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Sitting across a table in a public setting from this girl had never been Lucy's forte. Their track record together was hardly bright; hell, managing to wait around for food to actually be placed in front of them was an anomaly when it came to something like this. But it was nice to get out of the house for a change. She herself got to do it every day. It might have just been for work, but it was still a kind of escapism that wasn't awarded to her wife.
So when it was there - a decent offer in the form of her older brother - it was odd to see her so apprehensive. Lucy knew there were so few in this world Penny would even let hold him, so she shouldn't have been surprised. But she decided in tow to give it a shot. What was the worst that could happen?
Well, the answer was this. She watched from the other side without a single connection to her name as the proverbial gears shifted in the mind of the person she loved most. Anxiety shone like a beacon. Her phone remained face up on the table in tandem with the ink manipulator's at her request. She leaned back in her seat in silence and looked away to the people milling about the restaurant. The individuals with their hands clasped together across the pristine white tabletop.
Exhaling a sigh, she dragged her fingers through her hair as the motion brought her gaze back to square one.
"Should we just go?" Lucy asked her, eyebrows knit together with concern. But not for their son, it was just for her.
Sometimes, it paid for Lucy to keep her beloved grounded in a specific moment in time. It wasn't always easy - her mind was always wandering without her control and consent - but it was important. Being married to a psychometrist was brought its own kind of work, and she was always dedicated to the cause.
Grounded was the way her own fingernails dug into the familiar skin of her shoulders. It was how she tried - uncharacteristically - to keep her mouth shut; to keep herself quiet. She hardly wanted to be the reason their kid woke up, but she didn't want to be stifled, for every indication that she was overwhelming was everything Lucy wanted to give.
With the harshest of exhale - like fire burning her lungs - she leaned her head back and hit the hard surface behind her. There was nothing comfortable about a bookshelf in the back, but she loved it.
"Go on," She said then, hands filtering down her arms to her own clothes. Her jeans, specifically, "I'm right behind you."
Time changed little when it came to such familiar movements. An effortless shift of a little zip and the cool air would inevitably roll across her skin with each new exposure. Lucy almost felt jealous as she stood somehow still fully clothed, knowing hers were often the first to go. But she wouldn't deprive her love the joy of ruining what she chose to wear that day. She was just surprised to be first for a change. It was an odd exchange of power.
She waited for the dress to drop, but it didn't. Impatience clearly clouded the psychometrist who couldn't move her hands long enough to let it fall. She didn't fight the fact; that was entirely hers to deal with now. Especially in knowing she'd have to fight her own way out of skin tight jeans in a matter of seconds.
Those hands, now useless, pressed themselves to either side of her face with gentle intention. Like she was done with being the boss because it was too difficult, or she'd already gotten what she wanted. She forced a harsh and heavy exhale in the minimal break provided before she dared the space between them to steal her lips again.
Now that Lucy had a hold of her, she had to decide what to do about it. Worse, she was easy to distract; it couldn't have been more than a few seconds before familiar lips came crashing into hers. With a body against her own, there wasn't much room to move. She had control of so little as it was and pushing her back for whatever reason felt wrong.
Slow hands eased their way up her arms, releasing her wrists as quickly as she'd taken them and skirting off her skin to her waist. Following the contour of her figure, she reached for the zip between her shoulders and barely hesitated to draw it down.
If Lucy had the time to think, she would have likely realised the error in her own movements. Not only did she break a connection but she swore; though, she would harshly argue that that wasn't a swear at all. Another fight for another time, probably. She didn't reciprocate such sweet words because she knew she didn't need to, but it still felt odd not to give them. They were the first response she thought of, she was just beaten to them.
Her eyebrows lowered in evident frustration, or perhaps pain as nails practically threatened to rip the fabric of her shirt to get to the skin beneath. It very much felt like punishment, not because it hurt but because it was tortuously slow. Reaching down, Lucy's hands curled around her wrists, but she didn't apply pressure as much as she just held them there.
"I love you." She argued, as harshly as those hands had just been.
Despite the difficulty breathing, Lucy still threatened a jolt forward when their lips broke apart. The necessity of air hardly agreed with the intention that now laced the way she moved.
But she listened anyway, and although she'd heard those words hundreds of times before, they still caught her in a way she couldn't possibly deny.
"Bloody hell, Penny." She swore. After all, it wasn't like she didn't know of the damage those little words could cause. But she grinned regardless as she exhaled so heavily. Still, she eased herself back against the bookshelf.
Fingertips settled against the side of her face, doing well to ground the usually unstable ink manipulator at a time of such importance. It mightn't have seemed like much - a joke, as she thought of it - but the rules and natural order were so greatly dictated by the one who volunteered to play the largest part on the creation of their family.
It'd been months since his birth, and Lucy had waited. It only seemed right to offer that courtesy; to express a patience she was never known for.
She ignored the lamenting notion of the sixties ballad and how it would inevitably fade into nothing but a needle across an empty track. Lucy eased her hand from the one that seemed intent to hold onto hers. Instead, both hands shifted across her waist, drawing her in and diminishing any space between them with a prominent pull forward.
Pursed lips tried to hide the instinctive frown Lucy wanted to wear when a hand left her. She knew it had to, but that didn't make it any better. She didn't look as her counterpart moved; rather, her dark eyes were in a constant state of captivation.
And when she could catch her eyes again, she forced her own to shift. It might have been a cliche to most, but it was so incredibly clever. There was nothing nice for Lucy about having a dry household; it was the epitome of irksome and she knew her love would argue it had everything to do with the blood running through her veins. It was more than a bottle. It was a step, like newfound trust. She took a breath in, catching familiar eyes and offering a distilled sense of adoration from her own. Feet firmly fastened themselves to the floor, then.
Leaving her waist, she reached for the bottle long enough to place it back on the bookshelf. "I promise-" She declared, almost losing the second syllable of the single word as she pressed her lips against hers thoughtfully.
When the nervous nature of this entire ordeal dwindled down, Lucy found a different kind of comfort in her counterpart’s arms. However, she quickly realised how much easier it was to deal with without eye contact. Penny might had had to move away to catch her gaze, but Lucy couldn't help the way the air caught in her throat for it.
One song in and it felt like Penny was leading her, despite the placement of her hands. There was no real complaint from the Australian as she followed without a second thought. "I didn't wrap yours." She replied then, eyebrows quirking with the grin she suddenly wore.
A squeeze of her hand had Lucy squeezing back instinctively; far be it for her to ignore the connection despite the obvious distraction. She couldn't help the slightest drop of her hand as fingertips crept just below the safety of the small of her back.
"Yeah, yeah." She joked, knowing all too well she was about to lose the lead the second this dance was over.
"What? No, you're not meant to get me anything." She pointed out. She thought to pull back to catch her eyes, but it wasn't worth it, and she knew her counterpart could catch the strain in her voice was it was; "I mean like I know I framed this as a gift but come on, does it really fit the mark?"
Precious lips against the curve of her neck sent a jolt through Lucy's spine and forced her back to straighten. "Consider it done." She offered finally. She supposed once a year wouldn't totally kill her, especially not if it meant as much as this felt like it did.
The next question had her laughing, offering a low chuckle from the base of her throat. She did her best to keep quiet.
"Why, cause I'm not a shit as you thought I'd be?" Lucy asked her, the grin she wore highlighted in the time she used. "Its pretty straight forward. Though, to be honest, I'm surprised you're letting me lead." But for good measure, she tightened the grip she had around her waist. It wasn't like she wanted to change anytime soon.
Admittedly, the lack of a clear cut conversation made Lucy a little nervous. The words passed kept her lightly distracted. Anything less would draw heavy attention to the way her love held her. How she breathed. How she acted and reacted. Thoughtful gestures always altered the course of her actions. Thoughtful gestures made her impossible to deny.
"The Wonder of You." She said, and then she laughed; "Pretty sure Elvis made it famous, but this is more... You. I dunno, it felt fitting."
Fitting was the way it felt to be newly intertwined with the person she loved so greatly and so profusely. Like the great sacrifice of having a child hadn't already made the ink manipulator fall head over heels all over again. "I'm happy to make this a thing, if you want it." She said then, a smile dawning her expression at the thought. She might have threatened her before, but that didn't mean she hated it.
A cheek pressed against her shoulder, and words of gratitude filled the air. They still weren't something Lucy was totally used to. It likely never would be. Still, she took every opportunity to cut whatever distance was left between them. The hand at her love's waist shifted further around her, keeping her hold light.
"Yeah, well..." Lucy mused aloud, humming idly as she went, "It's no jazz, or classical. I mean, it is a bit of a classic." She laughed softly then. Everything about her movements felt stripped of her prior harshness, like a single swear could break everything.
"My dad's parents used to do this all the time, I guess." It definitely wasn't something she'd ever talked about. It'd never really mattered until this moment, "They said they wouldn't miss this record."
Lucy was by no means a dancer. She had never had any kind of grace when it came to such an act; properly, it took tact and poise and they were just things she'd never had. The point was, she assumed, that she was at least trying. Still, it wasn't uncomfortable by any means; seconds passed and she felt the natural way every movement was eased into. Lucy felt oddly attuned to the way her counterpart was breathing. She hadn't said anything. In a younger mindset, Lucy would have taken that to heart.
Leaning in a fraction, the tip of her nose brushed against her cheek lightly. Parted lips desperately wanted to say something, but the words completely escaped her. A heavy exhaled dusted her skin by pure accident. She knew she wasn't helping; her shoulders rose with another breath, another chance within her grasp.
"I remembered." She said lightly. It was the only thing she could think of.
Her own name hit the air with the smallest swell of music and potent lyrics were then in tow. The corner of her mouth twitched to a smile but she fought it, oddly enough, because she wouldn't dare crumble this early. Penny looked surprised, but she was following through with Lucy's relatively brash demands.
It took a second or so of yearning before Lucy actually acknowledged her eyes. She caught the set desperately searching for her in an act of mercy. It was rare for Lucy to be awkward about anything, but she'd been just that, and her first response was to not look. But she was proud; her chin was tilted a fraction higher than it usually would be like she was ready to wear however strange and new this felt. This was a gift.
She rested the palm of her hand on her waist, letting it graze to the small of her back the closer she stepped. She dropped the gaze she held to look at the hand she took, and she eased that familiar body in close by against her own.
She looked at her again in a brief moment that dragged. Proximity was a potent kind of poison at the best of times. Taking a small breath in, she waited a touch more before taking the first step in tandem with the beginning beat.
