Chloe feels it as she’s driving and sipping at her coffee, sweeping across her forearm in strokes that are prodding and compelled but gentle and light; she’s felt something like it before, but this time it’s different, and no one said it would happen twice.
She pulls over into the nearest parking lot, turns off the blasting radio, puts her cup down, and slowly shrugs off her jacket to see the finishing touches of a small watercolor tornado being painted against her already occupied skin.
Maybe there was the beginnings of a smile, maybe the beginnings of a cold sweat, some hesitation and fear all mixed up in feelings of warmth and relief, but eventually she takes out her phone to send Rachel a picture of her now two Soul Marks.
Max never draws, never doodles or sketches because it’s too risky, there’s too many variables; she can’t have her soulmate’s mark be something stupid or dumb or worst of all, bad, and it wasn’t like she could test her drawing skills without fear of it being The One.
Her own mark finally showed up when she was 15, slow at first, hesitant, but then all a rush of sketched lines and angles and occasional erasings until there at last was a tattered red ribbon twirling haphazardly across her forearm.
Max never draws, it’s too risky, but when she bumps into some punk at the local coffee shop, a punk in a studded jacket and three-bullet necklace with a vaguely familiar tattoo, she can’t help but paint a tornado that starts pink at the top but bleeds into blue; watercoloring a pretty girl’s hair shouldn’t count as a real drawing anyway.
JOIN THE WATER HEADCANON okay so punkcop + sarah's fear of drowning
It, um, kinda turned more into a fear of water? With the general idea of drowning? Yeah, Sarah’s a cat, basically. Just like her daemon, according to sharkodactyl's headcanon. Coincidence? I think not! Anyway.
Prompt me? Or maybe prompt the team? Yeah.
Sarahsat stock still on the couch. Her hands were wound tight around eachother in her lap. She was staring straight ahead but at nothing inparticular. Trembling slightly, she could have been cold. Completelysilent, she could have just been lost in her headspace. Withoutfidgeting in the slightest, however, she couldn’t have been Sarah.Not really.
Bethknew this and responded in preparing the third kettle of tea thatday. At this point she really wasn’t sure if it helped much, butSarah was grateful to be able to do something with her hands,grateful for warmth to spread freely into her chest.
Notquite grateful enough to find it in herself to smile, though.
Bethsettled back down next to her girlfriend, passing over the cup oftea, pulling the blankets around them both, turning up the TV toscream louder than the rain. Sarah, for her part, loosened up hershoulders a bit. She let Beth curl around her and against her andtwirl a strand of her hair absent-mindedly. Sarah’s own hands werebusy shifting the cup between them or stirring at the dark liquid orchanging the channel every few seconds.
Herfocus was singular. Her mind was empty. The storm thundering outside,the rain pelting at the windows, the darkness suffocating the cloudswas just: background.
That’severything it needed to be and nothing more.
Bethwas more pessimistic in comparison. She had been watching the weatherlike a hawk since she’d heard about a storm coming in from Sudburyand the meteorologists would just become more deadpan each time theywere on. With what she could understand from radars and satellitesand all that, this might be one of the—
Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…Screeeech……Beep…
Sarahall but jumps from her seat, all but spills the whole entire cup oftea over herself, all but makes Beth fall off the couch in surprise.
“B-Bloodyhell, what is that?!”
“Sarah,”As she regained her balance and stood up, Beth didn’t dare grumble.She kept her voice ramrod straight, just like she had practiced.
“What…?”
“Wetalked about this. If the severe weather warning goes off, we godown.” She gathers the blanket from the floor, takes the tea fromSarah’s hands, starts leading the two of them down the hall.
Sarahtried to pull back. She can’t make this any more serious than shecan already hear, she can’t give a damn storm this much power overher. “N-no, wait—”
“Itprobably won’t be long, an hour at the most, but you promised.”Beth’s grip was firm and unrelenting but the hand she ghosted overSarah’s back was anything but. She somehow dragged the two of themto the basement door and opened it, gesturing inside. “After you.I’m gonna get us some more candles.”
Shegoes, rummages through the closets, gets an extra lighter while she’sat it, and comes back. Sarah hasn’t moved an inch, facing the opendoorway with her claws dug into the floorboards before the firststair and the walls on either side of her.
“Sarah,you have to—”
“No,I can’t.” Her voice is defiant against budding tears but Beth canhear the cracks.
“Youwon’t even hear the storm from down there. It’ll be better, Ipromise.” Beth’s hands are full. She rests her chin againstSarah’s shoulders. Kisses the side of her neck as gently as herchapped lips will allow. Prompting. Light. Pleading. “I’ll beright—”
“Ican’tgodown there.”
“Iknow it’s hard but—”
“Wouldyou bloody look?!” Sarah’s voice is a throaty growl that makesBeth immediately recoil. Carefully, she peers around her shakinggirlfriend in the doorway, gaze traveling down to the bottom of thestairs, watching as a crash of lightning in the window makes an oddreflection on the floor.
Thebasement has flooded. There’s water everywhere. How the hell didn’tBeth notice?
Feelingeven more helpless, all she can do is watch Sarah bristle at therealization that she cannot truly escape her nightmares. Not whenthey can fall from the sky anytime in the year, not when they cancreep up through the very ground she stands on.
Punkcop + Animals by Maroon 5 (cause I think you can do this very well :))
This prompt sorta ran away from me. Mainly in it that I had totally planned to make more references to the song…but then…well, I’m sure you know what happens when suddenly you’re dealing with werewolves and everything around you falls away because werewolves man. So yeah. Apologies.
Prompt me? Or maybe prompt the team? Yeah.
Waking up was a relief.
Bethstretched languidly and dug her claws in the dirt, taking her time toget herself sorted and dislodge the howl from its climb up herthroat. She blinked, yawned, shook out her pelt. It was still darkout but she could smell dawn on the horizon. The robust, jitteryaroma of night was fading, the stars had already slid away, and shewas perfectly on time for her first patrol of the day. She took adeep breath to taste the morning on her tongue and slipped out of herden.
Herlegs eased themselves into a run and as the wind rushed in her ears,as her paws thudded against the forest floor, as she followed theroute she knew almost too well, her shoulders rattled away theremnants of another nightmare.
You’renot really afraid of the forest. You’re not really afraid of thetown either. You’ve lived here for years.Shetold herself insistently as her ears swiveled and her jaws hung openand her nose was on alert. Thisis your home. You can’t be afraid of your own home.
Thatseemed to do it for a while and her thoughts shifted to what part ofher territory she should work for lunch then the mouse she hadaccidentally woke up hours too early then wondering if she had enoughtoilet paper back at the cottage. She didn’t think so, which justmeant a trip into town. No,you can’t put it off again. It’s what got you into this mess tobegin with. Your decisions can’t be based on—
Herbreath hitched as she paused at the crest of a small hill. She wasfacing the horizon and through a clearing in the trees saw dawn beginto paint itself across the sky. Everyday for years couldn’t dim themagnificence of the sight.
Theproblem was that what the sunrise filled her with colors, it drainedher of sound. No longer running, no longer chasing after the sound ofher heartbeat, no longer feeling vibrations run up her legs and intoher chest, silence collapsed in on her. The forest was beautiful, butthe forest was empty, and the hollow echo of her breathing did littleto fix that.
Whatdo you expect, Beth?Hersilent words were piercing but a whimper escaped her as she drifteddown to lay in the grass. You’rea monster, a myth. You shouldn’t even exist and most people don’tthink you do. You’re straddling two completely opposite worlds andyou think you’ll get houseguests out of the whole thing?Shetucked her nose under her paw and closed her eyes, wishing like hellshe would hurt like this less. There was no logic in it and anyway,it was too early for this—
Sheheard a twig snap somewhere behind her. Her ears pricked and shedrank in the air and she drew very still. The forest fell silentagain, but the following scent grew stronger like it was comingcloser. It was familiar and yet foreign, swirling in heavier andheavier streams around her senses. Her muscles stiffened, her tailquivered, her legs lifted her upright, a growl lay await in herthroat.
Itwas another wolf, but they weren’tsupposedto be here.
Turningaround carefully, she dragged her gaze across the landscape. The skywas brightening, the shadows were dying, the dew dampening her pawsand the bite of a brisk breeze envigorated her. They wouldn’t beable to hide much longer, their scent was greatly apparent.
Shewas ready, she knewshewas ready, but imagining it was inconceivable.
Herlegs took her forward as she continued to admonish her for suchthoughts. Soa rogue is in the territory. So you make sure the borders are veryclearly marked. So they really shouldn’t be here unless it’scompletely brainless. What are you going to do about it?Herheartbeat slowed enough to fall away from her attention, the firsttime in weeks. Instead, her focus was on putting one paw in front ofthe other, not making a sound, eyes wide and ears swiveling. Actuallyengage them? Actually engage some feral animal that’s completelyunpredictable? That has the goddamn audacity to bypass clear bordermarkings and think nothing of the fact that they’re trespassing?Whoever they are could be…could be stronger o-or bigger andprobably deserves to be treated with…
Hereyes closed, just for a minute, and she saw herselfmoving-jumpingleapinginthe darkness of her eyelids. Moving-jumpingleapingatthe unaware intruder, moving-jumpingleapingatthe disturber of her peace. And her jaws would catch and hold andgrip iron-tight onto flesh and muscle and bone, all the while herclaws would be slashing, would be tearing,would be ri-ri-rippingawayat fur and ears and— no.Stop thinking like that. You’re not an animal. You’renot…you’re not justananimal. You’re not an animal now.You can’t—
Aflash of fur in her peripheral, and she was off. She almost expectedred to flood her vision—she felt that detached to logicalreasoning—but maybe life wasn’t like the movies even if you weresome version of a Hollywood monster. Her paws moved of their ownaccord, her claws tore up the ground beneath her, she was running sofast she was practically flying, but the sight of trees racing pastand something weaving in and out among them remained clear.
Somethingabout the whole thing, though…about how quickly the other wolf wasready to take off, like maybe they had already been running beforecatching wind of her. They certainly had a headstart on her, but whatwas distance compared to strategy and schema? She veered off to theright to take the higher ground and pushed herself even further.
Whatshe didn’t realize would be such a disadvantage for her, however,was the moment after she had caught up.
Shewas used to tackling down big game like stags or elk or even moosewhen it came to it. What she wasn’t used, nor prepared for, wastackling something the same size as her. The exact same size.
Asher paws left the ground and she flew through the air and her clawswere extended and her teeth were bared in a ready snarl, she knewmade a mistake. Her weight was concentrated too much forward. Herlimbs were too ready to twist and drag to the side. She landed on therogue too heavily and too squarely on their shoulders. They let out astartled bark and the two of them were sent careening down a hill.
Bethtried to stop herself from flipping over the other wolf’s head,tried to stop herself from rolling, tried to get her claws untangledfrom the rogue’s disheveled coat, but she couldn’t get herbearings. She just kept moving, tossing, twisting, jerking, pitchingforward and back. It was by complete chance she landed on top of thethe wolf with her paws pinning them harshly into the ground.
Shewas breathing hard and her chest was on fire and her muscles tingledwith the memory of buckling and…and…
Shewas looking into a mirror.
Thewolf beneath her had the exact same pelt as her: brown and black andgray, all mottled in the same spots. The wolf’s ears pricked at thesame angle’s her did. Their muzzles were the same shape, she couldswear it. And they’re eyes…
Theyheld each other’s gold-tinged amber gaze, the color sonon-wolflike, the color so non-humanlike, the color so alikeithurt. For the first time, Beth sought out the rhythm of her heartbeatand found two responding in perfect unison.
Thanks for the prompt, friend! Sorry if it took long…
Anyone got anymore prompts??? (I’m slightly begging at this point)
Sarah had never particularly liked running. The literal kind, at least. She realised she did a lot of the figurative kind but that was beside the point. This kind. This kind was not something she was ready to commit to. Her forced-upon running partner on the other hand…
“And you do this every morning?”
“Just about.” Beth grinned like a twat as she turned around and ran bloody backwards. “But come on, you can’t be getting tired yet. We’re not even halfway done!”
Sarah made a choking noise and her eyes widened in disbelief. “We’re not…what?!”
“Hey, you promised.” Beth reminded her as she slowed to match Sarah’s pace and started running normally again. Then she leaned over and actually kissed her. Kissed Sarah while bloody running.
Needless to say, the cards were still on the table about her newfound running partner and they were starting to fall in Beth’s favor. Well, mutual favor?
“I knew it!” Sarah groaned and stopped to rest her hands on her knees, glancing up at the ashen sky. “I told you, Childs. I told you it would rain.”
Beth jogged in place next to her. “It’s barely drizzling. And anyway, it’s better running in the rain. Come on.” It was like her smile didn’t have the ability to go away.
Definitely falling in Beth’s favor, Sarah had to admit. Though now prone to hell-inducing early-morning runs in the rain, Sarah found that she didn’t mind.
This really ran away from me. It also should be clear by now that Castle didn’t properly prepare me for writing about crime or cops or the like.
Also, just putting this up there, but this kinda ties in pretty well. Totally unintentional coincidence, but very intentional promotion.
Anyone got any more prompts???
“B-Beth, what the hell?!”
“You’ll never believed what happened at work today!” Beth exclaimed excitedly as she pushed through the front door and past Sarah’s wide-eyed expression. “You know how we were doing that one case where the guy—”
“It’s late. It’s really late. Beth.” Sarah grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away from the fridge, trying to get her to focus. “Wanna tell me why you’re bleeding instead?” She swiped away at a cut on Beth’s cheek.
“Oh did it start again? It was fine a while ago…” Beth evaded her grip and moved to the sink, running warm water and dabbing at her cheek with a wet towel. “But yeah, I was getting to that. I might have fallen on my face at some point.”
“You…” Sarah, who had switched focus to the twin holes at Beth’s knees, looked back up at her. “You what?”
Beth returned to addressing the fridge, one hand continuing to press at her cheek as the other grabbed the neck of a beer bottle. “Fell on my face, yeah. Dipshit wouldn’t stop laughing the whole ride back to the station. But it’s a great story, I swear!”
Sarah had walked away. “I don’t doubt it,”
“Where you going? Don’t you wanna hear it?”
“You need permission of all a sudden?” She mumbled as she reached the bathroom and started rummaging through the medicine cabinet. What did S say? Wash, neosporin, plaster. Right? Seems too simple. Sarah bit her lip as she tried to remember her foster mother’s lesson in patching up clumsy wards. Beth and Kira seemed to have equally terrible relationships with asphalt.
“Fine. Damn.” Beth had hopped up on the kitchen counter when Sarah came back, sipping from her beer at her leisure. Despite her incessant cut, the towel lay dejected next to her. “As I was saying. I told you about how Art dumped me on that stupid ATM robbery, right?”
“Uh-huh,” Sarah ran the towel under the sink again before getting to work and dabbing at Beth’s cheek herself. She winced.
“Ah! Careful!” Beth exclaimed but Sarah just rolled her eyes and opened up the neosporin. “So yeah. He’s walking me down there to talk to the security guys because apparently I can’t walk down the street by myself and—”
“Is this not a story about you falling on your face?”
Beth looked accusatory. “You are the bane of storytelling!”
“I do try.” After patching up her cheek, Sarah moved on to Beth’s knees.
“Anyway.” Beth continued with a huff. “We get there and I’m just about to go into their offices or whatever and this guys rounds the corner and he looks totally familiar. So I point him out to Art and he just glares at me, actually stabs me with his eyes, and says, ‘That’s the subject, Childs! What are you doing?!’ So of course, I start running after the guy, thinking Art is right behind me since the whole point of partners is they provide back-up, right? Wrong. No. I’m running and turning around the corner so I don’t know what’s ahead and all of a sudden this dogcomes out of nowhere!” She swung her arms out for effect and Sarah just barely dodged the gesture, smearing neosporin all over her patient’s pants. Beth didn’t notice. “And it’s all freaking out and barking and excited, I guess, since they guy had just run past it and then so am I. So it’s all jumping at me and wagging its stupid tail and I’m trying to get around it but the thing’s moving so much, I don’t see the leash coming at me.”
“Wait, wait.” Sarah looked up from working on the second knee, laughing a little under her breath. “Aren’t you an, I don’t know, detective? Shouldn’t you have grade A observation skills or whatever?”
Beth fixed her with a steel gaze. “Bane. Of. Storytelling.” Sarah just laughed as she put on the last bandaid and settled in to listen. She took a second to look Beth over for any more cuts or scrapes, but found a satisfactory lack of blood. That was all she needed.
—-
Beth’s phone was ringing. Beth’s workphone was ringing. And Sarah made a point about stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to growl at the damn thing.
“No.”
“Sarah,”
“No.” Beth wouldn’t meet her gaze and Sarah grabbed her wrist. “I’m starving. You’re starving. You probably just had coffee and a muffin for lunch and I skipped mine entirely. It was a shite week for both of us. We both need this.”
“No, I know, I know.” Beth typed in her screen lock password one-handed. “But it’s work, I can’t just…Detective Childs.” Sarah groaned out loud and frowned angrily at the restaurant a single block away. So bloody close too. “Goddammit. It’s because of some stupid rookie clause, isn’t it? …shut up. I’m on my way… I got it, I got it.” She hung up and glanced at Sarah sheepishly.
“Beth,”
“I have to go, but I’ll be back.” Beth leaned in to kiss Sarah’s cheek.
“How am I supposed to believe—”
“I promise. Go eat without me. It shouldn’t take too long and I’ll pick you up afterwards, alright?”
“But it’s—” It’s no bloody use. Off duty means nothing to those idiot cops. Sarah watched as her girlfriend raced back to where they had parked the car.
Fear hardly registered with her for too long. If there was a problem in front of her, Sarah would rather take the time to punch its lights out first and worry about being scared once it was all over. But standing by and doing nothing while Beth went out running after armed suspects and being forced into high-speed car chases, all because she was the rookie and apparently needed the experience, was infuriating. And more anxiety-inducing than Sarah had expected.
Beth thought she was being paranoid, Felix thought she was being paranoid, even S was talking to her about grey hairs and all that shite. But whether they were right or not, Sarah couldn’t get the image out of her head: Beth sitting in a car that had crashed into a median, a slow trickle of blood running down her temple, paramedics wondering why the air bags hadn’t gone off instead of fussing over her because her eyes are open but she’s not moving.
She’d admit that tripping and getting a few scrapes and bruises wasn’t something to call the lieutenant about, but it can only get worse from there, right? She tried hard not to think about it.
Later that night: after dealing with Alison’s never-ending questions when she pick her up from the restaurant, after trying Beth’s phone over and over again without an answer, after pacing the expanse of their apartment until she swore there was indentations on the rugs, after making a considerable dent in their liquor cabinet, Sarah couldn’t help but fling herself into Beth’s arms the second she walked through the door.
She wasn’t mad, she didn’t banish Beth to the couch, she didn’t say much of anything, really. She was too busy checking every inch for injuries hidden by clothes and hair. She only let the two of them go to bed once she was completely satisfied Beth was in one piece.
—-
Sarah milled around the kitchen aimlessly, too early to be fully awake, but too tired to be completely functional. Beth was all business as usual, whirling around the island and whisking in and out of rooms. Sarah would blink and suddenly she’d be gone.
“Hey, um,” she said when Beth took a moment to catch her breath and slip her coat on. “Are you gonna be late tonight?”
Beth turned to face her. Slowly, as if purposefully drawing out the action. “You know I don’t know that,”
“Right, but what do you think?”
Beth took one look at Sarah’s face—eyes half-lidded with grogginess, mouth slacked open in a half-hearted yawn—and it was enough. She managed a soft, easy smile. “It should just be a paperwork day, but if anything comes up I’ll try my best to get DeAngelis to do it. I’ll even try and volunteer Raj if I think it’ll help.” She went over softly, the relative silence of their apartment suddenly weighing on her. It was too quiet.
A chaste kiss later, and Beth was walking down the street to her car. Sarah, no doubt, went back to bed and Beth figured it was only fair for her to be the one enjoying the chance to sleep in. Sunday, she told herself. I’ll make sure we both sleep as long as we want.
“Ready?” Art asked her later in the day, handing her a navy vest and a serious expression. She just nodded.
Maybe Sunday we can finally go to that little family-run restaurant and have pancakes at 2 in the afternoon. Checking that her gun was loaded, Beth went through the motions. Art drove. None of them said anything at first, but instead let the gravity of the situation fall on their shoulders.
“You know if I could have gotten you out of this, Childs—”
“Don’t. I know.” Beth shook her head and turned to the window.
They got there soon enough, and she wasn’t surprised to be faced with an ominous, abandoned-looking factory. The windows and doors were boarded up but they had a plan. They knew the floorplan. They weren’t going in blind. Or alone. Beth watched as other cars pulled up, as other officers adjusted their vests and checked their guns and steeled themselves in anyway else they could think of. We could probably just stay in and watch a movie. Get some pizza delivered, spend the night on the couch. Sarah’d like that. I’d love that.
“Ready?” Beth could only give Art a curt nod before stepping out of the car and continuing to avoid his gaze. DeAngelis had no smug remark or knowing smirk today. Art was similarly silent. They and the others went in as a team, went in quiet, but Beth’s footsteps still sounded too loud against the hallowed backdrop of stillness. Arms stretched outward, two hands trying to keep steady, single finger at the ready, focus sharp and uncompromising, she was armed and ready and shaking.
In—one, two, three, four. Out—one, two. In— She counted her breaths. Counted them like they were all that mattered. The hand signals in front of her came second, the overwhelming bloodstream-roar in her ears came third, and fourth came: I should probably figure out what movie to watch beforehand. Knowing us, we’d take the night just trying to decide alone. Hmm, rom com or horror. Maybe thriller? No, probably—
Shouts sounded off like gunshots, bouncing and echoing against the walls, and everyone was pressed into a flurry of activity. Beth thought she would have had enough muscle memory for this. In—onetwothreefour. Out—one, two. In—onetwothreefour. Out—onetwo. Art raced past her, so did another officer, she knew she’d be at the back soon. She needed to stick with the group.
People were running, both the suspects and the team. Beth was jogging and counting, counting and jogging, over and over, keeping a rhythm. She was trying not to think. Sunday, Sunday, Sunday. Movie night Sunday. Lazy, lazy— holy shit.
There was a crash ahead of her, it was hard to tell if it was a gunshot or not. She tried harder to catch up to the uniform in front of her, knowing everyone else was around the corner. Lazy, lazy, lazy Sunday. The laziest that’s humanly possible. I won’t even take—
“Report!” Someone shouted. Someone she vaguely recognized. In, out, in, out. Officers shouted out their names and Beth stopped to catch her breath just inside the next room.
“Ch-Childs!” She called out after the pause became too pronounced. She was the last.
“Told you I’d keep you in one piece.” Art walked up and greeted her with a smile, almost too eager to ignore the suspects being rounded up and arrested in the middle of the room. “Saw you hung back for the most part. That’s alright, you know.”
Beth nodded, staring past his shoulder. “It’s over then?”
“It’s over. We just need to get these guys back to— ”
A crack sounded. An officer jerked and sunk to his knees. Art swung around. People scattered. Everything blurred into slow-motion.
Someone’s hand on her wrist was dragging her over to a stack of crates and she followed blindly, gaze reaching up to pin-point a gunman on the exposed second floor. He had clear shots and the advantage of higher ground. His gun was huge and long and a silencer laid ignored at his feet. He had cover. He had been ready.
Beth pressed her back against the wall once she had stopped moving, once Art had let her stop moving. He was having trouble getting the guy in his sights, but shot off round after round anyway. Ducking and weaving, in and out of the safety of the crates, shooting and waiting, he was all fluid motion.
“—see him? Beth? Beth!” He was shouting but so was everyone else. Guns were screaming away bullets, footsteps were yell-yell-yelling into the ground, glass shrieked when it shattered, bodies were bellowing as they hit the ground. It was too loud.
“I-I, um,” Beth fumbled with her gun, looked up at Art, stared down at her shaking hands, turned back to Art. She tried reading his lips.
“The shooter, Beth! Can you see him?”
“Yeah.” She cleared her throat and looked out from behind the crates. “Yeah, yeah, I think I see him.”
“You think?!”
“I do, I do, I—” Now she could seethe guns screaming, the footsteps yelling, the glass shrieking, the bodies bellowing. But most of all, she could see the blood roaring across the floor, feral and dense as it ran and pooled. All that blood. Her hands moved numbly and she found herself firing at the gunman’s cover. He met her gaze and the barrel of his gun swung around. It pointed at her.
Definitely not watching a thri—
—-
Sarah couldn’t have gone back to bed if she tried. Her eyelids hung low and her arms swung lazily and her thoughts floated around listlessly, but her fingers twitched and her feet wouldn’t stop taking her around the apartment. Once she did stop, though, falling onto the couch and rubbing at her eyes and running a hand through her hair and stretching out her arms, she wished she hadn’t eliminated the distraction of movement. It was too quiet—
I feel you, Ray. The whole domestic scene is hard…
Anyone got any more prompts???
"Oh bloody hell no," Sarah groaned as she walked into the living room, finding Beth settled on the couch and flipping through channels. "Give me that," she said and snatched the TV remote away. For good measure, she stood directly in between Beth and the TV as she started her search.
"What? I was just looking for a movie to watch." Beth insisted, trying to see around her girlfriend.
Sarah rolled her eyes. “Sure you were.”
"I’m sorry, what exactly is the problem with me choosing what to watch?" Beth stood and walked around to face Sarah, crossing her arms over her chest. "Do you not trust in my good judgement?"
“‘Course not,” Sarah responded simply, ignoring Beth’s expression of mock hurt. “Because if you started looking, you’ll probably end up on some cooking show or—”
"Are you saying you don’t like me cooking free food for you?”
"—Or you’ll get ‘distracted’ by the news—"
"Sarah, it’s important to stay informed."
"—And then we’ll never get to watching anything.”
Beth glanced at the channels scrolling by in the guide, her arms slowly falling to her sides. It took a moment of frowning before she physically brightened. “Oh, wait, I think that’s the new—”
"I don’t think so," Sarah fended off Beth’s attempt at seizing the remote. "We said we’d watch a movie.”
"It’ll only take a second," Beth reached for it again, competing with Sarah’s insistence on squirming away from her. "I swear I just need to check it quickly and then—”
"No. Piss off. We don’t have time for this."
"Oh," Beth smirked and jabbed at Sarah’s side, making the Brit jerk inward to protect her stomach. "You have somewhere to be?"
"Childs, you swore you’d forget about that," Sarah looked pleadingly at her girlfriend, slowly backing away toward the couch. She had caught on to Beth’s sly smile and hunching shoulders quickly.
"Did I? I don’t remember."
"Don’t you bloody da— Beth!" Sarah cried out as she was practically tackled backward onto the couch, attacked by a pair of hands running up her shirt and dancing sporadically across her bare skin.
"You know you put this on yourself,” Beth said almost nonchalantly as she expertly delved into every spot she knew Sarah (yes, Sarah Manning) was ticklish. “That’s all I’m saying,”
“Be—” Sarah squirmed haphazardly, gasping for breath. “Beth, I s-swear—”
“Swear to always let me pick what we watch? I’d be happy to negotiate a peace treaty if you mean it.”
As a last resort, Sarah used her remaining maneuvering room to reach up and grab her girlfriend’s face and pull it down towards her. Their lips met clumsily, the breath still rattling out of Sarah’s lungs in between undeniable laughter and desperate gasps, and it took a moment for Beth to ease into it. Her hands eventually stilled and she shifted her weight so it no longer pinned Sarah so completely to the couch. Her hands stayed where they were, but as long as they weren’t moving, Sarah managed.
“So, um…” She said once Beth had become languidly capitulating against her and she pulled away. “We even?”
Beth opened her eyes and fixed Sarah with a hooded gaze. A smirk was creeping at the edge of her lips. “Not a chance,” she said before prying the remote from Sarah’s fingers and keeping a threatening hand close to the Brit’s side. Sarah just groaned and stared up at the ceiling in defeat.
