9 for my fave lesbians✌️
they really are my absolute fave lesbians i’m sorry this took a while but it was really lovely to write so i hope it ended up okay 🙈
9. the hug that feels like home
Darcy slumped into her seat next to Tara and let her bag fall onto the floor. Tara had already turned to her with her usual open, sunny smile, and with barely any hesitation, she swooped in with a quick kiss. It drew a smile out of Darcy, unpreventable and predictable, but not entirely as easy as usual. She knew it showed, because with one real look at her face, Tara was frowning in faint concern.
Darcy urged her smile wider. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Tara replied, bumping their shoulders together. “You okay?”
“Yeah!” Darcy replied with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. “Yeah, I’m good. Happy to see you, aren’t I?” she teased.
She knew Tara wouldn’t be so easily convinced or dismissed, but the classroom was filling up, and Elle’s gaze had followed her to her seat after she didn’t quite get the usual pep into her passing greeting. But she knew she didn’t have to convince Tara of anything. Tara knew her better than anyone else and would understand perfectly what the issue was likely to be without any words exchanged between them.
She’d know that, mainly, Darcy wasn’t currently in the mood to talk about it.
Tara did, indeed, only hum contemplatively back, playfully narrowing her eyes even while she snuck her hand into Darcy’s atop Darcy’s lap and gave a comforting squeeze. Darcy tangled her fingers with Tara’s and allowed herself, briefly, to lean into the familiar warmth of Tara’s side as the form room filled up. She met Elle’s eyes, too, sometime amidst the roll call, and gave what she hoped was a reassuring grin. Elle smiled softly, warmly back, and some more of the irritated knots in Darcy’s chest loosened.
But this couldn’t last—Tara, or Elle, wouldn’t be with her in every class, and her mood took an almost immediate dip after the brief reprieve of form. It wasn’t that she didn’t have other friends in other classes, but it was that those other friends were just friends. Not friends. Not people who would see past her one meager smile and care enough to ask what was up; or that she would answer, even if they did.
And she’d had more, before. When her being a lesbian was just a quirky character trait that wasn’t affecting anyone else. When they could keep her, somewhat, in a box they approved of. Like her parents frequently attempted—and continuously failed—to do.
By the time lunch rolled around, her irritation had drawn on a headache that furthered her irritation in a vicious cycle. It was a testament to how bad she must have looked, when even Elle arrived at their table and stopped before sitting down. She tilted her head at Darcy while carefully pulling out her seat and laying her bag on the table. “Are you okay?”
“Mmhm,” Darcy mumbled, picking up a Monster Munch and twirling it between her fingers. She raised it a few inches, then dropped it back in the bag with a grimace. “Horrendous headache. Currently extremely glad we haven’t got music today.”
Elle cringed sympathetically. “Ugh, the worst. Do you want some painkillers? I think I’ve got a few in my bag.”
She began rifling through, and before Darcy could wave a dismissal, Tara was settling down at her side. “What do you need painkillers for?”
“It’s just a headache,” Darcy assured. “I don’t need any, it’s alright.”
“You sure?” Elle asked, pausing her search.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. A nap will be the best and only real cure.”
Tara made a sad sound on her behalf, and Darcy felt her stomach twist as fingers suddenly weaved in her hair, smoothing gently along her scalp. She breathed out an almost inaudible sigh as Tara drew her head down onto her shoulder and pet carefully through her hair. “There, there,” Tara teased while Darcy closed her eyes, although it was too soft to really be joking. “Just don’t actually fall asleep on me, okay? Lunch isn’t long enough.”
“For a ten-to-fifteen minute nap it is,” Darcy tried, snuggling into Tara’s neck as Tara humphed.
“Come on. Do I need to feed you?”
“Ugh, please don’t,” Elle interrupted. When Darcy peeled her eyes open to look at her, she was grinning. “This is already too much sickening sweetness for me. I swear, I can’t escape it now with Nick and Charlie too.”
Darcy raised a brow at her, though she knew she wouldn’t have the usual energy for this conversation. Their presence had given her a little boost, though, and they would likely notice more if she didn’t take this opportunity as well. So she put on her best tone of exaggerated innocence and said, “Well, you know what they say. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”
Elle gave her the usual, highly-unimpressed look, and Darcy’s smile was no longer forced as she sank into the normality of it.
Then a girl giggled in passing, pulling a face at Tara and Darcy before mumbling to her friend. “Ew, as if. They think everyone’s like them, don’t they?”
Darcy felt Tara tense up under her, and her headache spiked and turned her vision red as she sat up straight. “I’m sorry, what makes you think we’d want you?”
The girl froze, meeting Darcy’s gaze with a wide-eyed look, clearly not expecting the address. She looked nervously at her friend, who shifted awkwardly beside her, then back to Darcy, unsure.
Darcy raised her brows. “Yeah, I’m talking to you. Go on, then. What makes you think we’d want you to be part of our exclusive club, hm?”
“Darcy,” Tara mumbled quietly, her hand tangling in the side of Darcy’s blazer. Under the table. Darcy knew that she’d already drawn attention. That the racket of the cafeteria had died down to curious, excited whispers; that glances were being flicked at them less and less conspicuously.
It only flared Darcy’s irritation higher, a sort of righteous anger that usually never outweighed her own comfort and confidence in herself. She really was tired. Tired of needing to be confident, of wondering how angry she should really be—of doubting the point of either. She was tired of everyone else feeling like they were due an opinion on her life rather than dealing with their own.
The girl shot her friend another look. Darcy wasn’t quite sure what year they were in—if they were slightly older or slightly younger or roughly the same. God, they were so entitled, and she didn’t even know their names.
“What?” Darcy demanded, when the two continued to stand there, silent. “Nothing to say now that you can’t pretend we don’t hear you? Or have you just realised you didn’t even know what we were talking about in the first place and your little comment made no sense to begin with?”
Finally the girl straightens her shoulders, tilting her chin up. “You know, I didn’t care you were gay or whatever, but like, you’ve just gotten really rude.”
Darcy barely held back an incredulous, hysterical burst of laughter. “Are you joking?” She looked to Tara and Elle. “Really, is she being serious right now?”
Darcy could see her annoyance reflected in Elle’s eyes, their gazes locked in understanding. Tara was looking at her searchingly. Her anger was only visible in the minute working of her jaw, of the tight clench of her hand still curled in Darcy’s blazer.
Tara looked up at the girls and leveled them with her most unimpressed stare, complete with one cocked brow and a tilted head. “Was that all?”
The girls stared at them for another moment before walking away. Darcy let out a harsh breath as Tara’s hand raised to settle gently on her shoulder.
“God, it’s like they really can’t hear themselves speak,” Elle sighed. “You’d think they’d be fed up by now.”
“People like that never get tired of themselves. Think of Harry,” Tara pointed out. She gave Darcy’s shoulder a slight squeeze and lowered her voice. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Darcy said, too sharp. Her adrenaline hadn’t entirely died down, and the ache taking over her skull had gotten worse. “I think I just need—I’ll be back in a bit.”
Before either of them could question her, she was on her feet and heading out of the cafeteria. She didn’t know where exactly she planned on going; her feet carried her in the direction of her and Tara’s music room before she decided against it, knowing it would likely be the first place Tara checked if she came looking. There weren’t all that many places Darcy could go where Tara wouldn’t find her relatively quickly, anyway, but if she could give herself a few more minutes, maybe it would be enough to fix her mood.
But she only made it outside and settled herself on the ground with her back to the wall for a moment before Tara was sitting next to her. Darcy had her arms wrapped around her legs and her head buried in her knees, willing some of the pain down with deep breaths, and couldn’t see her. But she had no doubt who it was. There was only ever one person it would be.
Tara sat next to her quietly, close enough for Darcy to feel her presence, but not actually touching. The message was clear—she wouldn’t push Darcy to talk, and she would give her space, but she was here. She wouldn’t leave Darcy alone.
It made Darcy feel worse even while bringing her comfort.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
Tara sounded genuinely confused when she responded, “What for?”
“I shouldn’t have bothered saying anything. It just gave everyone something else to whisper about and of course it didn’t help anything, anyway.”
There was a short silence; a hesitation. “You don’t usually let that sort of thing bother you, but you’ve been down all day. What’s wrong?”
Darcy didn’t—couldn’t—answer. She offered up a shrug, which became more of an awkward, full-body jostle in her position.
“Darcy,” Tara said softly. She shifted closer. Darcy felt a light grip on her left arm. “Come on, you can talk to me.”
“It’s not even about anything,” Darcy protested, though she took a breath and raised her head. She tilted it back against the wall to look at Tara, who was twisted slightly sideways to better see Darcy.
“It’s got to be something. You don’t get like this for no reason.” Tara shifted around even further so that she could directly face Darcy, though still remained at her side. She stretched her free hand over so she was holding onto both of Darcy’s arms. “Did your parents say something?”
Darcy glanced aside, which was probably already answer enough, if Tara’s quiet sigh was anything to go by. “Nothing new.”
“But it’s upset you more than usual,” Tara deduced.
There wasn’t any denying that, at this stage, so Darcy didn’t bother. She pulled her lips between her teeth a few times thoughtfully. “It’s just—it’s everywhere, now.”
Tara caressed her arms softly. “What’s everywhere?”
“All this…disappointment.”
Tara blinked. She sat back slightly. “Who do you think disappointed in you?”
“Well, my parents, for one, obviously,” Darcy started off, ducking her head with a sniff. “Apparently the entire school population. I don’t get it. They never—I’ve been out, this whole time, and they didn’t treat me like this before. I could—I’d come here, and not care, and be myself. And it wouldn’t be anything like it is at home. And I’d have you, and we’d…God.” She looked back up at Tara, who was watching her with such sincere sympathy that her guilt grew. The pressure pricking at her eyes was no longer just from a headache. “They always told me I make things so difficult, and it always just pissed me off, but that’s exactly what I have done to you.”
Tara’s face fell further. “Darcy—”
Darcy barged on. “Now I just keep thinking…maybe they’re right. Maybe if I was different then it would be better, and it wouldn’t be like—”
“Darcy,” Tara cut her off, reaching up to cup her cheeks and look at her directly. When she was sure Darcy’s mouth had snapped firmly shut, she leaned in and pressed a light kiss to it. Her thumbs stroked the skin under Darcy’s eyes, and the gentle, rhythmic motion eased some of the pounding in her skull. Tara leaned her head against Darcy’s and kept looking at her, even though this left their eyes flicking back and forth because they were too close to settle on both at once. “If you were different, you wouldn’t be you,” Tara said, softly; simply. “And I wouldn’t love you like I do.”
Perhaps it should have been too simple to cause such a drastic response, but all the lingering tension drained out of Darcy. Warmth was spreading through her, and she could already feel a smile tugging at her lips.
She couldn’t help it. “You’re a poet and you don’t even know it.”
She expected Tara’s unimpressed look leveled at her, but received an unbearably fond smile instead. “There you are.”
Darcy laughed, a small bubble of joy that popped almost as soon as it escaped her, but a spark of laughter nonetheless. It made Tara smile wider as she stroked over Darcy’s cheeks once more, then tugged her into her arms. Darcy sank into her now with absolutely no resistance. It was the most pleasant place she could have imagined ending up, if she was being honest. She began sort of wishing she had headed to their special room; it would have only been another special memory added.
But as Tara tangled her fingers in her hair and pressed a kiss to her temple, holding her tighter, Darcy knew it had little to do with the room. It hadn’t ever really been the school that made her feel safe, and the house she lived in with her parents was just that. Tara was home. Here, right in Tara’s hold, was where she found shelter and comfort and the space to be herself. To be one half of them.
“You’re allowed to be annoyed and upset and fed up sometimes too, you know,” Tara told her. “I can suck it up for both of us when you need me to.”
Darcy huffed another amused sound and tucked her arms tighter around Tara’s back. “It does really suck, sometimes.”
“I know.” Tara adjusted the hug so Darcy was nestled more closely against her, arms overlapping at each other’s backs and head over heart. “But I think it’ll get better.”
hug prompts
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