The French Blanket
pairing: Gabby Williams x Marine Johannes
word count: 1.4k
warnings: none, sweet and light, kisses and alludes to thinking of more
what happens during All Star Weekend when languages become difficult?
aka marine hates english and loves Gabby
this was the most frustrating this ever to format, thank you so so much to my Parisian Batman @dennzaa who did all the translation for me!!!!
All-star weekend has been nothing short of pure chaos. Dodging stud and bud, avoiding the paige and azzi expo, spending as much time together before the bubble popped, it was impossible to balance it all while still trying to look the best you’ve ever looked.
Thankfully, Gabby and Marine had something few other in the room did. Their own corner of the never ending parties and appearances and the game itself.
“Elles sont toujours comme ça?” “Are they always like this?” Marine had not so whispered into her fiancés ear, looking across the room at the pink haired jesters live-streaming the weekend away.
“Je pourrais pas te dire, mon amour,” “I can’t say I know, my love,” Gabby had replied, smiling while her eyebrows furrowed at the pair, confused at their bald headed antics. Ever since Gabby had first met the blonde Frenchie, their communication, per Marines adamant request, has been almost exclusively in French when they can help it. The language had come naturally to Gabby, heavily accented, but second nature nonetheless. Marine on the other hand, detested English.
So French it was, that got the couple through their time together, and the anxiety filled all-star weekend.
Whenever someone inevitably stopped them for photos, interviews, introductions or whatever new social obligation the weekend had invented, they could retreat into their own language. A private room hidden in plain sight, just for the two of them (mostly). Nobody questioned it much beyond the occasional joke about them plotting against the rest of the league.
Which, admittedly, they sometimes were.
"Je crois que ça va faire douze heures qu’elles filment.” “I think they have been recording for twelve straight hours.” Gabby said, eyes looking past Marine and onto the rotating hips of Courtney Williams, a somewhat puzzled look on her face.
"Regarde pas,” “Don't look,” she added as her fiancé began to turn her head slowly.
"J’allais pas regarder,” “I wasn't going to,” Marine replied somewhat defensively, her bright eyes boring into Gabby’s.
"Si,” “You were,” She sighed dramatically.
"J’allais regarder,” “I was,” Marine replied, laughing.
Gabby laughed too, pressing a quick kiss against her temple before another camera flashed in their direction.
By Saturday afternoon, the novelty had started to wear thin.
Not the weekend itself. Not entirely, just the constant noise. The incessant demand to be at their best. The endless stream of people. Every hallway packed, every room crowded, every event somehow louder than the last. Marine smiled through all of it, charming and polite and effortlessly funny, yet reserved, whenever someone approached.
Gabby noticed the difference immediately, because of course she does.
Marine's smiles lingered a second too long, her hand never left the small of Gabby's back. She was never one for cameras, often dodging them and running from her own franchises media, but by the end of their third press event she shook her head and shrugged for most comments, the occasional heavily accented “I don’t know.”
She stopped volunteering conversation and started following it instead. The little things, things nobody else would ever catch. Her posture, the way she looked to Gabby for help responding instead of giving a short reply herself. Gabby caught all of them.
The moment it became too much happened during one of the larger sponsor events, Azzi’s party.
Marine stood beside her, nodding through a conversation she clearly wasn't listening to while music pounded from somewhere overhead. Players laughed. Cameras flashed. Shots were downed. Someone was yelling about a challenge across the room. Vlog cameras and managers and jealous WAGs covered the makeshift bar.
Gabby watched Marine stare at absolutely none of it.
"Mon amour,” “My love.”
Marine blinked.
"Hm?"
"T’as pas écouté un seul mot de ce que je viens de dire.” “You haven't heard a word I've said for the last minute.”
"J’ai tout écouté.” “I heard everything.”
"Qu’est ce que j’ai dit?” “What did I say?”
A pause.
Marine frowned.
"Tu as dit…” “You said...” She squinted. "Quelque chose de très intelligent.” “Something very intelligent.”
Gabby smiled softly, rolling her eyes.
"Viens.” “Come with me.”
Before Marine could argue, Gabby was already guiding her toward a quieter hallway hidden behind the main space that led to the bathrooms.
The difference was immediate. No music, no cameras, no crowds.
Just the distant hum of activity behind closed doors, and her Gabby.
Marine leaned against the wall and released a breath she had apparently been holding for hours, lifting the backs of her feet out of her heels, giving them a break.
She lets her head sag for the first time in days.
"La voila,” “There she is.” Gabby says, smiling softly at her fiancée.
"Je vais bien, tu t'inquiètes trop,” “I'm fine, you fuss too much.” Marine lilted.
"T’es fatiguée.” “You are overwhelmed.” Gabby said with an eyebrow raise, silently scolding.
"Je suis juste un peu tendue, c’est très…” “I am only a little overwhelmed, it is just all so…”
Gabby's eyebrow lifted.
Marine considered it, and finished, “…Américain, les gens, le bruit, toute cette mise en scène, je suis juste,” “…American, the people the noise the production of it all, I am just,” she breathed, paused, held Gabby’s eye contact, and relented, “modérément tendue." “Moderately overwhelmed.”
“Je pense que mon anglais ca va, mais ils parlent tous super vite, et je comprends rien, et je te regarde comme si tu allais savoir ce que je veut dire, et je suis juste…” “I think my English is fine until this and they all talk so fast and I cannot keep up and I look to you like you’ll know what I’m trying to say and I just…”
"Oui, je comprends.” “Yes, I know."
The blonde looked down at her half on shoes.
"Je me sens ridicule.” “I feel ridiculous."
"Pourquoi?” “Why?"
"Tout le monde a l’aire de s’amuser. Tu sais que je n’aime pas les caméras, mais je pensais que je pourrais passer outre pour toi.” “Everyone else seems to be enjoying it, you know I don’t love the camera but, I thought I could do it, for you.”
Gabby stepped closer.
"Marine."
The way she said her name made her look up immediately, softly, like it was fragile and priceless.
"T’as passé toute la matinée à parler à des inconnus. Et puis les interviews. Et les photos. Et le truc avec les mascottes, peu importe ce que c'était." “You spent the entire morning talking to strangers. Then interviews. Then appearances. Then whatever that thing was with the mascots."
"Je ne comprends toujours pas pourquoi j'étais là." "I still don't know why I was there."
"Moi non plus, c’etait un rite d’hummiliation,” “Neither do I, it was humiliation ritual,” That finally earned a laugh.
Gabby reached for her hand. “T’as pas besoin d’aimer chaque minute de ça, Marine.” “You don't have to enjoy every second of this Marine." The blonde’s shoulders loosened slightly.
"Je sais." “I know”
"Tu as le droit d'être fatiguée.” “You are allowed to be tired."
"Je sais." “I know."
"Tu as le droit de te cacher dans un couloir avec ta fiancée.” “You are allowed to hide in hallways with your fiancée." Gabby said, reaching out to tangle her fingers with Marines, leaning down to catch her eyes again. A small smile appeared. "Enfin quelque chose qui donne envie,” “Well that one sounds particularly appealing," Marine said.
"Je pensais bien.” “I thought so."
For a moment they just stood there. The quiet wrapped around them like a blanket, no expectations, no cameras, no performances. Just Gabby tracing circles across the back of Marine's hand. Eventually, Marine rested her forehead against Gabby's shoulder.
A small, "Tu remarque toujours tout,” “You always know,” was let out, and Gabby's smile softened.
"Tu ne sais pas aussi bien le cacher que tu ne le penses.” “You are not as sneaky as you think." Gabby whispered.
"Je le cache très bien." “I am extremely sneaky."
"Tu étais collée à moi tout l’aprem." “You practically attached yourself to my side all afternoon."
"Ça ne veut rien dire, on habite trop loin." “That proves nothing, we live on opposite coasts."
"Ça veut tout dire." “It proves everything."
Marine groaned, burying deeper into Gabby, letting her lips rest on her pulse point of her neck, breathing in her scent and comfort through her lungs like the drug she’s been craving. Gabby kissed the top of her head, then her temple.
Gabby whispered, "Mon amour, c’est normal de disparaître un peu, ma petite magicienne." “My love, it is okay to have a little disappearing act, my little magician."
That made Marine pull back immediately.
"Je suis pas petite, t’es a peine plus grande,” “I am not little, you’re hardly taller,” she said, almost scowling.
"Mais je le suis quand même." “But I am."
A beat.
Then they both started laughing. Gabby pulled Marine in by their interlocked hand, her other one cradling her jaw like she has a thousand times before. And just like the other thousand times, it sent a shock down her spine into her heart, forcing it to skip a beat when their lips met.
The pair of French fiancees may have in the back hallway for a little longer than planned, filling their bubble with kisses and whispered accents. It was only when Marines kisses had wandered down Gabby’s neck, her hands wandering further than their semi public position, and her thoughts wandering far bolder than her personality often gives off, did they finally split.
Gabby’s eyes had slightly glazed over, her lips a mix of brown gloss and spit. Marine didn’t look much better, the downsides of dating a baddie means brown makeup smears her face after they pull apart.
“Contente de voir que tu te sens mieux,” “Good to see you’re more yourself now,” Gabby said, somewhat breathlessly.
Marine just smiled, knowing she may appear shy on the outside, but back here, in their French protected bubble, with her woman, she could be truly herself.
By the time they returned to the party fifteen minutes later, nothing had changed.
The music was still loud.
The cameras were still everywhere.
The pink-haired chaos agents were somehow still livestreaming, but Marine's hand was firmly in Gabby's, and the knot in her chest had loosened enough to breathe again.
For the rest of the weekend, whenever things became too much, Gabby would simply whisper sweet French nothings to Marine, squeeze her hand twice, and carry on, knowing the language acted as a safety blanket for her fiancée.
And every time, Marine squeezed back, shared a knowing look, and followed.
