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soulnb42 · 1 year

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Senses and Sensibility

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything but those poor words.

Summary: Just a round of twenty questions in a lazy afternoon.

Hey everyone, first of all thank you so much for the notes and kind words over the previous parts of this trilogy, you’re awesome!

Here’s part three, much like part two it can stand alone, but I really think it’ll be more enjoyable if you have read part one and two first (you know, for the built up and all).

It’s an Avatrice story, so if it ain’t your thing, don’t read.

Enjoy,

AO3

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Ava’s heavy sigh echoed in the small apartment. It was a warm, lazy afternoon; usually she’d enjoy reading but she couldn’t really focus on her book, her mind was just restless.

“Bea?”

She called softly; putting her book on the nightstand, she then turned on her side so she could face Beatrice.

Beatrice was lying on her side, her head resting on the palm of her hand. It was nap time since they would be working the night shift today. Ava knew she should let her rest but she felt a bit hyper right now.

Beatrice had put her through the ringer during their training session all morning. Ava should be worn out but instead she was barely tired, courtesy of the halo.

“Hmm?” came the reply with a small delay.

Ava watched Beatrice dozing off and grinned softly because there was something immensely sweet about an unguarded Beatrice.

“What’s your favourite colour?” she finally asked the first question her mind latched on.

There was no response. Beatrice’s eyes were closed, her breathing soft and even. Ava guessed she had gone back to her slumber, yet another sign that she was exhausted. Oh well, Ava was fine with watching her sleep, observing Beatrice had become one of her favourite hobbies.

There was a soft intake of breath after almost two minutes. “Prussian blue,” Beatrice answered with a sleep-tinged voice. “…It’s a shade darker than royal and navy, I think…” another long pause. “It feels strong, and intense… I like it,” Beatrice continued, still half drifting in and out of sleep. “What about you?”

A grin spread wide onto Ava’s lips. She liked the fact that Beatrice never questioned where her mind went or why. No matter how random and odd the topic, Beatrice always indulged her and followed her train of thoughts as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Ava gave the question a thought. “I don’t know if I have a favourite,” she pouted pensively. “I like shades of blue-green like teal, ocean blue… or lagoon… I also like purple… and I like shades of green like kiwi and jade.” Her mind started reeling with its own colour wheel. “Oh! I like seashell, it’s kind of a pinkish orange… and melon, I like melon!”

The list didn’t stop there, Ava found herself mentioning at least thirty other hues. Beatrice chortled quietly. “So, basically, you like every colour.”

Ava was about to agree but then frowned. “Actually… I don’t know about yellow; I have a weird vibe when it comes to yellow,” she mused.

Beatrice slowly blinked her eyes open, giving up on her nap. “Weird? How so?”

“I don’t know… it’s neither cool nor warm… it… it…” Ava struggled to find her words. “…I don’t know… it just doesn’t speak to me. I mean, I don’t hate it, but I’m not sure I like it either.”

Beatrice tried to figured her own opinion regarding the colour. “Now that you mention it, I get the point. I think it can be good to look at, but I don’t think I’d like wearing it.”

She watched Ava’s face lit up suddenly with that glint indicating that she just remembered some interesting fact about the topic at hand. “Did you know that it’s said to be one of the hardest colours to work with?”

“Really?” Beatrice felt her eyebrows rise in surprise.

“Yep, I read it in an art theory book, can’t remember which, anyway… painters would do bowls of yellow fruits to show off their skills because it is one of the most difficult shades to paint with,” Ava explained. She barely took a breath before continuing.

“Fun fact, if they’d paint a peeled yellow fruit, the peel would actually be longer than it should be just so they could… flex on other painters, so to speak. I had never noticed it but upon reading about it, I’ve looked at some paintings from the 17th century and I can confirm that it is true,” Ava smirked.

Ava’s mind never failed to amaze Beatrice. She never knew where it’d take her, but it was always surprising. It could be light, or silly (or truly dumb) reflexions at times and the next they could dive into the depth of existentialism, knowledge and philosophy. One thing for sure, it was always an entertaining ride.

“Okay, flying or breathing under water?”

Beatrice rubbed at her eyes lazily to get rid of the last cobwebs. Ava was on a roll now, and apparently, they were in for a fresh round of twenty questions.

Beatrice had never been one to confide in others, too afraid to reveal her flaws, to be reminded how ‘abnormal’ she was. That was a pain she couldn’t bear to face again, so she had learnt to keep things to herself.

She was a good confidant, though. Somehow, it was easier to carry the others’ secrets than her own. Yet with Ava, things were different. She did confide in Ava, she did talk about her past, in fact she couldn’t remember a single time she had denied Ava an answer to any of the question she’d ever ask.

It occurred to Beatrice that they shared easily with one another. There was something about Ava that made her reach out and made her want to lower her walls a bit. Perhaps, part of it was a product of her protective instinct. While she hadn’t been exactly thrilled at Ava’s arrival in their row, she had wanted her to feel, if not welcome at the very least accepted. It hadn’t taken long for her to see beyond Ava’s constant goofiness.

Ava joked around all the time, but it was nothing more than a defence mechanism. From what she knew about Ava’s past, finding the funny in anything was what had kept her going for all the decade she had spent at the orphanage. It all made sense once she thought about it. Ava had had nothing; her wits, her humour, her emotions, those were among the very few things she had had control over.

Beatrice had paid attention and she had seen past that seemingly inability to take anything seriously. Ava was sensible and sensitive, observant and smart, soft and caring, generous and strong, oh so strong.

“What’s your favourite sense?”

The question brought Beatrice back from her reflexions. “Uh… that’s a very good question,” she frowned. “And a tough one at that… I don’t know actually, I’ll have to give a thought. What about you?”

Ava stared at her for a moment with an intensity that almost made her feel uncomfortable, then she smiled as if she held the secret of the world.

“I don’t have one. I love them all.”

Beatrice chuckled. “Of course, you do.”

She’d always found it endearing how Ava apprehended the world with open arms and mind, how she just appreciated everything and took everything in like a wonder.

“Yes, I do,” Ava confirmed.

It was true, Ava loved all her senses. She had spent over a decade experiencing the world through tv and books, in a grey room where colours barely changed with the seasons. After coming back to life everything was heightened to the point of constant sensory overload. Maybe it was a side effect of the halo, or maybe it was just the stark contrast of going from barely feeling anything to feeling everything, whatever the case every single day she was grateful to feel, simply feel the world through her senses.

Beatrice made that sensory overload tenfold, in the best possible way. Ava didn’t know when or how it came to be; it was just a fact. She had that epiphany a while ago.

“And with good reasons too,” she added with a smile.

There was a pause, a hesitation during which she pondered if she should say what was on her mind, if Beatrice was ready to hear it. She bit her bottom lip, looked away for a moment.

When her eyes settled back on Beatrice, she leapt over her doubt and set her words free.

“I favour my sense of taste because I can enjoy your food,” she said. “I love your cooking. It’s incredible. It is somewhat amazing how good you are at cooking considering the food we had at the OCS. No offence, it was okay, but it barely made it above ‘bland’ as far as taste go. Now, your cooking? The most wonderful trip for my tastebuds.”

Beatrice blushed at the compliment. “Thank you.”

“I favour my sense of hearing because I love the sound of your voice. You’re always so calm, your voice is soothing. I also love the sound of your laughter, it’s truly glorious.”

Ava did love hearing Beatrice laugh; she liked it so much she made it her mission to have her laugh at least once a day.

Beatrice felt her face getting even warmer at Ava’s words.

“I also love it when you sing. I don’t think you realize it but when you’re hyper focused on something, you sing. It’s sweet, really. And I enjoy it quite a lot.”

This time, oxygen left Beatrice’s lungs unexpectedly. She felt her eyebrows rise in astonishment. Just how much did Ava pay attention to her?

Ava seemed amused by her reaction and kept on. “I favour my sense smell because…” she leant a bit forward and whispered. “I like your fragrance, orange blossom or cotton blossom…depending on the soap you choose on any given day.”

Beatrice’s heart was pacing an odd beat now. She had to remind herself to breathe.

“I favour my sense of sight because… I like watching you. I think you’re fascinating. It’s amazing to see you pour yourself in the simplest or smallest task; like everything deserved your full attention. I can watch you for hours and always find something new about you. You always move with poise and grace and… I think you’re beautiful.”

Beatrice felt naked under Ava’s gaze. She had never had anyone looking at her with so much affection and admiration, it made her feel warm and… and…whatever it was she felt, it was too much.

“I favour my sense of touch because…”

With lightning speed, Ava put her hands on her hips and squeezed them before launching a tickling attack. Beatrice squealed in surprise then started to wiggle in a vain attempt to escape, laughing heartily.

“Mercy! Mercy!” she begged trying to push Ava’s hands away. She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe.

Ava was enjoying the sound so much she didn’t stop right away. She had sensed that Beatrice was overwhelmed and figured some levity was needed.

Beatrice was panting, her cheeks hurting a bit from her hysterical laughter. Of course Ava would find a way to force her to breathe again.

“I favour my sense of touch because I love making you scream with my fingers.”

“Ava!”

Watching Beatrice’s eyes almost popping out of their sockets while she gasped in shock and her face reddened was absolutely delightful. If the ability to speak was a sense, Ava knew she’d favour it because she adored teasing Beatrice or saying anything that’d make her lose her composure.

“Yeah, that did sound a bit dirty,” Ava waggled her eyebrows.

“You’re incorrigible,” Beatrice chastised her or at least she tried, because she was grinning even though she clearly didn’t want to.

“And proud of it.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes with mock exasperation. She was grateful for Ava’s goofiness and sense of humour. She was grateful for Ava just being Ava.

Someone had told her once that she was contained, which was a painfully accurate statement she could admit. She had spent a lifetime learning to always be in control of her emotions just so she wouldn’t get hurt by anything or anyone, so letting go didn’t come easy to her.

She liked having fun, joking around, laughing and just letting her hair down like anyone. It simply was counter intuitive to her nature. She had built herself to be serious, disciplined, to be stern and tempered because it was the only version of herself that the world had deemed acceptable.

When she was around Ava though, the iron grip she had over herself and her emotions always loosened. Ava always brought forth her softer side.

“I favour my sense of touch because I love hugging you… and showing you affection… I love how warm and soft you feel,” Ava said seriously.

Trust Ava to surprise her. When she had asked her question, Beatrice had figured she’d proceed to find her favourite sense by elimination. Which sense could she live without? Ava had tackled the question differently, why did she favoured each of her sense to begin with.

Under that new light, Beatrice understood Ava. It really was logical not to have a favourite sense. Now that she thought about it. She favoured all of her senses for the same reasons Ava favoured hers, albeit in different ways.

She loved watching Ava, to see her whole face lighting up whenever she'd take a scenery in or found beauty in the most mundane things. She just loved Ava’s seemingly perpetual state of amazement.

It was easy to forget that for all the knowledge she had soaked in, nurturing her brain, most of the time Ava was literally experiencing the rest of the world for the first time.

Beatrice couldn't imagine not hearing Ava laugh, or the excitement colouring her voice when she'd speak of one thing or another, or that mischievous note when she did a bad pun.

Some nights Ava would have nightmares. She’d toss in her sleep in a clear state of distress. Beatrice would take her in her arms and hold her tight against her. Then she’d slowly breathe in and out until Ava mimicked her unconsciously.

Once Ava would settle down, Beatrice would breathe her in, let Ava’s scent fill her lungs. It was quite intoxicating and she was addicted to that scent. Beatrice loved those moments because they were only hers. Ava never woke up when she was holding her and she’d always let go of Ava long before the morning.

They had shared a few kisses since the one she had given to Ava in the kitchen. Ava had been the one initiating them, they were always soft and almost chaste. One thing was certain: she absolutely loved the sweet taste of Ava’s lips.

Ava was tactile. Beatrice loved her sense of touch because she could feel Ava’s displays of affection. She just loved feeling Ava’s soft hands on her. Ava could convey so much with the simplest touch. Beatrice craved those touches, they always made her feel grounded, complete.

Yes, Beatrice favoured all her senses as well, even though she couldn’t voice it all aloud.

“As you can now see, it is impossible for me to have a favourite sense,” Ava concluded with a grin.

“You did make interesting points,” Beatrice agreed.

Ava’s gaze intensified, the emotion shining through it robbed Beatrice’s lungs from oxygen. Ava palmed her cheek and when she spoke again her tone was soft but serious.

“I love all of my senses because they enable me to love you, completely.” Ava caressed Beatrice’s skin softly. “And I do, Bea. I love you.”

Beatrice couldn’t remember ever hearing those words before. She was fairly certain she never had.

Nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared her to hear those words.

All she had ever been prepared for was rejection. She understood the why and the how of rejection: she was ugly, flawed, unworthy, broken.

Ava knew all that. Ava could see the ugly, the flawed, the unworthy, the broken. She knew, she saw and yet there was no teasing in her voice, no trace of uncertainty.

The inner voices in Beatrice’s head kicked in to tell her she was unworthy but then something happened. Ava’s words kept echoing, silencing the rest until it was the only thing she could hear.

I love you.

Beatrice could feel Ava’s love radiating from her, like a warm, fuzzy current. It engulfed her, filled her up to the brim and suddenly it was like she was holding onto a live wire: every cell of her body was pulsing. She was overwhelmed, so much so she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t put what she felt into words. It was too much, just way too much and it was petrifying. Were people wired to actually feel so much at once? Because she sure wasn’t.

It took a minute for her to be cognizant of her heart pounding so violently in her chest she felt on the verge of imploding.

And then, for the first time, her voice was the loudest in her head. It was boisterous, screaming: I love you, too.

Ava watched emotions flashing through Beatrice’s eyes one after the other: shock, incomprehension, fear, elation, wonder…

She could hear the gears in Beatrice’s head turning, she could easily imagine what was going on in there. She simply waited, rubbing her thumb gently against Beatrice’s cheek.

She knew she had been heard. She also knew Beatrice needed to come to acceptance of her words on her own.

Ava had no doubt about her feelings. She had thought she was in love once. Mary had dismissed her as being hormonal and though offended at the time, now that she had gained perspective, she could say Mary had been right.

She knew because what she felt for Beatrice was a universe away from what she had felt for JC. She had been very fond him that was for sure, but it had definitely not been love.

She loved Beatrice. It was that simple. Her love was unwavering, unconditional, all encompassing. It was a bit terrifying because it was so vivacious, she could barely contain it all. She wasn’t scared to feel that much though, if anything she felt… settled, like everything made sense.

Beatrice’s shaky intake of breath broke her out of her musings. She watched the inner struggle in those beautiful hazel eyes.

Then it happened. Ava saw the very moment things shifted. The moment Beatrice finally took it all in, and understood that it was all real and true.

Tears pooled in Beatrice’s eyes and they were shinning with marvel. Ava saw her lips moving but no words made it out.

Ava stayed silent. She knew how hard it was for Beatrice to lean into her emotions and trust that what she was feeling was fine. She also knew that while Beatrice was winning small battles against her inner demons every day, she still had to find her own voice.

It was okay because Ava didn’t need to hear Beatrice tell her she loved her back. She already knew because Beatrice told her so every day whether she was conscious of it or not. She told her through the way she took care of her, through the way she looked at her, smiled at her… it was all the tiny things. Ava had learnt to listen, and she heard Beatrice as clear as if she was screaming at the top of her lungs.

Beatrice took a deep breath to reign over her emotions.

Looking at Ava again, she made another attempt to speak but the words remained stuck in her throat. She briefly cursed her inaptitude to voice her feelings.

Oh well, there were other ways to communicate.

Ava was about to reassure Beatrice but words never made it past her lips. Beatrice surprised her with a kiss so fierce it sent her in orbit.

Beatrice kissed Ava with everything she was, pouring her heart out. She loved her too, by heavens she loved Ava too.

When Ava laughed into their kiss, Beatrice knew she had heard her silent declaration loud and clear.

They broke the kiss, both beaming with incommensurable joy. Beatrice could feel tears streaming down her cheeks but she didn’t care.

She might never feel deserving of Ava’s love, but she was no fool and she intended to hold onto that precious gift with dear life. More importantly, she’d show Ava that her love was reciprocated any way she could, even if it wasn’t with words. Without hesitation, she kissed Ava again.

Ava loved Beatrice.

Beatrice loved Ava.

That was that.

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Thanks for reading!

#warrior nun #warriornun #warrior nun fanfic #warriornunfanfic #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #ava x beatrice #ava x sister beatrice #avasilva #sisterbeatrice #avaxbeatrice #warriornunfandom #warrior nun fandom #ao3fanfic #sweet #romance

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soulnb42 · 1 year

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Bell Peppers Interlude

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything but those poor words.

Summary: A deep conversation in the kitchen lead to some interesting trivia about bell peppers.

Hey everyone, here’s part two of the trilogy. It can stand alone, but it might be more enjoyable if you read part one.

It’s an Avatrice story, so if it ain’t your thing, don’t read.

Enjoy,

AO3

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Ava leant against the kitchen doorframe and grinned. Beatrice had her back to her, from the sound and her movements, Ava guessed Beatrice was cutting something on the chopping board.

Watching Beatrice was one of the things Ava liked to do, especially when Beatrice was lost in her own world. Ava was fascinated by the way Beatrice always put all her focus in the smallest task. Everything had to be perfect or perfectly executed.

What she liked most was when Beatrice was immersed into what she was doing and would sing to herself, like right now.

Ava indulged in her contemplation for two minutes. She watched Beatrice set her knife aside and grab the towel she had over her left shoulder to dry her hands. She silently walked behind her and set her hands on her hips. She then put her head against her back, listening to the soft echoes of her heartbeat.

Beatrice startled at the unexpected touch, but immediately relaxed. Ava’s arms tentatively snaked around her waist. The warmth and affection filled her with delight. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before her insecurities and the ugly voices in her head resurfaced. She tensed in spite of herself, and the feeling that she was doing something wrong took over.

Ava felt the shift and undid her embrace immediately. She moved to Beatrice’s side and leant against the counter so she was kind of facing her. Beatrice kept her eyes cast downward, focusing on whatever was on the chopping board.

“What are you cooking?” Ava broke the awkward silence with what she hoped was a casual tone.

“I’m… improvising,” Beatrice replied with a small shake of her head.

Ava nodded. She could walk away but the tension made her uneasy. “You okay?” she asked softly.

“Yup,” Beatrice’s response was immediate but unconvincing.

Inwardly Beatrice was reciting her new mantra, trying to fight off her inner demons. There’s nothing wrong with me…what I feel is normal… I am normal… there’s nothing wrong with me…

“Are we?”

“Of course.”

Ava frowned and hesitated. Something was off and worry was starting to twist her guts. “You think you could…say that again while looking at me?” she let out a nervous chuckle.

Beatrice’s head snapped up to look at her. “We’re good,” she flashed a lifeless grin before returning her a gaze on the bell pepper she was chopping.

Ava’s mind started to recall the past few days. They had kissed a couple of weeks ago. Beatrice had seemed fine with it then, just as elated as she had been. Ever since, Ava had felt the constant need to express her affection via little touches. A hand on Beatrice’s, on her shoulder, on the back of her neck or on her arm. Nothing exuberant, just small gestures to connect them physically. Beatrice would always grin before looking away, like she had just now.

However, Ava realised that maybe she may have misinterpreted discomfort for bashful reciprocity…which would explain why Beatrice never initiated anything or returned the gestures…

Oh damn… Ava was about to be sick.

“I’m sorry,” she said with contrition. “I thought…” she trailed off. She had thought that Beatrice had welcome those displays of affection, never considering otherwise until now. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable with my touches…”

There’s nothing wrong with me… what I feel is normal… I am… wait what?

Beatrice looked up again. She had been so locked up in her own head, her responses to Ava been automatic. Ava’s words were only now making it through the thick veil of her inner struggle.

“Ava, no,” her words tumbled in a rush, mingling with Ava’s as they spoke at the same time. “You didn’t…you didn’t make me uncomfortable…”

“I won’t…do it again… I…” Ava petered out.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” Beatrice repeated more firmly now that she had Ava’s attention.

Ava stared at her, gauging her. “Are you sure?” she bit her lower lip anxiously. “Your face and body are kind of saying the opposite, right now.”

“You didn’t, I promise.” Beatrice assured her. “I like… I like your touches,” she added in a whisper.

“Yeah?” a tentative grin pulled at the corner of Ava’s lip.

“Yeah.”

Ava let out a sigh of relief, she hadn’t misinterpreted anything. Now that Beatrice was looking at her, truly looking at her, she could see the affection mirroring her own. Though timid, it was there, resolute.

“Good,” she acquiesced with a soft grin.

After a long pause, Beatrice returned her attention to the bell peppers she was prepping. Ava kept her eyes on her.

Something was bothering Beatrice. Whatever it was, it ran deep, Ava could sense that much.

“Tell me?”

Beatrice ignored the soft prompt and kept cutting the peppers, clearly not wanting to talk. Ava didn’t probe again, but waited patiently. Sometimes silence was the best incentive.

It took almost two minutes but eventually Beatrice stopped her movement. When she spoke, her eyes remained on her stilled hands.

“When you spend a lifetime being told that something is wrong with you, that what you feel is wrong… that you’re some kind of aberration of nature… and you get daily reminders of those beliefs shove down your throat for long enough… after a while it becomes your reality.”

Beatrice raised her gaze sideways but didn’t meet her eyes.

“You become that ugly thing they say you are… and you hate that thing… even more than they do…” she snorted bitterly. “So, you do everything to smother that part of you, to fit into the right mould… to be acceptable… normal… or at least what they deem normal.”

She looked away, tilted her head up as if to hold back tears and cleared her throat. She turned her head back in Ava’s direction, but still didn’t look at her in the eyes.

“Even when you learn better… when you start understanding that they were the problem, not you… their voices are still loud in your head… the loudest… because of years of conditioning…”

Ava stood still. She could feel how taxing it was on Beatrice to open up and reveal so much. If she spoke, her words would be maladroit at best, and saying ‘sorry’ felt inadequate. So, she remained silent, because she didn’t want to spook Beatrice into a retreat, and she didn’t have the right words anyway.

She watched helplessly Beatrice wiping off her tears with the back of her hand in a delicate gesture.

After a beat, Beatrice finally looked Ava in the eyes.

“Objectively,” she continued “I know there’s nothing wrong with me… or the way I feel…I know that, I do… but it’s hard to shut those voices up…”

Beatrice put her hand close to the one Ava had on the countertop. She tentatively put her pinkie over Ava’s. “I like your touches, they help me being louder,” her sheepish grin made Ava’s stomach flutter. “Please…don’t stop…”

Ava smiled back. “I won’t.”

Beatrice stared at their touching hands, moving her pinkie in a hesitant caress. “It’s not that I don’t want to initiate, or return them… because I do…it…it takes time to readjust…to… recalibrate my brain.”

Ava turned her hand up to grasp Beatrice’s fingers, she ran her thumb over her knuckles soothingly.

She perfectly understood of where Beatrice was coming from. She had spent a decade being told she was unworthy and unwanted. She knew the permanent, invisible scars words left on one’s psyche. For her, they had left deep-seeded fears, Beatrice had inherited deep-seeded pain and self-loathing in addition.

When Beatrice retracted her hand and looked away again, Ava knew it was because she felt embarrassed at her display of vulnerability. Ava decided to provide comfort the only way she knew how: with humour.

“Well, I’ve come across some life-altering information recently,” she said solemnly.

“Have you now?”

Beatrice latched on the topic change. She felt bare and it was distressing. She didn’t want to hide for Ava, but talking about her shame and pain was unbearable.

“Brace yourself for this one,” Ava warned. “Did you know bell peppers have a gender?”

“They do?”

“Yes. If you lay them on their side and count the bumps at the bottom you can tell which is which. Four bumps mean it’s female and three means it’s male.”

“Uh, interesting.”

“I know, right?” Ava grinned. “The females are full of seeds, obviously. They taste sweeter and apparently, they are best consumed raw, whereas the males are best when cooked.”

“You’re a bottomless well of trivia,” Beatrice said with an appreciative pout.

“That got me thinking. Since they have gender… it begs the question: do bell peppers have sex?”

Bea burst out laughing unexpectedly at the absurd query.

“And if they do have sex… what does that look like?” Ava kept on her roll. “Or, are we talking about a literal ‘birds and bees’ situation here?”

The fact that Ava was speaking with a straight face, and made her questions sound genuine only made her laugh harder.

“And… if you have a full patch of bell peppers does that mean there’s an orgy going on or are they all ace? And what about genderfluid bell peppers, do they have five bumps? And…” Ava kept pushing her silly questions to the extreme.

Beatrice was laughing so hard her sides were hurting. “Please…stop talking,” she wheezed.

“So many questions, I can’t even begin…” Ava mused with a shake of her head.

She watched Beatrice laugh and felt warm at the sight. She loved that sound so much. Beatrice’s laughter always made her heartbeat go a little crazy. Not to mention how it enhanced Beatrice’s beauty.

It took almost two minutes for Beatrice to get her laughter under control. When she did, she was breathless, her eyes brimming with tears.

“Whatever am I going to do with you?” Beatrice sighed with a shake of her head. She wiped the unshed tears from her eyes with a knuckle.

Silence filled the room again, but this time the bad tension was gone.

“Thank you,” said Beatrice in a much sober tone.

Ava smiled tenderly at her. “As I’ve said, don’t hate what you are, what you are is beautiful,” she stated softly but firmly. “I don’t mind saying it every day, every minute of every day even… if that’s what it takes for you to accept those statements for what they are: the truth.”

She straightened up so she could kiss Beatrice’s forehead. She cupped her cheek before resting her forehead against Beatrice’s. After a moment she leant back and ran the back of her fingers on Beatrice’s cheek.

Looking at Ava, Beatrice felt grounded again. She couldn’t find the words to express her gratitude to Ava. She didn’t feel deserving of all the kindness and affection Ava was bestowing upon her. Be as it may, she treasured it as the most precious gift she’d ever received. And it was.

Ava’s eyes drifted briefly on Beatrice’s lips. She was about to lean in but Beatrice moved back a bit, breaking the contact. Undeterred, Ava leant back against the counter and simply grinned.

“And the real question is what would you do without my awesome, mind-blowing bits of trivia? Say what you will, I know you’ve been thinking about bell pepper sex for the past 2 minutes,” Ava waggled her eyebrows.

“Oh, hush!” Beatrice rolled her eyes.

“Can I help with anything?”

“Chop an onion and then mince the meat if you don’t mind”

“On it!”

Ava straightened up again, Beatrice caught her wrist before she could walk away completely. Beatrice was looking down, a deep frown marring her face.

“Bea?” Ava called her after a beat.

Beatrice looked up, her eyes set on her lips and Ava held her breath. Beatrice moved to lean in but closed her eyes with a deep sigh of what appeared to be resignation before letting go of Ava’s wrist.

Even though, Beatrice hadn’t followed through her clear desire to kiss her, Ava appreciated the effort. It was yet another assurance that they were on the same wavelength.

There’s nothing wrong with me… what I feel is normal… I am normal…

Beatrice took a deep breath and a step back, then she put a hand flat on Ava’s chest and pushed her gently. She didn’t stop to think, when Ava was back against the countertop, she leant in and captured Ava’s lips in a soft kiss.

Ava exhaled sharply in surprise, her eyes fluttering shut at the contact. In a second her entire being was humming with some indescribable feeling. She felt warm, her head was spinning and all her nerve endings tingling. She could feel the halo amping everything up and just like that she knew she was glowing, literally.

It was, wow.

The kiss came to an end to soon to her taste. When she blinked her eyes open, Beatrice was grinning bashfully. “I guess, we can call that a… light kiss.”

Ava’s face lit up instantly at the pun.

Beatrice made a show of rolling her eyes. In truth, she knew how much Ava loved puns and to see her smiling from ear to ear was worth the lame joke.

Ava was high on euphoria. Beatrice had kissed her and made a pun out of it. Life couldn’t get better than that at this very moment as far as she was concerned.

“You’re such a bad influence,” Beatrice muttered.

“And proud of it,” Ava beamed.

“Whatever… just get to work, please.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!” Ava replied with a wink, a gigantic smile plastered on her face.

-------------------------------

I shall be back with part three soon.

Thanks for reading!

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