncertain, and when paige peered up at her face, she found her already looking back at her with an expression that made paige's throat seal shut. "what else do you notice about me, p?"

everything, paige wanted to say. i notice everything about you. you make me notice more about myself. you’re like a tattoo, an eternal mark. i notice it all, i keep staring at it, tracing where you sit inside of me, pretty in script along the soft inner seam of my hip. you are the moment the artist goes over the bone, and i feel every vibration, like a car speeding down the vast highway. i like it, no matter how odd. i try to keep every part of you, because you remind me how much i enjoy being alive.you call me back to myself. with you, even just the thought of you, my veins spark, my blood pumps, my bones buzz and buzz and buzz.

there is a name for this feeling, but it escapes me. you cannot escape me. i dream about you, i let you settle into me like an occupier. i take what i can get.

but she couldn't say any of that. couldn't say anything that indecipherable with its honest desire, that throb for further allowance; adoration in nudity. so instead she shrugged, forced her face into something casual, something safe.

"i dunno. just stuff."

azzi's expression gathered itself, underwent a million transformations in only a minute, before falling into something like disappointment. it flickered across her features before she schooled them back into a smile. paige wanted to scream, loud and unrelenting, at how badly they performed their pretending. but she tucked the sound behind her teeth.

"just stuff. wow. so specific."

paige scrambled, anxious to rescue the moment.

“if you wear studs instead of hoops, you’ll forget to take them off before bed," paige said, reaching up to adjust the small gold chain around azzi's neck, settling the clasp at the proper spot behind the neck. "i know that if you love a book enough, you’ll buy multiple copies so you can have different covers. and i know that you're gonna sleep in my bed tonight because you always do when you're here, even though the guest room’s made up. and that tomorrow morning you're gonna steal my clothes and act like you didn't."

"i do not steal them," azzi protested. "i borrow them."

"you never give them back."

"that's still borrowing just...with an extended return policy."

paige giggled despite herself, and azzi smiled down at her, and for a moment, it was like looking into the heart of the sun. everything felt normal again, felt like it always had: the two of them existing in their own private world, speaking their own private language, burrowing in a space equivalent to the blank territory behind the glass frame held fragile inside a heart-shaped locket.

but then azzi shifted again, altering her weight, and paige's hands tightened on back on her hips reflexively. the air between them went thick and strange. azzi's eyes dropped to paige's mouth, then back up, and paige felt her heart kick up in her throat, felt her whole body burst into flame as her pulse thrummed.

"paige," azzi said quietly, and the way she said it made it sound more like a question than a name belonging to this body begging for more like a prayer.

paige didn't know how to answer.

"hm?"

"are you—" azzi stopped, shook her head slightly, began to power down. "never mind."

"hey, no, what?" paige's thumbs circled again, now drawing those same small shapes along the base of azzi's spine, and she watched the way azzi's breath left her, the way her pupils dilated. "what were you gonna say?"

"nothing. it's stupid."

"you’re never stupid, az. tell me anyway?”

azzi was quiet for a long moment, and paige could see her working through something, weighing options, making calculations. finally, she said, so tentatively that paige almost didn't hear it:

"are you happy? that i'm coming?"

"am i—" paige sat up straighter, bringing them even closer, until there was barely any space between them at all. "azzi, are you serious right now? i'm fucking ecstatic. this is—you have no idea what this means to me. getting to play with you. getting to—" she stopped, swallowed hard. "yeah. fuck, yeah, princess. ‘m happy."

azzi's answering smile was blazing, luminous enough to hint at harm, and she threw her arms around paige's neck and hugged her fiercely, face buried in the curve where paige's shoulder smoothed into her neck. paige wrapped her arms around azzi's waist and held on and on, as if she was trying to memorize the feeling, the pressure, and warmth of her, the way her curls kissed at the skin of paige’s chest.

the way her lips brushed there, too.

they stayed like that for an indeterminate amount of time, tangled together until they felt like an undiscovered country, and paige thought about how this was enough. how it had to be enough. how she would make it enough.

but even as thought drifted through her mind, she couldn’t find the strength to pledge allegiance to it. instead, her hands slid further up azzi's back, fingers splaying wide, and azzi made a sound so small and wet against her neck that masqueraded as contentment but most likely was something more, and paige—

paige knew—knew with the same certainty she knew her own name—that it would never be enough. that she would always want more. that wanting azzi was like dragging the tongue along the bladed edge of a slab of ice because you could remember so clearly what the goodness of water tasted like, how it once was that, too.

when azzi finally pulled back, her eyes were shining, two large wet stars.

"we're gonna be so good together," she said, and paige nodded, even though she wasn't sure anymore which game they were talking about.

and paige believed her, because azzi would always be true. she could see it now, without being there. the two of them, a duet of bright young women, at home on a shared court, paige could see it, how she would turn to accept the pass from azzi, would see the sweat beaded on her best friend’s skin, its catch in the wetness of her mouth.

everything azzi gave her, paige let rule over her.

we’re gonna live forever, paige wanted to promise.

paige could feel that nameless emotion rising, the rush dawning like the sky opening in apocalypse, a sun coming out like blood at the tip of the tongue. she could feel it slicing at her mouth, the parts of it, enraged at being repressed.

she could hear it begging for reprieve, for the solace of azzi’s lips crushed against it.

but she had to save it.

so, she said,

“we’re gonna be the best.”

II. CONNECTICUT / DUST BOWL ( DEMO ) / ETHEL CAIN.

azzi usually steered clear of thick florals, especially roses. but in the fall, she forgave herself for her fallacies, including indulging in the smell of it. she only liked it in the end months of the year, and specifically as it came across when dusted over paige. her best friend often leaned vanilla in cologne, but sometimes she’d spritz a bit of a fragrance so old that the label had been worn off the bottle by the repeated love of her fingers against it.

it was so rarely used, and so it aged and aged until it bled out a blend of oud and deep rose—damask, if azzi recalled correctly. it never smelled as good as her memory had saved it, but she loved falling asleep with her nose pressed to paige’s neck, the flower softening nearly to rot but still beautiful. she’d drift, then, mind slurring into a peace she associated with autumnal woods with a path nearly gone, hidden inside, trodden hand-in-hand when paige came to see her in virginia four years ago.

now she could smell it again as she sat on the quad, eyes flickering over the kaleidoscope of the season’s leaves and the dark, brittle skin of the trees in the last throes of life. despite the annual decay, the campus was alive in the way only october at uconn could make it. students were undeterred by the wet earth—a souvenir from a flash pour that occurred just before azzi’s contemporary media activism lecture—and sprawled across both the grass and one another, offerings to the expiring warmth.

the air was sharp with the smell of coffee orders, either overly elaborate or ridiculously minimal, and someone's cigarette smoke drifting from the direction of the library. that had to be a fire hazard in some way. azzi sat, cross-legged on the stone wall near the student center, her body angled toward the watery kiss of the last-minute sun so that her back was settled snugly against the strong line of paige’s shoulder.

she’d chosen comfort today: flared yoga pants in deep grey that hugged her hips, paired with a color-matched ribbed tank top that grew thin at the straps. it was all grounded by an open cardigan in the deepest black that kept slipping off one shoulder, revealing the smooth brown skin there, the ridge of her collarbone. her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, curls cascading to the middle of her back, and she had her phone balanced on her knee as she tuned back in just in time to laugh at something kk was saying, her whole face transforming with it, luminous and unguarded.

paige couldn't stop looking at her. she could feel it, like god’s eyes. she’d been looking at her all morning—all week, all month, really—to the point where she’d asked if she looked bad. paige had stammered out a negative, flustered, and azzi had squeezed her hand before walking off to her lecture hall.

ever since azzi had arrived on campus, it had been different. she was almost always in paige's dorm room, determined to make it feel less like the cell it appeared to be and more like a home. here, their habits continued, azzi falling asleep in paige's bed more nights than not, her body curved into paige's like they were two parts of the same equation.

it was making paige insane. the proximity of it all. the way azzi touched her so casually—fingers at her wrist, hand at the small of her back, head on her shoulder—like it meant nothing, like it didn't make paige's blood sing and her hands shake and her mouth press together so hard that she could feel every bit like a death pact come collect.

"yo, p, you listening?" kk was waving a hand in front of her face, dark brows raised in amusement.

"what? yeah. sorry." paige dragged her attention away from where azzi was now scrolling through her ipad with its matching white stylus, her onenote open to painstakingly precise notes, that small line appearing just above the ridge of her nose—that fixed symbol that meant she was concentrating so hard on the task at hand that she’d get a headache later.

paige made a note to give her ibuprofen before they hit the court later.

"we were saying that apparently you've been busy." this time it was ice speaking, grin wicked and knowing. paige felt dread begin to build, latent and hot in her throat. "heard you had alyssa from the soccer team in your room last week. and before that, that girl from your bio class. what's her name—"

"bro, can we not?" paige interrupted, but she could feel her face heating, could feel the way azzi had gone very still beside her, eyes trained militantly on the screen in front of her, laughter gone dead in her throat upon arrival.

"i'm just saying," ice continued, oblivious or maybe just uncaring, "you're like a campus legend at this point. paige bueckers, heartbreaker extraordinaire. there's probably a running list somewhere."

someone—paige thought it might have been aubrey—pulled out her phone and started scrolling through instagram, tilting the screen toward the group. "oh shit, yeah. this other girl—kat, i think?—she posted about you like two days ago. i took a screenshot. 'best night everrrr.’”

aubrey’s voice sang high with the tease, and the table erupted in laughter and shrill catcalls. paige wanted to sink into the ground, wanted to disappear entirely, because she could feel azzi looking at the phone now, could feel the way her body had gone rigid, immovable. could practically hear the gears turning in her head as she blankly studied the girl in the photo.

brunette, hair thick and glossy, and spilling into a question mark of a ponytail. tall and toned in a way that spoke to running, pretty in an effortless way that was perfect under the influence of mango-infused tequila, but currently made paige's stomach hurt.

paige turned fully to look at her best friend, trying and failing to catch her eye, trying and failing to communicate an understanding, but azzi wouldn't look at her. azzi always looked at her, was always ready. but she wasn’t ready anymore.

instead, her jaw was set, teeth gripped as tightly as her fingers were around the sides of her phone. the knuckles had gone pale, and paige could see her doing it—that thing she did where she catalogued all the ways she didn't measure up, where she made an inventory of her own inadequacies and displayed them like evidence of some crime she'd committed just by existing. she watched as azzi subconsciously reached toward the dark ends of her own pulled-back curls, and the action was so small but carried enough pain to fell paige like a demolition site.

"az," paige said quietly, reaching out to touch azzi's knee, but azzi flinched away. paige felt as though she was burning down, bones gone to ash and blood all in her mouth.

azzi blinked at her, face unreadable, and then stretched a smile from ear to ear. it was so unnatural that it nearly appeared to hurt, and paige scrambled inside.

"hey, so i forgot that i have a study session for a group project for my mass communications class," azzi said, standing up so abruptly that she nearly knocked ice’s water bottle from its spot on the wall. her voice was bright, fragile, wrong, the words all stilted. "i gotta go, but i’ll catch you later, okay?"

and then she turned, already walking away before paige could begin to respond, cardigan fluttering around her like a bird’s frantic flapping when pushed from the nest. paige sat there, frozen, watching the shape of her disappear into the sudden surge of students crossing the quad, feeling like she'd just failed some test she hadn't known she was taking.

"is she good?" kk asked.

paige didn't answer. she was already pulling out her phone, dragging open the google calendar they shared, the one they'd set up freshman year of high school, color-coded in pink and purple, every game and study session and family holiday and doctor's appointment meticulously logged because they liked knowing where the other one was, liked being able to look at their phone and see proof that their existence within each other's lives.

she scrolled through azzi's schedule for today until she was dizzy and the white space blurred. nothing. no study session, no group project, nothing except practice later that afternoon.

she took a screenshot, fingers slipping on the first attempt, and sent it to azzi.

me: ????????? i know im not tripping

the three dots appeared immediately, then disappeared, then appeared again.

a 💗💗: forgot to add it in me: yeah bc it’s a lie me: bro nika is in ur class, she said there’s no group project me: azzi what the fuck me: talk to me

but azzi had stopped responding, had probably turned her phone face-down on whatever surface she was near, and paige felt something crack open in her chest, something that had been building pressure for months, maybe years.

she felt like the emoji she’d chosen for azzi’s contact name, pulsing and pulsing, radiating as it searched for signs of life. only to come up short, revealed to be all alone.

she didn't see azzi for the rest of the day. she wasn't at practice, which paige only found out through an irritated geno, who told her azzi claimed she was sick, which paige knew to be another lie but backed up anyway.

it was another fracture in the foundation of everything they were. paige went through the motions, ran the drills, took the shots, but her mind was elsewhere, caught on the image of azzi's face when she'd seen that instagram story, the way her whole body had contracted like she'd taken a hit.

by the time practice ended, paige was vibrating with anxiety, with the need to see azzi and fix whatever she'd transgressed without intention. she showered so quickly that she was teased about it on the way out of the locker room, and headed straight for azzi's dorm, letting herself in with the key azzi had given her during move-in week.

the room was dark and quiet, and for a moment paige thought maybe azzi wasn't there. but then she heard it. a small sound from the bathroom, something between a gasp and a whimper.

"azzi?"

paige crossed the room and pushed open the door. she found her there, standing in front of the mirror, tank top pushed up to just below her breasts, and there was blood—not a lot, but enough—trickling down from her navel where a silver barbell now gleamed, the skin around it flushed and angry.

"jesus, az," paige said, and her voice came out strangled. "what did you do?"

azzi's eyes met hers in the mirror, and they were wet, defiant. "what does it look like, bueckers? let’s use our brains."

paige closed her eyes and prayed momentarily for patience before returning her gaze to the golden plane of azzi’s belly.

"i mean, obviously, it’s a fucking piercing. but i guess ‘m confused because we were supposed to go to your appointment together." paige could hear how childish it sounded even as she said it, but she couldn't help it. they'd talked about this, had planned it as a special moment for just the two of them, had researched shops and argued about gold over silver and silver over gold; paige had promised to hold hands with azzi all the way through it. "we had a plan."

"yeah, well." azzi turned to face her properly, and the movement made her wince, one hand coming up to hover over the metal without quite touching it. "things change. you of all people should know that."

the words landed like a slap, and it felt so unfair that paige took a step back, feeling all air abandon her.

"what's that supposed to mean?"

"you know exactly what it means." azzi's voice was trembling now, anger and hurt tangled together until they were indistinguishable. "apparently, you've been having all sorts of adventures that you haven't told me about. so i figured, why not have my own?"

"azzi—"

"were you ever going to tell me?" azzi's eyes were nearly on fire with her pain, tears spilling over, tracking down her cheeks, and breaking off at her chin. "or was i just supposed to find out from our fucking teammates that my best friend—" she stopped, bit her lip so hard paige was afraid she'd draw blood. "that you've been sleeping with half the campus?"

"first off, it’s not—it wasn't like that." paige felt helpless, like she was drowning despite being in shallow waters. "it didn't mean anything. none of them meant anything."

"then why keep it from me?" azzi's voice stuttered halfway through the question, cleaving in two.

because you’d look down on me just like right now, paige wanted to say. because i feel you like a hole in my head, and i needed to staunch the bleed. because i want to be loved and touched and needed without making you suffer me. because i thought maybe if i fucked enough other people, i'd stop thinking about what it would be like to fuck you.

but she couldn't say any of that. couldn't confess to any of it.

"i don't know," she said instead, and because she never knew when to leave well enough alone, she continued. “why do you even care?”

azzi jerked backward, face crumpling like sand under the weight of water. “my whole life is about caring about you. you’ve never kept something from me before. we tell each other everything.”

the truth of it left paige defenseless and therefore silent, so they stood there in the fluorescent bathroom light, the space between them feeling more like a chasm than something simple to close. paige thought about how easy it would be to just reach across it, to pull azzi into her arms and apologize until her voice gave out. but the rigor in azzi's posture, the relentless stand of her spine, told her that the touch wouldn't be welcome right now, that azzi needed distance the way paige needed her, and the asymmetry of it made her want to cup her throat and squeeze until she conquered the scream.

"it's getting infected," paige said finally, gesturing to azzi’s stomach with its little red beads of blood. her voice came out flat, clinical. "you need to clean it."

"i know how to clean it," azzi said, but she made no effort to move. only stood there with her arms wrapped around herself like she was desperately trying to hold her body together.

paige wondered what would fall out if she let go.

"c’mon. let me help you." paige was already walking to the sink, wetting a clean washcloth with warm water. "please. az. just let me help."

let me fix it. fix it. please. please, god, please. i can fix it.

azzi was quiet for a long moment, and then she nodded, just barely, and lowered her arms to her sides. the tank top was still pushed up, exposing the soft give of her stomach and the gentle beginning curve of her hips, and paige tried not to look as she came to her, tried to focus on the task at hand—but it was impossible.

her best friend’s skin was warm beneath her fingers as paige steadied her with one hand on her hip, using the other to gently dab at the blood and clear fluid leaking from around the piercing. azzi hissed at the contact, muscles jumping with the sensitivity, and paige murmured an apology, blowing cool air across the inflamed skin.

"you have to be more careful," she said quietly, blue eyes latched steadfastly on the inner pucker of azzi’s belly button. "you can't just—you can't do something like this and not take care of it properly."

"i didn't think it would hurt this much," azzi admitted, and her voice was small, younger than paige had heard it in years. “everyone said it wouldn’t.”

"everything hurts more than you think it will." paige squeezed antibacterial solution onto a cotton swab and pressed it gently around the piercing site. "but that's kind of the point, right? of getting one?"

azzi didn't answer, but the way she watched paige work with those dark eyes spoke to what she was thinking. she had always had such a heavy gaze, those wide cervine eyes that had always seen too much, that had always been the one to know how to handle it if they were both looking. paige could feel the weight of them like a physical thing, could feel azzi reading her the way she read defenses, finding all the weak spots and cataloguing them for later use.

she would know them in sleep, her dreams colored after them, her every action validated by the presence.

when the piercing was clean and paige had applied a thin layer of healing ointment, she should have stepped back. should have put space between them again and let the moment end. but she didn’t, couldn’t. she needed azzi to know she was sorry, needed permission to call her her princess again.

her hand stayed in place, still on azzi's hip, thumb stroking in absent sweeps, and before she could think better of it, she was slipping to her knees. she leaned in, pressing her lips to the unblemished skin just to the left of the wound.

she had never felt azzi’s body be this halcyon. for a moment, there was nothing, but then her hand came up to tangle in paige's hair as if receiving sacrament, fingers tightening almost painfully at the roots.

paige kissed her again, just below the navel this time, feeling the way the muscles contracted under the pressure of her mouth. and again, to the right, and again, mapping the territory around the metal with her lips, taking liberties to kiss away the pain she'd caused, lips falling open and more open again.

"paige," azzi breathed, and the way she said it made paige's whole body go liquid.

paige looked up at her from where she kneeled, blood stellate, eyes endless from this angle, and found azzi gazing down at her with an expression that made paige's heart practically stop.

there was so much she was swollen with.

wanting.

confusion.

terror, which always arose in the face of something beautiful.

for a moment, they just stayed like that—paige on her knees like a supplicant, azzi trembling above her—and paige thought this is it, this is when everything changes, this is when i finally tell her and she will finally understand.

but then paige messed it up because she looked away, back in front of her, and pressed a kiss to the slip of azzi’s hipbone, her tongue tracing the bone—hot and slick and soft. and it was this that sent azzi stepping back, pulling her tank top down, the wall going up behind her eyes so fast paige could practically hear it slam into place.

“thank you," azzi said, her voice carefully neutral. switzerland. "for helping me."

"yeah," paige said, pushing herself up on legs that felt unsteady. "course."

she knew they wouldn’t talk about it, that she wouldn’t be able to without bursting into tears. she wanted to burst into tears now, bawl like the child she would always feel inside of her. the same one that had watched her parents split.

and maybe azzi could tell—paige knew she could—because she reached out and cupped paige’s cheek, eyes softening until they were as tender as meat. they stood there, face to palm in a bathroom not worth the tuition, overhead light flickering and turning paige’s hair further blonde with every other shine.

they stood there, looking at each other across a distance that felt insurmountable, and pretended that everything was fine. that everything was still the same as it had always been.

that paige’s hands weren’t trembling by her sides, that azzi’s thumb wasn’t near paige’s bottom lip.

this was mutualism.

III. VIRGINIA / SMOTHER / DAUGHTER.

virginia in december burned with a special nature of winter, and in the mountains, it only felt further alien.

in the peaks, the cold felt personal, always on the verge of acting as a threat, an endless searching for the warmest parts of you just to press its thumb there until something gave way. the cabin geno had rented for them sat perched on the side of a hill just moments from erosion, comprised of exposed beams of light wood and floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto nothing but white, the snow so thick it erased the distinction between earth and sky. it was a task to tell what was solid and what was simply the absence of something else.

while their coaches had helped arrange the holiday, they had begged off on joining, something every girl able to attend was grateful for. the intended bonding would’ve fallen short, flickering threads of connection failing to touch and strengthen the weave of their relationship.

azzi had been in the hot tub for the better part of an hour, body submerged up to the collarbone in water that scalded and soothed in turns; it made her skin feel like it was moments from slipping off and belonging to someone else.

she wore a black bikini, simple and minimal, that made her hyperaware of the suggestion of her own silhouette. it gave the feeling of wearing almost nothing—but in a welcome way—with its triangles of fabric barely containing the swell of her breasts, and ties at her hips that pledged a loose vow of security. a shell necklace sat against her throat, the white and cream ovals slick with steam, and she kept touching it absently, a nervous habit she'd developed somewhere between childhood and now.

the air bit mercilessly at her face and shoulders, creating a strange dichotomy of being both sweltering and freezing all at once. her body always so unable to decide what it wanted, what it could tolerate. she'd slipped further into the water to escape the contradiction, letting the heat work at the knots in her shoulders that had been building since they'd arrived two days ago.

since paige had receded, a radio tower gone silent, too devastated to properly pretend she was fine.

azzi looked away from where caroline drifted before her to where paige sat in one of the lounge chairs just outside the hot tub's perimeter, hunched forward with her elbows on her knees, swimming in an oversized grey hoodie that made her look smaller than she was, frailer than she’d ever let on. basketball shorts despite the cold, because she was stubborn like that, always had been, her body a testament to refusal.

her knee was wrapped, the black brace visible beneath the hem of her shorts like cain’s mark. she'd been sitting there for what must’ve been forty minutes now, phone in hand, scrolling through nothing, contributing nothing to the conversation happening around her. azzi’s chest squeezed tightly, and she clenched her fingers around her thigh beneath the bubbling water.

she kept glancing over at her. couldn't help it. kept waiting for her best friend to meet her eyes, to give her something—that smile like heaven, that smirk, the lifting of the veil—but paige's gaze stayed fixed on the middle distance, jaw tight, mouth pressed into a line that meant she was barely holding something back, that the dam was one more word away from breaking.

azzi wanted to go to her, to crawl to her, to place her hands along her spine and beg her to spell it out.

"earth to azzi," caroline called, pulling azzi's attention back to the group with the violence of interruption, at odds with the kindness of her tone. "you ready for the bahamas? three weeks, right? i’m so excited. jesus, to play in actual heat for once instead of this frozen hell."

“yeah,” azzi said, smiling half-heartedly.

the conversation around the hot tub shifted like the weather, everyone eager to talk about the tournament: the hotels they'd be staying in, the restaurants they wanted to try, the practices on the beach that would feel more like vacation than work.

“we’ll fucking kill it,” morgan chimed in, face bright with the hope. “we’re gonna bring it home.”

azzi felt her stomach drop, felt the way the air suddenly went thin, identical to the onset of altitude sickness. she had the sudden, horrible feeling that she was watching something tragic happen in slow motion and couldn't move fast enough to stop the loss.

morgan's face changed as soon as she realized what she'd said, crumpling sweetly, eyes going wide with the particular horror of accidental cruelty. "oh my god. paige, i didn't—"

"it's fine," paige said, voice empty and mechanical, the possession of someone who was trying to will a lie into the quality of truth. she didn't look up once from her phone. "y'all have fun. bring me back a seashell or whatever."

"p—" ice started, but paige was already standing, moving with a careful deliberation that communicated that her knee was aching worse than she'd admit. azzi hated this, this voyuerism of a girl carrying pain like a teenage secret, hoodie pulled up over her head as she limped toward the sliding glass door that led back into the cabin's throat.

azzi watched her go, watched the way paige's shoulders were drawn up to her ears like she was trying to shrink in real time, watched the way she was trying so hard to appear as though she didn't care, like this wasn't killing her slowly, and felt something crack open in her chest in a jagged line.

"fuck," morgan said quietly. "i'm such an idiot."

"she knows you didn't mean it," azzi said, but she was already halfway out of the hot tub, water streaming off her body, steam rising from her skin as the winter chill crawled eagerly over her exposed limbs.

she nearly slipped as she grabbed her towel and wrapped it around herself, didn't bother with anything else. not her clothes or her shoes or her usual performance of normalcy. azzi stumbled with a lack of humiliation, anxious to get to paige, dripping water across the deck and then through the cabin, leaving wet footprints on the hardwood like evidence of passage. she took the stairs two at a time, her body still burning with phantom warmth from the hot tub, her skin slightly prickled with glaciation.

the bedroom paige had claimed was at the end of the hall, door closed, no light visible beneath it, a darkness so complete that azzi knew it to be intentional.

her room was next door.

she didn't knock, only turned the handle and slipped inside, closing the door behind her with the soft click of the latch.

the room was devoid of all light, curtains drawn tightly against the world, forcing it back with a hard hand. the only light came from the digital clock on the nightstand that read 9:47 pm in numbers that glowed an accusatory red. paige was in bed already, or at least in the bed, no longer wearing her hoodie and shorts, curled on her side facing away from the door like she was trying to disappear into the wall, trying to merge with something more solid than herself.

"i need a minute, az," paige said, voice muffled by the pillow, by the refusal to be seen.

azzi was unable to help the small smile that brushed across her face, pleasure rising at being known so thoroughly.

"no." azzi dropped her towel, toeing it open before undoing the delicate ties of her bikini, the fabric hitting the wood with a muffled slap—gravity enforced by the water content. she crossed to the bed, droplets still lingering along her skin, and climbed onto the mattress without asking permission.

she knew if she waited, the invitation might never come, and so she pressed herself against paige's back with abandon. one arm slid around paige’s waist, the other tucking beneath the pillow they'd been sharing since arrival, her body an answer to the question paige never had to ask.

paige went rigid, every muscle locking. "bro, you’re getting the bed wet."

"don't care. i’ll just change the sheets when you shower.”

"azzi."

"i'm not leaving." azzi pressed her face against the back of paige's neck, right where her hair was pulled into a messy bun, loose strands escaping to brush against azzi's mouth, and breathed in the familiar scent of her. vanilla lightened with a lavender touch, spiced with vetiver and something that was just paige. something azzi would recognize blindfolded, in a crowd, in another life. "so you can stop trying to get rid of me."

paige was silent for a long moment, and then azzi felt it: the tentative shake of her body that gained quickly in intensity, slight tremors that traveled through her like fault lines and then burst into their full earthquake, the uneven, ragged pull of her breath.

"it's just a little over a month," paige said, the words small and wet enough to clog azzi's own throat. she wanted nothing more than to gather paige up, hide her somewhere safe until it was all over. "six fucking weeks. it's nothing. i don't know why i'm being such a fucking baby about it."

"because it's not nothing, p," azzi corrected quietly, lips shifting tenderly against paige's neck, the words transferring directly into skin. "because basketball is—it's everything to us. to you. it's how you know yourself. it's the language you speak. and someone took it away, changed the build. you can’t even translate.”

"okay, miss communications major,” paige puffed out, and azzi squeezed her stomach softly. then,

“but i took it away, az,” and there was something juvenile in her voice, something savagely self-lacerating. "it was my fault. i went for a steal i shouldn't have, and i landed wrong, and now i'm—" paige stopped, swallowed hard enough that azzi could feel it. "now i'm fucking useless."

"don't." azzi's arm tightened around paige's waist, hand tucking under the hem of her shirt to splay wide across her stomach, feeling the rise and fall, the proof of life. "don't you ever say that."

"it's true, though. who am i when i’m not on court? what am i if i'm not—" paige's voice cracked like ice, and the lake rose. "i don't know how to be anything else. i feel buried alive."

azzi's heart was hammering so viciously she was sure paige could feel the vibrations against each ridge of her spine, a frenetic drumming that was trying to say something her mouth couldn't. she closed her eyes, pressed her lips to the nape of paige's neck over and over, arranging and then re-arranging in the shape something that wasn't quite a kiss but felt like one anyway, and felt the words rising in her throat.

words she'd been holding back for months, maybe years. sentences that felt too big and terrifying for the hold of a diary, too exposing to reveal in daylight, but somehow felt more possible here, in this black, dead air, where neither of them could see each other's faces.

in the dark, it was always easier to be brave. it was never confession, only relief.

"you're more than that," azzi said, and her voice came out rougher than she intended, scraped raw. "you're so much more than this sport. then any team contract or brand deal, or highlight reel. you're—"

she faltered, tried to gather these thoughts that came too quickly, tumbling over one another and onto her feet like water over rock. and she let them, abandoning pretense.

then, almost casually, she said,

“you know, when we were younger, the thing i used to look forward to most was the away games. because of the bus ride after. you always came to the back with me, where no light reached. and we’d end up—god, i don’t even know—half-asleep on each other, limbs everywhere. you and me in that dark corner on one side, sinking into each other like it was the most natural thing. it was, i think. it felt like we were the same person for a while, feeling all the same things without thinking twice.”

paige had gone very still beneath her touch, so still azzi might have thought she'd stopped breathing if not for the steady rise and fall of her back against azzi’s chest.

“sometimes you’d fall asleep on top of me, and i’d stay wide awake, and i wouldn’t move. i couldn’t risk waking you, and i—i liked the weight. your warmth solidified me, especially after a loss. i’d get home smelling like you more than anything else. like i’d been dipped right inside of you. i’d lie on my floor in the dark, curled up like a kid, trying to hold onto it; the sense of you still on my skin. letting it pool around me for as long as i could before i had to wash it off and return to being my own separate body.”

azzi’s voice broke, splintered. she pushed through.

"you make me feel seen. you make me feel safe. like i matter in ways that have nothing to do with what i can do, what i can produce, what i'm worth. and i don't—i don't know how to separate loving you from needing you, and that scares me, because what if something happens and you're not there anymore? what if i lose you? what if this—"

she curled in closer, crushing what little space had been between them, holding on to the memory of their bodies pressed together in the dark.

"what if this ruins everything and i lose the only person who's ever made me feel like i could just be?"

"azzi. baby," paige had rolled over while she was talking, was now facing her in the dark, close enough that azzi could see the tears tracking down her cheeks even in the minimal light, silver trails catching what little illumination bled stubbornly through the curtains. "what are you saying?"

"i'm saying that you're everything," azzi said, and she was crying now too, couldn't help it, the tears coming hot and fast and unstoppable. "i'm saying that watching you hurt—physically, emotionally, any of it—it destroys me, paige. it unmakes me. i'm saying that i don't care if you never touch a basketball again, you'd still be the most important person in my life. you'd still be the person i think about first thing in the morning and last thing at night. you'd still be the person i—"

she stopped, screwed her eyes shut tightly because she couldn't bear to look at paige when she said it, couldn't bear to see whatever expression would cross her face.

"i'm saying that i love you. best friends, yes, but more, too. i love you so deeply, in a way that keeps me awake at night, half-insane and staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out when it happened, trying to remember a time when i didn't feel this way, and coming up empty. you’ve been the constant weather of my life. so when you say you’re just a player, just someone for people to watch—no. you’ve been the person i revolved around since we were little kids, paige. i’ve been in love with you so long it feels like part of my body. i don’t know how to separate it from anything else.

“i want to crawl inside your body and live there, be responsible for your skin and bones and blood. i want to know what it feels like to be you, to see the world the way you see it, to always know what you’re thinking. i love you in a way that probably isn't healthy and definitely isn't normal, and i'm sorry, i'm so sorry, but i can't—i don’t know what to do with it. i just—i just want to give it to you. and then some.”

and then some.

the silence that followed felt eternal, stretched lean as a vein waiting for the needle. azzi kept her eyes pressed closed, the pressure so great that bursts of color were flickering in the dark. she couldn't handle whatever horror was surely paige's face, couldn't stand to watch her pull away or shut down or worse—look at her with pity, with the particular cruelty of kindness offered to the pathetic.

but then she felt it. paige's hand came up to cup her cheek, warm and careful, thumb brushing away her tears with a level of affection that nearly wrenched another sob from beneath azzi’s ribs.

“princess, hey. look at me," paige whispered. “baby, can you please look at me?”

azzi forced her eyes open because she’d do anything paige asked, and blinked through the blur of tears. found paige staring at her with an expression so intense it stole her breath, something callow and unguarded that paige would never let just anyone see.

but for the entirety of their lives, one of them had always been something to the other. someone.

"do you know how long i’ve been waiting to hear you say that?" paige said, and her voice was wrecked, destroyed. "or at least some version of it? i—azzi, i don’t know why you didn’t tell me earlier. we tell each other everything.”

azzi thought of that bathroom, the cleaning of her piercing.

“because i didn’t want you to send me away.”

paige scoffed, a brief laugh loosed out, high with disbelief. “there isn’t any version of the world where i don’t want you with me. azzi—i've been losing my fucking mind, dying time and time again, wanting you so fucking badly i could barely breathe around you. i felt like a fucking asthmatic. i used to lie awake at night thinking about what it would feel like to kiss you, to touch you, to have you be mine in all the ways that mattered. i do everything to show you that i’ll cater to you. and you thought, you actually thought, that i wouldn’t feel the same way?"

"you—" azzi couldn't find the strength to finish the sentence. she couldn’t process what paige was saying, couldn't make it fit into the reality she'd been living in.

"i sleep with other people because i can't have you," paige said, and her voice was raw, scraped clean of any pretense, any performance. "i’d go out and find girls who looked nothing like you, and i’d pretend it helped. i’d pretend if i just fucked enough of them, i'd stop wanting you, but it didn’t work. nothing works. nothing makes me stop needing you. nothing makes me stop dreaming about having you. you're in my head all the time, you're my first in every instance, and it's killing me, azzi. it was killing me to love you this much and not be able to—"

"roll over," paige said suddenly, cutting herself off.

"what?"

"roll onto your back, baby. please."

azzi obeyed, bewildered, her body moving on instinct, powered by trust, and then paige was moving too, was shifting her weight carefully. she sat up first, tugging her shirt up and over by the neck and then shimmying off her boxers, mindful of her knee. then she shifted until she was on top of azzi, settling her body against the naked line of the other girl’s with a low groan that sounded like coming home, like respite, like the end of something long and painful.

her head came to rest on azzi's chest, right over her heart where it beat wildly, and her arms wrapped around azzi's waist, holding on as though she was the only thing keeping paige tethered to earth, like without this anchor she'd drift away into nothing.

azzi's hands came up automatically, one tangling in paige's hair, the other tracing patterns on her back—circles and figure eights and shapes that had no name. she dipped lower, to the small of her back where the fullness of her hips began to flow. she could feel paige's breath evening out, could feel the way her body was finally, finally relaxing, the tension bleeding out of her shoulders, her spine, her jaw.

"is this okay?" paige mumbled against her chest, lips moving against the line of azzi’s collarbones.

azzi wanted to laugh. wanted to cry. wanted to scream at how much time they'd wasted, how many nights they could have had this.

"yeah," she managed, her voice thick. "this is okay."

it’s so much better now, she wanted to tell her.

they lay there in the dark, breathing together, heartbeats finding their shared rhythm; two organs bestowed by god, meant to synchronize all along. azzi kept running her fingers through paige's hair, kept tracing those idle patterns on her back, and thought about how many times they'd been in this position before: holding each other, seeking comfort, pretending it was just what friends did, just what teammates did, just what people who loved each other platonically did.

but it had never been just that. it had just felt less dangerous to ignore it.

"we should probably talk about this more when we get back," paige said eventually, her voice thick with exhaustion.

"okay," azzi said, "but later. right now, just rest, p. let me hold you."

"yeah," paige whispered against her chest, the vibration pushing through azzi's chestplate like a drill looking for oil. "okay."

and so, that was what azzi did. she held paige through the night, mapping every point of touch like a star chart. hip to thigh to breast to leg. paige shifted to the right slightly, and it made her leg fall between azzi’s, the length of her thigh firm against the heat of azzi’s cunt. it felt good there, felt grounding. it was less about the placement and more about the act of it.

her best friend was past the line, venturing into this private space, and unfraid to stay there.

azzi held paige the way she'd wanted to for years, and paige held her back.

she looked to the floor, where a small bit of moonlight had crept to the edge, and thought of the brightness of morning. how the sunlight would fracture against the snow and blind them, everything so white, everything so blank.

cold and bright and beautiful and blinding. like an afterlife.

this always, she thought. our bodies, bridged together like a banister.

IV. FLORIDA KEYS / SUNSET ( SLOWED ) / LUCKI.

the keys were the best in the shoulder season. from late april to early june, the islands had a distinct quality compared to the rest of the state. they seemed to shudder with a different kind of life, as if they’d decided to let their guard down for a brief, private interval. the light carried a submerged quality, as though it had traveled a great distance underwater before reaching them, arriving pale and shimmering, a little distorted.

this return to florida was different. they kept touching one another in these small, accidental ways, as if to confirm that they were really here, really doing this. not just two girls pretending that every duet of friends needs to sleep with each other to make it through at least half a night.

they had driven in—again, a rover; always a symbol to them—and the water along the road was a flat blue-green, too still, as if watching. birds wheeled overhead in loose, indifferent arcs. and beneath it all, there was an inescapable electric thrum. the land seemed to receive them almost reverently, as if recognizing a returning species.

their rental sat at the end of a private road, where the asphalt gave way to crushed shell, rising like a sleeping creature. white walls glowed faintly in the heat, the stucco a little bleached. the shutters were soft blue, like the underside of a shell. through tall windows, the courtyard appeared like the heart of a drowned palace: palms arching protectively overhead, the pool lit from below with a strange, luminous blue. beyond it, a deck extended in a narrow path toward their private beach, the sand pale as bone as it bled out into nothing but the slow exhale of the gulf.

azzi liked that you had to park and then continue to walk to get to it. it made her feel that they were properly private, instead of barely secured. the ocean seemed to be reaching for her, needy for her, its pulse a magnet to the foundations every time she turned toward it.

she lay on her back on the living room floor, legs stretched long, bare feet flexed toward the ceiling fan that turned its lazy rotations overhead. she wore an old tee she’d stolen from paige: navy with yellow stripes bleeding down the sleeves, ‘montauk’ screaming in capitals across the middle, so oversized it grazed her mid-thigh.

it made her look smaller than she was, younger.

nothing underneath except white cotton panties that rose high in the front and fell entirely into lace at her hips and ass. her hair was still damp from her earlier shower, dark curls spreading easily across the pale pine hardwood like an oil spill. the only thing providing her comfort was the careful placement of a lilac and jejune persian rug, the print softened with age.

wired headphones—white, tangled at her collarbone—snaked from her ears to her phone resting on her stomach, and she had her eyes closed, lips parted silently to reveal the ridges of her two front teeth, mind swayed by a rhythm only she could hear. it was slow, instrumental, a melody that matched the afternoon light pouring through the windows in bars so thick they looked solid enough to hold.

one hand rested on her stomach, fingers drumming absently against her ribs in time with whatever she was listening to. the other lay palm-up beside her hip, open, receptive. she rolled her ankles clockwise, then anti. lifted her hips until only her shoulders pressed into the ground, then settled back down.

paige stood in the doorway, watching. couldn't help it. would never be able to help it, she was learning.

she'd been with the wings for nearly a year now, and the distance had been harder than either of them had anticipated. they'd known it would be difficult. paige in dallas, azzi still at uconn finishing her fifth year, one she'd chosen to buy more stocks of time before the inevitable separation of professional careers pulled them in different directions.

but knowing something would be hard and living through the reality of it were two different diseases entirely.

the bouts of distance had taught her this: to memorize azzi in every variation of light, to catalog every instance of her existence. but this version—peaceful, unguarded, the little line between her eyebrows finally smoothed—this one she wanted to keep.

two weeks until azzi graduated with her master’s. and then there would be the difficult geometry of trying to exist always within the same place, the same timezone, the same bed. but at least, for now, they had this.

five days with no outsiders, no schedules, no pretending they were anything other than what they'd always been and what they had evolved to. five days to exist as nothing but paige and azzi, girlfriend and girlfriend, two people who considered their highest obligation to be to one another.

paige crossed the room without another thought. lowered herself until she was on her knees, then forward onto her hands, then stretching out along the length of azzi's body, settling her weight the way you'd handle something sacred.

azzi's eyes slid open. she pulled one earbud out, let it dangle.

"hey, baby," paige said, the words coming around a bright smile.

“hey yourself, pretty girl,” azzi murmured, and her voice was warm, honeyed with contentment. she laughed lowly, sound lingering in her throat as paige flushed pink at the endearment.

she looked away and lowered her face to azzi's neck, pressing her mouth there just below her jaw where her pulse beat steady. azzi's breath stalled, then changed pattern completely. her hand came up to tangle in paige's hair, fingers finding blonde, then darker roots. they curled, holding her there.

"what are you doing?"

"kissing you," paige said against her skin, and she did it again, slower this time, with teeth. "that okay?"

"mmhm. yeah." azzi's voice had gone high and thin, breathless. "yeah, that's—that's good."

paige grinned against her neck, suddenly aching and restless, and felt the way azzi's pulse jumped under the glide of her tongue. she kissed her way along the middle of her throat, taking her time, tasting salt and sunscreen and something a little earthier—a touch sweet. her hands bracketed azzi's ribs, thumbs pressing into the spaces between bones.

this was the relief of it—being allowed. being able to want her without the practically biblical weight of repression, without having to build a wall and then a moat between touch and meaning. they had a name for it now.

several names.

best friend, girlfriend, soulmate. other half, wife—eventually.

the naming in itself was its own form of liberation. they could just call it what it was.

"paige," azzi said, and there was a hitch in her voice that made paige lift her head, look at her properly.

azzi was gazing up at her with an expression almost painful in its intensity, eyes dark and wet at the corners. her hand trembled slightly where it had latched onto paige's hair.

"i love you," azzi said, tone uncharacteristically fierce. "i love you so much.”

“i know, princess.” paige felt her throat close. "i know. i love you too."

"no, like—" azzi's free hand came up to cup paige's face, tilted it until her own throat was bared, pale and vulnerable. she idly dragged her thumb across paige’s cheekbone, felt the ridge. "i've loved you since we were kids, and i didn't know how to tell you, and now i get to, and it still doesn't feel real."

"it's real," paige said, turning her head to press a kiss to azzi's palm. she shifted and tumbled, curtaining them both in a slew of gold. "we’re here, mama. we're together, and that’s never gonna change."

"promise?"

"pinky swear."

azzi pulled her down into a kiss then, and it was different than any of the others before. less playful and more urgent. her mouth opened with a hungry request for tongue that made everything inside of paige go molten and liquid. her other earbud fell out, forgotten, the tinny sound of music still playing from where her phone had slipped off her stomach onto the tile.

paige kissed her back with everything she had, one hand sliding up under azzi’s shirt to find bare skin, ribs and the soft underside of her breast. she claimed it, groped at the fullness, and it made azzi send a sound through her mouth, something between a gasp and a moan, and her hips lifted, pressing up into paige's.

"deck," azzi breathed when they broke apart, a string of spit glistening from between their lips before delicately breaking. “let’s—deck.”

"yeah," paige agreed, already moving, already pulling azzi up with her. "yeah, okay."

the deck was empty and sun-drenched, wooden planks still warm from hours of exposure, the ocean stretching out before them, draining turquoise to teal to midnight blue at the far horizon.

light was fading but still present. the beach was private, theirs, no one around for miles, and the knowledge of that privacy made paige feel reckless, made her feel young and invincible in a way she hadn't since before basketball became a career instead of a game.

there was a lounge chair, positioned to face the water. wide enough for two. paige sat first, bringing azzi with her, guiding her to straddle her lap. azzi came willingly, eagerly, her thighs bracketing paige's hips, shirt riding up to reveal the thin white of her underwear, the smooth brown expanse of her legs.

"hi, baby," azzi said again, smiling down at her with eyes crinkled at the corner, and there was something so tender in it, so fond, that paige felt her chest crack right open.

"hey, princess," paige said back, hands settling on azzi's waist, squeezing the sides of her stomach.

she tugged her in by her belly piercing, the bar new and gold with a pink diamond dangling from the end, and they kissed again, slower this time, but no less intense. paige let her hands wander: up azzi's sides, along her spine, down to cup her ass through her panties. azzi whimpered against her mouth, bleating like a little lamb, lithe fingers working at the buttons of paige's cover-up, pushing it off her shoulders.

and then her hands were on paige's skin, warm and sure, mapping territories they'd explored before but never like this, never in daylight, never without the fear of fucking it up.

the sun beat down on them, the ocean providing its lull, and paige thought about that first morning in sarasota, how she'd watched azzi flex her shoulder blades on the paddleboard and felt that first dangerous pull of want, that recognition of falling.

she'd been right to be scared.

loving azzi was terrifying—the magnitude of it, the way it had rewritten every part of her life—but that just meant that it was what she truly wanted.

but she'd also been wrong. because this—azzi's mouth on hers, azzi's body against hers, azzi's hands in her hair—this wasn't falling. this was a landing instead. this was an arrival home.

"i want more," azzi whispered against her lips, and her hips rolled forward, pressing down, and paige felt the heat of her even through the bottom of her own bikini.

"you can have it, mama," paige said, and she meant it in every possible way. "just take it. you can have whatever you want, always.”

azzi pulled back just far enough to look at her, eyes searching. whatever she found there must have satisfied her, because she smiled—bright and unguarded and so beautiful it made paige's teeth ache at the root—and then she was pulling the montauk tee up and over her head, tossing it somewhere behind them onto the deck.

and paige—

paige had seen azzi's body a thousand times before. in locker rooms and hotel rooms, and that every summer morning spent in a heat so deep she felt dizzy, when countless bikinis and mini dresses had revealed nearly everything. but this was different. this was azzi offering herself, bare and unashamed, with the full knowledge of what it meant and what would follow.

"you sure?" paige asked, because she had to.

azzi’s eyes darkened, went low and ravenous.

"i've never been more sure of anything."

paige kissed her again, dragged her closer until distance was no longer an option. her hands found azzi's tits again, thumbs circling her nipples until they hardened, until azzi was gasping and grinding down against her, clit throbbing as she climbed sky high.

they moved together like they played together: instinctive, synchronous, each knowing what the other needed without having to ask. paige's mouth traced the path her hands had taken, lips and tongue and teeth working across azzi's collarbones, down to her tits, and azzi's fingers tightened in her hair, taking her captive, encouraging.

"fuck, paige," azzi breathed, and it sounded like the only thing paige wanted her name to ever mean.

the sun moved across the sky, falling and falling, the world flooding red with the last of it as theirs went white.

later, when the sun had fully fled and the moon reigned unclouded, they lay tangled together on the deck floor, a blanket barely enough for both of them draped across their cooling, sticky bodies.

azzi's head was resting mindlessly on paige's chest, their legs intertwined.

"we should probably go inside," azzi said, but she made no move to get up.

"probably," paige agreed, fingers tracing idle patterns on azzi's bare shoulder. “or we could just stay here forever."

“mmm,” azzi hummed. "i'd be okay with that."

paige smiled against the crown of her head. “i have such great ideas.”

azzi lifted her head to look at her then, chin propped on paige's sternum. "yeah, but. you'd get bored."

“with you? never."

“you’re such a fucking liar." but azzi was smiling, soft and private. "you'd miss basketball, your family. dallas, probably."

"maybe," paige admitted. "but when you’re gone, i miss you more than all of that combined."

azzi's expression shifted, turned vulnerable, so utterly revealing as a mix of emotion crossed her face. "i know, p. just two more weeks."

"two more weeks," paige repeated, as if to affirm the truth of it. "then you're done. then you're mine."

"i've always been yours," azzi said quietly.

paige pulled her up into a lazy kiss, slow and deep and thorough. when they broke apart, she pressed her forehead to azzi's, breathing her in.

"yeah," she whispered. "i know, princess. me too."

eventually, azzi untangled herself, stood on legs that looked unsteady. she paused at the top of the stairs that led down to the beach, turning to look over her shoulder at paige still sprawled on the floor, and smiled. the moonlight caught her just right—porcelain and pearlescent, haloing her dark hair like an angel’s kiss, her skin luminous—and for a moment, time stopped entirely.

paige tried to commit it to memory: the divine curve of azzi's neck, the perfect slope of her bare shoulders, the deep pink of her kiss-swollen lips, her hips in the light and the shadows that striped across her legs and stomach, paige’s bite marks left littered along her thighs, ruby and iris.

the world often proved her too unearthly to be real, but she was real nonetheless.

and paige could never believe it.

"let's go swim," azzi said, and her voice carried on the air, taken up with the salt mist of the water just off to the edge.

with the request, the world rushed back in: the mellow surge of the waves, the cry of the birds still loitering along the water, the feel of smoothed wood beneath paige's palms as she pushed herself up.

"let's race," paige called out, scrambling to the stairs eagerly, bare feet hitting every other step.

azzi laughed as she shouted after her—that is so not fair! you got a head start!—and took off running, hair streaming behind her like a meteor’s streak. when she passed paige, the other woman continued to follow, but not too closely, purposefully slowing down.

she held back just enough, let azzi sail ahead like a shooting star across the sand, her body a blur of unbridled joy.

paige could have caught her—probably. but she didn't.

she let azzi win, an inverse of the way azzi always did when it mattered for paige, when the winning meant getting to watch her celebrate. she let her crash into the waves first with a whoop of victory, watched her turn back with that triumphant grin, arms raised to the sky like she'd conquered something more than a footrace.

paige stood still, raised her hands until she fixed them into the shape of a faux camera frame, pretending to take the shot.

azzi posed, mouth pouty, eyes bright because she always got the joke.

here, paige thought. my heaven is here.

then paige dropped her hands and ran, gaining momentum to take azzi down around the waist into the salt and the blue. the moon was bright enough to pierce the water, and paige saw azzi in all its glow.

angel on fire.

eudaemonia.

© hcneymooners.

[princessazzi]

maybe im just gay but why did i find this so hot? azzi hello? 🥵

[jdwbb]

azzziiii

[princessazzi]

I don’t think y’all get just how down bad I am for this woman...

[akaz2908]

[jdwbb]

HOLLYYY FINE 😮‍💨

[luvergirl-535]

she not a lesbian (for p, she turn pesbian)

four times azzi wondered about the complexities and innerworkings of her sexuality, and one time paige made it simple. 

or: azzi coming to terms with her sexuality over the years. 

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd word count - 9.3k c/w - fluff, also i accidentally projected my entire childhood experience onto azzi while writing this, LOL. as u can probably tell by the title, this is very unserious. a/n - i missed you guys. trying to work on what i'm inspired to do rather than pushing it, but i may start to push it a little after this, lol. i'm a little desperate to get all these ideas out of my head sad emoji

azzi fudd does not like girls. of course, it’s okay if other girls like girls; she doesn’t care. it’s just that she is definitely not one of those girls. she likes boys…she thinks? not that it matters, anyway. her dad always tells her, “at this age, all you need to be interested in is playing with dirt.” so maybe she just doesn’t like anyone yet. and maybe, when she’s bigger, she will like someone, and maybe that someone could be a girl. like, hypothetically. but, no. of course not. she just can’t see it. 

it’s why, when her friend josie asks her at recess if she’s gay, she firmly shakes her head and says, “no, definitely not.” 

the little girl across from her continues adding onto their stick castle, unfazed. “me neither,” she shrugs. “but my sister is. she has a girlfriend named ruby.”

azzi tries to hide her thoughts, which feel naughty, somehow, even though they’re objectively tame: two girls holding hands, going on dates, sharing milkshakes like couples do in the movies. azzi doesn’t think much about those kind of things; that’s probably the reason for the butterflies in her tummy at the thought. “is she…nice?” josie glances up and azzi says, “your sister. is she?”

“yeah,” josie says, shrugging again. “i love her. she’s my sister.” 

azzi furrows her eyebrows, mindlessly drawing her fingers through the dirt to create shapes as she considers this. “do you think being a girl who likes girls is…okay?”

“lesbian,” josie says. “that’s what it’s called, when a girl likes girls.” 

the word is pretty, coming up colorful in her imagination, and azzi thinks it’s fitting. “oh, okay. so is it?”

“of course. anyone can like whoever they like.” josie adds a final stick to the castle, holding her hands out to make sure it doesn’t fall over. “should we add a flag to our castle?” 

and, like any seven-year-old, azzi’s immediately distracted, too busy searching for a good enough leaf for their little universe to think any further on this whole gay thing. 

at least, not until dinner. 

she’s picking at her green beans, playing the word in her mouth, liking how it feels around her tongue; lesbian. 

“thinking out loud again, az,” katie says. azzi’s always talked to herself, as she finds it comforting; she enjoys hearing what her thoughts sound like outside of her head. when she was a toddler, her mom taught her how to whisper it. now that she’s seven, katie’s trying to break the habit for good. 

tim, on the other hand, has been working his hardest to dethrone katie’s efforts. “it’s okay, sweetie, it’s cute,” he says, patting azzi’s head affectionately. 

“she needs to learn,” katie sighs, though a small smile plays on her lips. 

“she’s a baby,” tim argues. 

“am not,” azzi says defiantly, because she is lots of things but a baby is not one of them. she is a big girl, dammit. (when she told this to her mom, katie told her not to use that word. now azzi only says it in her head.) “i’m seven.” 

“see?” katie says proudly. “she’s seven.”

“well, she’s my baby.”

as her silly parents pretend to argue, azzi’s mind, ever active, wanders again. to her friend’s big sister, who she met once at a birthday party. to the girlfriend, ruby. to the word: lesbian. 

“mom,” she pipes up, and she speaks much more quietly than her parents but they still hear her and turn to her right away. 

“what’s up, babe?” katie asks, smiling gently at azzi. 

“are lesbians…okay?”

she watches closely for her mother’s reaction, because her mom knows everything and all azzi really knows is her mom. so when her mother’s expression doesn’t so much as twitch, azzi turns to her dad, confused. he looks back at her, carefully blank-faced. 

“guys?” azzi says, a little lost. 

that’s what it takes to break them, clearly, because in the next second azzi’s parents are laughing behind their hands, trying their best not to let azzi see, but again, she’s not dumb. “don’t laugh,” azzi whines, doing her very best not to stomp her foot. 

“i’m sorry,” katie giggles, waving a hand through the air. “you’re right, i’m sorry.”

“we just think you’re cute,” tim adds, which definitely doesn’t help. azzi pouts, which only seems to make tim think she’s cuter. dammit. 

“are you trying to ask if it’s, like, okay to be a lesbian?” katie says, clearly trying her hardest to keep a smile off her face. 

well, now azzi doesn’t even want to follow through with the question. but when she crosses her arms, closing up, her mom reaches out to stop her and says, “it’s okay, honey,” patting her reassuringly on the arm. “i understand what you’re trying to say. you just worded it funny.”

tim nods in agreement, encouraging her on. “yeah, it’s all good. we know what you meant.”

“to answer the question you were trying to ask,” katie says, a small smile playing at her lips despite herself, “yes, it’s okay to be a lesbian. there’s nothing wrong with it.” she nudges azzi’s plate toward her, motioning at her broccoli as she continues, “do you wanna share why you’re asking?” 

azzi bites her lip as she studies her broccoli, which she usually quite likes (it is fairy trees, after all, according to her parents). but she ignores them, still feeling petty from being laughed at. “josie’s sister is a lesbian. and so she asked me if i was a lesbian, and i told her no, and she said she wasn’t, either. but then i was thinking about it a little more.” her eyebrows furrow as she concentrates, unaware that it makes her look really interested in the broccoli. “am i lesbian?” 

to her relief, her parents don’t laugh again. (if she were to look up, she’d see them hiding behind their hands and taking deep breaths to contain themselves among the hilarity of their daughter having a crisis about her sexuality at the ripe age of seven.

azzi keeps her head firmly down.) 

“well, have you ever had a crush on a girl?” katie ventures, reaching out to thumb azzi’s chin, getting her to lift her head. 

shyly, azzi does, shrugging. “i don’t know. i don’t think i’ve ever had a crush on anyone before.” 

“that’s good,” tim pipes in. “because all you need to be interested in is playing with dirt, young lady.” he points his fork accusingly at azzi, and she giggles, lightening up. 

“it’s okay to have or not have crushes,” katie says, rolling her eyes fondly at her husband. “you just probably won’t know who you like until you start having those feelings.” 

azzi looks from her dad to her mom, then back again, then down once again to her plate. her parents know everything in the world. surely they’re right. and what she’s hearing is she doesn’t have to worry about it yet, which is awesome. in her relatively short time being alive, she’s learned little about herself, but one thing has been as unchanging as her brown eyes and curly hair; she loves her some procrastination, and she hates making choices. 

thus, this is wonderful news. 

satisfied, azzi pops a broccoli in her mouth. “thanks, guys.” 

later that night, tim tells katie: “we’re telling that story at her wedding.”

okay, so, azzi fudd might actually like girls. 

she had been able to keep her peace for longer than most. at thirteen, she’s a little late to be having her first crush—at least, that’s what her friends say—but she’s not upset about it. she’d loved her life, her friends, her parents, all the love and affection she got and gave that was decidedly not romantic or complicated. 

she’s not scared of crushes, per se, or romance or relationships or all the other things she’s just beginning to really learn about. she’s just not exactly obsessed with the idea. she doesn’t particularly want to hold someone’s hand through the hallways, or exchange awkward hugs, or…and she shudders to think…kiss someone. 

it’s safe to say she’s therefore not exactly elated at the arrival of these new, definitely not platonic feelings taking root inside her chest. it’s almost even worse that they’re for a girl, because she’s used to being comfortable around girls; she wasn’t prepared to be made a blushing, stuttering mess in front of one. 

of course, she can’t keep this to herself. azzi’s a fairly private person, even at her young age, but she’s still able to recognize when she needs to get something off her chest and talk about it. the mixture of these traits causes her to only feel truly trusting of one singular person: her dog, stewie. 

“she’s really pretty,” azzi explains, lying on her stomach in front of stewie, so they’re now to nose. “and she’s nice to me. plus she’s good at basketball. i just…i feel so dumb around her, you know? like, i forget everything i know. and i usually know a lot of things.” 

stewie stares at her, and then gives a long-suffering sigh and lays her head down. azzi sighs, too, rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling. “what should i do? do i tell her? but she’s probably not gay.” at that, azzi frowns, then rubs a hand over her aching eyes. “am i gay? i have to be, right?” 

glancing over her shoulder, azzi looks to stewie for guidance. “i might like boys too; i just don’t know.” feeling about as dramatic as the dog, azzi sighs loudly. “not knowing kinda sucks.” 

stewie places a paw on azzi’s arm. azzi smiles sadly. “thanks, stew. but i just can’t be comforted right now.” 

katie pokes her head around the corner, peeking into where azzi’s lying on the living room floor. “you okay, az?”

“yeah,” azzi calls back. “just talking to the dog.” 

there’s a long silence, then a resigned, “that’s nice, honey,” before katie returns back to the kitchen. 

she long ago gave up on trying to break azzi’s habit of talking to herself. 

when she finds that talking about it isn’t enough, and that she probably needs real advice from somebody who speaks the same language as her, she’s reluctant to go to her mom. 

it’s not because she doesn’t trust her mom, or that she’s nervous to come out to her, it’s just that, well. azzi thinks her mom’s pretty old at this point, and she’s been with the same person for the last twelve years. azzi somewhat doubts how accurate or valuable katie’s input would be on this subject. of course, it seems to make much more sense to ask a friend, someone who knows what it’s like to be in eighth grade, having your first crush. 

it’s how she ends up across from josie again, except this time they’re at a cafeteria table, playing tic tac toe on the napkin between them. while josie’s distracted thinking about a move, azzi spits out, “when did your sister know she’s a lesbian?” 

josie glances up with raised eyebrows. “um…why?”

“no reason,” azzi says. 

josie sets her pen down and crosses her arms on the table before fixing azzi with an unsettlingly piercing stare. she doesn’t say anything, just…watches, like she’s seeing straight into azzi’s brain. it’s uncomfortable, to say the least. 

“stop that,” azzi says. 

josie taps her fingers expectantly on the table. 

“okay,” azzi gives, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly. “i guess i might…be wondering…about myself.” 

“you’re wondering if you’re a lesbian?” josie asks. 

azzi flushes at it being put so bluntly like that. “maybe…? kinda. i dunno. i just thought i’d gather more information.”

“well, do you like girls?” josie asks. 

“i think i have a crush on scarlett,” azzi admits, pinning her focus on their half-played game on the napkin so she doesn’t have to watch josie’s reaction. 

there’s hardly even a pause, though, as josie continues her investigation. “do you like boys, too?”

and there it is—the dreaded question. honestly, she finds it a little easier coming to terms with the fact that she might be gay, than wondering whether she actually likes boys. because if she does, that’s okay; it’s all she’s known, after all. but it also comes with a whole new slew of questions: is it possible to like both? and if not, does she just have to…like, choose a side? and then there’s the question of whether she can change her mind after making her choice, or if she just has to stick with it.

azzi puts her head in her hands, stressed right the fuck out, because god this whole thing is sounding like a lot of choices and decisions. and she just. doesn’t do awesome with choices or decisions. 

“are you about to cry?” josie asks, slightly hesitant but mostly curious. 

azzi peeks out from between her fingers. “this feels overwhelming.” 

“it’s okay if you don’t know,” josie says, clearly doing her best to be reassuring. “my parents say sexuality is fluid and it can change all the time. like, even when you’re eighty.” 

azzi scrunches up her nose. she can’t, nor does she want to, imagine herself as an old, wrinkly raisin. “okay. but how do i know?”

sympathetically, josie leans across the table to pat her shoulder. “you might never.” 

“never?” azzi shouts, loud enough that a few other girls turn their heads to stare. she’s honestly too panicked to notice. “as in, i could die not knowing?” 

josie looks far too unbothered by all of this for azzi’s tastes. “i think so, yeah.” 

there’s this hollow, sinking, panicky feeling in her chest. it’s like she’s falling into an abyss with no way out. oh god. is this her first existential crisis? 

she needs something—more reassurance and more information. in fact, she needs to take notes on this shit. but before she can ask for a pen and paper, a warm pair of hands grasp her shoulders from behind, and she startles. 

“hey, guys,” scarlett says, because of course it’s scarlett. azzi wants to dig a hole and put herself there. “what’re you talking about?”

azzi makes a face at josie, and to josie’s credit, her face doesn’t change much. “nothin’. you wanna sit with us?”

scarlett happily accepts, sliding into the bench beside azzi. and for the rest of her lunch period, she has to endure josie making eyebrows at her and silently urging her to make a move. she’s never telling josie her secrets again.

okay, azzi fudd actually might just like one girl. 

when they first met, paige was annoying, cocky, even rude. she followed azzi around like a puppy, telling her stupid jokes and poking at her, constantly trying to get a rise out of her even as she refused to give their other teammates the time of day. azzi wasn’t sure why paige, this amazing basketball player who admittedly worked incredibly well with azzi on the court, chose azzi to become the object of her affections. but now, a year later, it appears all of paige’s antics and annoying tendencies have worked a little too well. 

when they first met, azzi would have never pictured herself tip-toeing into the guest bedroom in her house, only two doors down from her own room, and walking silently to the side of the bed, seeking comfort from that very same annoying, clingy girl from basketball tryouts. but here she is. and honestly, azzi can’t complain about it. 

as she approaches the bed, she’s conflicted on whether to wake paige; she loves her sleep and hates being woken up, but also, it might be weird for her to wake up next to azzi tomorrow morning with no warning. so, azzi sighs, reaching down to gently jostle her best friend. “paige,” she whispers, trying to wake her gently. “paige, can i sleep in here?”

paige groans, scrunching her face at the disturbance. “what?” she yawns. 

“can i sleep in here?” azzi asks. “with you?” the last part comes out more vulnerable than she intended. paige’s eyes crack open, but there’s already a small smile on her face; azzi guesses she just realized who was waking her. 

“‘course,” she says, sitting up and pushing the comforter down, scooting over to give azzi room. azzi crawls in, sitting with her legs folded underneath her, and for a moment it’s just the two of them, staring at each other through the darkness their eyes adjusted to, if only to see each other. azzi’s the first to look away bashfully, and paige scratches the back of her neck. “you alright?”

the simple question is enough to thrill the bones of her spine, the cavern of her stomach. paige is always checking up on her, like azzi’s happiness and wellbeing is her responsibility, like they’re together. it’s one of the many odd quirks of their relationship that they have yet to address. 

“i’m good,” azzi says, “just had a bad dream.” 

“what was it about?” paige asks, subconsciously shifting closer. 

“um,” azzi says, a little embarrassed. but, having known paige for a year now, she’s quickly become her best friend and they talk about everything. and paige, nonchalant and cool around everyone else, always knows exactly the right thing to say. azzi takes a deep breath; paige’s chest rises and falls, taking one with her. “well, when i was little, i was at mass with my parents and the priest gave this sermon about purgatory. it was…gory, like super detailed, and it scared the hell out of me. dunno why i still have nightmares about it, though.”

the thing is, the nightmare itself isn’t that bad; just a childlike sequence of what her six-year-old self pictured from the priest’s words that day. it’s the after, the waking—she wakes feeling deeply disturbed, often finding tear tracks on her cheeks or that she was clutching her chest in her sleep, always breathing heavily. scared for her life, and worse, feeling silly about it. 

paige frowns at her. “is it hard for you to fall back asleep afterward?”

a little sheepishly, azzi nods. “i’m usually up for awhile, if i’m even able to fall back asleep at all.” she realizes at once that paige, who loves her sleep, might not want azzi imposing on her rest. “i can go back to my room, if you want. it’s not a big deal.” 

“no, no.” paige reaches forward and clasps a hand over azzi’s own where they’re folded nervously in her lap. azzi looks down at the gesture, at the warm shape of paige’s hand over her own, and she flushes. paige does, too, but she doesn’t pull away, instead looking azzi in the eye. there’s something open there, something so transparent, so desperate, that it almost makes azzi anxious that paige is going to say something. to try to put a name to whatever may be between them, but may not? because there is the very real possibility this is all in azzi’s head. paige does have a tendency to be flirty with all of her friends, after all. 

“stay with me,” paige says after another moment. azzi’s knuckles burn, which isn’t an unusual sensation when it comes to paige’s skin on her’s—something that’s also been happening more often lately. “you should have some company.” 

azzi shifts, making to crawl under the covers before she’s aware she’s doing it, and paige watches her for a moment before twisting around to grab the remote. as soon as the tv’s on, azzi loosens up a little, the blue light making the room a lot less scary. 

“watchu wanna watch?” paige asks, snuggling into the pillows so they’re laying side-by-side. when she moves her arm, it brushes azzi’s, and she’s already getting warm from the amount of heat they’re conducting under the blankets. or maybe that’s just her skin reacting to paige being close. 

“grey’s?” azzi suggests. 

paige is already navigating to the show. “good answer.” 

once the show’s on, paige tosses the remote to the side and scoots slightly closer to azzi, so their hips and thighs are pressed together. as the intro starts playing, azzi leans a little more heavily into paige, so their arms are pressed together too, and when paige doesn’t move away she tentatively lays her head on her shoulder, trying her hardest to act casual. they’re physically affectionate in purely casual, platonic ways, but azzi’s always been too nervous to really cuddle her like she does her other friends. 

of course, paige doesn’t even react, blissfully unaware of azzi’s budding feelings for her. azzi’s jealous of how calm paige seems, with her own heartbeat trying to beat out of her chest at their proximity. the room’s dark, the nighttime providing a cover and making every small move and breath feel heavier. under the covers, paige’s fingers brush azzi’s thigh, and she can’t help but shiver. 

“you still scared?” paige asks gently, bringing her arm up to wrap around azzi’s lower back, holding her closer. azzi shivers again, and she’s glad for the excuse, even though it makes her look totally lame. 

“a little,” she lies, trying to let herself relax into paige’s hand on her waist, but she’s suddenly too aware of herself, uncomfortably self-conscious. 

“it’s all good,” paige mumbles, pressing her lips to azzi’s hair. “i got you, az.” 

god, why does her best friend have to be so perfect? it’s like she’s trying to make azzi fall in love with her, or something. 

not that she’s in love with paige. and hopefully, this crush will never get to that point. hopefully it’ll only last for another, like, fifteen to twenty business days, at most. she honestly can’t handle much more. 

“god, this show is so gross,” paige says before azzi can respond. she refocuses back on the tv and yeah, someone’s currently getting cut open on an operating table. 

“maybe i’ll become a doctor,” azzi says, mostly to mess with her. “that way, if you ever need a surgeon one day, i’ll be the one cutting into you.”

azzi angles her face up, looking for a reaction, and she gets one in the way paige side-eyes her before shuffling away, detaching their bodies. “i’m scared.”

azzi laughs, shoving paige’s arm before settling against the pillows. “what? i’d be a great doctor.”

“i think you should stick to basketball. for the general safety of the public.”

azzi rolls her eyes at her best friend’s dramatics. “yeah, whatever.” 

paige huffs and settles back into the pillows, chewing the string of her hoodie and crossing her arms over her chest as she focuses back on the show. azzi watches her for a moment, admiring the slope of her nose and the way her jaw works before catching herself and looking away. she’s really, really beautiful, azzi thinks. no girl has never look like that before; no girl has ever looked at her the way paige does before. azzi wants to be held again, sort of regrets that paige stopped cuddling her, even though it made her heart race unpleasantly. 

paige shifts, and azzi automatically does, too, laying on her side and propping her head up on her hand. but then she’s too close all of a sudden, and azzi does a 180, rolling onto her other side and tucking the blanket up under her chin. paige’s body is warm and steady behind hers, and she almost subconsciously shifts back towards her. she closes her eyes, not even bothering to look at the tv anymore—she’s clearly becoming delirious. she just needs to sleep. 

she shimmies further into the comforter, resettling once more in an attempt to get perfectly comfy, but then paige reaches out and place a hand on her hip. “z.”

azzi stops in her tracks, not daring to glance at the hand on her hip. instead, she focuses straight ahead at the wall in front of her. “yeah?”

“you’re wiggling.”

“sorry,” azzi says sheepishly. 

paige isn’t silent for a second, and azzi waits for her to move her hand, but it never happens; instead, it slides further up her waist as paige shifts to face her. “azzi?” 

“uh-huh?”

“it’s lowkey kinda cold in here.”

mind you, the room is definitely not cold. a solid 73. perfectly comfortable. in fact, azzi’s a little warm under the covers. 

but with paige’s hand sliding over her waist like that, she suddenly shivers a little. “yeah,” she says quietly. “i’m a little cold.”

“well, uh…” paige’s hand travels achingly slowly to the soft flesh of her tummy, holding her gently over her oversized sleep shirt, and azzi might throw up, “maybe we should, like, conserve our body heat, or something.” 

oh, god. this definitely isn’t in her head, right? it’s really happening? 

is paige this homoerotic with all her friends? azzi can’t recall ever witnessing paige doing this with anyone else. if she did, she’d probably want to claw her eyes out, anyway. so that’s probably for the best. 

“that’s probably a good idea,” azzi says, intentionally trying not to sound too eager. “we’ll sleep better that way.” 

“definitely.” paige hesitates another moment; azzi can feel her hovering right behind her. “so, can i…?”

“yes,” azzi says, intuitively grabbing paige’s hand and pulling it up to her chest so she’s hugging her arm. paige takes the hint, settling down behind her, pressing the length of her torso against azzi’s, getting closer to her than maybe they’ve ever gotten before. she tucks a leg between azzi’s, an arm under her head, and then presses her forehead to the back of azzi’s curls. 

“this is definitely better,” paige mumbles into her hair. azzi can’t help but smile a little, because despite the weight of the situation, her best friend is still an idiot. 

“be quiet now,” azzi mutters, easing into the feeling of being in paige’s arms like this. “lemme sleep.” 

“alright,” paige says. “night, az.”

“night, p,” azzi whispers. 

this crush is probably not going away any time soon. 

yeah, azzi fudd definitely has a big, fat, decidedly lesbian crush on her best friend. she’s known this for awhile now, but somehow, it still gets to her all the same. gets to them all the same. because as much as azzi tries to hide her feelings, there’s only so much tension she can avoid before they’re clashing. and considering she’s pretty sure paige has the same feelings back—yeah, they’ve been arguing a lot these days. 

“so what, paige?” she asks, throwing her hands up. “why do you care? it’s not like we’re dating or anything.” 

paige leans against the opposite wall, looking at her like she’s crazy. “this is my dorm, azzi! why the fuck would i want to watch some guy press you up against the wall of my kitchen? y’all damn near broke the fuckin’ spice rack, for god’s sake.” 

“you threw a house party and expected all the guests to leave room for jesus?” azzi scoffs. 

“i’on care what anyone else does, azzi!” paige yells, loud even over the music thumping outside the bedroom from the house party still currently taking place. “i just—it’s you. i don’t wanna see you like that, dude.” 

they’ve always been competitive; they already are as individuals and so it quickly became a significant portion of their dynamic. this is why azzi has decided that, out of the two of them, she’s the best at hiding her feelings. she’s careful with it, staring only when she knows paige won’t catch it, letting her hands linger for only a few moments longer than necessary. paige, on the other hand, rubs azzi’s back and pulls her into her lap and tries to kiss her when they’re drunk, only making an attempt at hiding it by calling her ‘dude’ on occasion. which almost makes it more gay. 

“you don’t wanna see me like that unless it’s with you,” azzi corrects, because she’s drunk and paige has been pissing her off all day. she flirted with at least ten fans at the game today, then rejected her facetime earlier with the excuse of being, ‘busy getting ready.’ they’ve always gotten ready together on the phone. 

azzi’s usually good at leaving things unsaid, letting paige be avoidant and pretending nothing’s going on right along with her, even though they both know that they both know better. she’s usually great at playing into paige’s sick little games. but not today. and especially not three drinks in. 

“knock that shit off, azzi,” paige says, and she’s tipsy too, definitely; in fact, she was licking salt off azzi’s collarbone and taking a shot from her belly button just an hour ago. but then paige decided to tell azzi she was going to the bathroom and disappeared for twenty minutes, only to be found surrounded by a group of girls practically lavishing her with praise. it was disgusting. 

of course, azzi had to retaliate by making out with one of the football guys, the exact one paige has always been weird about, telling azzi she thinks he’s creepy and that she should stop talking to him altogether. it definitely never had anything to do with her own jealousy and possessiveness when it came to azzi. and that definitely isn’t the real reason why they’re fighting now. 

if she’s being honest, these buried feelings have been at the root of all their fights for awhile now. 

but azzi’s sick of dropping hints. if paige wants to be dumb, let her be dumb. “stop telling me what to do like that. acting like my mom or something.”

“i wouldn’t need to act like your mom if you didn’t do dumb shit all the time,” paige snaps. 

“fuck you, paige,” azzi nearly laughs, and not because anything’s funny. it’s just a little ironic that paige is calling her the dumb one. “do you know how fucking stupid you are?” 

“at least i’m not hoeing around campus!” paige shouts, gesturing towards azzi. 

“oh, shut up, i know you were even worse your freshman year.” azzi wants to tack on that she wouldn’t be hoeing around if paige would actually grow up and do something about them, but she doesn’t. there will always be a little generosity inside her for paige, even when they’re arguing. 

“that was different,” paige says, defensive. “you weren’t here yet. i didn’t make you watch it. actually, i did my fucking best to hide it from you.” 

“why, paige?” azzi presses, putting her hands on her hips. as soon as she says it, paige realizes what she’s implied and shrinks a little. she set herself up, and while azzi knows that means she’ll win this argument, it also means this conversation will once again be shut down and postponed. and she’s enjoyed the pining, the flirting, the arguing. she quite liked making paige jealous, messing with her, getting under her skin, all while paige does the same to her. but they’ve done plenty of that; hell, they’ve been doing it for four years. she’s ready for a real conversation about what they are. she’s ready to be paige’s. 

when paige doesn’t answer, azzi motions for her to talk. “no, seriously, tell me. why did it matter to you whether i knew about who you slept with? why’d you bother to keep it a secret from me, when i know all your other friends knew?” 

“let’s just forget it, azzi,” paige says, doing what she does best: brushing her off. “just get a room next time and we’re good.” 

azzi scoffs, then full-out laughs, something humorless and almost bordering on mean, but she’s too drunk to care. “we both know you wouldn’t care if it was another one of your friends,” she says. paige averts her gaze, avoiding eye contact. “you just don’t like seeing me with other people.”

“azzi,” paige says, pleading. 

azzi darkens, a storm cloud hovering over her whole mood, a consequence of the argument. “if you’d fucking admit it i’d never even look at anyone else,” she hisses, gesturing at the closed door. “i would be out there with you. but you won’t. so i am perfectly within my right to fuck other people if i want to.” 

paige’s eyes are wide, mouth falling slightly open like she wants to say something but doesn’t know how, or what she even wants to say. azzi rolls her eyes, frustration surging at her annoying best friend, and she doesn’t want to fight about this anymore. outside the door, music thumps, reminding her that there’s a party going on, and she has no obligation to stay here and entertain paige anymore. with that thought, and seeing that paige clearly isn’t going to say anything, azzi turns to leave. 

she’s halfway out the door when paige comes up behind her and takes her by the waist, effectively stopping her in her tracks. “baby, hold up.”

azzi gives paige her firiest glare over her shoulder. “don’t baby me.” 

“where you goin’?” paige asks, acting like she didn’t say anything. “c’mon, stay with me.”

azzi raises an eyebrow, mostly at the audacity. “are you ready to man up?”

paige’s hands falter on her waist. azzi scoffs, pulling out of her grip. “don’t even talk to me.” 

this time, paige lets her walk away, releasing her waist as her arms fall limply at her sides. azzi’s pleased to have the space, but still hot, upset with yet another frustrating end to that particular argument.  

“did y’all kiss and make up yet?” nika asks when azzi reenters the kitchen. azzi shakes her head, filling two shot glasses. “damn. that bad, huh?”

“she just pisses me off.” azzi brings one shot to her lip and downs it, wincing. “if she wants my vagina so bad,” she coughs, “she can be a big girl and ask for it.” 

nika watches with raised eyebrows as she takes the other shot. “you want me to talk to her?”

azzi scoffs. “please. it’s like talking to a wall. she can’t hear anyone else over the sound of her own thoughts.” 

nika wraps a reassuring arm around her. “she has been acting like a dumbass lately.” 

“i’m starting to think she’s genuinely slow.” azzi’s already pouring herself up another one, even though the alcohol is starting to hurt her tummy already. “all i can do is try not to think of her. i can’t let it ruin my night.” 

“i mean, period,” nika says, sounding doubtful. “but how’re you gonna not think of her while we’re actively partying at her place?”

jokes on her, azzi’s already eyeing a new prospect across the living room. it’s one of the hockey girls, blonde-haired and blue-eyed and oh, this is going to drive paige insane. 

it must show on her face that she’s plotting, because nika nervously look across the room to see what she’s thinking. “what? what’re you looking at?”

azzi simply points across the room. “who’s that?” 

nika searches, eyes scanning the packed living room for a few more seconds before she finally sees who azzi’s looking at. “olivia? no, girl. she’s a heartbreaker.” 

azzi shrugs; why should she care? she doesn’t want emotional involvement, anyway. in fact, if her plan goes accordingly, she shouldn’t get very far into an interaction with this olivia girl at all. 

“you know her?” is what azzi focuses on, because if nika knows her, paige might, too, and that would just be perfect. 

“not well,” nika says. “she’s just kinda an asshole. paige doesn’t fuck with her at all.” 

that perks azzi’s interest, and the corners of her lips quirk up involuntarily. “is that so.”

“uh-huh. she never really told us why, though.” 

this must be luck, or maybe her ancestors coming together to reward her for everything she’s put up with this year. either way, she sees her chance, and she’d be paige levels of stupid not to take it. 

taking her last shot, azzi pushes off the counter, ready to conquer the world. or, at least, ready to change the trajectory of she and paige’s entire friendship. the two feel one in the same. 

“you should be careful,” nika warns, but it’s of no use; azzi’s already set her plan in motion. 

“paige is gonna be mad,” nika calls after her as she walks away, a last-ditch effort. azzi throws an unbothered wave over her shoulder—she’s not worried. that’s the goal. 

olivia’s talking to a few friends, laughing as one of them cracks a joke, and she doesn’t see azzi coming until just before she reaches them. when she does, though, her reaction is priceless—wide eyes, a slightly open jaw, a moment of recognition before she forces her expression into something neutral—all within the two steps it takes for azzi to approach them. 

“hey,” she says, flashing her prettiest, most charming smile. the smile that’s always worked on paige. “olivia, right?” 

“uh, yeah,” she responds, attention immediately diverted entirely to azzi. “you’re azzi. thirty-five.”

azzi raises an eyebrow coyly. “you watch basketball?”

“can’t really go here and not watch basketball,” olivia says, which, true. their faces are sort of plastered everywhere all over campus. 

“i’ve watched you play, too” azzi says. she doesn’t mention that they’d gone to watch last-minute, just as something to do, and that she and paige spent the entire game cozied up, using the chilly rink as an excuse to stand way too close together. 

olivia flashes a surprised smile. “yeah? next time, lemme know you’re coming. ‘d be cool to see you.”

“mm.” azzi licks her lips, stepping a little closer into olivia’s personal space. she knows damn well there will definitely not be a next time, but olivia doesn’t have to know that. “do you wanna go grab a drink?” 

olivia nods readily, a little too eager to do whatever azzi asks. she places a hand on azzi’s lower back and gestures to her friends as they make their way through the crowd, back to the kitchen. azzi’s drunk enough that she can pretty easily trick herself into thinking it’s paige’s.

nika’s still in the kitchen when they get back, and her eyebrows shoot into her hairline when she sees them. “wow, az. that was quick.”

azzi makes a face at nika, then says, “olivia, this is my teammate.” 

“nice to meet you,” olivia says. nika smiles politely before shooting azzi a particularly judgmental look. 

“i’m gonna go dance,” she says, squeezing azzi’s wrist as she brushes past them, a clear be careful. 

they’re all aware of paige’s certain tendencies to be possessive. over azzi, specifically. but, as childish as it is, that’s exactly what azzi’s going for. turning to the counter, she grabs the tito’s—paige’s, technically, but it doesn’t matter. “you want a shot? or i can do, like, vodka crans or something.”

“i thought it was bring your own shit?” olivia asks. 

azzi looks back at her. “this is paige’s place, it’s cool.” 

as soon as she hears paige’s name, olivia’s whole expression sours. it’s only for a fraction of a second before she schools it into something much cooler, but azzi catches it. she metaphorically rubs her hands together like an evil villain. this is perfect. 

turning back to the counter, azzi gets to work making their drinks as she breezily asks, “i heard y’all had a history.”

olivia scoffs. “we don’t really get along, that’s all.” there’s a pause, and then, of course, the inevitable: “besides, i’ve heard the same about you.”

azzi focuses on perfecting the ratio of vodka-to-cran like a professional bartender. “we’re just friends.”

“really,” olivia deadpans. 

“yep.” azzi spins around, presenting olivia’s cup to her with a little flourish. “i’m done talking about paige, though.”

olivia pushes herself off the counter, stepping closer to her. “yeah? what do you wanna talk about, then?”

it’s then that the party gets marginally louder, the noise swelling as the crowd gets more hype, and if azzi’s right, then her timing is perfect. smiling, she trails a hand up olivia’s chest to curl around her neck and bring her closer. “i think i’m tired of talking for the night,” she mutters. olivia’s free hand comes to hold her waist, and then she gets that look on her face; she’s about to kiss her. azzi marginally panics. c’mon, c’mon. 

olivia leans in, and their noses just barely brush before someone interrupts them with a, “yo!”

it’s a little comical the way olivia jumps back. azzi can’t help but giggle, hiding the sound behind her cup as paige comes into her range of view. “azzi, what the hell, dawg.”

“hey, paige,” she says.

paige’s eyes are practically ablaze, her jaw working overtime as she eyes olivia. they’re around the same height, similar builds, and azzi knows they’re not going to fight—that’s not really paige. it comes to no surprise of her’s, actually, when paige doesn’t even acknowledge olivia, instead taking azzi by the wrist and dragging her away. 

“nice to meet you,” azzi calls happily over her shoulder. olivia looks a little disappointed, but not surprised, which might say a lot about them.

paige doesn’t say a word as she drags her, and it’s all a little blurry until they’re back in paige’s room again, that same tense energy between them as before, except this time something feels indescribably different. azzi chalks it up to the both of them being drunker than they were only twenty minutes ago. paige is standing close, almost menacingly so, and azzi leans back against the door, enjoying the feeling of being caged in by her. 

“what,” paige starts lowly, “the fuck is wrong with you.”

“you pissed me off earlier,” azzi says, tapping her nails against her cup. they’re long this off-season, pink, shimmery acrylics, and paige is constantly asking her to scratch her back or massage her scalp with them. she doesn’t miss the way paige’s eyes catch on the movement, momentarily distracting her before she focuses back up. 

“you’re being petty and you know it,” paige says.

“you’re being a little bitch,” azzi snaps back. paige gasps, offended, but azzi goes on. “you do this shit—getting all possessive over me, acting like we’re together or something, for what? like, this has been going on for years, paige. i’m sick of it.” she may be slurring now. just a little. “you can’t have me and not have me at the same time. you can’t keep treating me like i’m your girlfriend without ever making me your girlfriend. it drives me fucking insane! do you know what that’s like for me? do you know how hard it is to, like, not kiss you? because it’s really fucking hard, paige.” riled up now, azzi takes a large gulp of her vodka cran, which is admittedly more vodka than cran. 

paige’s eyes are a lot more focused than before, and is she closer now? she definitely seems a little closer. in fact, azzi would hardly have to reach out if she wanted to wrap an arm around her shoulders. 

she’s too intoxicated. she’s going to do something stupid. she wraps her hand more firmly around her solo cup, pressing the other one against the outside of her thigh. she is absolutely not going to do something stupid.

“azzi.” paige sounds, oddly, a little choked. “i know how hard it is.”

azzi’s free hand disobeys her first, moving from her thigh to paige’s broad shoulders in a swift movement, and it’s really not even her who leans in because paige’s body instinctually shifts forward as soon as azzi’s does, and they pull each other in until they’re kissing, paige’s lips impossibly soft and warm against her own, and, oh. paige has the decency to occupy her hands on azzi’s lower back for a moment, but azzi parts their lips with a soft sound before surging forward for more, and paige takes it as a go ahead to grip her ass almost harshly. 

azzi gasps against paige’s mouth, curling her hand around the back of paige’s neck, holding her close the way she’s wanted to do since she was fifteen. the warm, wet muscle of paige’s tongue laves across her bottom lip, and azzi opens up for her, making a soft sound as paige licks a little obscenely into her mouth. 

paige squeezes her ass before moving her hands up to her waist, then her face, gently separating them. 

azzi’s unwillingness to pull away must show on her face, because paige chuckles softly at her. “i’m sorry, just…” she dips her head shyly, “like, gimme a second.” 

azzi smiles, pouting her bottom lip a little mockingly. “aw, you’re all shy.” 

“leave me alone,” paige groans, dropping her forehead to azzi’s shoulder. her hands are steady on her back, holding their hips almost flush together, and azzi’s tummy flips just like it always has when paige holds her. 

“i think we’re both drunk,” azzi says into paige’s hair. 

“yeah,” paige mumbles. 

“i want you.”

“i want you, too.”

“paige.” 

finally, paige lifts her head, and her cheeks are flushed and her hair’s a little mussed, and she looks like everything azzi could ever want. “yeah?”

azzi kisses her again, more slowly than before, because they really do have all the time in the world. when she pulls away, paige’s eyes are heavy and lidded, even as a smile graces her lips. 

“let’s go to bed,” azzi whispers. 

the party continues outside, but they turn off the lights and start the fan and crawl into bed, a routine they’ve performed a thousand times before, but a little different this time; in the way they can’t keep their hands off each other, azzi kissing paige’s cheek, paige coming behind her for a hug. when they finally crawl into bed, azzi lets paige lay on her chest, scratching her scalp just how she likes. 

“i’m sorry i took so long,” paige mumbles after a silence long enough azzi thought she was asleep. “to be ready.”

“it’s okay, baby,” azzi says. “i would always wait for you.” 

azzi fudd never saw herself being the type to marry her best friend, but she also never could have predicted that her best friend would be paige bueckers, and, well. here they are. 

“mama. mamaaaa. mama, wake up.” 

azzi groans and throws an arm across her face. she never saw herself raising mini paige’s either, but once again, here she is. and as she little girl tries her best to climb up on the bed, azzi can’t help but smile, because this is her favorite way to wake up: reminded that she’s living the life she barely used to let herself fantasize about.

“mama, i wanna cuddle with you.” jasmine climbs on top of azzi’s chest, trying to pry her arm away from her face. 

azzi lets her arm come away to wrap around her daughter instead, grabbing her and snuggling her closer, nuzzling into her curly hair, breathing her in. “mama,” jasmine laughs, still trying to be quiet, “you’re silly.”

from the other side of the bed, paige grunts, reaching for them. “what’s goin’ on over there?” with a lazy hand, paige gently jabs at their daughters’ ribs, tickling her. she used to be a heavy sleeper; it’s one of the many things motherhood has changed about her. 

jasmine giggles and pushes paige’s hand away before hugging her little arms around azzi’s neck. azzi makes eye contact with paige and she quietly chuckles as paige shakes her head with a small smile. 

“we’re having mama and jasmine time,” their five-year-old says haughtily. and then, clarifying for absolutely no reason, she adds, “without mommy.” 

while azzi barks out a laugh, paige’s jaw drops open. “what?” she exclaims dramatically, the same way she does whenever azzi says something crazy. 

jasmine continues to cradle azzi’s head to her chest. “i haven’t had mama and jasmine time in a loooong time,” she sighs. “ever since…” as she trails off, the three of them all turn their heads to look at the object of jasmine’s despairs—the bassinet on azzi’s side of the bed, and the seven-week-old inside of it. still somehow sleeping peacefully through the noise, even though she wakes at every little sound whenever all they want is for her to sleep. 

after a moment of the three of them looking at the baby—azzi and paige with adoration, and jasmine with resentment—they turn their attention back to their eldest. “i know it’s been hectic with your sister here, baby,” azzi says, adjusting so she’s sitting a little higher. paige automatically reaches out to help her, putting a pillow behind her back and gravitating closer to them. “i bet it sometimes feel like we aren’t paying much attention to you, huh?” 

jasmine nods, pouting, almost identical to paige when she’s sulky. “it feels like no one gives me attention!” she replies, grasping azzi’s face sternly in her little hands. “even kk only wants to hold baby now.” she looks at paige with furrowed brows. “even grandma didn’t wanna watch me play basketball yesterday, because she wanted to snuggle with mara.”

“i promise we all still love you lots, sweetheart,” paige says, rubbing jasmine’s back reassuringly. “they just don’t know amara that well yet. they wanna get to know her. just like we do.” 

“well, she’s boring,” jasmine says. “she takes all of mama’s time, and she cries so loud, and she can’t even hold a basketball yet.”

yeah, this is definitely their kid. azzi leans a little further into her wife, paige’s free arm wrapping around her back as she does so, connecting the three of them at multiple points. “she’ll take some time to grow,” azzi says. “and it’s me and your mommy’s job to help her. but you’re growing, too.” azzi smiles warmly at their little girl who, next to this new baby, seems so big all of a sudden; their first baby growing up all too quickly. “and we also get to help you. it’s okay to want time alone, without baby.” 

jasmine looks at her skeptically. “are you sure?” 

azzi nods earnestly. “oh yeah, super sure.”

“we can always make it happen,” paige adds, leaning forward to nuzzle into jasmine’s cheek. 

it’s at that moment, when it seems they’ve finally reassured their child, that amara decides to wake up screaming her little lungs out. azzi and paige both jolt, leftover instincts that evidently never went away after their first. amara’s on azzi’s side of the bed, and it would be more convenient to grab her from where she sits, but that would constitute taking jasmine off her lap. paige gets up before she can even ask, crossing over to their baby as jasmine exaggeratedly covers her ears. 

“loud,” she emphasizes. 

“hey, yo,” paige says to the baby as she leans over the basinet, tickling her cheek to try and get her attention. “don’t panic, we’re chillin’.” 

it breaks jasmine’s grumpy expression, her pout turning into a small smile at the silliness. 

“calm down, bro,” paige continues, scooping amara into her arms and smiling down at her. she instantly settles down once she realizes she has not, in fact, been abandoned by her parents. “see? we’re right here, mama. silly goose.” 

“she doesn’t need to cry that loud,” jasmine points out. 

“she doesn’t know that yet, sweetheart,” paige chuckles, bouncing their newborn softly. 

azzi’s loved all stages of jasmine’s life so far, but she hadn’t realized how much she missed having a baby. she missed the scents, the sounds, the feeling of growing this infant inside her own body and finally getting to hold her. and of course, she also missed things like the way paige’s back muscles flex when she’s rocking their baby, how she looks when she’s rumpled and sleep-deprived in boxers and a t-shirt, getting up with her for feedings just because she knows azzi gets lonely if she doesn’t have anybody to talk to. 

azzi looks back at jasmine, the way her little frown is just like paige’s. she kisses her forehead, pulling her close. 

“how about mara and i go make some breakfast,” paige proposes, eyeing the way jasmine seems to be trying to crawl into azzi’s skin. “so you guys can have some mama and jasmine time?” 

“good idea, mommy,” jasmine says, nodding approvingly. azzi nods, though she’s hesitant as she watches paige head for the door, and amara makes this little cooing noise, and she can’t really help the way her arms stretch out towards them. 

“wait,” she says, “let me say good morning first.” 

jasmine groans, but doesn’t protest too much as paige hands amara over to azzi. 

azzi adjusts her into the crook of her arm and holds jasmine with the other, watching as she looks down at her little sister with a somber expression. 

“good morning, pretty girl,” azzi coos down her daughter, leaning down to press her nose against amara’s head. the soft, sweet scent of her sets azzi at ease immediately. “how’d you sleep, hm? didn’t cry too much last night, were you having good dreams?” 

amara stares up at azzi with giant, brown eyes, grunting softly as she hits at azzi’s chest with her tiny little fist. 

“she’s really out here using you for food,” paige laughs, watching their newborn clearly only focus on one thing. 

“she just knows what she wants,” azzi defends. 

“guys,” jasmine says tentatively, never taking her eyes off the baby. “can i, um…say good morning to her?”

“of course, babe,” azzi says, trying to play it cool even paige makes an excited face at her. 

taking a deep breath, jasmine seems to steady herself before leaning forward, getting closer to her little sister. she tickles amara’s cheek, catching her attention, and when their eyes meet, azzi realizes she’s holding her breath. “hi, mara,” she says, pitching her already-small voice into a higher tone like he’s heard her parents do. “did you have good dreams last night? hm?”

amara watches, tiny mouth slightly agape as her sister talks to her. 

“did you know i had a dream last night? i had a dream about a chicken, and mommy.” at this, jasmine giggles to herself, smiling widely. “it was so silly.”

jasmine laughs again, clearly amused by whatever her subconscious stirred up last night, and when azzi looks at paige, she finds they’re both smiling along with their daughter. 

when azzi looks back down, it’s like it happens in slow motion: amara blinks at her sister, watches her intently, and then smiles the most toothless, beautiful smile azzi has ever seen. 

paige’s breath catches, and azzi knows she sees it too. 

but when jasmine notices, she nearly screams. “oh, god, guys—look! she’s smiling at me!“ 

amara hasn’t smiled yet, aside from those face twitches when she’s sleeping, but those don’t count. no, this is what counts, her eyes scrunching and gums showing as she smiles up at her big sister. she looks perfect, azzi thinks. she looks like paige. 

“hi, baby,” jasmine coos, tickling amara’s cheek. amara’s smile drops, then her face lights up again, and jasmine giggles. “she’s so cute, mama!”

“i know,” azzi laughs. “we’ve been trying to tell you.” 

jasmine looks at azzi, eyes sparkling, golden-brown in the early morning light. then she looks at paige, and reaches for her, allowing her mom to pull her off azzi’s lap and into her own. she settles there and says, “maybe amara can stay with us this morning. so she doesn’t get left out.” 

paige hugs jasmine close to her chest, kissing the top of her curls. “alright, sweetheart.” she smiles at azzi over the top of their daughter’s head, a secret thing, just for them. it’s the same smile she’s always had reserved for azzi. 

carefully, making sure not to strain, azzi moves forward, gravitating closer to her family, the beating heart between them. again, paige reaches out to help her, supporting her back as azzi shifts closer. amara makes a sound, probably a little distressed at not having been fed yet, and paige perks up. “i’ll make breakfast while you feed her?”

“i think,” azzi says, looking down at their daughters, “maybe we should stay here for awhile.”

paige never takes her eyes off her wife. “yeah,” she says softly. “i think so, too.” 

[luvergirl-535]

new fic is currently being edited, should be out within the hour !

[jdwbb]

ouuu i’m soo tuned in

[akaz2908]

[jdwbb]

SOBBING NES AND P

[jdwbb]

Azzi looks so good🧎‍♀️‍➡️

[akaz2908]

𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐬 + 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 🪽

(everything should be in order and it’s possible i’m missing something i started this late in the season)