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jamiesfootball · 7 months

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2, 11, and/or 30 for the ask game!

2. Favorite part of writing.

Aside from putting characters in situations, it's a dead tie between 'finding increasingly specific ways to describe something' and 'finding ways to sneak in jokes'.

11. Describe your writing process from scratch to finish.

Ooooh-OOOH. OH. Ok ok jot that down- what was that? Oh, okaaaay. Huh. That's a good start- what do you mean there's more? That's, no. No, I said we have other things that we're working on- okay, no, you're right that is a really good idea and it would be emotionally satisfying, Alright, I'll jot this down, but then we're definitely writing it this time, ok? We are going to focus, we will not leave another project unfinished- where are you going?

It's like that. But here's a more coherent answer.

Step 1- I have an idea. Perhaps it's a scene. Something I would like to see happen, out of pure need or a spiteful malaise from not seeing it happen, whichever.

Ex: I saw Mom City and the Finale and decided I hated what they did with Jamie's dad. I thought up a scene where Jamie and Roy talk about that.

Step 2- I spin the giant wheel in my brain. Without consulting me, it finds an unrelated topic. I then hold the first bit - the THING I want to write - up next to the second bit. I cross my eyes until I figure out what pattern exists between the two that my brain wants me to use.

Ex: The scene with Roy and Jamie talking about Jamie's dad + Roy going to therapy = There are two angry men in Jamie's life. Both of them have taken a step towards becoming better, but I only believe that one of them means it. Why?

Step 3- I start figuring out the whys. I think about which scenarios will strain the narrative. I find the uncomfy bits of dialogue that other authors skip over, and I make the characters talk about it at length until I figure out what the problem is. Slowly, a form comes together in the shape of a narrative. I usually have my climactic moments drafted from the start. I usually have a beginning. If I do not know the end, I find it soon enough. The rest I build with sticks. If dramatic moment one happens, what caused it? What tracks need laid to get me there. I sketch those in. Eventually, I have an outline.

Ex: The dissatisfaction from the end of season three becomes where the post season fic starts. The climactic bits breed out of the Roy Jamie conversation I began with. An ending takes shape- this is the final goal, the place I'd like my character to be. From there I work my way in, tying the moments together, until I can say 'yeah, that looks like a full story'.

Step 4- By exploring all of these scenarios and building a narrative architecture, a theme starts to emerge. I use that theme, and reflect it back on the vague bits I don't have written yet.

Ex: At this point I have realized that the entire impetus of the post-season fic is to stack ammo in the discussion of 'should Jamie's father be allowed back in his life?' The answer is no. What began as a simple comparison in step 2 has now become a multi-armed demon, fleshing out the motivations and backstories of every character it touches. The theme is family--born, found, and made--and so now every other character (Roy, Colin, Isaac, Sam, Keeley, Dani) has their family history being dragged into the light to serve as an example.

Step 5 - Legos. I have my outline (the sketch). I have my themes (the paint). Now I have to write it. Fuck. This step lasts forever.

Step 6 - I just keep trying. Because the story exists already, you know? It's not told, but it exists. I just have to keep putting in the work to make it into the physical world.

Step 7 - I print the things out and I scribble on them until I feel better. Then I take the scribbles, and I put them back into step 5.

Step 8 - Repeat steps 5-7 until you are out of legos. Then you are done, for now.

Step 9 - Walk around in a daze, feeling like you're about to cry. Keep repeating to people, "I can't believe it's over." It is never over. That feeling never truly goes away. You are forever surprised that you created something.

Step 10 - Become annoying to everyone you know by blogging about it online.

Ex: In progress

30. Favorite line you’ve ever written.

Oh, I have lots. Shameless self-plug though, everything I wrote about Moe on his quest to do spoken word poetry in chapter 1 of the post-season fic was a goddamn delight. Up to and including the Machiavelli quotes.

One of my other other favorite parts goes to Isaac in the epilogue. It is the bookend to Moe's poetry. I'm literally so excited about it.

Actually I take that back. I just realized I do have a favorite line, and it's a stupid one.

Right now my favorite line is a running joke, wherein I the author put in the placeholder '[whatever Higgins said]' into Roy's internal monologue about being a better person. This in regards to the scene in the finale where the Diamond Dogs talked about learning how to be better, not perfect. Higgins made some good points. I meant to go back and pull the quote from the episode. It was going to be in italics, the way you do when you're bringing back quotes into an internal monologue.

The only thing is I, uh. Did not do that. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense that Roy, who got the gist of what Higgins was saying, maybe didn't necessarily jot down the exact phrasing in his head, the way he does with other lines (the ones that are detrimental to his emotional health and well being.) Also it made me laugh. So now it's just peppered in sometimes, when Roy is trying to be a better person.

'Whatever Higgins said.'

Like I said at the start- I love to sneak in a joke.

#ask game #delightful questions!#thank you!!!#ask box is always open #fic: oh god you're gonna get it (you have not been given love)#ted lasso #roy kent #jamie tartt #leslie higgins #fuck jamie’s dad

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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If you ever wanna be in love (I'll come around), Chapter Four (Branjie) - Athena2

Summary: Previously: Brooke and Vanessa had dinner with Brooke’s parents Now: Vanessa’s scheme to get more time with Brooke pays off, and they get closer.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the amazing feedback and love you’ve given this fic, it makes me so soft and really keeps me going. I’d love any thoughts you have on this chapter as well! Thank you to Writ for betaing, you’re the best!! <3 <3

Brooke smooths her thumb over the pink lipstick Vanessa wore Saturday. Pink like frosting, like peonies, like candy hearts. Like Vanessa’s lips.

It’s just lipstick, but Brooke’s been staring at it all weekend like she’s never seen it, like it’s a fossil to discover. It’s a piece of Vanessa, proof she really was in Brooke’s car, that Brooke really was that happy with her. She can’t stop picturing Vanessa putting her lipstick on, letting it glide over her lips–

Brooke has to get it back to her right away. It’s just lipstick, but Vanessa wears it a lot, so it’s probably her favorite. The library is only a few blocks from the museum, a coffee shop on the way, and maybe it’s a flimsy excuse to bring Vanessa coffee, but Brooke snatches it like a lifeline. And so what if she memorized Vanessa’s coffee order? Brooke was so horrified by the amount of sugar Vanessa dumped in that it’s burned into her brain. Brooke takes her coffee black, thank you very much, not only for the taste but because extra sugar makes her jumpy.

She has Vanessa’s sugar explosion in her left hand and the lipstick in her right as she enters the library, and she shouldn’t be sweating this much in the air conditioning. What if Vanessa already had coffee? What if someone asks Brooke why she’s here--I’ll say I’m bringing my wife coffee, Brooke thinks, and the thrill of it floods her.

The children’s room is bigger than Brooke expected, with long walls of books and sections for computers and toys, some kids playing on a bright rug. Vanessa is at the desk with her co-workers–A’keria and Yvie, Brooke recalls–and her face lights up when she sees Brooke.

“What brings you here?” Vanessa asks gleefully.

“Um,” Brooke begins, distracted by Vanessa’s dazzling smile. “I found your lipstick in my car. It must have fallen out of your purse.” She sets it on the desk, almost sad to lose it, like she’s lost part of Vanessa. “And I thought you might want coffee.”

Vanessa plainly does want coffee, snatching the cup and sighing in content.

“Damn.” A’keria whistles, turning to Brooke. “You got brothers? I want a fake husband to bring me coffee.”

Brooke shakes her head. “Sorry.”

“Worth a shot.”

Vanessa elbows her, then shoots out of her chair. “Hey, do you have time before work?”

“I should. Why?”

Vanessa claps her hands. “Because you, Brookie, are about to get my famous library tour.”

Brooke flushes at the nickname, which only her niece and nephew use. It’s special to hear Vanessa say it, a secret between them.

“Is this what we’re calling famous nowadays?” Yvie asks.

Vanessa shushes her and herds Brooke to the bookshelves. “These are books for little kids, middle school, and young adults. And this”–she points at shelves with construction paper hearts and rainbows streaming down the sides, informational pamphlets nestled between books for all ages– “is the pride month display I made.”

She smiles hesitantly, proud in her work but uncertain what Brooke will think, and Brooke doesn’t want Vanessa to doubt herself for a second. She loves how much Vanessa cares, making special displays to inform kids on different sexualities and safe sex, and she wants Vanessa to know it.

“That’s awesome, Vanessa,” Brooke says. “It’s so great you did this. Think of all the kids it’ll help.”

“Yeah.” Vanessa flashes her smile again, like that was exactly what she had in mind and was waiting for someone to recognize it, to understand how important it is to her. “Here are some crafts I’ve done.”

She nods to a shelf littered with Styrofoam Poké balls and tissue boxes transformed into sharp-toothed monsters, but one catches Brooke’s eye–

“Cats!” she squeals. “How did you make them?”

Vanessa laughs. “From a soda bottle. You cut off the bottom, then paint on a face. Then you have little kittens.”

“Amazing.” Brooke meets Vanessa’s eyes, sees them shining with pride. “What else is on the tour?”

“That’s about it. Just got toys, games, computers, that kind of stuff in the corners. There’s the bathroom, but you don’t want to see that. I don’t know what people do in there.”

“This was a great tour,” Brooke says. “You know, I could give you a museum tour sometime, if you want,” she offers, hoping she hasn’t overstepped, hoping Vanessa says yes.

“Okay!” Vanessa yells. “You can show me the dinos! Like those cera-tips!”

“Triceratops,” Brooke corrects gently through a snorting laugh. She tries not to snort when she laughs because it sounds ridiculous, but Vanessa draws those laughs out of her like nothing, grinning each time.

“That’s what I meant.” Vanessa is still laughing as she leads Brooke outside, and Brooke’s chest hurts as she says goodbye. It could just be heartburn. That’s probably it.

She has to do an awkward run/walk to get to work on time, but it’s worth it.

—

“V, are you listening?” A’keria asks.

Vanessa is not listening. Not after the picture Brooke just sent: a selfie of her with a giant grin on her face, next to the T-Rex skull. She’s so carefree and happy, and Vanessa’s brain can’t focus on anything else.

“Something about hot sauce?” Vanessa tries, setting her phone down.

Silky sighs. “We already talked about that! We’re talking about A’keria’s date.”

“Oh.” Normally Vanessa would be fully in that conversation, planning hair ideas and discussing outfits. But Brooke keeps occupying a larger and large space in her head, and Vanessa forces her out for right now to be with her girls.

“She’s too busy texting Brooke.” Damn A’keria’s sixth sense. She latches on to any hint of relationship stuff like some sort of Cupid, and any fragments of Brooke that Vanessa ignored come rushing back in a green-eyed, snort-laughing tide.

“What are you two doing?” Silky demands.

Vanessa’s face burns. “What do you mean?”

“Just that you text a lot,” A’keria jumps in calmly. “And you asked her to be your fake wife for the carnival even though you didn’t need to.”

Vanessa shrugs, trying to brush everything off. “We’re friends. She’s fun to be around. I just thought she might like the carnival, and I can keep Paul off my back.”

She tries to convince herself that’s true, that this is nothing more than friendship and strategy and convenience. Another appearance to stick it to Paul, make everything undeniable before they call it quits. The way her heart speeds up around Brooke has nothing to do with it.

“Sure,” Silky says, clearly unconvinced. “When are you going on your museum tour?”

Vanessa groans. “I can’t go too early or I’ll look weird. Maybe Thursday.” She liked her school field trips to museums, liked not being trapped at her desk, even if she got in trouble for going to the Viking exhibit early because her class just took too long in the nasty bug room.

Vanessa wonders how she’ll make it three days until she sees Brooke.

—

Museums have been home to Brooke since she was a kid. Everything was neat and orderly, the way she kept her bedroom, with a place for everything and everything in its place. It was soothing to be around so much knowledge, and she begged her mom to take her every weekend, the day usually ending with Brooke being pulled from the gift shop after trying to buy a life-size stuffed dinosaur or astronaut food with her allowance. (She’s tried astronaut food since then, and what a disappointment).

A kid gasps in surprise when they see display plaques at a child’s eye-level, and Brooke beams. She did that her first day, because she remembers standing on tip-toes and straining her neck to see things meant for grown-ups, when she wanted to see it for herself. There were times as a kid it felt like the whole world was made for other people, people who could kiss in school without fear of being called wrong, people who knew how to make friends, people who could be part of things instead of watching.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” a voice begins. Those words usually have Brooke on the defensive, preparing to be yelled at by some visitor for God knows what. But she knows that voice, and she spins around and laughs.

“I’m here for my tour!” Vanessa announces. She’s in jeans and a bright red shirt, rose-shaped hair clips nestled in her waves, and Brooke is mesmerized.

“Right.” Brooke can’t help it as she stands a little straighter, clears her throat. She loves tours, loves the chance to share her knowledge, to tell people facts—did you know a stegosaurus could weigh up to 7,000 pounds?—she used to be teased for knowing. Even though she doesn’t do regular tours like the tour guides, she’s used to showing around special groups or workers from other museums visiting on business. Yet for all the guests wrapped in fancy degrees and fancier job titles, none are as special as the one in front of her, and Brooke wants to give her best tour ever.

“So, dinosaurs first emerged about 240 million years ago…”

They continue through the museum, past glittery gold Egyptian tombs and recreations of delicate vases and ferocious animal models. Vanessa goes wild in the Viking exhibit, maybe because the replica ship reminds her of a pirate ship, and Brooke tells her any details she remembers from history classes and museum presentations.

Vanessa poses for pictures in front of the ship, her smile dazzling, and Brooke wishes the picture was hers. Hers to look at whenever she wants, to remember today and know they shared something special. But she gives Vanessa her phone back, because they aren’t a real couple, and she has no right to ask Vanessa to send them to her.

“That was amazing, Brooke,” Vanessa praises when they’re done, and the blush creeps into her cheeks.

“I’m happy you liked it,” Brooke says honestly.

“You have a gift shop here? I used to love them. I wanted to buy this Viking sword once and it cost $500.”

Brooke barks with laughter. “I was the same way! I usually wanted stuffed animals or a rocket ship.”

“You ever try astronaut food? It’s–”

“Disgusting!” Brooke finishes, and they laugh so loud people look at them, but Brooke doesn’t care, wants to be in this moment with Vanessa.

“Um, what are you doing this weekend?” Brooke asks, bringing things back down.

“Nothing,” Vanessa grumbles. “Me and A’keria live together, and we usually watch movies on Fridays, but she’s got a date so I’ll be alone. She must think it’s gonna go well, ‘cause I have to cover her Saturday shift too.”

“I’ll watch a movie with you if you want,” Brooke’s mouth blurts out before her brain can stop it. She shouldn’t have done that, they’re not dating. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean–only if you want to–”

Vanessa shushes her stammers with an eager nod. “I’d love that! We can get takeout. It’ll be fun.”

Brooke nods, her heart pounding. She’ll be inside Vanessa’s apartment, someplace much more personal than restaurants and museums. It’s part of Vanessa, and Brooke is honored Vanessa trusts her with it.

“I’ll be there,” she promises.

—

Brooke is going to be in her apartment in 33–no, 30; Brooke’s always early–minutes, and Vanessa is running around like a headless chicken. It’s not that her A’keria are messy; it’s just that Brooke is so neat, careful when they eat and clothes always perfect, and Vanessa doesn’t want to look like a slob.

She wants Brooke to see the pride she has in her place, a space she could call her own after sharing a cramped college dorm. She wants Brooke to walk in and know this is Vanessa’s home, know it’s part of her, from the cozy flannel blankets to the thrifted bookcase overflowing with childhood favorites she read by flashlight at night. Just like Brooke shared her museum home yesterday, bouncing through exhibits and pointing things out to Vanessa, she wants to show Brooke her home.

Brooke knocks five minutes early, takeout bags in hand. Vanessa is about to lead her inside when paws pad over hardwood, and suddenly Brooke is on the floor, Thackeray in her lap and Riley licking her arm.

“You two never give me that kind of welcome!” Vanessa yells.

“Guess I’m an animal whisperer.” Brooke pets Thackeray with one hand and Riley with the other, and Vanessa can’t stop smiling. Riley hates strangers, almost chewing the pizza delivery person’s pants once, but settles with people he likes. Warmth spreads through Vanessa that Riley already likes Brooke, senses all the goodness in her that Vanessa sees.

“You a something whisperer,” Vanessa mutters. She heads inside and Brooke follows, nodding in approval.

“This is a really nice place,” Brooke says. “Are those frog salt and pepper shakers?”

Vanessa cackles. “You bet they are! Found ‘em in the thrift shop.”

“I have dinosaur ones. Nina got them for me.” Brooke blushes.

“Of course you do.”

They settle on the couch with their Thai feast. Vanessa fires up Netflix, and though it’s odd to see Brooke on the other end of the couch, long legs tucked underneath her, she somehow looks right, like the couch always had room for her.

“What are we gonna watch?” Brooke asks, digging into her noodles.

“Maybe a rom-com?” Vanessa suggests hesitantly. “I know they’re cheesy as hell and ain’t real feminist-y, but sometimes it’s nice to see love as this big thing.”

“Yeah. So many married people don’t even like each other.”

“Exactly!” Vanessa yells, because Brooke gets it. “They make love a chore or something, but it shouldn’t be. Sometimes I want some big cheesy gesture or for someone to run through an airport for me. It’s better than not caring at all.”

Love can’t always be a movie, she knows that. But the idea of it, of meaning that much to someone, is what Vanessa’s always wanted. Her parents were like that, cooking together and bringing home flowers and yelling at Jeopardy! contestants, and Vanessa wants that devotion and warmth someday.

“Airports are too big. I’d run through a train station for you,” Brooke says, so dry that Vanessa whacks her with a pillow. “Seriously, a rom-com’s fine.”

Vanessa tries to find one before Brooke sees her recently watched list–a very personal thing, in Vanessa’s opinion–but she’s too late.

“She-Ra and the Princesses of Power?” Brooke asks.

“Don’t laugh!” Vanessa barks. “It’s really good. These kids at the library like it and I started watching to get activity ideas. Then I got hooked.”

Brooke’s smile is warm enough to melt ice, eyes soft and loving. “That’s really sweet. It’s nice how much you care.”

Vanessa can’t stop the pride from creeping into her smile. “I just want the library to be a good place for them, y’know?”

“Yeah. I try to do the same at the museum.”

Vanessa’s heart warms at how much Brooke cares, just like Vanessa cares.

There’s ten minutes of scrolling and countless insistings of ‘you can pick’ before they finally start About Time. Vanessa likes having Brooke there, an anchor on the couch, laughing and sharing the movie with her, even though she doesn’t need tissues at the end like Vanessa.

“You don’t cry at movies?” Vanessa asks.

“Not a lot.”

“Look me in the eyes and say you didn’t cry over Marley and Me.”

“Of course I did! That’s different.” Brooke leans in, air around her suddenly serious, like she’s about to share something private. “I cried a lot when I was little. When someone took my things, when we had to leave my grandparents’ house, you name it. Then I got embarrassed and kinda outgrew it.”

Vanessa nods. “I was a yeller. My mom said people could hear me in Alaska.”

“I believe it.”

“Hey! At least people can always hear me at parties and stuff!”

“Even parties in Alaska.” Brooke snorts. “Speaking of parties, my parents loved you. They’ve been telling me all week how great you are.”

“You’re kidding.” Vanessa wants to believe it, but she can’t. Not after the disaster parent meetings she’s had.

“I’m not.”

“They really said that about me?”

“You seem surprised.” Brooke’s words are part statement and part question, leaving it up to Vanessa how things go. Vanessa hesitates, because she doesn’t do this. She doesn’t let things bother her, doesn’t let people’s opinions change her confidence. She’s enough, and she knows it. Brooke doesn’t need to hear this, but her eyes are warm and inviting, and maybe it’s good to talk about it.

“Parents don’t usually like me,” Vanessa admits, picking at a loose pillow thread. “They want someone fancy and proper and that’s just not me. My last girlfriend’s parents told me I wasn’t good enough for their daughter.” A stray tear falls and Vanessa reaches for a tissue, but Brooke is already offering one.

“Hey,” Brooke says softly. “You’re smart and funny and caring and beautiful. You’re more than enough, Vanessa.”

Vanessa nods through her sniffle, not trusting her voice when Brooke is being so kind, so tender.

“Can I hug you?” Brooke asks, and Vanessa throws herself in Brooke’s arms. She lets Brooke hold her, her tears washing away with the soothing scent of Brooke’s tea tree shampoo, the steady beat of her heart beneath Vanessa’s ear. Vanessa gives amazing hugs, everyone tells her so, and Brooke matches her skill, squeezing gently, hands resting on Vanessa’s back. Brooke’s arms are the coziest, safest blanket and Vanessa never wants to leave them. She could live in Brooke’s arms, make a home nuzzled against her chest.

She forces herself to pull away, looking down at the couch. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” There’s an awkward silence, then Brooke stands. “I should go. You have to work early tomorrow, right?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I gotta get up at the ass-crack of dawn.” She sighs. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

Brooke grimaces. “Babysitting. My sister has this dinner thing, and I told her I’d take the kids.”

“Yikes.” Before Vanessa thinks it through, she’s speaking again. “You want help? Two kids is a lot by yourself.”

“I’m fine. I don’t want to bother you–”

“Let me help, Miss Thing!” Vanessa suddenly wants to, would rather spend the night with Brooke and the kids instead of her TV and a bag of chips.

“Okay, okay.” Brooke holds her hands up in surrender.

Vanessa grins. “Coming at you tomorrow, the Mateo-Hytes babysitting crew!”

The echo of Brooke’s barking laugh soothes Vanessa to sleep that night.

—

Brooke knows they’re well past their agreement. This was supposed to be two events and done, back to their normal lives where fake dating is the stuff of rom-coms. But throw in the thrifting, and the lost lipstick, and the movie, and now Brooke is at the mob scene that is a Saturday afternoon grocery store buying brownie mix because Vanessa suggested making brownies with the kids tonight.

It’s almost like she and Vanessa are two boats being tossed about in each other’s paths. Even though they didn’t intend to keep doing things after the agreement ended, they somehow still are. Sure, Brooke didn’t have to suggest movie night, could have refused Vanessa’s babysitting offer, but she didn’t want Vanessa to be alone, and considering her last babysitting experience resulted in deep-cleaning the living room rug, she could use the help.

There’s also the bonus of seeing Vanessa again. Brooke doesn’t know what they are, exactly, and even though most of her life is spent classifying, assigning order to things, maybe she can be okay with the uncertainty. All she knows is that Vanessa makes her laugh more than anyone, understands the things she says and even the things she doesn’t, makes her happier than she’s been in a while. Vanessa is special, that much she does know, and Brooke will take any second she can with her.

It’s been nothing but work for months, every second spent on the T-Rex exhibit. There’s no room for the giggling Brooke does around Vanessa when she’s one of the only women at the museum, where board members think she’s too forgiving of interns, too focused on kids. She forgets all that around Vanessa, her muscles loosening up, carefree and excited like a kid on summer vacation.

She throws brownie mix in her cart and motors down the aisles, dodging screaming kids and middle-aged ladies fighting with employees. She’s back home just before the kids arrive, bouncing with excitement over being at Aunt Brookie’s. Brooke sets them up in the living room with their toys and starts on dinner.

Someone knocks and Brooke runs to the door, revealing a cheerful Vanessa who makes Brooke’s heart skip a beat.

“Where’s the babies?” she asks, gathering her hair into a ponytail. Brooke can’t stop staring at the curves of her hands, how quickly her fingers move, twirling around her hair with ease.

“Kids are in the living room.”

“No, the kitties!”

“Oh.” Brooke nudges the cats out of her room and Vanessa gets on the floor with them, nuzzling their fur and cooing.

“Apollo’s kind of mean around new people, don’t worry if he doesn’t like you,” Brooke says, but Apollo is letting Vanessa pet him, which is damn near a miracle. He must really like Vanessa, and Brooke agrees with his judgement.

Vanessa finally stands and surveys the kitchen, and Brooke tries to see it from Vanessa’s eyes, hoping she likes it. There’s the tiny green floral rug by the sink bringing the outdoors to her. The cozy kitchen table where she drinks her morning coffee. The row of succulents on the window sill that Brooke made a watering schedule for, determined to get them through the dry summer.

“It’s cozy here. I like it,” Vanessa says, peeking at the pot of boiling water. “What we got cookin’?”

“Mac and cheese.”

Vanessa sighs in content, then raises one adorable eyebrow at the blue box on the counter. “Oh no, Mary! You gotta make it homemade!”

Brooke’s cheeks redden. “I-I’m not good at cooking, okay? I’m always afraid I’m doing stuff wrong, so I don’t do it.”

Cooking should come easy to her, because she likes following instructions, crossing things off lists, but it doesn’t. She doesn’t have the instinct for it like she does other stuff, like picking out good digging spots and identifying the fossils and rocks underneath, or using her surroundings to get home on a new hiking path. With cooking, she can’t get the motions down, never knows if she’s chopped things correctly, gets so worried about undercooking that she overcooks.

Vanessa’s expression softens, her gaze caressing Brooke like a warm blanket. “Hey, I’ll help you, okay? We’ll do it together.”

Brooke nods shakily, letting Vanessa show her to cook the flour and add the milk, stirring the cheese in carefully. Vanessa’s floury hand brushes against Brooke’s on the spoon, and Brooke almost drops it once the warmth of Vanessa’s skin hits her. Half an hour later, Brooke looks down at the finished dinner and smiles in disbelief. They made this, her and Vanessa, and Vanessa talked and joked all the way through it, kept Brooke calm, and now they have this dish of golden breadcrumbs, gooey choose, and warm pasta to show for it. It’ll be devoured by ravenous kids soon, but it doesn’t erase that they made this. Together.

“We really did it,” she whispers.

“Food Network, here we come,” Vanessa giggles.

—

Dinner and brownies devoured, Brooke and Vanessa join the kids on the Barbie-and-Lego-strewn rug. Watching kids play is something special, the way they can go for hours with wild imaginations. It reminds Brooke of her hours playing explorer with stuffed animals, free from the kids at school who teased her for being too quiet and too smart. Vanessa’s eyes glimmer and Brooke wonders if she’s reminiscing too.

Sophie has her Barbie and Ken dolls contorting in unhuman ways to kiss, and Brooke and Vanessa snicker.

“Aunt Brookie,” Sophie asks, “Do you and Ness kiss like my dolls?”

If Brooke had water, she would spit it out. Instead, she chokes on nothing but air and Vanessa whacks her on the back.

“Um, yes, we kiss, Soph,” Brooke manages when her breath returns. Don’t think about kissing Vanessa. Don’t think about her pink lips.

“At home,” Vanessa adds with a wink.

Sophie nods, and Brooke thinks they’re safe, just another bout of a kid’s curiosity. Then Sophie chants, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”, nudging Sam and getting him to join in like only an older sister can, and soon they’re shouting.

She turns to Vanessa and freezes. The kids are at full volume, and Brooke’s sure to have angry neighbors. One little kiss will be enough to quiet them before complaints roll in. They’re still just friends, it’s no big deal. Brooke can’t deny the curiosity rising in her, the way her body is creeping forward ever so slightly. Are Vanessa’s lips as soft as they look?

Brooke looks at Vanessa with the question in her eyes, and Vanessa nods. Their lips meet to a chorus of cheers and–shit.

Somewhere Brooke registers that she shouldn’t be feeling this good when she and Vanessa aren’t really together. But every other thought is on Vanessa, on the softness of her lips and faint taste of brownies, on their hearts pounding in time. She remembers they’re in front of the kids and forces herself to pull back before things go too far.

The kids move on, but Brooke is stunned. Her nose is still filled with Vanessa’s green apple shampoo. Her fingertips are tingling. Her body burns like fire.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to Vanessa.

“Don’t be.” Vanessa seems as shocked as Brooke, touching her lips like she can’t believe Brooke’s were just there, looking at Brooke like she’s never seen her before.

Brooke almost wishes the kids would demand another kiss.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #yvie oddly #akeria davenport #branjie #lesbian au #fake dating au #if you ever wanna be in love #athena2 #concrit welcome #submission #s11

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