This prompt is courtesy of @sp-ac-ep-re-si-de-nt.
Maribel Prompt: Maria breaks things off with Michael quick once she realizes how much it was hurting Alex, Isobel wants to find out who she is without Noah in her head so her and Maria hook up but both develop feeling.
***
“We’re closed,” Maria said as the door of the Wild Pony opened, her wrist aching as she wiped down the bar for the seventh time. She took a deep breath, willing the heavy, hot weight in her chest to cool, but no matter what, no matter how hard she tried, his face kept flashing in her mind.
She sighed, leaving the rag on the table as she rubbed her eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept.
“Shucks, really?” she suddenly heard, and whipped around to find Isobel Evans standing with her hand on her hip, her head tilted and a smirk on her lips. “My brother told me you always let him in after hours.”
“Evans,” she said, her shoulders slumped. “Great, just what I needed tonight.”
Isobel scoffed, though Maria couldn’t help but notice that it held none of her usual snark or sneer. “You’re not exactly my beacon of light tonight either, DeLuca.”
“Then to what do I owe the honor of your visit?”
“Like I said,” Isobel said, sliding onto one of the stools while Maria leaned against the bar. Her knees bumped into Maria’s legs, though Isobel hardly seemed to notice. “My brother says –”
“I wouldn’t listen too closely to anything your brother says,” Maria said with a feigned sweet smile, though even referencing the cowboy made her feel sick. “I ended things a few hours ago,” then she muttered, “I’ve done enough damage with him already.”
When she thought about Alex, his face as he had told her that Michael wasn’t “so bad after a shower,” the hurt in his eyes when she’d confirmed she’d slept with him, and the fear she felt flicker in his heart as she’d promised him that it had meant nothing.
Then the agonizing pain the next time he had looked at her, the betrayal she’d felt on his behalf, the unrelenting shock as if every part of him still couldn’t believe she had done such a thing to him.
“Ended things,” Isobel repeated, a furrow in her brows. It was only now, Maria realized, that she could clearly see Isobel’s face that she realized how tired the blonde woman looked. Her makeup which was always on point – though Maria would never admit it out loud – was slightly smudged around the eyes, as if Isobel had been crying but tried saving the eyeliner as best she could. Her lips had no gloss or color, but were chapped as if she’d been chewing on them all day, her finger tapped her knee anxiously as if she had too many thoughts running around in her head to focus on one at a time, and just by standing near her, Maria could feel it. The sorrow, the grief, the anger, the hurt, the betrayal, the misery. What happened to her?
“You’re talking about Michael?” Isobel asked, and Maria flinched, severely yanked out of her thoughts at the mention of the cowboy.
Maria pressed her lips together and said nothing. She picked up her rag, patted her hands down with it, and went around the bar, as far away from Isobel as she could get. Something about the blonde’s dark energy scared her, part of her worried that it would affect her if she came to close – something she definitely couldn’t handle right now – and the other part… the other part of Maria, a teeny tiny part, couldn’t help but worry that her own misery and heartbreak would touch Isobel. Something told her the blonde really didn’t need anymore of that. Not tonight.
“You dated my brother? Michael?” she asked again, disbelief coloring her tone. “Are you sure you were dating? ‘Cause I should probably tell you, if you slept with him and you’re, like, waiting for a declaration of love, he’s really not that kind of guy.”
Maria sighed, pulling a bottle of tequila out and filling a small glass. She wanted to pretend it was to shut Isobel up, though something inside her dug at her heart, past the ache, past the weight, past the heat – something that felt like sympathy, though Maria chose to call it pity.
“How bored are you?” she asked wearily. Even if Isobel wasn’t the absolute worst person to talk to about this, it was too late in the day to explain the story.
Isobel held her hand out eagerly for the drink, and Maria handed it to her, careful not to hold onto the extra weight that seemed to fall on her shoulders as her fingers touched Isobel’s. Maria’s eyes burned as the desire to curl up on the floor and sob suddenly hit. She snatched her hand back, holding it to her chest. What kind of misery was surrounding the blonde?
Isobel, however, didn’t seem to notice Maria’s momentary fear as she took a big gulp of her drink. She winced as it left a burning trail down her throat, but when she looked up, Maria had already turned away from her, making it to seem as if she was cleaning the other cups. In reality, Maria was rubbing her fingers, half of her trying to decipher the strange electric tingle against her skin while the other half told her to just forget it, to ignore it. It was Isobel, after all – who cares what happened to her?
“I’m just trying to warn you,” Isobel said, though as Maria looked over her shoulder at her, she saw the blonde stare at the table, and Maria had the feeling she was talking just to avoid crying. “My brother’s already in love with someone who, if you ask me, is way out of his league already. But…” she sighed, her voice softening, “he’s in love, so… I want that to work out for him.”
Maria sniffed, wiping Isobel’s unshed tears from her eyes before she turned to face her, her brows furrowed. “You know? Who Michael’s in love with, I mean?”
Isobel had just finished her drink, hissing before she leaned her elbow on the bar. “Sorry, DeLuca, I don’t think your psychic powers are gonna help you this time. My brother told me.” She shook her head, shrugging. “It’s not my job to pass the information on.”
Maria flinched, trying not to remember the way she’d so casually told Liz that Michael was the one Alex had loved, as if the whole thing had been a story about celebrities and not her best friend. As if Alex’s feelings were an inconvenience for her. As if Alex finally being hopeful again was unfair –
Maria exhaled sharply, rubbing her face. Go away, she urged the thoughts. Go away, go away, go away.
“Are you having a seizure or something?”
Maria looked up from her hands, glaring at Isobel who had taken the bottle and was drinking out of that instead.
“You owe me fifty bucks for that bottle,” she said dryly, and as she drank, Isobel pulled a bill from her jacket pocket and handed it to Maria. The bartender blinked, taking the money. “A Guerin who actually pays. That’s new.”
Isobel finally swallowed, lowering the bottle into her lap. She stared at it a moment, scratching the paper on the glass, then she repeated, “A Guerin. Do I look like a Guerin to you? It does have a better ring that Bracken anyway.”
Maria tilted her head, studying Isobel thoughtfully before she asked, “Do you honestly want to be a Guerin? They’re kind of known to be messes.”
Isobel huffed a chuckle, shaking her head. “You just don’t see it,” she said. “Nobody ever really sees him. Except maybe…” she shrugged, taking another swig of the bottle. “He’s nice. He sees him.”
Maria, for a moment, thought Isobel had been hesitant to call Michael nice, and was confused. Then she realized that Isobel had been hesitant because she was talking about Alex. Maria half-wondered where Isobel had met Alex and decided he was nice. Still, she couldn’t help but nod along.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “He is.”
She looked up at Isobel to see her watching her, her brows furrowed as if she was trying to remember if she’d mentioned Alex’s name or not. Maria couldn’t help but notice how fragile the blonde looked then, how innocent. Her green eyes which had twinkled with mischief the last time Maria had read her palm, her lips which seemed curved into a permanent smirk not that different from her brother’s, her fingers that been firm and steady in Maria’s were now slipping on the tequila bottle in her lap.
Maria soon realized they were staring at each other and blinked out of her haze, clearing her throat as she reached across the bar, took the bottle out of Isobel’s hands, and had a long swig of it herself.
“Oh,” Isobel said with a tilt of her head and an amused smirk at her lips that didn’t reach her eyes, “it’s going to be one of those nights.”
Maria rolled her eyes. She briefly noted that Isobel’s lip gloss on the mouth of the bottle smelled like strawberries, and even against the strong scent of the alcohol, it didn’t smell too bad. “Evans, you talk too much.”
A few hours later, though Maria couldn’t entirely remember how, she and Isobel had ended up on the floor against the bar, their knees pulled up to their chests, the bottle nearly empty between them.
They talked about little nothings; weird customers that had come in before, rude store owners, skirting around the topic of men, and as they did, Maria glanced at Isobel, wondering why someone who seemed as happily married as her wouldn’t be with her husband right now, especially if she was having such a hard time.
“What happened between you and my brother?” Isobel finally asked, though any trace of humor was gone from her voice.
Maria knew she could’ve told Isobel that it was none of her business, or just refuse to answer, but the energy clouding Isobel was too strong, too miserable, for Maria to bear say nothing.
“Worried about me now, are you?” she joked, and Isobel shook her head.
“I don’t want Michael to get hurt,” she said softly. “He’s already in love, and it’s killing him. I wondered why he was having so much trouble talking to… that other person.” She turned to Maria with a frown. “Now I’m starting to think maybe you’re why.”
Maria felt a pang in her chest at the mention of Alex. So he wasn’t talking to Michael. Maria had figured that might have happened. She wanted to believe that breaking up with Michael would be enough, that it might fix his and Alex’s relationship, that maybe – without Maria in the way – they might be able to love each other again.
But no. The rational side of her thought, the side that knew Alex. She and Michael had completely shattered his trust, broken him in a way that could never be undone.
A tear slid down her cheek and she was quick to wipe it away, but not before Isobel saw it and nodded slowly as if she understood.
Maria, unable to take the look, shook her head and asked, “Then what happened between you and Noah?”
Isobel tensed at the mention of his name and looked straight ahead.
“Come on, Evans, it’s not that hard to figure out,” she said. “It’s past midnight and you’re trying to get drunk, and instead of being with your husband, you’re here with me. So what –”
“We got divorced,” was all she said before she took another swig of the bottle, emptying the contents.
Maria blinked, her face falling. “Oh,” was all she knew to say, and instantly regretted asking. A breakup wasn’t the same thing as a divorce. And Isobel had been so happy with him, too.
She shook her head, gently taking the empty bottle from Isobel and resisting the passing urge to move a strand of blonde hair that had come loose from its braid.
She slumped back with a sigh. “How did this happen? How is this our life?”
Isobel said nothing for a moment, then she shrugged. “Maybe we’re cursed. I mean, you fell in love with someone who doesn’t love you back,” she said, and Maria turned to snap at her, but saw no mockery or indifference on her face. “And I fell in love with someone who…” the corner of her lips quirked up sadly, “doesn’t love anything.”
Maria pressed her lips together for a moment, then, “Well, you know, Prom Queen, tonight’s not so bad. At least we’re not alone.”
Isobel glanced at her and scoffed, some of the sorrow and bitterness in her smile faded. “I thought you hated me.”
Maria frowned. “I don’t hate you. I…”
“Think I’m responsible for Rosa Ortecho’s death.”
She looked down. “I shouldn’t have blamed you for that.”
“No,” she agreed. “You shouldn’t have.” She took the empty bottle, and as she held it tightly, Maria could tell she was conflicted, a thousand words lying on her tongue, though she couldn’t bring herself to say any of them. “I never hurt anybody.”
“I know, Isobel,” she said softly, and Isobel looked up at her, the two caught in each other’s gazes for a long time.
Maria knew it was the tequila that made her lean in, it had to have been. As green as Isobel Evans’s eyes were, as pink as her lips, as soft as her skin, Maria knew that – had she been sober – she would not be doing what she was doing. Still, something in her shifted and softened as she saw that Isobel was leaning in just the same.
Their lips barely brushed, Maria’s thoughts consumed with how nice Isobel smelled (strawberries and vanilla), how much nicer the scent was compared to Michael, and her eyes snapped open.
Michael.
This was his sister; she couldn’t kiss his sister, no matter how drunk she was!
She pulled back, and Isobel, whose eyes had just begun to flutter shut, slowly leaned back, her brows furrowed. In that moment, Maria realized that Isobel knew, just as she did, that nothing good would come of them hooking up.
She cleared her throat and moved to stand, just as Isobel did the same.
“Right, well, I really do need to close up now.”
“Mm,” Isobel hummed, avoiding her gaze. Maria wondered if she felt any regret at coming here tonight, if she would’ve rather suffered at home alone, and the thought left an inexplicable pain in her chest.
“You – you want me to call you a cab?”
Isobel nodded, buttoning her jacket. When had she unbuttoned it?
“Yes,” she said, then as an afterthought added, “please.”
Maria nodded and walked out, aware of the blonde following her.
***
I’m sorry! I know you asked for a hookup and developing feelings, but there was no was for me to realistically cover that in a one-shot! There’s way too much to work with there! This was as realistic and true to the characters as I could go without turning it into a long fic.
Sorry it deviates so much, but I hope you enjoyed reading regardless, and thank you so much for the prompt 💕