Very muchly belated b-day NON-smut for @madnanc - here’s to finding the right line.
***
It was remarkable, Cosima thought, how there was no avoiding checkout lines in life, not even when you find yourself buying emergency tampons at 2AM. There was surely a pithy aphorism to be gleaned in this somewhere.
What was also remarkable is that at least 4 of the dozen or so checkout counters were manned at this late hour, but only one seemed to be actually helping shoppers. She approached the bank of registers wearily, handles of her basket digging into the crook of her elbow, and eyed the first cashier. The woman was tall and lanky, dark hair cropped short, and was cackling quietly into her phone.
Cosima approached, then halted as the cashier raised a questioning eyebrow in her direction, then shook her head. Cosima glanced at the light above the register which indicated that the line should be open, but only received a jerk of the cashier's thumb, pointing her to the next register.
"People, man." She muttered, ambling to the next register in line, this one occupied by a short Latina. Cosima perked up, encouraged by the cashier's open, mischievous expression. She exhaled in relief, hefting her basket. Her ice cream was not going to stay frozen forever.
"Ay, no," dark-eyed cashier raised her hands at Cosima, palms out, then pointed to the next cashier.
"But," Cosima protested, pointing at the light above the register.
"Nem." The cashier managed an apologetic shrug, the mane of her dark hair cascading across her shoulders, but still shook her head in denial.
"I don't-"
"Nyet." The cashier produced a tiny dog, plopped it on the scanner and started brushing it.
"You're seriousl-"
"Not even a finger, sorry. Next register's open, though. Ciao!"
"Unbelievable!" Cosima stalked away, feeling her Purple Haze mellow evaporate harshly. It wasn't like that song at all - she couldn't check out any time she wanted.
She crossed over to the next in the interminable line of registers, one of the two remaining with 'in service' lights on. A disbelieving chuckle escaped involuntarily when she faced the cashier sitting behind it, a short-haired woman with glasses.
"You have.. a typewriter out. Like, a genuine, honest to god typewriter, just," she faltered, at a loss, "... and you're typing away. Seriously?"
The woman looked at her blankly, fingers hovering over the keys, a sheath of paper hanging over the typewriter carriage.
"Right. Should I just-," Cosima jerked her thumb in the direction of the next register. "Yeah, yeah, got it. Golden. Perfect."
This was a joke of some kind, one of those old-timey TV shows no one watches any more, with unsuspecting dopes challenged by a ridiculous setup, unknowingly followed by a camera. Except she was on the rag, slowly bleeding through her last tampon, and willing to kill for the first bite of her rapidly melting Chunky Monkey.
"I just wanna find a damn line I can stand in, like a good citizen, pay for my tampons and-"
If it were a movie, the surrounding lights would dim, leaving a sole beam trained on the apparition before her, and a chorus of angels would vocalize their awe as they beheld the glory, the beauty that stood at the checkout line #5.
Her blonde hair was up in a messy bun, a few escaped tendrils framing a smiling, lovely face. She was focused on the customer at her register, arms gracefully moving and scanning the items on the conveyor belt as she kept up friendly banter. Cosima swallowed, then stepped up to the line, silently sending a thank you to all the other lazy, unhelpful, rude cashiers that sent her in this direction.
Soon - the beautiful blonde stranger, in start contrast to her deadbeat co-workers, was efficient - it was nearly Cosima's turn, and she stepped up to the register belt, emptying her basket. This close, she could see the crinkles at the corners of the cashier's eyes as she smiled, the beauty mark just below her lower lip, could hear the clear, lovely tone of her laughter. "Delphine," she tried the name written on the name tag quietly to herself, "Delphine."
The belt moved silently, sliding her groceries closer to the cashier, and Cosima followed in lockstep, eyes never leaving the cashier's face.
Delphine.
Then the last item of the customer in front of her was bagged, and the cashier - Delphine - took a languorous stretch, arms raised, before sitting back down on the stool behind the register and smiling at Cosima.
"Hello. Did you find everything you needed tonight?"
Her eyes were caramel and warm, and her lips glistened slightly under the harsh fluorescent lighting, and Cosima found herself dazedly nodding in agreement. "Yeah. Totally."
Delphine glanced at the items laid out at the register, and as a blonde eyebrow went up at the selection, Cosima paled with belated realization.
"You, uhm, having a rough night?" The smile was sympathetic rather than pitying, as the first box of her OB Ultra Absorbency tampons beeped at the scanner and went into a shopping bag.
Cosima opened her mouth, then closed it after a long moment of silence. She cleared her throat as another box of tampons went into the bag and tried again.
"Um, yeah, yeah." Could it get worse? She was about to find out. "I, um, got mowed down by Aunt Flo and realized I was out of tampons, got ignored by every single cashier in here, my ice cream is melting, and now I have a gorgeous woman scanning my unmentionables. Pretty high on the embarrassment scale, I'd say."
Delphine paused, holding aloft a sweating pint of Ben&Jerry's. "Aunt Flo?"
Cosima snorted, waving her hand.
_That's what she focused on? "It's a silly expression. Means I got my period. You, um, sound.. French?"
"Ah," Delphine nodded, slowly lowering the ice cream, unscanned, into her bag. "I am."
Before Cosima could point out her mistake, the blonde leaned in slightly across the counter, lowering her voice in confidentiality. "I, ah, also have something embarrassing to share."
Cosima unconsciously leaned in response, mesmerized. Delphine bit her lower lip in a most distracting manner, eyes lowered, seemingly hesitant to continue. Cosima waited a beat, two, eyes trained on soft lips then blurted out in a strangled whisper. "What is it?"
Those eyes - hazel, she thought hazily - were on her again, and then Delphine took a deep breath. "Ah... well, the truth is, I told my coworkers not to help you, so you could come to this register."
Cosima stared at her blankly. She blinked. All the words she'd just heard made sense individually, but the actual sentence was indecipherable.
Delphine continued quietly, her eyes back on the counter between them. "I, um, wanted a chance to meet you. I'd seen you here a few times before, but neve-"
"Uh, no." Cosima shook her head adamantly, interrupting her. "Nnnno, you couldn't have. Cause, then I would have seen you, and I'd definitely remember that so, no."
This brought a small smile and something that looked like relief to Delphine's face. "I am not usually behind the register. I'm, um, a floor manager and so I mainly just stay upstairs and pitch in as needed." She smiled again. "And you're always on your phone when you're here, which is remarkable given that you seem to do your shopping only between midnight and three."
Cosima cocked her head to the side, her brain finally processing received information. "You wanted to meet me?"
Delphine took in another deep breath then nodded vigorously. "Yes. I overheard you berating your lab partner once for messing up the polymer cell cultures*, and figured out you're also a biology grad."
Cosima cringed, recalling the early-morning phone drubbing she'd given Scott, around the same time in her cycle and shortly after she realized the store was out of her favorite Cheetos flavor.
"And, um, I know you like the B52s," Cosima's eyebrows shot up, "since I saw you dancing to Love Shack in the cereal aisle one night, and, um." Delphine paused delicately, "I know you're single."
Cosima groaned, hiding her face her hands at the thought of what kind of a one-sided overheard conversation gave Delphine that information. "This is so embarr-"
Her head snapped up, eyes locked on Delphine's. "Wait, so you arranged this whole thing," her arm vaguely circled the space around them, "so you could meet me?"
Cosima leaned on one leg, cocking her hip, first tendrils of giddiness rising up through her chest. She looked around - indeed, the entire line of open registers was humming busily to the left of them, each cashier which had previously dismissed her was now engaged with a customer. The peppy Latina gave her a thumbs up when she caught her eye, and someone had even crept up and placed a 'line closed' sign on the conveyor belt behind her at some point.
"And, wait," she held up a questioning finger, "you're also a student at U.T.?"
Delphine nodded again. "Yes, working on my PhD in Parasite/Host Relationships. And, ah," she opened her arms, motioning toward her uniform, "a part-time floor manager at EHW at night."
Cosima smiled, her full, broad, Cheshire-cat smile of the evening. "And you said your shift just ended?"
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Hey, so two years ago OBFrankenfics did this collab project and I contributed this chapter and it only ever got one comment so HERE IT IS IN YOUR FACE AGAIN FOR GOOD OLE TIMES READ IT
A round robin based on the list of 36 questions that can make anybody fall in love. Post season 4, Delphine and Cosima recover together, taking the time to get reacquainted, and fall back into their inevitable love. Prompted by the great @obcrack
Pt. 7 by @mveloc
Question: For what in your life do you feel most grateful?
Also available on AO3
“As somewhat of an authority on tea, I have to tell you: this is definitely not tea.”
The brunette scrunches her nose in disgust as she inhales a whiff of the steaming concoction, pulling the mug away from her face so she can breathe in air that hasn’t been tainted by the pungent odour. The soup was one thing, but this? She stares down into the dark, murky liquid with a slight frown and wonders if Delphine is serious, if she’s really expected to drink whatever it is she’s just been presented with.
“I already told you that resources are limited,” Delphine mutters, not even bothering to turn around to address Cosima’s disgust head-on. “But it will help.”
She continues to bustle around the tiny, primitive kitchen, cleaning up the small mess she’s made while preparing the questionable tea. She’s far more resourceful than Cosima has ever given her credit for; using a pestle and mortar, she had crushed up the various plants and herbs herself, mashing them up until they were very fine. She then added them to the boiling water, allowing the “tea” to steep for a few minutes before handing it to the apprehensive clone who currently sits cross-legged on the cot, still contemplating whether or not it’s safe to drink.
“I know, I know,” she says with a dismissive sigh. “But seriously? This smells like dirty socks, or something I should be smoking.”
As soon as the words leave her mouth, an idea sparks to life in her head and she immediately throws her feet over the edge of the cot. She bends down, placing the mug safely on the floor before standing rather quickly, stopping for a brief second in case the light-headedness decides to ensnare her as it has on multiple occasions as of late. Once she’s sure she’s in the clear, her burst of enthusiasm carries her.
“Where are you going?” the doctor asks, confused by the slight commotion she can hear going on behind her.
Delphine finally turns around to take note of Cosima’s unusual behaviour. She watches the brunette with a mix of concern and curiosity while Cosima ignores her question, padding over to the bag of her belongings which is tucked safely away near the back of the yurt, hidden under piles of books and clothes incase any uninvited guests decide to snoop around.
“Slow down, Cosima. You’re still recovering.”
She didn’t have much time to gather her things when fleeing with Charlotte; she had been sure to procure a few vials of the cure that was slowly and steadily working its way through her body, as well as some clothes. Thankfully she had already packed her laptop and vaporizer away prior to Rachel’s sudden and violent appearance.
“I almost forgot about this,” she says, holding the device above her head triumphantly.
“What… is it?” Delphine asks, head cocked as she inspects Cosima’s prize from a distance.
“It’s my vaporizer,” Cosima clarifies. “You know, for smoking only the finest of herb? Much better than whatever the hell you put in that.”
She brings her thumb and index finger together and draws them to her lips, making a smoking gesture for further emphasis. When Delphine arches a brow in her direction, Cosima flashes one of her characteristic grins before returning to her bag. Hunched over, she rummages through it in search of the aforementioned herb. She’d smoked quite a bit while she was staying at Susan’s compound. She hadn’t brought a lot with her because she didn’t think she’d be with the duplicitous doctor for very long and now here she is, trapped in a yurt with her long-lost love with just enough left to grant her a few hours of reprieve.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we’re in short supply of herb,” Delphine mumbles, hands folded over her chest as she watches Cosima at work. “And by “short” I mean there isn’t any on this island.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Cosima retorts, finally locating the ziplock bag and pulling it out. “See? I packed my own lunch, Mom.”
Delphine makes her way over to the cot with the smallest hint of a smile, sitting on the edge and watching as Cosima manages to find her grinder in the bag, as well. She sprinkles what’s left of the pot into the grinder, twisting it to break up the bud. Despite having seen the dreadlocked woman do this many times while they were dating back in the simpler days of DYAD, the European always finds herself fascinated by how methodical Cosima is with the process, how meticulously she rolls a joint or packs her piece.
“I sorta started a mini grow-op— well, Scott suggested it, actually. He thought it would help with the appetite. He said I needed to keep eating cause I was losing too much weight and, I mean, I wasn’t about to pass up an excuse to get stoned whenever I want,” Cosima admits, grinning sheepishly back at her love who giggles quietly in response. “But in all honesty, it didn’t really help all that much. Just kinda pulled me away from things for a couple hours at a time.”
She remembers how sharp the world seemed for those few months she remained trapped in limbo after Delphine’s disappearance— as if she could split herself wide open on one of the oh so many jagged edges that seemed to have encapsulated her life, imprisoning her and leaving her to fester in a pit of guilt and denial. After a few tokes, those edges seemed to dull ever-so-slightly, or at least enough so that she could force her lips into a small, pathetic smile and mutter a simple “fine” to deflect everyone’s glaring concern.
For that short but impossibly long while, the weight seemed to slip right off her bones until her cherished collection of oversized sweaters and cardigans began to suffocate her. While they once loosely draped over her petite frame in an endearing manner, she found herself drowning in them. She found herself with so much extra space that she was certain she could fit either Sarah or Alison in them, as well, like two mischievous kids trying on their mother’s clothes.
Where had all that free space come from?
She stops herself, brow furrowing as the airiness surrounding her begins to dissipate, replaced by something heavy and dark.
“It wasn’t the disease,” she says quietly, her voice nearly a whimper as realization strikes her.
Nothing about that space was extra at all. It didn’t suddenly appear. She hadn’t gained anything— rather lost pieces of herself that she hadn’t truly realized had been there in the first place. And those parts that she lost? Those parts of her that had previously occupied that space? They had dwindled and died with Delphine, leaving her with nothing but jagged edges and oceans of wool and cashmere that she couldn’t pull herself out of to catch her breath.
“I-It was right after—”
“Cosima.”
Sensing where her thoughts are leading, Delphine stops her before the clone has the chance to explore that path more thoroughly. Cosima looks up again, over to her lover with glossy eyes and a lower lip that trembles.
“Come,” Delphine says gently, reaching out and beckoning the brunette to join her on the cot. “Come drink your tea before it gets cold.”
Cosima nods silently and obeys the simple command. Bringing the grinder and the vaporizer with her, she takes a seat next to the willowy blonde who reaches over to retrieve the mug from the floor and hand it to her patient once again.
“You seriously expect me to drink this?”
“I promise it doesn’t taste as bad as it smells.”
There’s a momentary standoff before Cosima relents with a defeated sigh, trading the grinder and vaporizer for the mug. Taking a deep breath and clamping her eyes shut, she tips her head back and takes a long swig of the liquid.
“And?”
She swallows begrudgingly, trying to keep her face from contorting as a result of the bitterness hitting her tongue.
“It’s not as bad as I thought,” she confesses upon clearing her throat. “But it’s still pretty shitty.”
Delphine laughs again, shrugging.
“Well, I tried.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Smiling, she leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of Delphine’s lips, only the doctor tilts her head at the last possible second and their lips meet full-on. They both linger in the embrace, the French woman raising a hand to tenderly brush her knuckles over Cosima’s cheekbone. When Cosima finally pulls away with a dopey grin reminiscent of the one she wore the first time Delphine had pressed a kiss to both her cheeks, she trades the tea for her vaporizer and Delphine sets the mug of steaming sludge on the floor again to be forgotten. Opening her grinder, the quirky young scientist begins to pack her vaporizer and Delphine watches her with a look of contentment, lowering herself until she’s reclining on her back.
“You want some?” Cosima asks, finally successful in her endeavour.
As she waits for the device to heat up, she follows Delphine’s lead and lowers herself onto the cot until she’s nestled snuggly against the blonde’s side. It’s a tight squeeze, but neither of them really mind; they’ve grown accustomed to sleeping virtually on top of each other in the short while that Cosima’s been recovering, as if making up for lost time. Their hands find each other as they always do, their fingers twirling and dancing with one another.
“I don’t know…”
Sensing the hesitation in her voice, Cosima peers up to drink in the blonde’s bemused expression. She gives her hand a gentle squeeze.
“Oh, come on,” she tries to coax, running the pad of her thumb over the Delphine’s knuckles. “Remember the last time we did this?”
Delphine smiles.
How could she forget?
That was the first time she told Cosima she loved her. It was the first time she heard those words uttered back to her. It was the first time since before the truth came out that they had shared a moment of reprieve— an arrhythmia in the chaotic beat that had become their lives.
“We could both use a little unwinding. Especially you, ” Cosima pushes.
She isn’t wrong. They both know this. Delphine’s been on edge from the second the ailing clone first entered the campsite. Despite being overjoyed at the sight of her, between trying to stabilize her lover and ward off suspicion from their hosts, she hasn’t had a moment to relent. While the cure seems to be slowly and miraculously working, she knows Cosima isn’t out of the woods just yet and until the brunette is well enough to take care of herself and far away from the danger of this island, she can’t let her guard down.
“I’m fine,” she dismisses Cosima’s concern. “Someone has to take care of you.”
Cosima sighs.
“Hey.”
Propping herself up on her elbow so that she’s hovering over the doctor, she brings her hand to Delphine’s face and traces feather-light patterns over her cheek with the tips of her fingers, prompting the taller woman to smile and meet her gaze.
“My vitals are stable,” she says softly. “They were stable an hour ago when you last checked them, and the three hours before that, and the two before that.”
Neither of them are naive enough to believe that Cosima is fully back to her former self, but considering the state she was in upon arrival, the American knows that the worst is over. She can feel it. With the cure administered and Delphine back at her side, she knows that however long the process may take, she’s going to make a full recovery.
“I’m doing fine.”
In a bid to reassure the blonde, she sits up and reaches for her vaporizer. The glowing green light indicates that it’s ready to use and she brings the mouthpiece to her lips, taking a long drag and holding it in her lungs for a few seconds
“See? No coughing, no seizures, no blood,” she says with an easy exhalation of smoke. “I’m totally fine.”
After falling ill, she’d opted for the vaporizer because it was much easier on her lungs, extracting all of the other harmful chemicals that might be found while smoking a typical joint. Even still, the tickle in her lungs always persisted even if it wasn’t quite as harsh.
But now?
She takes another heavy toke, allowing the vapour to fill the chamber of her lungs and linger a little longer this time. She waits for the burning to come, for her body to violently retaliate, but it doesn’t. Her lungs don’t scream and quake and give out like they’ve done for so long. She exhales again and both of their eyes watch as the smoke drifts up towards the ceiling before dissipating.
“God, I can’t remember the last time I took a deep breath without my body spazzing out,” Cosima muses, lowering herself back down to the doctor’s side.
Lifting the mouthpiece to Delphine’s lips, they exchanging a knowing, trusting gaze before Delphine parts them slightly and draws it in, following Cosima’s previous example and taking a heavy toke. The buzz hits her almost instantly and she expels the vapour with a small chuckle, her body thrumming.
“See? Aren’t you glad I brought this?”
Delphine nods, her eyes sliding shut as she allows the tingle to wash over over. Reclaiming the mouthpiece, Cosima takes a much smaller drag this time before setting the device down on the floor next to the neglected tea and nestling herself into the blonde, tucking her head beneath Delphine’s chin.
“That reminds me of our game,” Delphine mutters, finding her words once more.
“Oh yeah?”
With an arm wrapped around the smaller woman, she drags her fingertips along Cosima’s bicep, absently stroking the flesh. They both delight at the contact, smiles of contentment stretching across their features as they both take a second to bask in the moment.
“What in your life do you feel most grateful for?”
Cosima pauses.
“Right now? This pot is pretty nice.”
Neither of them can contain their laughter and Delphine lightly swats the clone on the shoulder.
“You’re supposed to answer seriously!”
“Okay, okay!”
Once the giggles subside, silence befalls them yet again and Cosima finds herself lost in thought as she gives Delphine’s question the attention it deserves. The doctor tries not to erupt into another fit of laughter when she peers down and notices the look of concentration on Cosima’s face as she stares up at the ceiling, her eyes narrowed and lips slightly pouted.
“In all seriousness, I’m grateful just to be breathing right now.”
Perhaps it isn’t such a deeply profound answer, but it’s the only thing that comes to mind.
“It’s not really one of those things you think about until you, like, can’t breathe at all,” she tries to explain, waving a hand in the air for emphasis. “I always took my health for granted until I didn’t have it anymore. And as I was dying, all I could think of was all the missed opportunities.”
Delphine swallows hard, the humour sucked away completely. While she may not know what it feels like to be denied breath, she knows exactly what it feels like to stare death in the face and find yourself haunted by all of your indecisions.
“You’re not dying,” she says, firm in her conviction. “Not anymore.”
“Yeah.”
Her hand finds Cosima’s again and their fingers lock, binding them to one another.
“What about you?” Cosima asks, glancing up again to read her lover’s expression.
Delphine expels a soft hum of consideration.
“I’m grateful for… new opportunities.”
Cosima releases a small chuckle, drawing one out from the blonde, as well. They’re both fully aware of how cliche such a statement is but even still, the dreadlocked scientist can’t bring herself to throw out a witty remark. Not after everything that’s happened. Their smiles quickly fade again as Delphine inhales a sharp breath, steadying herself as she gathers her thoughts.
“When I saw that gun pointed at me, I… I thought I was dead. I knew I was dead,” she stammers. “And even though there was nothing I could do, all I could think of was all the things I should have told you when I had the chance.”
Cosima’s lips part, a tiny gasp escaping. With dewy eyes, she readjusts herself so she can better read Delphine’s expression, but she’s met with such impermeability that she isn’t sure how to interpret it; even though the doctor’s words are laced with regret, she wears the coyest of smiles that seems to contradict everything that’s come before.
“But I didn’t die,” she continues. “And I told myself that if I ever saw you again, I wouldn’t hesitate anymore. I would say all of those things that escaped me the first time. I would be better.”
Cosima’s mouth becomes dry and she can’t be certain if it’s a side effect of being stoned or Delphine’s revelation that’s the culprit. She remembers having that very same conversation with herself far too many times to count; after Delphine had disappeared, she refused to admit what she knew it her heart was most likely true— that the blonde was dead. Even though she couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation for her lover’s absence, she clung to the hope that they’d see each other again. And when they did? Things would be so, so different. She promised herself she wouldn’t hold back— that she wouldn’t be so guarded with the doctor anymore. Of course, she knew she had every reason to be guarded with her. Delphine had betrayed her numerous times, after all. And yet, with more than enough reason and ammunition to use against her complicated love, she came to the conclusion that it was much too exhausting to keep up the fight.
Things would be different, she told herself.
She would talk to Delphine. They would work through the trust issues. She would much rather risk the potential fall than not have Delphine in her life at all. Whatever damage she would open herself up to, it would be worth it. It would certainly be less painful than the large, gaping hole left in the very center of her soul that came with Delphine’s absence.
Things would be different.
But then, how long have they been in this yurt without having an actual conversation about the one thing on both of their minds? This silly game had been Delphine’s idea, a cheap attempt to get to know each other better and even though they’d both embraced the idea, the brunette realizes they’ve both been tiptoeing around the real questions, hiding behind her health or the disturbing reality of their situation. They could ask each other these questions until they were blue in the face, but why couldn’t either of them seem to find the words that mattered— words they promised themselves they’d never hesitate to speak ever again?
“But then I saw you stumble through camp and I couldn’t remember all of the promises I’d made to myself, all of the conversations I’d rehearsed and the plans I’d made for us in my head. All I could think of was you— of just having you close.”
Cosima finds her smile again.
It’s a teary smile, one that knows both the pain of loss and isolation and the joy of reunion. With a sharp intake of breath that borders on a sob, she cups the doctor’s face in her hands and holds her, illuminated by the light reflected back at her.
What had she been so afraid of?
“I’m grateful that you’re here, Cosima,” Delphine gushes. “I’m grateful that I can be near you and touch you again, even if it is just checking your vitals. I’m—”
The clone silences her lover with a kiss, pressing their lips together with a force that takes them both by surprise. If she was grateful for breath before, right now she’s grateful for the absence of it—for the lapse in time and space in which they fill themselves with nothing but each other, with frantic fingers that clutch at clothes and heat that simmers in their stomachs, radiating out into the rest of their extremities. Delphine responds in kind, her mouth sliding open wider to accommodate this newfound warmth, a tiny groan of appreciation slipping out from the back of her throat.
Cosima clumsily maneuvers herself in the tight space, trying her hardest to pull herself up without falling off the cot and hurting herself. She pries their lips apart so that she can straddle Delphine properly, knees falling on either side of the blonde’s curvaceous hips. As soon as she’s found her desired position, she refastens her lips to Delphine’s and tugs at the hem of her loose-fitting shirt.
“Take this off,” she whispers breathlessly into swollen, red lips that pout at the loss of contact.
Delphine springs up, beckoned forward by the gravity of her desire which has increased tenfold upon Cosima’s command. She wraps her arms around the shorter woman, holding Cosima in her lap and enveloping her fully. Bringing her lips to the Cosima’s ear, her sharp and laboured breaths tickle and tease, drowning out all other sound until all the brunette is aware of is the urgency in the air, the thickness of her lover’s smothering breaths.
“Are you sure?” Delphine counters, pressing a kiss just below Cosima’s ear.
A shiver rolls down Cosima’s spine and she nods enthusiastically, hands finding her lover’s face again and cupping it delicately.
“I need you. Like this,” she whines, her hips gyrating on their own accord. “Just touch me.”
With such a plea, with Cosima’s sex pressing against her, how can she possibly say no? She divests herself of the shirt in an instant and then reaches for Cosima’s, helping her do the same. With Cosima in her arms, she twists their bodies, reversing their positions so that she can lower the shorter woman onto her back and drape her body over her. She presses her weight into the American, suddenly bold and unafraid of harming her fragile form. She isn’t sure if it’s the marijuana or Cosima or a potent combination of both, but her entire world is buzzing, whirling, combusting.
“Mon amour,” she coos, dragging her lips along Cosima’s neck in their downward journey. “I’ve missed you so.”
Cosima sighs, burying her hands in the abundance of lengthy, golden curls that have grown significantly in their absence from each other, anchoring the blonde to her. Lips dip lower, lower, reaching her chest and showering warm kisses just above her bra line before Cosima lifts her torso to aid in its removal, leaving her upper half bare and exposed.
Delphine stops herself, her eyes dropping to take in the sight of her lover; the last time she’d undressed the clone, there had been a different kind of urgency— one that was rooted in survival. She hadn’t had time to truly appreciate the gift splayed out before her, but now it seems they have nothing but time, trapped in this godforsaken yurt with nothing to do but unravel each other in as many ways as they possibly can.
She thinks this is, perhaps, the best way to learn about each other. Her lips always feel more free when they are gliding against Cosima’s skin; free from the lies and other straining obligations, she feels most like herself when she speaks their lover’s language along the brunette’s curves, eliciting those tiny gasps and moans that ring much louder than any word in either of their vocabularies. Even though Cosima’s curves have waned somewhat to make way for all the angles of her illness— the jutting ribs and stinging hips— she will always be soft and fluid in her eyes, delicate as the wisps of baby hairs peeking out of her dreads at the scalp that the blonde’s spent so many nights tenderly stroking while her soulmate slumbers at her side.
Delphine’s lips latch onto a nipple, both of them groaning loudly as the dusky nub grows harder in the heat of her mouth and she swirls her tongue around the perky bead of flesh, familiarizing herself with the terrain once more. While so much of their lives have changed since their separation, she’s pleased to know that this small, great thing hasn’t. Cosima’s body reacts just as it did before, and just like before, her own body is able to play off this. A hand dips down to cup the brunette through her pants, her thumb stroking at Cosima’s center and garnering yet another loud moan, an undulation of hips as she seeks a greater friction.
“Shit,” Cosima hisses, feeling a flood of wetness begin to rush to the already present pool between her legs.
Short, blunt nails dig into Delphine’s shoulder blades and the French woman smiles as she descends even lower, tongue encircling Cosima’s navel before dipping inside.
“You’re going to kill me,” Cosima whimpers, her eyes clamping shut and neck craning back as she arches into her lover’s attentions.
She can feel the tears begin to bite behind her lids as Delphine’s lips and tongue continue to torment the lower part of her belly, deft hands still teasing at her breasts. The sensations are almost too much for her to take and yet she knows if Delphine were to suddenly stop, her entire world would crumble around her.
“Never,” Delphine breathes, her hands dropping to the waistband of Cosima’s pants and slowly peeling them down her pale legs, underwear in tow. “I’ll take care of you. Always.”
Before she has a chance to respond, gentle lips against her center steal the words right out of her mouth and she has to settle for a squeak instead, hands reaching out for something to grab hold of. They’re disappointed by their lack of options and so she brings them to her face, tugging her glasses off and tossing them aside so she can hide.
“Please… Delphine…”
Her knees fall open, parting herself widely to offer all of herself to her courteous lover, trying to bite back the sighs and moans that continue to rise in intensity. She isn’t sure just how secure their lodging is, whether or not others from the camp will be able to hear them from outside, so she tries her hardest to hold back, but God— Delphine’s mouth.
Delphine’s mouth is on her and it’s better than she remembers.
It’s true, she’s definitely missed the sex, but in the months that she’s spent mourning, sex was one of the very last things on her mind. There were nights where she’d wake up in a sweat craving Delphine’s touch, but it was the simpleness of her presence more than anything that her heart cried out for; if she could just see the blonde again, just hold her close, she told herself that it would be enough. She would be satisfied. She would often fantasize about their reunion, a million different scenarios playing out in her head, though with all of the possibilities, she never could have landed on this one— the two of them finding each other in such a dismal place, under such dismal circumstances.
Through the haze of her arousal, her eyes lock with Delphine’s which are gazing up at her, face buried and coated in Cosima’s wetness as she moans and hums appreciatively, sending tiny vibrations straight to the brunette’s core. She had wanted to be the one to shower the doctor with her affection, to sink into her from above, but somehow this feels more honest. She knows there will be time later— time to trace the outline of the neatly stitched scar on her lover’s abdomen with her lips as she whispers her hushed apologies and vows of devotion. She knows there will be time later but she wonders if Delphine is aware of this, as well— the blonde laps at her with such a hunger and a desperation that the world may as well be ending.
Perhaps it is.
She feels the walls begin to rumble before melting around her, gold and thick and sweet like honey. It’s much faster than she would have liked, but then she remembers that this is months in the making, that nothing about this is quick at all. Their’s has been an uphill climb from the very beginning and for the first time since Delphine’s come stumbling into her life, she’s suddenly not afraid to fall.
Been offline so wanted to say a belated thanks for the answer on RR writing. I love hearing about process. Your fellow authors input is also….enlightening.
You’re welcome! Anytime, bud.
If you have any other OBF questions, feel free to send them here or to the @obfrankenfics blog where we all can see them and can answer. :)
Am liking 36 Questions & enjoyed your recent chapter. Had ?s on how you go about writing in a RR. How & how much do you work off other authors? Do you just stick to defined rules of RR and do your own thing? How much do you think abt flow b/w chps?Anything else - just interested in the writing aspect.
Hey anon! Thanks for the message.
For 36 Questions, @obcrack shared a list of the questions with us and we all signed up three questions each. Apart from following some mean ground rules (e.g. no Pol, or Leekie, or Delphine crack pairings… rude right?), we’re all pretty much left to our own devices.
In that sense, 36 Questions is very much like some of our previous round robins (Practice Makes Perfect, Brace for Impact, A Cophine Carol).
We don’t really discuss the specifics of our chapters with each other – though, as I mentioned earlier today, Nic aka @haughtbreaker did give me a few suggestions when I was fretting over what to write. To wit, lol:
So anyhoo. We don’t outline the stories or beta read each others’ work like we do for collabs (like we do for Going Up and others).
I can’t speak for the others, but I like to think we all do our best to ensure our work flows from the previous installments. For me, personally, I try to make sure I don’t retread on ground already covered by the other authors and I also try to help move the plot along as much as I can, whatever that plot may be given that no one really knows!
