Hello Steph! Hope the Holidays were good to you and happy Public Domain year!!!! Wondering if you have any fun johnlock fics that include one or both of them in drag? I love the looking glass caberet and am looking for more like it.
Hi Lovely!!
Thank you so much!!! My holidays were great, I just watched movies and played video games all of it. Much needed mental health break. I still have 2 more days I'm taking next Friday and the Friday after that, so I've a nice 4-day-week month for the next 3 weeks, lol.
Ah, I haven’t read anything specific, but a few posts might cater to your interests:
Moulin Rouge AU
Lingerie / Undergarments (Sexy Fics)
Cross-dressing (Alexx)
Sherlock & Lingerie (Alexx)
I skimmed through my offline MFL list and I found these that are tagged with “drag”:
In These Shoes? (A Lady Grey One-shot) by PlantsAreNeat (M, 9,479 w., 1 Ch. || Cabaret AU || Drag Queens, Established Relationship, Shoes) – Set in Lymphadei's "Looking Glass Cabaret" universe. Sherlock and John have been together for about nine months, and for the first time, have been apart for longer than a single night. Sherlock, back from a case outside London that went long, wants to see (and have) John as soon as possible but must wait until after the new acts open at the cabaret.
Looking Glass Cabaret by lymphadei (E, 30,874 w., 6 Ch. || Cabaret AU || Alternate First Meeting, Drag Queen John, Fluff and Smut, Drama, PWP) – Lady Grey leant up on her toes, her hands on either side of his neck to steady herself as she pressed her lips against Sherlock’s ear. “I wouldn’t say a devil, Mr Holmes, but I’m definitely not on the side of the angels.” Then, she pulled back slightly to place a lingering kiss on his cheek. Part 4 of the Interpersonal Affairs series
The Purple Pirate: uncovered by Loveismyrevolution (E, 60,626 w., 7 Ch. || Drag Queen AU || Established Relationship, Humour, Horny John, Case Fic, Clubbing, Cross Dressing, Drag Queen Sherlock, Leather/Lace, Jealous John, BAMF John, Shaving/Manscaping, Pole Dancing, Angry Sherlock, Happy Ending, Relationship Negotiation, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Top John, Confessions/Emotions, Power Bottom Sherlock, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs) – A case has come up that has Sherlock returning to his persona as The Posh Purple Pirate. Even being in an established relationship his pirate (and Sherlock in general) never lost his rather enticing effect on John. Helping Sherlock transform from brilliant Detective to mesmerising Miss Pirate leaves John hot and bothered, as does the case and seeing his pirate back on stage. The case doesn't go according to plan as John's presence isn't welcome and Miss Pirate attracts more attention than John is comfortable with. Luckily Captain Watson is always in the wings, ready to save the day and the love of his life. Even though his heroic deed isn't received as well as expected, to both their relief the differences are resolved pretty quickly and quite enthusiastically… Part 2 of the PirateDragQueenVerse series || Part 4 of the Hairy Situations at 221B series
"Thirty three, thirty four, thirty- crap, it just moved again!"
"Pri," Lemon groaned, banging her head on the fence around the zebra sanctuary. "Let's goooo, you said we could go see the flamingos after this and we've been staring at zebras for twenty minutes. I'm starting to forget what color even looks like."
"You're made me lose my count again! One stripe, two stripes, three, four-"
"Why do you care about this?"
"Miss Díaz always tells us to be curious about the world around us," Priyanka explained, gesturing around herself. "Also Kyne bet me twenty dollars that zebras have over seventy stripes and I need the money, so I'm doing research."
Lemon laid her chin on her arms on the splintered wooden fence, resigned to her fate. A zebra swatted flies with its tail. Priyanka got up to twenty eight stripes and lost count again. Lemon blew a raspberry.
"Since when do you need money, though? You're thirteen," Lemon said, tugging at the scrunchie on her wrist. "You have parents, right? I didn't imagine them?"
"You know... for Saturday," Priyanka said, her voice getting quiet.
"What about Saturday? The movie?"
"Yes, we're going without our parents for the first time, and... I don't know. I thought it'd be cool to buy our tickets with my own money," she finished, her eyes fixed on a zebra, though she wasn't counting anymore.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"My ticket too?"
"Yeah..."
Lemon let go of the scrunchie. It snapped against her skin.
"That kinda sounds like a date."
"Well. Yeah."
In the edge of her vision, Lemon saw Priyanka become a living statue.
"Okay. Let's get that money," she said, picking a zebra. Priyanka became human again and started breathing. "One, two, three..."
She smells like honey and looks like lace, chapter 2 (Camgeria)
Chapter One
Ao3
Camden hovered by the stove.
Angeria had served her coffee not even an hour ago, but still, with a guest in the house, her instinct was to put the kettle on.
“You’re dying to offer me some tea, aren’t you?” said Angeria from the door, as she removed one by one her thousand layers of winter clothing and hung them on the coat rack.
Camden smiled, caught.
“Listen, you can take the girl out of England…”
“But you can’t take the British manners out of the girl. I get it.” Angeria sat at the table between the kitchen and the rest of the house. “I’ll take some tea.”
Camden put the kettle on.
Angeria’s eyes followed her as she found sugar, honey, spoons, and laid them all on the table.
“I also have Splenda, but it feels wrong to serve that to a baker.”
“Oh, I’m not a snob, don’t worry,” Angeria reassured her.
“So… you want Splenda?”
“Not even a little bit, no.”
Camden grinned and glanced at the kettle. It was taking its sweet time.
The silence stretched.
She didn’t know why, after months of friendship, she was suddenly feeling so… shy.
She had gotten Angeria in her home, the word ‘date’ acknowledged by both, but now her nerves were alive again. She wasn’t sure of what to say first. Welcome to my home? They had been talking on the way home, but for the life of her, Camden couldn’t remember about what. Her mind was blank.
Having Angeria in her space threw her off her rhythm. The house was tidy, but not spotless, especially compared to the millimetric order that Angeria maintained in her kitchen. The trail of mess and daily rush that Camden never managed to tame was all over the place. Too many shoes by the door, too much mail piling up in the coffee table, old flowers withering in a vase which she’d meant to throw out days ago.
Angeria, however, looked right at home.
She sat comfortably on Camden’s chair, at Camden’s table, and looked at Camden’s favorite spot on the house: a thrifted bookshelf she had painted in dark green herself, far from perfect and treasured even more because of it. The top shelves held books, plants and the ugly ceramic figurines Camden had started to collect because they were so weirdly endearing.
The lower shelves held Camden’s pride and joy.
Dozens of vinyls in their cases, inherited or bought, divided by decades with her favorites on display over the player by the bookshelf.
“Music?” Camden offered.
Angeria went to the player and looked at Camden.
May I?
Camden nodded.
The kettle called her away, and she poured hot water on their mugs. Behind her, Camden heard the click of the player starting, and the familiar notes of a well learned song.
“My dad loved this album,” said Angeria.
Camden left the mugs on the table. Angeria was smiling at the album case in her hands, reading the titles.
“Really?” said Camden, fishing for any detail of Angeria’s life. She rarely talked about a time before the bakery.
“Mhm.” Angeria left the case back in its place. She sat at the table and wrapped her hands around the mug, bringing it to her chest. “He had an old ass car with a cassette player, and this giant metal box under the passenger seat with all the tapes he’d collected over the years.” Angeria smiled, lost in thought. “I think that’s why he kept that car for so long; he wanted to keep his tapes, and cassette players were getting hard to find. But it was a can on wheels.”
Camden smiled.
“It kept breaking down on us and my mom and dad would get out of the car to push it, and put my big brother in the driver’s seat, though he could barely see over the wheel.” They both laughed at the image. “My momma hated that car, she said she was gonna steal it away one night while my daddy slept and she was gonna leave it by the highway, leave the keys in and never look back.
“One day, my momma came home a fury. She slammed the car keys on the table and said to my dad, ‘Albert, your baby left me stranded for the last time.’ She’d had to walk thirty blocks in heels, she was so mad. I thought she was gonna kill him then and there. She said to him, ‘I left that car at Roger’s junkyard, and if you know what’s good for you, you’re gonna leave it there.’ My daddy’s eyes got so wide, and all he said was, ‘Did you leave my tapes too?’”
Camden laughed heartily at the scrap of Angeria’s past. She hadn’t even known she had a brother. She hadn’t known anything.
“So what happened to the tapes?”
“We went back to pick them up, of course.”
“Oh my God.” Camden rested her cheek on her fist. “Your dad sounds like a fun man.”
“He was,” said Angeria, her smile unwavering, leaving Camden to catch up.
“Oh,” Camden said once she processed the new information. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ang.”
“Thank you.”
“Did your family keep the tapes?” Camden said quickly, trying to trample over any possible awkwardness.
“I still have them.” The smile on Angeria’s face told Camden she had picked the right topic. “They’re under my bed, in metal boxes. I want to get a player for the bakery at some point, even if I already have a sound system setup. There’s something special about the sound of cassettes and vinyls.”
“I get it,” said Camden. “That record player was the first thing I got when I moved here. I had a ratty old mattress on the floor, no friends, not even a table,” she laughed, “but I had the music.”
“How old were you?”
“Nineteen.”
“Oh my God!”
Camden expected that. Back then, she had felt so grown, old enough to cross the Atlantic and start anew where no one knew her name. At thirty one, she looked back and saw a child left alone.
“Clearly knew what I was doing,” she joked. “I ate on the floor for months, but by God I was gonna buy some vinyls.”
“Nineteen is the last time you can handle sitting on the floor for that long.”
“You’re telling me. It feels like every winter brings some new ache, some little crick in my neck.”
“Ow,” said Angeria with a grimace. “Thirty does not sound fun.”
“Oh, right, I forgot you’re in your twenties.”
“I’m basically a newborn, yes.”
Camden rolled her eyes and finished her tea.
Her nails clacked on the empty mug until she reined in her hands and folded them primly on the table. The dancer’s instinct to pose, her friends called it. In reality, Camden did not know how to exist without either fidgeting or controlling every muscle in her body. She looked at Angeria, so relaxed, so comfortable in her skin. She had entered Camden’s home not even an hour ago and already she moved like she owned the place.
Angeria had abandoned her tea in favor of walking curiously around Camden’s kitchen. She took in the dark wood cabinets, the mugs gathered in the sink, the multicolored tiles. Camden turned in her chair and waited for the verdict.
“I like your kitchen,” Angeria said, finally.
Something in Camden uncoiled in relief.
“Thank you!” she said with too much enthusiasm. She lowered her voice. “It doesn’t get much more use than this. Not nearly as much as yours, I’m sure.”
“Nah, girl, I leave my work at work.” Angeria took the chair next to Camden’s, filling her space with warmth and vanilla scent. “I love baking, but cooking’s a whole other thing.”
“So you hate choosing what’s for dinner as much as the rest of us, mortals?”
“Definitely. Unless I’m cooking for someone else, I don’t really cook.”
“What do you live off of, then?”
“Takeout, and mostly leftovers from the bakery. I have one serious meal a day, usually.”
Angeria retrieved her tea from the other side of the table. She sipped it in silence as she turned Camden’s hand palm up, running her thumb over the lines. Camden let her have her way.
“Are you a palm reader?” Camden teased in a low voice, as to not scare away the moment.
“Yes, look.” Angeria left the mug and took Camden’s hand in hers, leaning closer. “See this line?” she said, tracing it with her fingertips. “It means you will be rich and prosperous. This one,” she found a new line, “means you’ll live for a long, long time. And this one,” said Angeria, softening her voice as she traced the line along the middle of Camden’s palm, resting her thumb on Camden’s rising pulse, “says you have a kind heart.”
Angeria was so close that Camden saw the mirth in her eyes, the subtle invitation.
“Is any of that true?” Camden asked, her eyes flicking down to Angeria’s smile.
“No.”
“Charlatan.”
“Maybe I just have faith.”
Angeria looked at her with no pretensions, no expectations. She was at Camden’s house looking only for the same thing she did when letting Camden spend hours sitting at the bar of the bakery distracting her from the customers with her talk while serving her mug after mug of tea and never charging her.
Angeria wanted Camden in her life, simple as that, and never asked for more than what Camden was willing to give her.
At that moment, Camden was willing to give her everything.
She leaned in slowly, giving Angeria plenty of time to move away, but Angeria knew what she wanted and waited for her steadily, bright eyes and growing smile and soft hands taking Camden’s waist to bring her closer until everything around them disappeared.
Camden gave her a kiss that tasted like six months of waiting.
First kisses were always a blur for Camden. Caught up in the pressure of making the moment perfect, she forgot to even feel it.
Good thing they had second kisses, and thirds, and as many kisses as Angeria wanted to give her against the kitchen table and on the couch, later, once Camden invited her to sit there –and on her lap– to go along with the evening’s plan, which didn’t stray far from that embrace and those lips on hers.
When the sun went down (early, Winter’s cruelty), Angeria seemed to remember there was a whole world outside. A world ran with its own times, much faster than the languid afternoon they had shared.
Angeria managed to get dressed for the street, in spite of the many interruptions caused by kisses goodbye, kisses of want, kisses for kissing’s sake. Camden walked her outside and sent her off with the promise to meet again soon.
As soon as she closed the door, Camden knew she wouldn’t sleep well that night. The house felt too empty, her hands even emptier. The bed would feel arctic cold.
Camden climbed the kitchen counter, searching the highest shelves for company to replace the one that had just walked out the door. She found the bottle of wine she’d been sparing for a sunny day, or a sorrowful night, and opened it in that strange evening with no sun or sorrow, with Angeria’s perfume all over the couch as her only company.
She did not regret letting her go. It was not the time to open her bed to Angeria. That would come in time, she was sure, and the possibility alone electrified her.
The album played its last note and left the house in silence. Glass in hand, Camden walked up to the player and started the same album from the beginning and laid back to think about the afternoon.
She wondered if Angeria also had, under her bed, the soundtrack of their first kiss.
***
For her next birthday, Angeria gets more gifts than ever.
There’s a nice scarf, a few books, seven phone calls and a shirt. A pair of baseball tickets from a regular that Angeria just nods politely at, and then uses either way because you never know when you may find a new passion.
She does not get a cake (no one wants to bake for a baker), but there’s a table at a nice restaurant waiting for her.
She gets a bracelet, a new apron, a surprise visit from her mom and all her brothers. A cassette player sitting comfortably at the bakery with a big pink bow.
For Angeria’s birthday, Camden gets to meet her girlfriend’s entire family at once without a warning. She gets parental approval, a lovely dinner, a hug so strong that she stops breathing for a second. A tearful thank you, and seven hundred kisses.
***
***
Camden vacilaba junto a las hornallas.
Angeria le había servido un café hacía menos de una hora, pero con una huésped en la casa, su instinto era prender la pava.
–Te morís por ofrecerme un té, ¿verdad? –le dijo Angeria desde la entrada, quitándose una por una las mil capas de ropa de invierno y colgándolas del perchero.
Camden sonrió al verse descubierta.
–Bueno, se puede sacar a la chica de Inglaterra…
–Pero no se le saca lo inglés a la chica. Te entiendo. –Angeria se sentó en la mesa entre la cocina y el resto de la casa–. Te acepto un té.
Camden puso la pava.
Angeria la seguía con la mirada por la cocina mientras buscaba azúcar, miel y cucharas que iba dejando en la mesa.
–Tengo Chuker también, pero creo que darle eso a una pastelera es casi un insulto.
–No te preocupes, no soy tan snob–, Angeria la tranquilizó.
–¿Querés Chuker, entonces?
–No, Dios, ni ahí.
Camden rió y miró la pava. Se estaba tomando su buen tiempo.
El silencio se estiraba.
No entendía por qué, después de meses de ser amigas, se sentía tan… tímida.
Había logrado que Angeria fuera a su casa y las dos habían dicho la palabra ‘cita’, pero sus nervios estaban al tope de nuevo. No sabía qué decir para romper el hielo. ¿Bienvenida a mi casa? Venían hablando en el camino, pero Camden no tenía idea sobre qué. Tenía la mente en blanco.
Tener a Angeria en su espacio la descolocaba. La casa estaba ordenada, pero no impecable, en especial al lado del orden milimétrico que mantenía Angeria en su cocina. Por todas partes, había una estela de desorden y apuro del día que Camden nunca lograba domar. Demasiados pares de zapatos en la entrada, el correo que siempre tiraba en la mesita de café apenas llegaba a la casa, unas flores viejas en agua que se habían marchitado hace ya rato y que nunca se acordaba de tirar.
Angeria, sin embargo, estaba como en su casa.
Estaba cómodamente sentada en la mesa de Camden, en su silla, contemplando el lugar favorito de Camden de toda la casa: la biblioteca de segunda mano que había pintado ella misma de verde oscuro, bastante imperfecta y valorada todavía más por eso. Los estantes más altos tenían libros, plantas y unas figuritas de cerámica espantosas que Camden había empezado a coleccionar porque le parecían tiernas.
Los estantes de abajo estaban ocupados por el mayor orgullo de Camden.
Docenas de vinilos en sus fundas, heredados o comprados, ordenados por década. Sus preferidos estaban en exhibición sobre el tocadiscos junto a la biblioteca.
–¿Querés escuchar algo? –ofreció Camden.
Angeria fue hasta el tocadiscos y miró a Camden.
¿Puedo?
Camden asintió.
La pava le llamó la atención y Camden volcó el agua caliente en sus tazas. A sus espaldas, Camden escuchó el clic del tocadiscos y las notas familiares de una canción bien aprendida.
–A mi papá le encantaba este disco –dijo Angeria.
Camden puso las dos tazas sobre la mesa. Angeria le sonreía a la funda del álbum en sus manos.
–¿En serio? –dijo Camden, ansiosa por escuchar más detalles. Angeria rara vez hablaba de su vida antes de tener la pastelería.
–Ahá. –Angeria guardó la funda en su lugar. Se sentó a la mesa y tomó la taza entre las manos para traérsela al pecho. –Tenía un auto viejísimo, hecho bolsa, y una caja de metal enorme abajo del asiento del pasajero con todos los cassettes que había juntado en su vida. –Angeria sonrió, perdida en el recuerdo–. Creo que por eso tuvo ese auto tanto tiempo, porque se quería quedar con los cassettes y ese modelo de tocador ya no se conseguía. Pero era una lata con ruedas.
Camden sonrió.
–Se rompía todo el tiempo. Mi mamá y mi papá tenían que bajarse del auto a empujar y poner a mi hermano mayor al volante. –Las dos se rieron de la imagen–. Mi mamá lo odiaba, siempre decía que se lo iba a robar una noche que mi papá durmiera y que lo iba a abandonar en la autopista con las llaves puestas, sin mirar atrás.
>>Un día, mamá llegó a casa hecha una furia. Estroló las llaves sobre la mesa y le dijo a mi papá, “Alberto, es la última vez que tu bebé me deja tirada”. Había tenido que caminar treinta cuadras con tacos, estaba enojadísima, pensé que lo mataba ahí mismo. Le dijo, dejé el auto en el chatarrero del Roger, y si sabés lo que te conviene, lo vas a dejar ahí. Mi papá abrió los ojos bien grandes y lo único que dijo fue: “¿También le dejaste mis cassettes?”
Camden se rió con ganas de esa pieza de historia de Angeria. No sabía que tenía un hermano. No sabía nada, en realidad.
–¿Y qué pasó con los cassettes?
–¡Los fuimos a buscar, obviamente!
–Dios mío. –Camden apoyó la mejilla en el puño–. Tu papá parece muy simpático.
–Lo era –dijo Angeria, con una sonrisa firme que confundió a Camden y la dejó trastabillando para entender lo que había dicho.
–Uh –Camden dijo cuando procesó la nueva información–. Lo siento mucho, Angi.
–Gracias.
–¿Tu familia se quedó con los cassettes? –dijo Camden rápido, tratando de disipar cualquier incomodidad del ambiente antes de que se asentara.
–Todavía las tengo. –La sonrisa que se pintó en la cara de Angeria le dijo a Camden que iba por el camino correcto–. Las guardo abajo de mi cama, en unas cajas de metal. Algún día quiero comprar un reproductor para la pastelería, aunque ya tengo un sistema de sonido instalado ahí.
–Te entiendo –dijo Camden–. Ese tocadiscos fue lo primero que me compré cuando me mudé acá. Tenía el colchón en el piso, no conocía a nadie y no tenía ni una mesa –se rió–, pero tenía música.
–¿Cuántos años tenías?
–Diecinueve.
–¡Diecinueve!
Era la reacción esperada.
En su momento, Camden se había sentido tan adulta, lo suficiente como para cruzar el Atlántico y empezar de cero en donde nadie la conocía. A los treinta y uno, miraba atrás y veía una nena a la que habían dejado sola.
–Claramente sabía lo que hacía –bromeó–. Por meses, comí sentada en el piso, pero fija que me iba a comprar esos vinilos.
–Los diecinueve son la última vez que te podés sentar tanto tiempo en el piso.
–Sí, ni me digas. Siento que todos los inviernos me traen un dolor nuevo, un nuevo ruidito en el cuello.
–Auch –dijo Angeria con una mueca de dolor–. Tener treinta no parece nada divertido.
–Cierto, me olvidé de que tenés veintitantos.
–Una recién nacida, casi.
Camden puso los ojos en blanco y se terminó el té.
Sus uñas empezaron a repiquetear en la taza vacía hasta que pudo frenar las manos y doblarlas prolijamente en la mesa. El instinto de bailarina de posar, según sus amigos. Lo cierto era que Camden no sabía cómo existir sin estar en constante movimiento, o controlando cada músculo del cuerpo. Cuando miraba a Angeria, la veía tan relajada, tan cómoda en la piel propia. Estaba en la casa de Camden hacía menos de una hora y ya se movía como si fuese la dueña del lugar.
Angeria había abandonado su té para caminar curiosa por la cocina de Camden, explorando las alacenas de madera oscura, el rejunte de tazas en la bacha y los azulejos multicolor. Camden se volteó en la silla para esperar su veredicto.
–Me gusta tu cocina –dijo al fin.
Algo adentro de Camden se destensó.
–¡Gracias! –le dijo, con más entusiasmo del necesario–. No se usa para mucho más que esto. Y mucho menos que la tuya, seguro.
–No, ni ahí. El trabajo lo dejo en el trabajo. –Angeria tomó el asiento junto al de Camden, colmando el espacio de calidez y esencia de vainilla. Con cada frase, se acercaban más–. Amo la pastelería, pero cocinar otras cosas es un asunto aparte.
–¿Odiás pensar en qué cenar tanto como nosotros los mortales, entonces?
–Totalmente. Si no cocino para alguien más, la verdad es que no cocino.
–¿De qué vivís, entonces?
–Delivery y sobras de la panadería. Por lo general, hago una sola comida de verdad al día.
Camden parpadeó.
–De golpe, estoy muy preocupada por vos.
–¡Eu, pero como frutas! Abrillantadas, pero igual.
–Pará, por Dios –le dijo Camden entre risas, tomándole la mano.
Angeria recuperó su té del otro lado de la mesa. Lo sorbió en silencio y volteó la mano de Camden palma arriba. Con el pulgar, trazaba las líneas. Camden la dejaba hacer.
–¿Sabés leer palmas? –Camden bromeó en voz baja. No quería romper el momento.
–Sí, mirá.
Angeria dejó la taza y tomó la mano de Camden en las suyas.
–¿Ves esta línea? –le dijo, trazándola con la punta de los dedos–. Dice que vas a ser rica y próspera. Esta otra –marcó otra línea– dice que vas a vivir mucho, mucho tiempo. Y esta línea –dijo Angeria con voz suave, trazando con el pulgar la línea en el medio de su palma hasta dejarlo descansar en el pulso acelerado de Camden– dice que tenés un buen corazón.
Estaban tan cerca que Camden podía ver la picardía en los ojos de Angeria, la delicada invitación a jugar ella también.
–¿Algo de eso es cierto?
Angeria sonrió.
–No.
Camden le miró la sonrisa sin disimulo.
–Cuentera.
–A lo mejor solo tengo fé.
Angeria la miró sin pretensiones, sin exigencias. No iba a pedirle nada.
Cuando Angeria la dejaba sentarse en la barra de la pastelería por horas a distraerla de los clientes, cuando le pasaba una y otra taza de té sin cobrarle, cuando la invitaba a su cocina y a su espacio y a su rutina, tenía un simple objetivo. Angeria la quería en su vida. Lisa y llanamente y sin letra chica, sin condiciones. La quería, y punto final. Nunca le pedía más de lo que Camden podía dar.
Ese día, Camden quería darle todo.
Se acercó despacio, dándole a Angeria la oportunidad de alejarse, pero Angeria sabía lo que quería y la esperaba firme, los ojos brillantes, la sonrisa creciendo, las manos gentiles que tomaban a Camden de la cintura para acercarla hasta que todo a su alrededor desapareció.
Camden le plantó un beso con gusto a seis meses de espera.
Los primeros besos siempre eran una neblina para Camden. Sentía tanta presión por hacer todo perfecto que se olvidaba hasta de sentirlo.
Por suerte existían los segundos besos, y los terceros, y todos los que Angeria quisiera darle contra la mesa de la cocina y en el sillón, más tarde, cuando Camden la invitara a sentarse ahí –más que nada en su falda– a seguir con el plan de la tarde, que no se alejaba mucho de ese abrazo ni de esos labios sobre los suyos.
Cuando bajó el sol –temprano, la crueldad del invierno– Angeria pareció recordar que afuera existía otro mundo, con tiempos propios y bastante más acelerados que los de la tarde lánguida que acababan de compartir.
Una vez que Angeria logró vestirse para la calle, a pesar de las tantas interrupciones en forma de besos de despedida, o de deseo, o de besos porque sí, por besarse, Camden la acompañó afuera y la despidió con la promesa de verse pronto.
Ni bien cerró la puerta, Camden supo que no iba a dormir bien esa noche. Sentía la casa vacía, las manos ni hablar. La cama le iba a parecer una tundra.
Camden se paró en la mesada de la cocina, buscando en la alacena una compañía para reemplazar a la que se había ido por la puerta. Abrió un vino que tenía guardado hace tiempo esperando un mediodía al sol, o una noche de pena, para cerrar esa tarde extraña sin pena ni sol, con el perfume de Angeria pegado en el sillón como sola compañía.
No se arrepentía de dejarla ir. No era el momento de invitarla a su cama. Eso vendría a su tiempo, estaba segura, y la sola posibilidad le electrificaba el cuerpo.
El disco tocó la última nota y la casa se quedó en silencio. Copa en mano, Camden se acercó al reproductor y puso el mismo disco desde el principio para echarse a recordar la tarde.
Se preguntó si Angeria también tendría, guardado bajo su cama, el soundtrack de su primer beso.
***
En su cumpleaños siguiente, Angeria recibe más regalos que nunca.
Una linda bufanda, unos libros, siete llamadas de felicitaciones y una remera. Un par de entradas para un partido de béisbol que le dio uno de los clientes regulares a quien Angeria solo le asiente con educación, pero luego decide usarlas igual porque una nunca sabe cuando va a descubrir una pasión nueva.
No recibe una torta, porque nadie quiere hornear para una pastelera, pero sí la espera una mesa en un hermoso restaurante a la noche.
Recibe una pulsera, un delantal nuevo, una visita sorpresa de su mamá y de todos sus hermanos. Un reproductor de cassettes sentado bien cómodo en la pastelería con un moño rosa gigante.
En el cumpleaños de Angeria, Camden recibe una visita de la familia completa de su novia sin previo aviso. Recibe aprobación parental, un abrazo tan fuerte que no la deja respirar por un momento. Un ‘gracias’ lleno de lágrimas y siete millones de besos.
party games fics for season 12 is THE move. it’s the perfect setup for group dynamics, multiple ships being formed or revealed, the mix of romantic tension and friendly teasing, it's just perfect. i've read at least six versions of them playing never have i ever or spin the bottle and i'm still like :O at every iteration
Jan peeked around the corner where she was hiding. From her vantage point, she could see her friends sitting at their usual spot in the school yard.
This is so stupid, she thought. These were her friends. Jackie was her friend. Worst case scenario, things would be awkward for a while, and then they would both move on. Probably. Hopefully. Oh, God.
A little crinkle noise let her know she was on the verge of crushing the letter in her hands.
Read on ao3
Jan peeked around the corner where she was hiding. From her vantage point, she could see her friends sitting at their usual spot in the school yard, under the shade of a jacarandá. She could see Nicky and Jaida’s faces, but her target had her back turned. All she could see of Jackie was her mass of curls and the faint outline of her glasses.
Jaida looked in her direction and Jan hid behind the school building again. With her back against the wall, she closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart.
This is so stupid, she thought. These were her friends. Jackie was her friend. Worst case scenario, things would be awkward for a while, and then they would both move on. Probably. Hopefully. Oh, God.
A little crinkle noise let her know she was on the verge of crushing the letter in her hands. Jan relaxed her fingers and smoothed out the envelope. It was a simple, sage green envelope, subtle enough that she could hand it discreetly without attracting the eyes of their very curious, very invasive friends. The glittery hearts and starfleet sticker were a bit cheesy, maybe, but whatever. Jan was cheesy, and Jackie had never made her feel stupid for it. Plus, she had bought that sticker sheet weeks ago and had been dying for a chance to use them.
The loud cackles from her friend group brought her back to the mission. Recess was almost over, which meant she needed to hurry. Jan slipped the letter in the front pocket of her hoodie and pushed herself off the wall.
Act like there’s nothing wrong, she told herself. And there is nothing wrong! You’ll be fine. She’ll be fine.
Nicky was the first to spot her.
“Where were you?” she asked. “I waited for you outside of class but you didn’t come out.”
“Oh, I wanted to finish tomorrow’s homework,” said Jan, avoiding Nicky’s eyes.
She sat on the grass next to Jackie, who bumped her shoulder. Jan swayed from side to side and landed herself on Jackie’s shoulder, smiling up at her. Jackie smiled back and poked Jan’s nose. By Jackie’s side, surrounded by the sweet smell of the tree flowers and her friends’ quiet chatter, Jan felt at peace. It was almost nice enough to calm her nerves entirely.
Except Jaida kept sending her curious looks everytime she so much as glanced at Jackie. At one point, Jan picked up a flower and tucked it behind Jackie’s ear, making her smile and mutter a thank you, Jannie. When Jan looked up, Jaida was staring right at her, eyebrow raised. Before Jaida could call her out, Jan threw a diversion:
“Did you guys watch Dream Desserts last night? I thought Emma should’ve won the challenge.”
Not even ten seconds later, Jaida was passionately arguing with Nicky about the merits of fondant in decorations. Jan sat back, hiding her smile. It was too easy.
Jackie, however, saw right through her. She leaned into Jan and whispered:
“Why did you throw blood into that shark tank?” she asked, pointing at the other two girls.
“Umm, just to see what would happen.”
“Oh, we’re making social experiments with our friends, now?” teased Jackie.
“Yeah, taking mental notes,” Jan said, tapping her head. “You’re next, so watch out.”
Jackie laughed and Jan beamed at her. If she had the girl laughing at a joke that silly, maybe she was right to hope.
The school bell rang and the girls stood up lazily, brushing off grass from their clothes. Jaida and Nicky led the way, engaged in a much calmer conversation. Jan walked a few steps behind them with Jackie, and once she deemed the other two were out of earshot, she tugged on Jackie’s sleeve.
Jackie stopped and turned to her with curious eyes.
“What’s up, Janet?”
“I wanted to give you something before class,” Jan whispered.
“Okay,” Jackie whispered back, amused. “Why are we whispering?”
Jan gestured towards their friends’ backs.
“I just don’t want them to hear. It’s a little personal,” she said, with a tiny smile. Jan pulled out the letter and held it in her tight grip. “I, uh, I wrote this letter. And it would mean a lot to me if you would read it,” she said, pretty much shoving the letter into Jackie’s chest.
“O-kay, what is this?” Jackie took the letter and examined it. Jan could pinpoint the moment when she realized what she had in her hands. Her eyes widened and she let out a little oh. “Is this…?”
“Yes. That’s why I only wanted you to see it. So, um, if you could read it…” Jan noticed Jackie was not saying anything, so she backtracked. “But you can totally say no!” she said, reaching out for the letter. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, so I can- I can take it back.”
“No!” Jackie said, holding the letter close to her chest. “No, it’s okay. I’m completely comfortable!” She took a hesitant step towards the school building. “We should get going, though.”
“Yes! Yes, we should.”
Both girls walked inside in tense silence. Outside of Jackie’s classroom, Jan lingered, not sure of how to say goodbye.
“Do you- I, can I walk you home after school?”
Jackie tightened her death grip on the letter, and Jan considered taking it from her before it became illegible. Instead, she made her hands play with the strings of her hoodie.
“Oh, I don’t know, I think I have a meeting with the debate team today, so…” said Jackie, inching towards the door. “I’ll let you know, yeah?”
“Yeah. Alright. See ya, Jacks.” Jan waved and walked away.
All throughout her class, she wondered if she should’ve mentioned that the debate team only met on Thursdays.
________________________________________________________________
Jan didn’t see Jackie for the rest of the day. She’d waited for her outside the school, but there’d been no sight of the girl. After a few minutes, Jan shot her a text.
are you coming? i’m outside!
The message didn’t even send through. Dejected, Jan made her way home.
________________________________________________________________
“Ma! I’m back!”
Jan went into the kitchen and shrugged off her backpack and hoodie. The oven was on and the room was too stuffy, even with all the windows open. Her mom was stretching dough on the counter, next to where her little sister sat, sorting through a box of baking tools.
“Hi, honey. Did you have a nice day?” asked Luisa. Jan nodded and kissed her cheek.
“Jannie!” called Lemon, holding out the box to her sister. “Pick a cookie cutter.”
Jan lifted one shaped like a flower, but noticed Lemon frowning, and put it back down. She then picked the bunny shaped cutter and Lemon nodded in approval.
“This one,” said Jan, placing it on the counter with the others.
“All ready?” asked Luisa, to which Lemon nodded. “Start cutting the shapes, the oven’s probably ready.”
They ended up with more than forty cookies, because Luisa only knew how to cook in army proportions. She fit them all in the oven and shook the flour off her hands.
“They’ll be done in ten minutes. Jan, can you set a timer?”
Jan nodded and went to grab her phone. Still no new messages. Once she set the timer, she opened her conversation with Jackie and saw that the girl had seen her last text, but hadn’t replied. Jan frowned and started chewing on her nails. It wasn’t like Jackie to leave her on read. That probably meant she had read the letter, and was either happy and waiting to discuss it in person, or…
Jan shook her head. The alternative was too awful.
“Ma, can I invite Pri over for cookies?” asked Lemon.
“You can. Tell her to bring a tupper, I'm sending her back with extras.”
Lemon hopped off the counter and ran out the door.
Jan saw that her mom was putting the kettle on, so she put her phone away and sat at the kitchen table. Luisa leaned back on the counter and looked at Jan.
“Sooo, how did it go?”
Jan sighed and stretched her arms on the table.
“Well, I did it. Now the ball’s on her court, and I’m trying to be okay with that.”
“And what did she say?” asked Luisa, eyes wide.
“Nothing yet, she hasn’t texted me. I’m thinking she wants to talk about it face to face. I hope.” Jan looked down at her hands and started running her nails through the lines in the wood. “I guess she could be avoiding me, if I upset her,” she said. “If- if she hated the letter, and thinks I’m… I don’t know, disgusting,” Jan sighed, burying her face in her hands.
Luisa took Jan’s hands off her face and lifted her chin, gently.
“None of that, Janine. That girl loves you, that was never in doubt. Maybe as a friend, maybe as something else, but she loves you, and she won’t toss you to the curb over a crush. Not Jackie.”
Jan smiled and rubbed her eyes.
“Thanks, ma. And I know you’re right, I’m just nervous. But even if Jackie says no, I’ll still have her as a friend, and that could never be a bad thing.”
“Exactly! So you’ve got that scenario covered. But I’m more interested in what you’ll do if she says yes.” Luisa leaned forward. “Have you thought about it?” she said, in a confabulatory voice.
Jan furrowed her brows.
“You seem to be having way too much fun at my expense.”
“This is exciting!” said Luisa. “I’ve been waiting for it since the first time you had Jackie over.”
“Ma! We were like, nine, back then.”
“And I already knew this would happen. You were so cute, showing off your cartwheels and trying to impress her, with little Jackie beaming at you like you were the most wonderful thing on this earth. Argh, young love.” Luisa pinched Jan’s cheek and went to get the kettle.
Jan had to smile at the memory.
“Jackie had her braces, remember?”
“Mhmm. And you had your freckles. But you see my point?”
“That you’re way too involved and in need of a hobby?” teased Jan.
Luisa carried the mugs to the table and smacked her daughter upside the head, making her laugh.
“So disrespectful…”
Jan went to grab her mug, but Luisa took her hand in both of hers. They were always warm, and a little rough, and Jan thought about how nothing else made her feel as safe.
“My point,” Luisa started, “is that, from the beginning, you two have been the same. Little stars in each other's orbits. And it will be the same tomorrow.”
Jan looked at her mom in silence, and let herself believe that.
“You are a very wise woman, has anyone told you that?”
Luisa fought back a smile.
“Drink your tea, Janine.”
________________________________________________________________
There were twenty minutes left before the bell rang. Jan had asked to be dropped off early that morning, and her mom had agreed, much to the annoyance of Lemon, who’d been woken up half an hour earlier than necessary. The whole car ride, she’d done her very best to glower threateningly at Jan, but with her tousled hair and chubby cheeks, the result was as scary as a moody lion cub. Whatever, Luisa was taking her for breakfast at Starbucks to make up for it. Lemon would be fine.
Jan, on the other hand, was waiting to find out whether her very best friend in the galaxy would even look at her again. Alright, that was the nerves talking, but still. High stakes.
“Where are you, Jaqueline…” she wondered aloud, tugging on the straps of her backpack.
The wind was picking up and whipping her stray hairs in her face, messing up the very pretty, very intricate braid she had adorned herself with. Maybe she should wait inside…
As soon as she had that thought, she saw the Rose’s van parking in front of the school. Jan started bouncing on her heels and only noticed it because her backpack started hitting her. She forced herself to be still and breathed in.
The door opened.
Jackie looked so, so pretty. She had her gold hoop earrings and one of her nicest shirts. Alright, maybe that was a good sign, Jan reasoned, because maybe she had also wanted to look good.
The car drove away and Jackie turned around and- no. Oh no. Jackie looked sad. She looked sad like she needed to let a best friend down easy, or not easy at all, sad like she was about to take Jan’s heart in her delicate hands and crush it to little bits.
She also looked surprised to see Jan waiting for her. Jan caught the way Jackie plastered on a big, strained smile before walking up to her. What was that about?
“Morning!”
“Morning, Jacks.” Jan tried to be cheery. “You look pretty.”
That seemed to soften Jackie’s expression into something more genuine.
“Thanks. You’re early, today.”
“Yeah, I wanted to see you before class.”
They stood in silence, neither wanting to start the conversation.
“So…”
“So… Did you read it?”
Jackie let out a shaky breath.
“I did. Hold on.” Jackie put her backpack on the floor and kneeled to riffle through it. Jan tilted her head to the side.
“What are you doing?”
“I put it in my notebook so it wouldn’t crinkle,” said Jackie, standing up and holding out the envelope. “Here.”
Jan frowned in confusion, but still took it. She opened the envelope and checked to see if Jackie had put something else inside, but no. Just her own letter.
“Why are you giving it back?”
It was Jackie’s turn to look confused.
“So you can edit it?”
It occured to Jan that, maybe, two different conversations were taking place, and she had a hunch about where the miscommunication came from. But she found it hard to believe that this girl, this brilliant leader of the debate team, this absolute nerd who could talk for hours about globe politics, could also be so extraordinarily dumb.
Jan unfolded the letter and, sure enough, dots had been added. Commas had been replaced with semicolons. There were even comments on the margins.
“You marked it.”
“Hmm?”
“You marked my letter.” Jan couldn’t look away from the paper.
“Yes, I ran out of post-its, I’m so sorry! I used a really soft pencil, though, so you can erase it and it won’t show.”
“I gave you a love letter, and you marked it.”
“Yes? You asked me to read it? You looked nervous, like you always get when you show me your essays-”
“Jackie.”
“-because you think you can’t write but you can and that letter is beautiful, really, and your person is so lucky. You even got it revised, because that’s who you are. You put your heart into everything you do, it’s my favorite thing about you-”
“Jaqueline.”
“Huh?”
Jan placed both hands on Jackie’s shoulders.
“I gave the letter to you. Who did you think it was for?” She looked into her eyes, waiting.
Jackie frowned a little and then, slowly, her eyes widened.
“It has Star Trek stickers, Jaqueline.”
Jackie buried her face in her hands.
“I’m an idiot…”
Jan wanted to say something encouraging, but she opened her mouth and all that fell out were giggles. Jackie slowly lowered her hands. She was crimson red, but Jan’s laughter was contagious. The tension dissolved with their fits and Jan forgot why she had been nervous in the first place. This was her person.
Jan went back to fiddling with her backpack straps, still grinning.
“Okay, grammatical errors aside-”
“Jaaan,” whined Jackie, still embarrassed.
“-now that you know the letter’s for you, what did you think of it?”
“Oh! Ha,” Jackie let out, looking down. “It’s a lot.”
Jan looked at her, panicked.
“A good lot!” corrected Jackie. “It’s unexpected, I mean, I knew you liked me, but not- not like this. I didn’t think I’d earned this, and basically this is a long winded way of saying, I like you too.”
“You do?” Jan looked at her, all bright eyes and years of love on her face.
Jackie had to look away. A few years down the line, she would find the words to tell Jan that looking at her felt like looking at the sun, sometimes. Magnetic, breathtaking, and almost unbearable. For now, she could only nod at the ground.
Giggles bubbled out of Jan’s mouth again. She couldn’t help it. All the buildup, pining and hope had led to her bravest moment, and the rewards had her on cloud nine. With her leftover bravery, Jan reached for Jackie’s hand, wondering if a gesture that familiar to them would feel different under unfamiliar circumstances.
It both did and didn’t.
“What happens now?” she asked Jackie, pulling her imperceptibly closer.
“Well,” Jackie started, lacing their hands together. “I have calculus, which I hate. And you have geography, which you hate. So we could go to class and think of each other and not pay attention all morning, which is a waste of time anyway, or…”
“Or?”
“Or, we could skip and go to the skatepark and, um, talk…” she finished, looking up at Jan through her lashes.
Jan’s heart stuttered at the way Jackie said “talk”. That got a firm yes from her. She really hoped this time they were both on the same page.
“Definitely, let’s do that one,” Jan nodded, eager, already dragging Jackie away from the school.
“Alright, let’s.” Jackie followed her easily. Some things wouldn’t change.
There were no clouds in the sky, but the sun was still taking its sweet time warming up the morning. Jan spared a thought for the jacket she’d forgone that morning, but mostly she thought about how Jackie was more susceptible to cold weather and also wearing a skirt. So, in a totally smooth and not-at-all clumsy move, she hooked her arm around Jackie’s shoulders and huddled closer to her side, for warmth.
Jackie tensed, but grabbed Jan’s hand before she could take it back.
The girls came to a fork in their path, and stopped to choose the best street to the park.
“We should take sixth instead of seventh,” said Jackie, “because that’s your mom’s route to work, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, you’re right. Although I don’t think she would mind us skipping that much, considering,” said Jan, starting down that street.
“Considering what?”
Jan gestured vaguely between their bodies.
“You told Luisa??”
Jan looked at Jackie with an expression that clearly said duh.
“You’re right, I don’t know why I asked.”
Jan laughed and bumped their hips together.
“If it makes you feel better, she was totally rooting for us.”
“It does, actually. I don’t think I could handle mama-bear Luisa telling me to stay away from her precious daughter.”
“She literally likes you more than me.”
A store came into view and Jan slowed down the pace.
“Oooh, we should get chips and sodas for the park. Oh! And sandwiches!” she said, already pulling Jackie into the store.
“You’re the best person to skip class with.”
Jan grinned and rushed inside. They ended up with two paper bags full of drinks and food, and some sparkly hair clips Jan had liked and Jackie had decided to buy for her, because she never displayed any self-control when it came to making Jan happy.
Outside of the store, Jan insisted on being chivalrous and carrying both bags. It was such a simple gesture, but it still got Jackie to gush over her.
“I’m really liking being your girlfriend, Janessa.”
Jan stopped walking.
“I’m your girlfriend?”
“I mean, I think so? At least,” Jackie cleared her throat, “at least that’s what I want. If you want that, too. But there’s no pressure.”
Jan took a step closer. Shuffling the bags in her arms out of the way, she stood on her tiptoes to breach the height difference and pressed her lips to Jackie’s. She felt Jackie place a shaky hand on her shoulder, which made the paper bag creak. When she pulled away, she waited for Jackie to blink the daze out of her eyes before flashing her biggest smile.
“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Jacks.”
Jackie was still a little awestruck, but she managed to find her words.
“Okay. Alright. Girlfriends.” She nodded once, determined, and kept on walking. Simple as that.
At the park, they found a good patch of sunshine to sit down and share the spoils. With practiced ease, Jackie handed Jan a grape soda and Jan opened the Sprite bottle for her.
“Do you wanna come over for dinner tonight?” said Jan, after a sip. “I kind of wanna see my mom’s face if we walk into her kitchen holding hands.”
Jackie smiled at the image.
“I’m up for it,” she said, but then winced. “But, um, do you think we could not tell her about the little hiccup on my part?”
Jan tapped her chin.
“Hmm, I don’t know. This could be a really funny story, I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”
Jackie took her hand.
“Jannie, please?” she begged sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes at her. Jan could only stare, spellbound.
“Oh, you’re so going to abuse that now, aren’t you?”
Jacks shook her head, curls bouncing.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, hiding her smile behing her bottle.
