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thefae-journal · 1 year

Text

A Cup of Kindness

fandom: A League of Their Own ship: Gretson

word count: 4504 originally posted: December 30, 2022 warnings: none also written by: lazyboo, LSgrimm91, meren_plath, OhGretaHoney09, Two_Gays_and_a_Hippo, zulu

summary: In 1943, Lupe, Jess, Esti, Jo, and Shirley reunite at Greta and Carson’s New York apartment to ring in the new year.

Also on AO3

A League of Their Own masterlist masterlist

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The New York sky was dark outside the apartment. The noise of the neighbourhood, that could so easily get on Carson and Greta’s nerves the rest of the year, just added to the ambiance of the evening.

“Car,” Greta managed between the deep kisses Carson was taking from her all-too-willing mouth. “People are going to be here any minute.”

“I don’t care,” Carson said against Greta’s lips, diving in for another kiss.

Greta tipped her head back and laughed, not trying in the least to remove Carson’s arms from around her waist. “Hey, we only just got our clothes back on.”

Carson grinned her quietly wolfish smile. She knew better. She knew Greta liked to take her time to primp when the occasion called for it. She knew she had stolen more than an hour to talk and laugh and touch, when Greta normally would have been curling her hair and trying on the fourth outfit of the night before company arrived.

“I can’t help it.” Carson moved back to take in Greta’s appearance. She’d done a decent job not mussing up too much of Greta’s fresh hair and makeup. She looked beautiful in her maroon pencil skirt and flowy, long-sleeved white blouse.

“Try,” Greta half-admonished. “You know Shirley will be early, I’m surprised she’s not here—”

The doorbell rang. Greta looked at her watch. “See?” She checked her hair and lipstick in the small mirror on the wall by the front door before shaking her head at Carson. It miffed her slightly that looking at Carson, no one would never know she’d had three orgasms in the last hour. Greta still felt flushed.

“Shirl!” Greta said as she opened the door. “Come in! Come in! We can’t wait to hear everything about the engagement.”

“You two! Eek!” Shirley let out a high-pitched scream that Greta and Carson both tried to prevent themselves from flinching at. “This place is so great, and so…you!”

Neither Carson nor Greta knew if that was a compliment or an insult when it came from Shirley. They shared a look as Greta ushered Shirley past the entrance into the living room.

Another knock at the door saved them both, but this time, the door opened immediately as Joey let herself right in. “Goodbye, 1943!” she called as she slammed the door behind her.

“Joey!” Greta yelled as she ran into a bear hug. Usually, Joey was perpetually late to everything, but Greta had asked her to try to be on time for this evening’s festivities.

Jo gave her a smirk and looked around. “Wow, the place looks...”

Greta slapped her on the arm. “What?”

“Well, I guess I expected more than a closet.”

Carson walked up to greet Jo. They shared a commiserating look. “Space? Who needs space?”

“You’re not helping,” Greta told Carson.

“That’s not what you were saying earlier,” Carson said with a smirk, bumping her hip against Greta.

Jo raised an eyebrow, impressed at the confidence that had grown in Carson in the few short months since the season ended.

Jess, Lupe, and Esti walked through the door next. Together, as usual.

“Look at this joint!” Jess exclaimed. She walked up to Greta and Carson and hugged them both together.

Lupe came up behind her and punched her arm. “Be less of an idiot.” She hugged Greta and did her faux shoulder check into Carson as was their usual greeting.

“I thought you were bringing the new girl?” Carson asked.

Esti gestured with her flat hand across her neck that Carson should drop it.

Carson held up both hands. “Ohh. Sorry.”

Carson opened beers for everyone who wanted one, which included Shirley, to her surprise. Carson handed her the bottle with a grin. She was entertaining the girls with the harrowing tales of their clandestine first few months in New York when Greta offered to grab more drinks. Carson saw her slip out of the living room. As soon as her story was done, she gave a quick excuse that likely nobody believed, and met Greta in the kitchen.

“It’s so good to see everyone again,” Carson said as she wrapped her arms around Greta from behind.

Greta clasped her hands around Carson’s and leaned back into her, so that Carson could tuck her chin on Greta’s shoulder. “If we make it out of the house, it will be a New Year’s miracle.”

Carson squeezed her tight and breathed her in. “Hey,” she began as Greta turned to face her. “You, me, the Peaches? Whatever we do, it’ll be great.” She leaned up and pressed her lips firmly against Greta’s, sighing with contentment.

It was only a little over a month ago that she’d shown up at Greta’s apartment, with a few bags in hand. After the season ended, Carson had decided not to go back to Lake Valley. The tiny town was all she’d known before joining the league, and at first, it had felt like she’d only be allowed so much freedom before she’d find herself crawling back. Carson knew, in September, that she needed some time for herself. Time to see herself without Greta. But it was being without her that tugged at Carson’s skin.

She’d tried being with other women. Most of them reminded her of Greta. In the end, none of them could take Greta’s place. The fire of her red curls sitting just below her shoulders—her hair had grown since the summer, and she’d recently got it trimmed. Her hold, how her arms felt when Carson moved into her embrace. Warm, almost an aura that surrounded her. It pulled Carson in and caught her, like an easy pop fly.

Carson had spent time travelling in the months she was apart from Greta. Seeing places she’d never thought she’d see. Greta sent her letters, which was how Carson knew where to find her when the time was right. After spending some time in Las Vegas, Carson boarded a train to New York. To her new home.

Greta was shocked when she opened the door and saw Carson. There’d been no letter, no post card to let her know that Carson would be coming. That was how Carson wanted it to be, a surprise. But Greta pulled her into a hug, and the embrace turned to heated kisses as soon as the apartment door was closed. They abandoned the bags and moved into the living room. Hours went on, until Carson was lying on Greta’s chest on the couch, both of them naked, spent.

If Carson was completely honest, it wasn’t the most comfortable couch in the world, but at that moment, she didn’t care. She was with Greta.

Was with her, still. Stealing moments in their own kitchen while their teammates chatted and laughed only a few feet away. Carson let the kiss end, and pressed her cheek into Greta’s shoulder. In her arms, even the chaos in the living room was somehow drowned out.

“You’re right,” Greta said, brushing her thumbs over the backs of Carson’s hands. “This is all that matters now, huh?”

Carson hummed into her shoulder. “You know, I don’t mind staying here tonight. Not going anywhere.”

The Peaches were their family, and Carson wanted nothing more than to spend the beginning of the new year with them. But it was Greta who sent out the invitations, addressed from the apartment they’d made their own in the month since Carson arrived. Carson had added more personality, pictures on the walls, while Greta looked for the perfect decorations, a cut-crystal ashtray for the coffee table, a lamp that glowed with a lovely yellow light. The apartment wasn’t what it was, when Carson first walked through the door.

“But,” Carson continued, letting her hands fall to Greta’s waist and pulling her closer, “I also know that you want to see the ball drop. I’m sure the others would like that, too.”

Greta hooked her arms around Carson’s neck and tilted her head to the side. “I love you, do you know that?”

Carson giggled. “I love you, too. Do you know that?”

“I think I’ve always known.” Greta bent down to kiss her, but the sound of early fireworks made Carson jump back. “You okay there?”

“Yeah. Yeah. That seemed close. I guess it caught me off guard.” Carson glanced over her shoulder into the living room. And for a moment, she watched the others, her team.

The sharp ding of the egg timer Greta had set earlier reminded them they still had company to entertain. Carson had already handed around the drinks, and now the food was ready.

“Carson, can you get me a plate to put the hors d'oeuvres on?”

Carson snapped to attention, doing as she was told. Greta donned an oven mitt and pulled the baking sheet out of the oven. Every time Carson thought that she had Greta all figured out, Greta went and surprised her. She didn’t know why she expected Greta to be a bad cook, although Greta had never really seemed the domestic type. But here she was, pulling out all the stops for their friends and teammates. Better her than me, Carson thought, her memory of the failed conversation pie she had made for Dove still fresh in her mind.

Carson loved seeing Greta like this, in her element, full of joy and laughter. It was so rare to see Greta natural and relaxed. She was always the first to keep up appearances in the outside world. Her hair, her makeup, and her clothes were a kind of armour. It was more than that, though. It was the calculated way Greta sized up every situation and made herself smaller. She always made sure she fit. Except for now. Not when she was with the team. Not when she was with Carson. She was so much more at ease with herself. It was beautiful.

Greta filled the serving plate and Carson made to leave the kitchen and rejoin their friends. Suddenly Greta blocked her way. “Not yet,” she said. “You’ve gotta pay the toll first.”

Carson stood up on her tiptoes, careful not to drop the plate and gave Greta a kiss on the cheek. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

Greta bit her bottom lip and raised her eyebrows in response and Carson knew what she was thinking.

“Later,” they both said at the same time, smiling.

Greta watched Carson as she went into the tiny living room. She knew she should get out there and play hostess too, but she allowed herself this moment. She wanted to remember everything about it: the laughter of the people who knew and loved them, the festive atmosphere, but mostly Carson. Carson’s laugh, her radiant smile, the way she looked at Greta. Greta didn’t know it was even possible to be this happy, to have this life with the woman she loved. Maybe Jo was right. Some things were changing.

“Hey Bird! Get in here!” Jo yelled.

“Coming!” Greta responded as she quickly joined the team in the living room.

It was no easy feat fitting everyone into such a small space, but at least the normally chilly apartment warmed up quickly. There wasn’t a single seat left. Jo had taken the wingback chair and Esti was curled in the armchair. Lupe sprawled across most of the couch, with Shirley primly sitting at the far end. Jess was sitting on the kitchen table, her feet on the rungs of a ladderback chair. Greta sighed in resignation and gave Carson, who stood looking adorably lost in their own living room, a wave with her finger towards the coffee table.

Greta didn’t have to see Carson put the food down as she found a spot on the floor near the bookshelf; the sudden rush of movement behind her and pleased exclamations were indication enough. She sat against the wall, her feet curled delicately under her. As hungry as everyone was, Carson would be lucky to escape the throng.

Yes, there she was. Greta gave her a soft, adoring smile and held out a hand, summoning Carson to the floor beside her. Carson settled right against her, a warm hand on her knee.

“I think those are a hit.”

“All food is a hit.”

“But even Shirley likes them.” Carson nodded to her friend, who was trying to eat a small tart that was obviously still too hot. Jess, too, had grabbed a handful that was too hot, and was juggling the pastry from one hand to the other. She fell onto Lupe’s legs on the couch, and the two of them started a shoving match over the middle cushion, ending up with Jess tucked against Lupe’s shoulder.

Greta cast her eyes around the room and felt almost overwhelmed at the sense of ‘home’. This felt a bit like the night at The Office, before the raid, the first—the only—time she’d been able to be with Carson openly. But unlike that night, she had her friends here and... and she felt much safer. She and Jo had never stayed in one spot long enough to set down roots, so having people travel to see her, to gather for a special occasion in the home she’d made with Carson, was something new. Something to treasure.

Sometimes it scared her, if she was honest. If she dared to have something she valued, she knew how much more it would hurt to have it taken away.

The hand on her thigh tightened, bringing her attention back to Carson.

“Are you all right in there?”

Greta just took a second to enjoy looking at Carson. Carson always seemed to know when Greta was getting lost in her thoughts. Perhaps the difference was that Carson came back. She fought for them. So did the Peaches; after all, they were here. Her own family may have been awful, but the family she had here—they were different. Real.

“Never better.” Greta covered Carson’s hand on her thigh with her own, lacing their fingers together. She finally gave her attention to Shirley, who’d been carefully placing her left hand on her knee all evening, the tiny solitaire sparkling on her finger. “Hey Shirl, we’re invited to the wedding, right?”

“Oh! I get to be the flower girl!” Jo decided, lifting a finger to volunteer, much to Shirley’s wide-eyed horror. She couldn’t even object; her mouth was still full of Greta’s hors d’oeuvres.

“I don’t think you could handle the responsibility, De Luca.” Lupe snickered from her spot tucked behind Jess, earning her a poke from Esti. Poor Shirley was inundated with quick-fire questions from everyone—where did she meet him? When did she know? How did he ask? What was he like in the sack?

“What about baseball, Shirl?” Carson asked, and everyone fell silent. Once a coach, always a coach, it seemed.

Finally Shirley spoke, fiddling with her nails. “I want to play, but I’m not sure... I don’t know if I can.”

There was a solemn silence at the thought of their teammate not coming back next season. Greta was the one to break it. “You will, though; you’re a Peach. We stick together.”

“And if not, we’ll break the guy’s legs,” Jess added, with alarming nonchalance.

“That’s very…sweet, very sweet of you,” Shirley said, with a tense grin at Jess.

“We’re never going to make it downtown if we don’t get going,” Greta said, clapping her hands to relieve the tension.

“Boo, downtown,” Joey said. “Come on, Bird, you know we won’t be welcome there. Not really. Let’s stay in.”

Jess and Lupe clinked the necks of their beers in a toast to that, and Esti said, “We will need música. Radio?”

Carson grimaced. She wished they could afford one, but she hadn’t found a job since she’d moved in with Greta, and while Greta’s work with Vivienne Hughes’ company was well-paid for an unmarried woman, it didn’t stretch to luxuries.

But Greta was quick to jump to her feet and head for the window. She forced it open, letting in a swirl of chilly air, which was welcome after the stifling heat of so many people in the small space. With the window open, the sound of jazz music filtered in. “Noisy neighbours,” Greta said. “Never thought I’d be grateful to be hearing their music at all hours of the night.”

A new song came on as the jazz song finished—Billie Holliday. Carson stood up and held out her hand to Greta, who stepped gracefully into her arms, a soft smile on her lips.

“Look at these two,” Lupe commented. “Still can’t get enough of each other. Hasn’t it been months?”

“Yeah, like they aren’t the ‘noisy neighbours’ at least half the time,” Jess said with a grin, ignoring Greta’s death glare. “Come on, Esti. Let’s dance.” Jess grabbed Esti’s hand and swung her into a rather more vigorous dance step than the cluttered living room could stand.

Jo bowed low and offered a gentlemanly hand to Shirley, who looked wide-eyed and frozen for a split second before she tentatively put her hand in Jo’s. Jo put a hand on Shirley’s hip, but kept a respectful distance between their bodies as she led Shirley in a waltz that didn’t match the song’s rhythm in the least. Lupe, sprawled on the couch with her beer, said, “I’d cut in but I don’t see even one of you who actually knows how to dance.”

Carson grinned up at Greta. “Is this okay?” she asked quietly. They’d danced alone, often, but in the hot, stuffy room, with other bodies brushing past them—even if it was all their friends—she thought Greta might need to take a step back.

Greta shook her head, a brief gesture meant for Carson only. Her hand on Carson’s shoulder slid down to the small of her back and pulled her closer, so that their bodies moulded closer together. Carson inhaled quickly and Greta smiled tenderly at her. “It’s okay. More than okay.”

Without any space, and only the faint sound of the neighbour’s radio to dance by, there wasn’t much they could do but sway in each other’s arms. In other words, it was absolutely perfect. Carson brought Greta’s hand to her mouth and kissed her knuckles. They missed the change of songs, and Esti pulling Lupe into the dance; Jess and Jo fighting over who should lead; Shirley accepting a rather closer dance from Lupe than Jo had given her. So it was with complete ease that Carson pressed up and brushed a warm kiss to Greta’s mouth, kissing her softly, and then not so softly as Greta’s lips parted for her.

They only broke apart at the sound of Lupe’s disgusted groan. “We didn’t all bring someone to neck with,” she said. “If we’re not going out, then no fair showing off.”

Greta smirked at Carson and leaned close one last time, to murmur against her ear, “Later for you,” and then, spinning out of Carson’s arms, said, “It must be nearly midnight.”

“Stop being such a grouch, Lu,” Jess called, trying to dip Jo and then laughing uproariously as they almost fell into a tangled heap. “Once we get back to Rockford they’re not going to be able to do this anymore, leave ’em be.”

Lupe screwed up her face, sour.

“Watch out, García, the wind’ll change and you’ll be stuck lookin’ like that forever.” Jo pointed at Lupe’s face, then screwed her own face up, mirroring the pitcher’s distaste.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you all.” But there was no heat in it. Lupe spun Shirley out and away. Walked over and hip-checked Carson affectionately, before picking up a nearby drink and checking if it contained any liquor. “If it’s nearly midnight we better get some refills here, Shaw.”

Carson grinned. “You wanna give me a hand with the drinks, Lu?”

“Do I look like the help here?” Lupe paused, and held up a finger in warning when Jo opened her mouth to retort. “Don’t answer that, De Luca. You’re the host, Shaw, you get the drinks.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll get the drinks.” Carson glanced over at Greta, who was watching their interactions with a smirk curving her lips in the way that sent little tingles down Carson’s back. She gestured with her head towards the kitchen, and Greta nodded. Followed her out of the room.

As soon as they cleared the doorway to the kitchen Carson spun Greta around and pressed her up against the wall. “It’s later now, isn’t it?” she asked. She leaned up on her toes and was barely an inch away from Greta’s mouth when they heard a yell from the other room.

“Cut it out, lovebirds. I want a drink, you can kiss when the ball drops.”

They looked at each other for a moment. Greta’s lip twitched in amusement, and Carson laughed outright.

“All right, Lu,” Greta yelled back. “But no whining from you when we do.”

“Oh, for crying out loud…”

A chorus of laughter sounded from the other room, and then Jo called out, “Two minutes, Bird!”

“We’re hurrying, Joey!”

Greta opened the door of their icebox, and started passing bottles to Carson. Carson juggled four beer bottles in her arms, almost dropping the fifth when Greta tried to hand it to her. Greta rolled her eyes, chuckled fondly. “You take those out, I’ll bring the rest.”

They passed out the drinks, listened to the faint sound of the radio—and the much louder cheers from the street—call one minute, and then thirty seconds. They all crowded by the window to hear the countdown, and it seemed as though the whole neighbourhood had the same idea.

“Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven…”

Greta reached out and clasped Carson’s hand.

“Six. Five. Four. Three…”

Carson stepped away from the window, away from their teammates. Tugged Greta with her.

“Two. One.”

“Happy New Year!” Outside people were shouting, fireworks were going off, car horns were blaring on the street.

Carson was aware of the others jumping up and down, of them hugging each other and twirling around the room. But she only had eyes for Greta, who was staring right back at her.

“Happy New Year, Greta.” Low, and husky.

“Happy New Year, Carson.” Barely a whisper. Then Greta cupped Carson’s jaw with her hand. Angled Carson’s face up as she leaned down. Carson sighed contentedly as their lips met.

A salty drop landed into Carson's lips, while a tear rolled down her cheek. She looked up. Greta’s eyes were wet; they showed a multitude of emotions, thousands of memories drawing a crystal clear line under her iris. Greta smiled widely, trying to hold Carson as close as she could, while their tiny living room was filled with laughter and joy. The voices of their teammates joined the ones around the neighbourhood, exclaiming Happy New Year! over and over again. The sound of fireworks soon started to mix with the cheering, with the happy voices, with the pure and unbiased joy of their teammates and the rest of the city.

“Nineteen forty-four,” Greta said.

“Yeah.” Carson felt frozen, paralyzed, looking at Greta, trying to paint a perfect picture of it so she could remember it whenever she wanted. She had never felt this happy during a Christmas celebration, especially since her mother left. This was what happiness should look like. It was all new, all good, better than she could ever have imagined. Carson felt her heart full, so full of love, she didn't know what to do with it. Being here, in their small apartment, with her teammates and her loved one—her true family, in the end—was what a family should look like. No more judging looks, nor uncomfortable dinners and parties; just joy. Joy that could be shared and felt.

“Do you think it’s going to be a good year?” Greta whispered.

Carson had never seen Greta so hopeful. So willing to hope. “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I do.”

Greta cried. For the first time in many, many years, she had someone else to share New Year with other than with Joey. No more the two of them alone, in a lost city somewhere across the States, in a crappy apartment or worse motel room. No more running away after spending a few months elsewhere. Everything was all right, as things should be. And she cried for happiness, she cried for joy, for having her—her Carson—in front of her, wishing her a happy New Year.

For an instant, everything froze in time for both of them. Neither of them could have known 1943 would take such a turn. They couldn't have imagined how much their lives would change. For a moment, they tried to grasp as much as they could from that moment, as many details they could remember. The Peaches in their home, their first Christmas together, them being able to welcome the new year together, for the first time. A fresh chance to start over, to leave all the hurting, all the bad things, in the past.

“¡Feliz Año Nuevo!” Esti shouted out the window, making everyone laugh, while Lupe shook her head.

“Happy New Year, everyone!” Jo grabbed both Greta and Carson by the arms. “We thought it would be good to go to the rooftop to see the fireworks, wanna come?”

“Oh, sure.” Greta smiled, brushing the tears from her eyes. “That would be lovely.”

All of them grabbed their coats and climbed the stairs up the last floor. Greta opened the door leading to the roof and all gasped, marvelled at the sight. Esti ran with Jess and Lupe, while Shirley stood a bit behind them, trying to warn them about getting too close to the edge. Carson wandered, looking at the sky, looking at their friends, looking at her love. Greta did the same by Jo's side, squeezing her arm and hugging her.

“I'm so glad for you, Bird.” Jo said softly. “You've changed, and this new life suits you.”

“Do you think so?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this… So happy, so alive.” Jo tilted her head towards Carson. “She's good for you. And you're good for her.”

“Thank you, Joey.” Greta smiled again, still crying a bit. “No more running away.”

Jo winked at her and left her with Carson, while she joined the rest of the Peaches.

“Did you wish for something when the New Year started?” Carson grabbed her by the waist and pulled Greta closer.

“Yes…”

“Are you going to tell me?”

“If I do… It'll stop being a secret, and it might not come true…” Her hand caressed Carson's cheek softly, trying to brush away the cold. “Did you wish for something too?”

“Uh-huh… But it's a secret too.” Carson mustered as their lips found each other again.

While they kissed, Greta closed her eyes again, and murmured, almost too softly to hear, “Let’s be together. Every New Year’s, from now on.”

#a league of their own #fanfiction #writer #fanfic #carson shaw #greta gill #jess mccready #esti gonzalez #shirley cohen #lupe garcia #jo de luca #aloto #gretson #greta x carson

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thosetwofirefighters · 2 years

Text

Glass

Jess comes to a realization when Esti accidentally cuts herself and she finds Lupe taking care of her.

Sapphic September day 3: glass

Read on AO3

49 notes · View notes

greta--gill · 1 year

Text

a series of kitchens

Rating: E

Words: 17.4k

Status: 1/1

—

Summary:

“I believe in tables to sit at,” Greta tells her, reaching across the distance for Carson’s hand, turning it face up, tracing the lines of her palm. “Someone to sit with.”

“Oh..." Carson breathes, curling her fingers in softly. Greta trembles a little, scared of what she’ll say, and Carson feels it. She squeezes her grip, smiling. “Me too,” she says, swallowing. “I believe in that too. Someone to- to be with.”

“Yeah?” Greta asks shyly. Carson reaches to tuck her hair behind her ear, cupping her jaw so that Greta will look at her.

“Yeah,” she replies.

And at this kitchen table, something shifts between them. The light hits Greta’s blush differently as they look at each other, and Carson hasn’t stopped smiling since they started talking. This beating heart of the Rockford house - where the Peaches gather and laugh and drink and eat - holds them in all of its softness, watches them quietly in their falling and knows that they will catch each other. There is nothing more wonderful than being held this way, than feeling at home.

(Or, the story of Greta and Carson growing up and growing older together, how they change and become, as told by the kitchens they occupy throughout their lives.)

[read it on ao3]

#kitchens #my writing #fanfiction #greta gill #carson shaw #gretson #growing old #aloto #a league of their own #max chapman #esther warner #jess mccready #lupe garcia #esti gonzalez #the rockford peaches

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thereforebucket · 2 years

Text

I Was Made For You

Summary: Lupe has a cat. Jess has mice. They've been dating for six months and they're definitely not trying to U-haul. But, you know, the best laid plans of mice and men...

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Jesslupe future au feat. Jess' dog, Lupe's Horrible Cat, and Brandi Carlile

Pairing: Lupe García/Jess McCready

Word Count: 9197

AO3

There’s a yelp from the kitchen, followed by “¡Jesucristo!” and a loud bark.

“Timber!” Jess calls, and her giant marshmallow of a Samoyed comes running into the room, then whines at her. She gets up and pats her legs. Timber comes right to her and she sinks her hands into his fur, rubbing up and down his ribs. “You ok boy?” she asks him.

“Oh sure, check on the dog.” Jess looks up to see Lupe leaning against the doorjamb, hands shoved deep in her pockets. She’s dressed in what she changed into after work, a pair of men’s jeans and a vintage Metallica that has only softened with age. She’s arranged her features into a look of annoyance, but there’s a smile peeking out.

Jess smirks. “He’s a big softy, what’s your excuse?”

Lupe raises her eyebrows. “Another mouse,” she says. “It surprised me, darted right out from underneath the oven.”

The smirk sours on Jess’ face. “Fuck,” she says.

“Yeah,” Lupe agrees. “You gotta do something about them, hon, they’re settling in.”

Jess makes a noise of disgust in the back of her throat. “Goddammit.”

There’s a pause. “You know…” Lupe starts slowly, and Jess looks at her sharply.

“No.”

“He’s a good mouser!”

“He’ll scare the dog!”

“So take him for a walk!”

“What, for like four hours?”

Lupe pauses and thinks. “Well, actually, it would probably take longer than that…”

“Lu.”

“Ok I didn’t think it through, but it’s a good idea! And you’ve got mice, sweetheart.” Lupe crosses her arms and fixes Jess with a look. And Jess knows she’s going to lose this one.

She sighs. “Well, where will Timber go if you bring Tío over to my apartment?” Tío is Lupe’s cat and he’s widely considered to be an asshole, most notably by Lupe herself. He’s an older cat that Lupe rescued off the street after he was injured in a fight, and Jess is pretty sure Lupe lives just as much in terror of him as the rest of them, though Lupe claims the relationship is both mutual and loving.

‘Tío’ is also just a nickname. His real name is Tío Beverly after the grumpy, unyielding sponsor of Jess and Lupe’s neighborhood baseball team and an offhand comment from their teammate Maybelle.

“Geez Lu, he looks like a cross between Bev and your scary uncle.” She means this generally, but Lupe does, in fact, have a scary uncle. “And, well, a cat.” And so his name became Tío Beverly and Lupe never looked back.

(Though they’ve talked about Tío at practice, everyone on the team has casually forgotten to mention his full name to Bev. Jess thinks all Bev would do is snort and chuckle a little, but the others are not convinced.)

“You could take him to mine,” Lupe suggests.

Jess frowns. “I can’t leave him alone,” she says. “He’s sensitive.” Lupe considers this.

“We could both go back to mine and leave Tío here,” she says.

“Tío is not staying at my apartment unsupervised,” Jess says firmly. Jess has never escaped the clutches of Tío without a scratch. In her drawer at Lupe’s she has two shirts, a pair of jeans, some socks, underwear, and a box of band-aids. She steals Lupe’s pajamas though.

Lupe holds her hands up. “Look,” she says, “I just think he could help.”

Jess sighs. It’s not a bad solution, honestly. “No, no, I appreciate it,” she says. She thinks for a second. “I bet Ana would take Timber for a little bit, or maybe Carson.”

Lupe purses her lips. “Mmm but would Greta?” she says. “Ana might be a better bet.”

Jess raises her eyebrows. “Greta said Timber was the best-behaved dog she’d ever met,” she says, “which I take full credit for, but I hear your point. I’ll try Ana first.”

“Great!” Lupe says, trying and failing not to look too pleased.

Jess snorts and stands up, walking towards Lupe. Timber whines, but she just shushes him before placing her hands on Lupe’s hips. “You really wanted to bring your cat here that bad?” she asks, grinning.

Lupe wraps her arms loosely around Jess’ neck. “I just like making sure you’re taken care of, querido.” She smiles her dreamy smile.

And god, how could Jess not blush at that? At that statement? At the -o instead of the -a? For Lupe, Jess would suffer even the world’s worst cat making her apartment its home for a little while. So she smiles back and pulls her a little closer. “I know,” she says, and brings their lips together.

-----

So Jess takes Timber to Ana’s for a few days and Tío moves in.

“Temporarily,” Jess reminds Lupe, because Tío is missing yet another clump of fur and looks like he got in a fight with an electrical socket. Lupe pulls him out of the carrier and he immediately wriggles out of her arms, off like a shot to the underside of Jess’ armchair.

“I know,” Lupe says, trying desperately to catch Tío and failing spectacularly. She wipes her hands on her shirt like she meant to just turn him loose. “This isn’t my backdoor into U-Hauling with you, McCready. If I wanted to do that, I’d keep about half of my clothes here and basically never spend the night at my apartment.” Lupe has approximately half her shirts and a third of her pants at Jess’ apartment. Jess cleaned out two drawers for her. She spends about two nights a week at her own place and the rest curled up in Jess’ bed. It’s casual.

Jess opens her mouth but can’t think of anything to say. Her eyes dart between Lupe’s. Her brow furrows.

Lupe frowns in concern. “Hey, hey, I’m joking,” she says, holding her hands out towards Jess to steady her. “I like my apartment just fine. It’s close to the subway and Tío likes watching the pigeons from the window.”

And. It. Well. Jess wasn’t really worried about that. Or rather, she hadn’t thought it would be soon or anything, but she had just been thinking that week about how nice it was to wake up with Lupe, how she’d have to replace Lupe’s toothbrush soon since she was wearing it out, how convenient it had been since she’d given Lupe a spare set of keys and she could just let herself in if she got to Jess’ before her. Jess isn’t sure she’s ready to offer it, but it would sort of be the dream to live with Lupe.

But she doesn’t say that. Instead, she gawps for another second before managing to get out “Well, we can’t deprive him of the pigeons, can we?”

And Lupe still looks a little concerned, but she chuckles. “Speaking of him, I’m going to try to lure him to the kitchen so he can catch these mice.”

Lupe spends about five minutes trying to lure Tío out from under the chair before giving up and going to set up his litterbox and food. She shakes out a little dry food, then pops the top on a can of wet food. “Since it’s his first night here,” she explains to Jess, “I want him to have positive—” Tío comes trotting into the room, chirping, and winds herself around Lupe’s legs. “—Associations,” Lupe finishes. “Well hello you,” she says to the cat, who is now purring. Jess didn’t know he even knew how to purr.

Lupe reaches down to pet him and Tío takes it for exactly three pets before swiping at her hand and meowing loudly. “Yeah, yeah,” Lupe says, rolling her eyes. She pulls the rest of the top off the wet food and dumps it unceremoniously into the dish. Tío tears in and Jess curls her lip in disgust at the wet smacking sounds. “Hey, he’s doing you a service,” Lupe says, catching her. “You gotta pay him somehow.”

Jess nods. “You got me there.”

-----

Tío catches zero mice that evening, but he does shatter a glass by knocking it off the counter and sharpen his claws on the side of Jess’ couch. Lupe apologizes profusely, especially about the couch, promising to learn how to upholster if she has to. Beyond the initial shock of seeing it, though, it actually isn’t that noticeable, so Jess just tells her to forget it.

That night is hell, even though they keep the cat out of the bedroom, but in the morning, Jess finds a mouse head laid neatly by the bedroom door and figures this may have been worth it. She nearly changes her mind when she finds the body floating in the cat’s water dish, but she flings both pieces off the fire escape into the alley below anyway, then washes her hands and starts to make coffee, eggs, and toast.

Once the smell of coffee starts to fill the apartment, Jess hears Lupe start to stir. “He caught one,” she tells her when she hears Lu trudge into the kitchen.

“Oh yeah?” Lupe asks. She comes up behind Jess and rests her head on Jess’ shoulder, wrapping her arms around her middle. There’s a lazy thrill up Jess’ spine and she smiles as she scrambles the eggs in the pan.

“I’ve got to reach the cheese,” she says softly to Lupe, pointing at the bag of shredded cheese on the counter just out of reach.

Lupe unspools herself from around Jess and leans over, grinning. “Do you?” she asks and slides the bag over.

Jess grins back. “I guess not,” she says. She reaches out to take it and Lupe holds it out of reach again.

“Ah ah ah, gotta pay the toll first.” This close up, the sun is catching on Lupe’s eyelashes. Her eyes are a warm, mahogany brown and she’s looking at Jess with a hooded, teasing expression that electrifies Jess in a way that fights with the way she wants to rise to Lupe’s challenge. So, in compromise, she takes Lupe’s hip in one hand and uses her body to push her against the counter. She kisses her fully, leaving nothing on the table, and doesn’t miss how Lupe’s breath hitches in her throat. Lupe steadies herself against the counter with her free hand and, at the same time, Jess snakes her hand along Lupe’s other arm and pulls the cheese from her grasp. She pulls back and smiles, poking her chin out in victory. She raises her eyebrows, once, then opens the cheese and pulls out a handful, sprinkling it on top of the eggs.

Lupe bursts into a quiet chuckle. “You’re gonna kill me one day, McCready,” she says, smiling. Then she reaches out with a thumb and brushes just beneath Jess’ bottom lip. “Got a little spit there,” she teases.

Jess shrugs. “I mean it’s yours,” she says.

Lupe just rolls her eyes.

She moves away and pulls two earthenware mugs from the mug cabinet. They’re Jess’ two favorite mugs. One is a matte, forest green with an unglazed raised square engraved with pine trees. The other is small, with seven short sides and a circular handle. It is smooth and gray, speckled with black, and very clearly handmade. You have to fill it twice to get a normal amount of coffee, but Jess loves it without equal.

Lupe pours the coffee while Jess finishes up the eggs and puts them on plates. She pulls the toast out of the second, smaller pan and inspects it on both sides. She notes, with pride, that it is perfectly toasted. Lupe likes to tease her for not having a toaster, but how can she argue when it means she gets the perfect slice of toast every time? She puts the toast on the plates as well and brings them to the table.

Lupe sets the coffees down on the table as well, one in front of each chair, and Jess notices that she’s given her the green mug. She gives Lupe a look, quirking an eyebrow and Lupe bites her lip, laughing silently.

“Just thought I’d switch things up a little,” she says, sliding her index finger through the gray mug’s handle and holding it near her chest.

Jess can’t think of anything to say other than “But that’s mine!” It comes out whiny and petulant and Lupe has to stick her tongue in between her lips to keep from laughing out loud.

“Pobrecito,” she says, stepping forward and lightly shaking Jess’ jaw with her free hand. She leans in and plants a kiss on Jess’ lips before leaning back and taking a sip of the coffee. “Plus,” she says after a particularly loud slurp, “I’ve already put my like five sugars into this, so you don’t want it.” Lupe takes her coffee black and very sweet. Jess takes hers with no sugar but a heavy amount of cream. She looks at the green mug and notes with distaste that the coffee is already a light tan.

She shakes her head. “After I made you breakfast and everything.” She catches Lupe’s wrist and pulls her in. Lupe sets the mug down so as not to spill and then comes to Jess with a patient expression, resting her hand on Jess’ waist. “And that perfect toast,” Jess continues, and threads their fingers together, pulling their bodies against each other.

Lupe closes her eyes. “Hmm,” she mumbles against Jess’ lips, “you say it’s perfect, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to try it when you’re picking fights about the coffee mugs.”

Jess ghosts her lips up Lupe’s jaw until they rest on the shell of her ear. “Picking fights,” she asks softly, “or claiming what’s mine?” She takes Lupe’s earlobe in her teeth, gently, and feels a shiver run through her.

“I’m not switching the mugs, McCready,” Lupe says, running her thumb back and forth over Jess’ middle. “Coffee’s already been poured.” Jess bites a little harder on her earlobe and feels Lupe’s hand clench on her hip. “You’re going to let it get cold,” she protests weakly.

As it turns out, the point is moot as Tío leaps up onto the table, displacing Jess’ beautiful gray mug and sending it tumbling to the floor. It breaks into three pieces, the smallest piece with the handle separated from another smaller piece of rim separated from a larger piece holding most of the base. The coffee spills over the floor in a splattering wave.

Tío startles upon hearing the noise and springs straight over the rest of the table and onto the floor, sprinting into the other room to hide.

Jess and Lupe break apart and freeze. They stare at the mug for a full ten seconds before Lupe breathes out “Shit.”

She untangles herself from Jess. “Shit.”

She kneels down and starts picking up the pieces. “Shit, Jess, I’m so sorry.”

And. And well, Jess wasn’t psyched about Tío being here in the first place. She wasn’t psyched about the swipes and the mouse in the water bowl and the meowing at her bedroom door all night. And now this. Her favorite mug on the ground, shattered.

But there’s a set to Lupe’s shoulders that tells Jess she’s feeling this too, like an imposition, and she’s looking steadily at the floor, picking up the pieces, not looking at Jess at all, and Jess…doesn’t have the heart to have a reaction. Doesn’t have the heart to break Lupe’s. So she takes a deep breath and says “It’s ok.” Another breath. “It’s ok.” She moves and puts a hand on Lupe’s shoulder, briefly, then pats it. “It’s just a mug. I’ll get a towel.”

They mop up the mess, Lupe holding the broken pieces in her hands, so gingerly, and when the dark coffee has all been soaked away, Lupe gently sets the pieces down and marches into the living room.

It takes her about 15 minutes of coaxing, chasing, and wildly leaping, but she manages to get Tío into his carrier. Jess watches it happen, unsure of what to do. She wants to be supportive of Lupe, wants to be supportive of Lupe’s cat being here, but she’s not feeling very friendly towards him right now. In the end, she helps by blocking the entrance to the kitchen, supporting Lupe by helping her catch this damn cat, and doesn’t comment about the candles and coasters scattered from her coffee table in the process. Jess doesn’t know what Lupe needs to hear right now, doesn’t know how to be there for Lupe and the cat she loves, but she’s always been good at helping with a task.

Once the carrier door slams shut, Lupe stands up and wipes her nose on her sleeve. There’s something that sounds suspiciously like a sniffle in the mix and she’s staring at the floor, not looking at Jess, and Jess is torn between wanting to respect that space and wanting to take Lupe in her arms.

“Well,” Lupes says, roughly scooping up the carrier in one hand. Tío protests. She starts towards the door, pajamas, no shoes, angry cat, and Jess doesn’t know what to say but she doesn’t want this.

“Lu,” she starts.

“I’ll be back!” Lupe calls, grabbing a jacket from the hook on the wall.

“Lupe, wait,” Jess says, moving towards the door. Lupe is hurriedly shoving her feet in her shoes, holding one jacket sleeve between her teeth and trying to shove her arm through the other one. She gets the shoes on and her arm enough in the sleeve to turn the deadbolt. “Babe,” Jess says, but she’s wrenching the door open, still not looking at Jess, and Jess throws her arm out, slamming the door shut and looking beseechingly into Lupe’s eyes.

Jess is breathing heavily, leaning on her outstretched hand, her very body pleading with Lupe to stay. She takes a deep breath and puts a free hand on Lupe’s shoulder. Lupe still isn’t looking at her, but Jess can see the guilt plain on her features, along with a touch of sadness. She’s… Jess realizes she’s misty eyed and feels a jolt of alarm.

“Lu,” she says, cupping her face. Lupe stands stock still, but her mouth pinches closed and Jess can see her shoulders go tight. Jess breathes out, empathy flooding through her, and puts her hands on both shoulders. “Babe,” she says, and Lupe’s shoulders give an involuntary shake. “Babe,” she says again, and pulls Lupe in.

Lupe’s shoulders shake and Jess can feel tears on her own shoulders. She rubs her hands up and down Lupe’s back. Lupe snakes her free arm around Jess’ waist and just lets Jess hold her.

They stay like that, this moment in the entryway, until Tío lets out another yowl and jerks the carrier in Lupe’s hand.

“I’m going to drop him down the fucking stairs,” Lupe growls from Jess’ shoulder.

“No, no, you’re not,” Jess says, and reaches back to take the carrier out of Lupe’s hand, setting it gently on the floor. She stands back up and takes Lupe’s face in her hands, leaning back far enough that she can look into her eyes. “I’m going to cover this with a blanket, and then I’m going to pour you another cup of coffee and we can talk about this, ok?”

Lupe nods wetly, looking tired and vulnerable, and Jess doesn’t want to leave her side for a minute, but she makes good on her word. She leads Lupe to the couch, pulls a blanket out of the basket, and brings it back to cover up the carrier. Tío hisses at her. She ignores him.

She checks on Lupe on her way back to the kitchen, finding her watching her silently. “I’ll be right back,” she says, and heads into the kitchen. She pulls another mug out of the cabinet, this one a standard shape and white, with an assortment of native plants of Saskatchewan printed on it, and fills it with coffee. There’s just enough left in the press to almost fill the mug. Jess puts five sugars in (Jesus, Lupe), stirs, and grabs her own mug to bring to the coffee table.

When she gets back, she finds Lupe picking up the coasters and setting them back on the table. She hands her her coffee, then sets hers on one of the coasters. “Do you want your breakfast?” she asks, and Lupe pauses, then nods.

“I can get it,” she says, standing, but Jess puts her hand firmly on her shoulder.

“No, you sit, I’ll do it.”

She’s back in seconds and hands Lupe her plate before sitting down cross-legged on the couch.

“So, what’s wrong?” she asks Lupe.

Lupe snorts and looks away. “My cat’s an asshole,” she says.

Jess laughs. “I mean, we knew that going in. I knew that going in.” She lifts her plate up so she can prod Lupe with her foot. Lupe gives a short laugh, but her brow furrows. “I’m serious, Lu, I meant it. It’s just a mug.”

Lupe takes in a breath, holds it. She’s staring at the door. “It’s not, though,” she lets out, finally.

Jess frowns. The phrase puts a little jolt through her heart, but she wracks her brains, looking for any sign that Lupe is breaking up with her, and can’t find any, so she forces herself to be calm. “Meaning?” she asks.

Lupe’s quiet for another moment, then says “I mean, I really like you. I like everything about you. I like the things we do together, I like that we do things apart, I can see us doing this for, well, a lot longer than this…” she takes another deep breath and lets it out slowly, “…and the only barrier I can see to that is this damn cat.” She looks quickly at Jess, coloring slightly. “And like the fact that we’ve only been dating for six months and I don’t know how you feel about all that and like. I don’t want to cramp your style or anything.” She takes, frankly, a huge bite of her toast and washes it down with coffee.

There is a lot Jess wants to say to this, but there’s also a smile creeping onto her face so she says what’s on her mind first. “So,” she says, “this is your backdoor into U-Hauling with me,” and she watches as Lupe splutters.

“Oh god, no! No, Jess, I promise, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable or like rush this or anything!” Her face is so red, Jess wonders idly if she could fry an egg on it. “I just,” she reaches for Jess’s hands and Jess lets her take them, “I really like you and I don’t want to fuck this up. Or have my dumbass cat fuck this up.” She swallows and looks away. “I’m sorry about your mug.”

And god if Jess isn’t just fully in love with this person. If she doesn’t want to kiss her senseless and say yes, she wants this too. If she doesn’t want to frisbee the eggs across the room and fuck her on the couch right now. So, she takes a breath. She reaches up a hand and fiddles with Lu’s necklace, leaning her head in close. “You’re not fucking this up,” she says quietly, and it’s suddenly very hard to meet Lupe’s eyes. “Your cat isn’t either. And I loved that mug, but it was just a thing, Lu.” She does look up here and finds Lupe watching her hand on her necklace, almost transfixed, and it’s so… God, Jess doesn’t know what, but she drops the necklace and reaches up to cup her face, then draws their lips together.

It's a charged kiss. A slow, but desperate kiss. Not desperate like they’re scared they’ll lose each other, desperate in the way of wanting to tell the other something, show the other something, and fuck if Jess is going to try and tell her any other way.

A jostling on her legs reminds her of the plate in her lap and she breaks off, briefly, to move the dishes to the table, then pulls Lupe onto her lap.

The kiss that follows sears her to her core and she reaches up to fist a hand in Lupe’s curls. Lupe moans. Jess takes the opportunity to move her lips to Lupe’s neck and hears Lupe’s breath catch in her throat, hears her gasp as Jess sucks hard at her neck, then soothes the spot with her tongue.

They’re working fast now, Lupe’s hands are on her back, on her hips, in her hair, and Jess reaches her hands under Lupe’s shirt to palm a breast, feeling her nipple harden.

Lupe tries to do the same to her, is pulling on the hem of her shirt, but Jess takes a moment to gently push her hands away and pulls back slightly to shake her head. “This is all you, babe,” she says.

The look Lupe gives her…devastating. She’s all blown pupils and kiss-swollen lips and an expression like she understands exactly what Jess is trying to say. And she nods. And she lets Jess lay her down on the couch. And Jess has never seen a more beautiful woman in all her life.

Jess pulls her shirt up and Lupe has to sit up a little to take it off (poor planning on Jess’ part), but once it’s off, Lupe lays there in all her glory, hair haloing her face, and Jess holds her gaze and she leans down and takes a nipple in her mouth.

Lupe takes a shuddering breath, then shuts her eyes and fists a hand in her own hair. Jess’ tongue works at the nipple and Lupe’s breaths come faster, faster, her eyes fluttering closed, then back open to watch. Jess grins, then takes her mouth away by a few centimeters.

“What,” Lupe breathes, irate, “the fuck—”

And then Jess comes back with teeth and there are no more words out of Lupe’s mouth.

Jess’ teeth graze her nipple, then her tongue, and then her hand comes up to Lupe’s hip, her thumb stroking deep over the bone, and Lupe’s mouth opens in a silent ‘O.’

Jess watches her, drinking it in, not sure if she could ever stop watching her, relishing in her reactions as her thumb strokes her hipbone over and over.

“Jess,” Lupe gasps out, “McCready I swear to god…”

Jess pauses her tongue politely and looks up, smiling innocently. “You swear to god what?” she says.

The look Lupe gives her would kill a lesser man.

“If you don’t move your hand and do something about this,” Lupe gestures to herself, “in the next ten seconds…”

Jess grins. “Something like this?” she says, and tugs Lupe’s waistband down an inch, moving her other hand to Lupe’s other hip and repeating the same ministrations as her first hand.

“McCready!” Lupe spits out, and Jess chuckles, softly, before she begins the slow, agonizing journey of pulling Lupe’s pants off her ass, then over her thighs, then entirely off and into a heap on the ground.

“Missed something,” Lupe says irritably, snapping the waistband of her underwear, and Jess just laughs, lifting herself onto her elbow to kiss Lupe.

“So demanding,” she says, and runs one finger over the outside of Lupe’s underwear. Lupe whimpers, before hiding her face in the couch cushions.

“God, Jess, please,” she says, and Jess knows she’s frowning. “This is fucking embarrassing.” Jess just laughs and runs her finger over her underwear again, pressing harder this time. Lupe gasps. “I swear to god, you goddamn—”

Jess pushes down hard on where she knows Lupe’s clit is and Lupe moans into the couch cushions. Jess pulls her underwear aside and slides a finger down Lupe’s folds, marveling at the slickness she finds there. She brings her mouth back to the side of Lupe’s breast and runs her finger up and down the first layer, feeling Lupe’s breath hitch each time she approaches her clit and hearing her exhale each time she nears her entrance.

“I— Fuck. Holy— Jesus Jess, shit!”

As Lupe’s breaths quicken and her hips start to buck into her, Jess uses her free hand to draw Lupe’s mouth to hers, then thrusts her middle finger inside, swallowing her moan.

It’s quick after this. Jess thrusts her finger in over and over, slipping another in when Lupe clutches at her back, and just at the climax, she brings her other hand down to thumb over her clit. Lupe clenches down over her hand in waves, her breaths coming out in sighs, and she pulls Jess to her and kisses her, hard.

“You,” she breathes out. “You fucking angel. You beautiful thing.” And Jess, suddenly overwhelmed, breaks down and bursts into fucking tears.

-----

“God, who are you, Jenny from The L Word?” Jo asks over a cigarette in the alley behind Jess’ building. Jess shoves her.

“It just happened, ok?” she says, and Jo laughs, stumbling out of arm’s reach. “I just, she was being so sweet and we were, like, together, and I just.” She trails off.

“Let loose the waterworks?” Jo dances even further out of Jess’ reach as Jess rolls her eyes.

“Yeah I guess,” she says, and puts her head in her hand.

Jo slides back in and puts an arm over her shoulder. “Hey buddy, don’t get so down! It just means that you’re a little Cancer baby, this is normal!”

Jess rolls her eyes. “So you tell me, you fucking Leo,” she says, but she leans into the hug.

Jo giggles at her expression. “What, did she laugh at you or something?” She leans forward to look Jess in the eye. “I’ll fight her, Jess. Striker ain’t got nothing on the Bazooka, I’m tellin’ ya.” She flexes and kisses her bicep.

Jess laughs. “Sure, keep telling yourself that,” she tells Jo.

Jo spreads her arm in protest. “She’s a matchstick!”

Jess just laughs and stubs out her cigarette.

It’s comfortable on the elevator ride back up to the apartment. Jo is a solid presence, calming in her surety, the ease of her stance. She fills the space with chatter about her job, about Greta, about Maybelle and her girls, and Jess sinks into the chatter, absorbing it.

When they get to her floor, Jess leads Jo down the hall and unlocks her door, pausing before opening it to make sure Tío doesn’t try to escape. The door clear, she lets Jo in.

The dishes are still on the coffee table where they had left them earlier and Jess notes with sadness her untouched toast. It seems a shame to waste it, but it’s even worse to eat stale toast, so Jess scoops up the plates and brings them to the sink.

“So where is the bastard?” Jo asks, and as if on cue, Jess hears a hiss. “Whoa,” Jo says, and Jess peeks around the corner to see Jo backing away from her armchair, arms raised.

“You found him,” Jess says, as Tío, under the chair, swipes at the air.

“Jesus, he is MEAN,” Jo says, crouching down to look at him. She takes hold of a book on the coffee table, some romance Lupe left there, and slowly moves it towards Tío. He swipes at it, hisses, but the book just keeps coming. Eventually, confused, he gives a little peep and turns around, trotting quickly to the kitchen.

Jess laughs. “You outfoxed him,” she says to Jo, but Jo is frowning.

“You know he’s limping?” she asks.

Jess frowns back. “What?”

Jo points. “He’s limping,” she says, and stands up to follow him.

Jess whips her head around to watch the cat. He’s standing at the water bowl, taking a drink, so it’s impossible to tell, but she crosses the room to him and he looks up and walks away as she approaches.

“Son of a bitch,” Jess says under her breath. Jo’s right. Ever so slightly, Tío is favoring left front leg. “Holy shit…”

“Yeah, right there,” Jo says, pointing again. Now that she’s pointed it out, Jess can see it clearly. “Was he not doing that earlier?”

Jess wracks her brains and comes up empty. “No, I don’t think so,” she says. “But I don’t know! I didn’t notice it until you said something!” Her breath is coming shallowly. She prays to any god who will listen that this doesn’t get back to her Uncle Chester in Saskatchewan, who’d taken her on hunting trips since she was a child, that a wounded animal lived in her apartment and she didn’t notice it. God, Lupe probably doesn’t know either.

Jess takes a breath, then clears her throat. “Ok, well let’s catch him then.”

Jo looks at her askance. “Why?”

“We gotta take him to the vet,” she says. Jo opens her mouth to say something and Jess rolls her eyes. “I have to take him to the vet,” she says.

Jo nods. “I have to get to Greta’s by five, but I’ll help make sure this guy doesn’t kill anyone on the subway, at least for part of the ride.” Jess nods. It’s more than she would have asked from Jo, so she’ll take it. Jo wipes her hands on her pants. “So,” she says, “how do we catch him?”

Jess thinks for a minute. “I don’t know,” she admits finally. “Lupe kinda,” she mimes with her hands, “dove and caught him earlier, but I think that was mostly luck.”

Jo nods. “Does he like anything?”

No, Jess wants to say, suffering, pain, but then she remembers something from earlier. “Wet food!” she says, remembering how Tío had wound himself around Lupe, purring as she opened the can.

Jo wrinkles her nose. “Gross.”

“He’s a cat, Jo,” Jess says, then crosses to the paper bag Lupe had brought with Tío’s things. Sure enough, inside is another can of wet food. “Come on,” she says, and walks over to his carrier in the living room.

She kneels down next to it and holds the can up, then pops the lid, peeling it back. Just like before, Tío comes trotting into the room, chirping, and walks right up to the can, trying to figure out how to get it without interacting with Jess. Jess hesitates.

“What are you doing?” Jo asks. “Put the can in there!” She gestures at the carrier.

“I don’t want him to cut himself on the rim,” Jess says.

“Then you could just dump it in there.”

Jess pulls a face. “Gross,” she says.

Jo shrugs. “Do you want to catch this thing or not?”

Jess sighs, then nods. “I do, I do.” Quickly, she shoves her hand into the carrier and dumps the wet food onto the floor, tapping it a few times to get everything out. Tío is in the carrier faster than she can get her hand out and as soon as her fingers are free, she slams the door shut and latches it.

Tío yowls inside, thrashing around and, Jess notes with a twinge of guilt, getting wet food all over his fur, but he’s been caught.

“You don’t want to wait for Lupe for this?” Jo asks, eyeing the jerking carrier, and Jess shakes her head.

“No, she’s helping Esti pick up a new chair for her apartment today.” Jess had wanted to go too, but she had already made plans with Jo today when Esti asked. “The vet will be closed by the time she gets back.”

Jo cocks her head to the side, nodding. “Fair point.”

So the two of them put on their shoes, grab the cat carrier, and make their way to the closest vet.

-----

Hours later, Jess drags a drugged-up Tío back into her apartment and finds Lupe sitting on the couch, arms crossed. “So I get back from moving this chair with Esti on the subway and find that my cat is missing?” she says. Jess has learned from experience that, even though it sounds like a question, it isn’t.

Jess gingerly steps inside and closes the door before responding. “Look,” she starts, but Lupe is already up off the couch and crouching in front of the carrier.

“Oh my god, what did you do to him?” she asks, alarm spiking in her voice.

“Nothing!” Jess says. Lupe’s hands are fumbling on the latch of the carrier and before Jess can stop her, she’s got the door open and is reaching in. Jess hears a yowl from within and Lupe pulls her hand out, a bright red mark on her thumb. Jess sets the carrier down, a little unceremoniously, and holds Lupe’s shoulders to keep her from hurting herself further. “Lu,” she says, “hold on.” She looks her in the eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“With my cat? I have to say you’re on pretty thin ice with that one right now, McCready.”

Jess nods, that’s fair. “Ok, but in general?” she asks.

“What did you do to my cat, Jess?” Lupe asks, and her words are a brick wall, but Jess can hear the desperation behind them.

Jess wants to pull her into her arms, but instead, she says “I took him to the vet.”

Lupe is suddenly alarmed again, shrugging Jess’ arms off her and leaning around to see into the carrier. “Oh my god, is he ok?” She leans in close. “Tío?” she asks, as if he can answer her.

“He’s fine!” Jess says, turning to follow her. Her legs are all pretzeled up beneath her, but there’s too much going on to sort them out. “Jo noticed he was limping, so I took him in.” She swallows. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice, Lu, I’m so sorry.”

Lupe is not soothed by this news. “Did he hurt himself? Why was he limping?”

Jess shakes her head. “No, he was only limping slightly. I don’t really know how Jo even noticed it. We, um, we took him to the vet though, and got him an x-ray, and the vet said that he had an old fracture on his left front leg that hadn’t healed properly.” She looks at Lupe, softly, pointedly. “I wonder if he injured that leg in the fight. You know, when you took him in?”

Lupe’s still for a moment, then nods slowly, taking it in. “Yeah, that, or even before that fight,” she says. She rocks back on her heels, finally thinking. “You took him to the vet?” she asks.

Jess nods.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Lupe says. “I could have taken him when I got back.” She snorts. “Hell, I was only gone a couple of hours.” She smiles at Jess, then her eyes widen. “Wait, shit, x-rays are expensive!” she says. “Shit, how much do I owe you?”

And here’s the thing. Here’s where the rationale breaks down. This was a big spending item for a pet that was not hers, about $400 when everything was added up, but also, Jess can’t fully bring herself to care? Tío is a pain in the ass, but Lupe cares about him and Jess feels bad that Lupe felt like Tío wasn’t welcome in her apartment.

And, well, there’s the whole “she’s is in love with her” thing, even if she hasn’t said it.

So Jess just shrugs, inspects her fingernails (bad, they need to be cleaned), and chews her lip for a moment before saying “Oh, you know, a hundred bucks.”

Lupe snorts. “Yeah, sure, McCready.”

“I know, it was weird,” Jess says, fanning her nails out. “The vet said I got a discount for being the coolest person he’d ever seen.” This doesn’t pull a laugh from Lupe and Jess finally looks up.

Lupe is looking at her with an expression Jess hasn’t seen before. She looks… Desperate, Jess realizes. Desperate and a little lost. Jess freezes. “It’s fine,” she says before Lupe can open her mouth. “Seriously, it’s fine, don’t—”

“Jess,” Lupe says, and her voice breaks a little. She clears her throat. “Jess, I can’t ask you to foot my vet bill.”

Jess studies her for a second, then goes back to checking her cuticles, though she’s sure she’s fully broken the illusion by now. “It’s fine,” she says. “Seriously, I can handle part of it.” She looks up. “I want to.” The look Lupe gives her? Devastating. She pushes past it though and says her next part. “The vet says it’s treatable too. They can’t reset the bone or anything, but you can alternate some pain meds and it’ll help with the pain.” She looks back down, unable to look at Lupe and say the next part. “Which,” she starts, “is why I want to pay for this visit, or at least part of it, because I did the math and if you want to treat him it’ll cost you about one-fifty a month.” She bites her lip and looks back up. “So, I want to help you out on this visit because like, I sprang this on you, I just took him, and it’ll cost you more in the long run so just let me get this. You can give me a hundred bucks and like get the pizza the next time or two and we’ll call it square.”

Lupe looks at her for a moment longer, then looks down and says “I…can’t decide if I’m going to kill you or marry you one day.” Heat rises in Jess’ cheeks, but before she can panic Lupe looks up and points. “I’m leaning towards kill right now, so we’re clear. You took my cat somewhere without telling me? You brought him back all fucked up like that and you didn’t even think to text me about it?” Jess looks down, cheeks pinking for an entirely different reason. “But, y’know,” Lupe continues, a little sheepish, “you also took care of him when you noticed he was in pain. Without asking. So like, I’m not entirely mad about it.”

Jess looks up a little, just meeting Lupe’s eyes. They both look at each other for a moment, searching, waiting, until Lupe closes her eyes and laughs. “God, you’re so stupid,” she says, then looks up, grinning. Jess can tell she doesn’t really mean it, but she’d take it if she did. Lupe shakes her head, then gestures towards herself. “Get over here,” she says, and sits back until she’s cross-legged on the ground. Jess finally un-pretzels her legs and, well, essentially crawls over to Lupe, who draws her into a tight hug.

The positioning is awkward, but the feeling behind the hug is genuine as Lupe buries her face in Jess’ shoulder and breathes in deep. They stay like that long enough that Jess feels her body relax and she all but melts into Lupe. She lets go of tension she didn’t know she was holding and feels, finally, at peace.

“Um” she says, releasing something she thought she was over at this point, “thanks for not, like, laughing when I cried earlier.”

And Lupe laughs at that, but it isn’t mean or cruel. She pulls back and cups her hands around Jess’ face. “Aww, babe, have you been worrying about that?” She brushes Jess’ cheeks lightly with her thumbs and Jess feels her face heat up.

“I—” she starts, then looks away. “Maybe.”

Lupe laughs again, softly, and then gently pulls Jess’ lips to hers. “Nothing to worry about. Thank you for taking care of my cat,” she says, and presses a chaste kiss there.

She pulls back and Jess looks into her eyes, then blinks and looks down at her lips. She’s…god she’s at a loss for words. All she can think is how stupidly, irrevocably in love she is and all she can say is…nothing. The words simply don’t come out. So, she pushes past her beating heart and simply leans in for another kiss, capturing Lupe’s lips with own.

It’s different from earlier, less confidence, less raw passion, but the feeling… She can’t tell Lupe how she feels, the strength of her feeling, but she can do this.

She kisses Lupe like she’s running out of air, trying to pour all she can into this moment, to say it without saying it, and she thinks it works, because Lupe, finally, pulls back and watches her, breathing heavily, her lips parted. And then Lupe smiles.

“If you’re trying to fuck me again, McCready, my only request is that we do it on a bed this time.”

And Jess just rolls her eyes and laughs.

-----

The bar is crowded when they arrive and buzzing with voices and laughter. Lupe drops Jess’ hand to open the door for her and Jess takes the opportunity to pull her guitar lengthwise against her body to avoid hitting people with it.

They make their way through the crowded first room, up the ramp, and to the second room with the stage. Jess finds the open mic sign-up table by the wall and joins the line while Lupe goes off to find them a few seats together.

Jess hears a shriek behind her and has just enough time to lean her guitar against the wall before she catches Esti in her arms, moving them just far enough away from the line to swing her around in a circle. “Hey kid!” she says, grinning.

Esti beams at her. “Hello Jess!” she says. She bounces away from her embrace and holds out a small gift bag. “This is from Lupe,” she says, then thinks better of it and takes it back. “Or, I should give to her…” she says, thinking.

Lupe walks up just then and rolls her eyes. “Great job keeping the surprise, kid,” she mutters.

Esti hands the gift bag over and says “Lo siento!” She puts her hands up and grimaces.

Jess reaches over and rubs her shoulder blade. “I’m sure it’s alright,” she tells her, then turns to Lupe. “What is it though? You didn’t have to get me anything.”

Lupe looks nervous, starts to reach into the bag, and then pulls her hand out and hands it to Jess. “You can just open it,” she says. “And I did, kinda, I— Well, you’ll see when you open it.”

Jess takes the bag curiously and reaches inside. She pulls out the tissue paper at the top and peers in and—

Oh.

Inside is a mug. It’s blue, handmade, and the glaze has melted into these little rivulets of lighter and darker blue, almost like little paisleys. The handle is slim, with a little piece on top to rest your thumb, and the form is wider in the middle and then tapered smaller near the base, almost like a vase. It’s beautiful.

She reaches in and picks it up, finding it to be light, but still solid-feeling. She looks at Lupe and sticks her tongue in her cheek to suppress the smile curling onto her face.

“I, I felt bad about breaking your mug the other day,” Lupe says, “or, well, about Tío breaking your mug, so I dragged Esti to a pottery place after we moved the chair.”

“¡Y luego lo olvidó en mi casa!” Esti says gleefully.

Jess looks to Lupe, not having caught every word and Lupe dips her head and says “She says I forgot it at her place, which I did.” She elbows Esti. “Eres muy mala guardando secretos, ¿eh?” She turns to Jess. “Bad at secrets,” she says. Esti rolls her eyes.

Lupe and Esti go off to hold down the table Lupe found and Jess grabs her guitar off the wall and moves up in line. She’d been debating what to play tonight on the way over, refusing to tell Lupe the options she was thinking about. One of the songs, The Indigo Girls’ “Galileo,” was a safe choice, classic, but it wasn’t really what she wanted to play tonight. The person at the head of the line moves on and Jess steps forward, picking up the pen and writing “Jess McCready, guitar,” on the line. She sets the pen down and picks up her guitar, heading back to the table.

Lupe’s hair catches the low light in the bar, accentuating her curls, and for a second, Jess can’t catch her breath. Yes, she’s going with the riskier choice tonight. It might be sappy, but if she can’t say it yet to Lupe, then maybe she can sing it and it would get still her message across.

She sits down in the third chair of their little table and Lupe slides a beer her way. Jess smiles. “Thanks hon,” she says, and squeezes her hand briefly before taking the beer.

The host of the open-mic gets up on stage soon after, panders to the crowd, and then introduces the first act. It’s one of the regulars at this open-mic. He pulls out a ukulele and starts strumming and Jess chuckles. He’s not Jess’ favorite act, but she appreciates his dedication.

Lu’s hand slips into hers during the third ask and Jess takes it appreciatively. She leans in. “I just realized I never thanked you for the mug.”

Lupe blushes. “You don’t have to, I’m replacing something that was broken.”

“Yeah,” Jess says, “but it’s beautiful.” She kisses Lupe’s cheek and Lupe leans into it. “Thank you,” she says.

There’s a quiet whoop from behind them and they glance back see Esti grinning at them. Lupe rolls her eyes and reaches back to bat Esti away, but Jess chuckles, reaching over Lupe to squeeze Esti’s hand.

Finally, a little while later, it’s Jess’ turn to play. The MC calls her up to the stage and vamps while she sets up. She slips the strap of her guitar over her head and plugs it into the amp, giving it an experimental strum. She’d tuned it earlier while waiting for the show to start, so now there’s nothing left to do but put the capo on and start talking.

“This song,” she begins, and has to swallow. “This song,” she tries again, “is one I haven’t played in a while. I was actually going to play some Indigo Girls tonight, but over the past few days, I…” She won’t air her laundry, clean or dirty, on the stage in a bar, won’t give too much away. “…I felt it was time to pull this one back out.” She reaches up, unclips her capo from the end of her guitar, and slides it onto the second fret, then strums it again. “So, here goes,” she says. She finds Lupe’s eyes in the crowd and her lips quirk up. “Sometimes The Indigo Girls won’t cut it and you have to play a little Brandi.”

Lupe chuckles with the rest of the crowd, but Jess sees it die on her lips as she arpeggios the opening chords. She lets the last one linger, takes a deep breath, and starts to sing.

“All of these lines across my face,” she sings, and a mild cheer goes through the audience as they recognize “The Story.” She laughs into her next line and keeps singing.

“Tell you the story of who I am,

So many stories of where I’ve been,

And how I got to where I am.”

She opens her eyes and finds Lupe watching her, a softness come over her features. She almost can’t look at her for the next part, but lets herself fall into the music, holding her gaze.

“Oh, but these stories don’t mean anything

If you’ve got no one to tell them to,

It’s true…”

Jess finds she does have to close her eyes to get the last part out, but she thinks it’s alright. She thinks Lupe will still get the message even if she can’t look at her.

“…I was made for you.”

She’s able to get through the rest of the song with no problems. She kicks it up a notch on the second verse to the cheers of the crowd, looking at Lupe for “You made me feel like a million bucks.” Lupe laughs and Esti leans forward, shaking her shoulder. Jess has to look away from the ensuing argument to keep from laughing and keeps playing.

She finishes the song, taking the energy back down, and finds that, once again, she can’t look Lupe in the eyes as she sings the last line, so she closes her eyes and lifts her head, crooning out the last “Well it’s true that I was made for you!”

The bar erupts in applause as the last notes drift through the air, but Jess only has eyes for Lupe as she opens her eyes. It’s dark, the bar dims the house lights during the show, but Jess could swear that Lupe’s cheeks are red. The feeling swells up within her and she makes herself look anywhere else as she smiles and begins unplugging her guitar.

“Thank you, thank you,” she says and slips the strap from over her head, holding it by the neck as she maneuvers her way off stage and back to her seat.

When she gets back to the table, Lupe is just looking at her, a smile on her face.

Esti leans over the table and shakes Jess’ arm. “So good!” she whisper-shouts. “You made this one,” she pulls her hands back and mimes crying, using her fingers to show tears running down her face.

Lupe gives her a look. “I did not cry!” she says. She turns to Jess. “I didn’t.”

Jess laughs. “I know, I was watching you guys,” she says.

Lupe nods, her cheeks coloring a little more. “Good, good, yeah,” she says. “Wouldn’t want my reputation to be ruined by a half-pint ball player who can’t move her own chair into her apartment.” She turns to Esti and translates into Spanish. Esti scoffs and sits back, crossing her arms. Lupe laughs, leaning her head on the back of her chair, then turns back to Jess. “You did really good up there though,” she says softly, and pulls her in by her shirt collar for a kiss.

Jess smiles into it. “Thanks,” she says when they pull back, bringing a hand up to briefly cup Lupe’s face. Then, she pulls away and points to her guitar, kneeling down and opening her case. She puts the guitar away, laying it gently back to rest, and closes her case with a snap. She smiles at Lupe as she gets back up, raising her eyebrows and slipping into her seat just as the next act begins. She hears Lupe chuckle next to her, feels her place a hand on her thigh.

And as her hand settles into place, Jess thinks about how true those words at the end of “The Story” are. It’s early, she doesn’t want to jinx anything, but she has honestly never felt so comfortable, so seen, with anyone before now. It scares her a little, but there’s also this certainty to it, this feeling of rightness. She takes her hand. Yeah, she figures, if she’s made for anyone in this world, it might as well be Lupe.

She squeezes her hand and Lupe squeezes back.

#aloto #a league of their own #jess mccready #lupe garcia #jesslupe #jelupe #apparently lol #esti gonzalez #jo deluca #my fanfiction #god this was supposed to be less than 2000 words and instead it's 9000 #*obligatory 'it's over 9000'*

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the-junebugg · 2 years

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Leaning On You

Part 2 of missing scenes one-shots (part 1 here)

Title: Leaning On You

Summary:

Greta and Carson are not nearly as sneaky as they think they are.

(how some of the Peaches find out)

Read on AO3

#a league of their own #aloto #aloto fic #gretson #greta x carson #greta gill #carson shaw #jo de luca #jess mccready #lupe garcia #maybelle fox #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3

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somebodytoundress · 2 years

Text

who am i to ask for more?

lupe garcia/jess mccready (1.5k words / fluff, sickfic) rated g

Lupe doesn’t think she’s ever been properly sick in her entire life. She was starting to think she was invincible just because she had never so much as been struck down by a cold or fever. However, Lupe Garcia has never experienced winter in Moose Jaw before. So now instead of being out on the farm with Jess, she’s bedridden and determined to make the absolute most out of her day off.

Lupe wakes up with a cold for probably the first time in her life. Jess takes care of her.

read it here

#lupe x jess #lupe garcia fanfiction #lupe garcia x jess mccready #jess mccready fanfiction #aloto #a league of their own #aloto fanfiction #fluff #sickfic

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talesandfluff · 2 years

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When Maybelle and Esti’s favorite radio program is canceled, they do their best to fill in the evening any other way, but when Esti accidentally catches a glimpse of her two best friends Jess and Lupe in a compromising position, an evening of pleasant bonding is suddenly filled with a lot more questions than Maybelle feels she has the answers to.

In which Maybelle and Esti happen to find out about Jess/Lupe.

#maybelle fox #esti gonzález #lupe garcía #jess mccready #a league of their own #jelupe #jesslupe #writing #fanfiction

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carsonshawl · 2 years

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ALOTO FANFIC - And They Were Roommates

Summary:

Jess likes to think of herself as a good roommate. Greta definitely lucked out on the roommate assignment. Jess is tidy enough, she always has snacks (and she’s prepared to share), she doesn’t snore, and she doesn’t have any weird items she’s brought with her like Shirley’s multiple humidifiers.

Greta’s also a pretty good roommate. She keeps her mess contained to her chair, almost never snores, shares all of her things; including her cigarettes, and she does Jess’s makeup whenever they’re expected to look like “real” women.

Now, it’s the Peaches second season and Jess is about ready to rescind every nice thing she’s ever said about Greta.

(aka. Greta steals the room to hook up with Carson and Jess is sick of it.)

Read on AO3

It also helps that Greta’s gay. Jess can imagine how stressful it must have been for Carson to room with Shirley back when she was homophobic. It was nice to know that Greta was safe for Jess, even if at the time, Greta didn’t know that Jess knew.

Now, it’s the Peaches second season and Jess is about ready to rescind every nice thing she’s ever said about Greta.

It’s a Friday night, a few hours past curfew. They all went out together a lot in the first few weeks, celebrating being back and getting to know all the new members. They’d needed to replace Jo and they’d lost a couple team members to the newly formed National Girls Baseball League.

Now it’s the third week back and everyone is content to do their own thing again. Greta spends most of her free time with Carson, obviously thrilled that the husband is no more. Jess spends most of her nights out at bars, usually with Lupe.

Jess and Greta have an agreement that the bedroom is available for two hours on the nights Jess goes out. She’s often out longer than that, but if she comes home early she wants her room.

Tonight she was out for five hours. She had drinks with Lupe and a couple of girls. Then she spent some time alone with one of the Comets.

Carson had plenty of time to get out.

But she hasn’t. Greta’s gold chain necklace is hanging around the doorknob, their subtle signal that the room is “in use”. Jess is really hoping Greta just forgot to remove it, but when she presses her ear to the door she can hear quiet laughing.

Greta’s really losing points as a roommate.

Jess slips down the stairs to the living room. She would have stomped down the stairs, hoping Greta got the hint, but it is the middle of the night. She kicks off her shoes and camps out on the couch.

Jess wakes up with the feeling that she’s being watched. When she opens her eyes she sees Maybelle leaning over her.

“Morning, sunshine,” says Maybelle, far too cheerfully in Jess’s opinion. “Did you sleep on the couch all night?”

Jess nods and makes a face, “my bedroom was otherwise occupied.”

“Ahhhh,” Maybelle nods in understanding, “the not-so-secret lovers.”

“Yeah, those assholes.”

The Peaches had finished their final home game against the Colleens earlier that day and for once, Jess is planning on having a quiet night in. After dinner is finished, she retreats to her room to read the book Carson had recommended for her. She makes it 30 pages before her night is ruined.

Carson walks in. She’s dressed for a night in, still wearing the jeans she’s had on all day. Carson has put her green sweater over her shirt and Jess, unfortunately, knows that Greta loves that sweater on Carson. It’s the first warning sign.

Greta smiles up at Carson from her spot on her own bed. She had been lying on her stomach reading a magazine but now she sits up against the headboard and makes room beside her. Jess hears Greta pat the bed and Carson slots in beside her.

Greta and Carson sit on Greta’s bed and share her magazine. Everything is fine. But, then the whispering starts. And, then there’s giggling. And then Carson whispers, “Greta, stop,” in a tone of voice that suggests she doesn’t want her to stop at all.

“Jess,” says Greta in her sweetest voice. She puts her magazine on her bedside table and leans over Carson to look at Jess.

“What?”

Jess isn’t amused at all.

“Are you planning on going out tonight?”

Jess refuses to look at Greta. She knows that Greta will pout when she says no. Carson will look like a kicked puppy even though she doesn’t mean to, it’s just her face.

“No.”

“Please, Jess,” begs Greta.

Jess absolutely hates her. She also loves her, though, so she feels her resolve slipping.

“Why can’t you sneak off to wherever you used to go?” Jess asks. They managed to successfully sneak around for months last season.

“It’s so much nicer here,” says Greta in her sweet voice, “and it’s a lot safer,” she says, her voice serious this time. She knows that Jess will sympathise.

“Fine,” grumbles Jess. She has such a soft spot for their stupid relationship.

She had wanted a night in, but Jess makes the most of her night out. A couple of locals buy her drinks, and she spends a few hours with the Colleens pitcher. So all-in-all it’s not a total loss.

When Jess returns home, there’s no necklace on the doorknob and only gentle snores from inside. After using the bathroom, she’s careful not to make a noise as she enters and changes for bed. The curtains are open and in the gentle light she can see two lumps in Greta’s bed. Jess doesn’t mind the extra roommate, she likes Carson. She also found it very entertaining when they spent months making excuses to sneak around, thinking Jess didn’t know. They’re just very inconsiderate when it comes to Jess’s space.

Carson will be gone in the morning, though. She always is.

Tomorrow is the start of a string of games against the Daisies, and Jess is determined to get a good night's sleep for once. She’s not planning on going out to a bar, even if there’ll be some Daisies looking to find an outlet for their pre-game nerves. Instead, Jess accompanies most of the team to see some movie about an English lady falling in love with a French pirate. Carson and Greta don’t join.

When the group arrives home, most of them head up to bed. Jess isn’t surprised to see the gold chain on her doorknob. She heads down to the living room and makes herself comfortable on the couch with a book.

Jess is a quarter of the way through the book when Beverly comes downstairs. She’s dressed in a robe, with her hair done up for bed. She looks into the living room, obviously surprised to see Jess awake.

“Miss McCready, what are you still doing awake?” asks Beverly. It sounds like more of a reprimand than a question.

Oh how Jess wants to blame Greta. She’s pretty sure Beverly wouldn’t bat an eye, probably already knowing about Greta and Carson. And, last season Beverly had given Jess a pretty big hint about being queer herself. Jess doesn’t say anything though, just in case. At the very least she’s saving Greta and Carson from an awkward telling off.

“Just winding down before bed, Bev,” Jess lies, “I had too much energy to sleep.” Beverly makes a disapproving noise. Because of Jess’s answer, and probably in part because of the nickname.

“Very well, Miss Mccready. Don’t stay up too late, it’s a big game tomorrow.”

Jess salutes and Beverly leaves, shaking her head as she goes.

Half an hour later, Greta comes down the stairs, dressed for bed.

“Sorry,” she says, leaning against the doorway. She actually looks regretful. “I lost track of time.”

As they head back upstairs, Greta’s eyes linger on the door to Carson and Shirley’s room.

“I wish things could be different,” she says quietly. She sounds sad and Jess isn’t sure if the comment was meant for her or not.

Jess squeezes Greta’s shoulder as she walks past and into their room.

“Me too.”

Jess and Lupe had been out for a drink. They’d had a good time but the night had been relatively unsuccessful, only running into women they’d sworn never to sleep with again. They’re walking along the hall, to their respective rooms, when Jess sees her doorknob. She groans.

Greta’s done it again.

“Why is there a necklace on your doorknob?” whispers Lupe, leaning over to look at the source of Jess’s frustration.

Jess just looks at her like it should be obvious, “why do you think?”

“Ohhhh,” says Lupe, laughing quietly.

“I hate Greta.”

“Come on,” says Lupe, “you can sleep on my floor.”

The couch would be more comfortable but at least she’s not on show for everyone to see.

The next day, Jess announces that they’ll be having a house meeting after lunch. When it’s time, the women all join her in the living room, squishing themselves onto the couches while Beverly stands in the background.

“What’s this about,” Jess hears Terri whisper to Ana who shrugs in response.

“I’m swapping rooms,” announces Jess, “Greta is a terrible roommate and I will murder her if I have to live with her one more night.”

Greta scoffs at her.

Jess can see Lupe laughing silently. She’s sitting between Maybelle and Ana, who are both smiling like they’re going to crack at any moment.

Lupe leans forward and grins, like she’s about to ruin Jess’s night. “You can be my roommate, Esti will swap with you.”

Jess is going to murder her.

“No, I need to swap with Carson,” Jess insists, “she’ll get along a lot better with Greta.”

Maybelle and Ana start snickering and when Jess glances at Carson, between Greta and Shirley, she sees she’s blushing furiously.

Lupe just waves her hand, “nonsense, Esti and Greta will get on great. Then we can be roommates.”

Jess glares at Lupe.

“No,” says Jess. Lupe gives her a look that says she can’t wait to see what Jess will come up with. “I need to room with Shirley.”

Everyone turns to look at Shirley. She looks so confused.

“I love her humidifiers.”

It’s the worst excuse Jess could come up with. Lupe, Maybelle, and Ana are snickering now. Jess can even see Beverly smiling in the back.

Jess can hear one of the new girls whisper, “humidifiers? Plural?”

Shirley nods at Jess, “It’s so important to prevent dryness, it can really irritate the body. Do you suffer from seasonal allergies, Jess?”

As Jess enters the bedroom, to help Greta pack, Greta pulls her into a tight hug.

“Thank you,” she says as Jess squeezes her back.

Turns out Jess quite likes the humidifiers. Shirley was right, they do wonders for her dry skin.

#i can't believe there's more than one gretson fic with this title #jess mccready #greta gill #carson shaw #most of the gang are in it though #gretson #aloto #aloto fanfic #aloto fanfiction #a league of their own #a league of their own tv #a league of their own fanfic #a league of their own fanfiction #fanfic #my fanfic

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