Chapter Text
Three Months Later
Christen’s heels click-clack on the freshly chromed floors of the fourth floor – she doesn’t come up here as much as she used to. Ever since becoming a journalist and moving up to the third floor into her own quaint office, she’s seen less and less of the boss – at work, that is.
Tobin lets her do her own thing, like she does with all the journalists. She always just implores her to ‘make use of enough fact-checkers and legal advisors’ – especially when she’s working on a particularly scathing article.
“Hey, Soph – boss still in?”, she asks the receptionist, a small smirk on her lips.
“Yes, she is”, Sophia nods. “She said not to let anyone through, but I suppose you’re the one exception”, she smiles.
It’s a bit of an open secret – her and Tobin’s office romance. They’d signed all the documents Legal required of them both, but it just wasn’t something they wanted to announce. They just wanted to exist and be together – no real fanfare made about something that was so sacred to them both. But everyone who was anyone and who’d been paying attention knew.
“Go right ahead”.
Christen walks down the carpeted hallway, around the bend. It’s much different from the first time she made this journey – no more nerves, just excitement. She raises her hand and knocks on the frosted glass door with the ‘TPH- Director’ plate at the top and smiles; her girlfriend’s love for monogramming things will never not be cute.
“Come in”, a distracted-sounding Tobin calls out. She opens when she hears the words, and offers a polite smile as she walks into Tobin’s office.
The brunette seems hard at work, a stack of pictures in front of her and she’s looking for the best ones to make the editorial for next month’s issue. Still, she glances up with a bright smile and asks, “Christen, how can I help you?”
“I was just wondering if you’d had a chance to read through those two articles I sent earlier? I’m not quite sure which angle I wanna go with and I thought you could offer some guidance”, she says and pulls out a chair. Tobin’s desk is as organised as ever, the black picture frame housing a photo of the two of them proudly on display. “I trust your expert opinion as a fellow journalist”.
Tobin, still looking through the pictures, chuckles softly as she stacks them all together. “Yeah, I read them both and I’ll sent you my notes”. She looks up, steepling her fingers together and she reclines in her office chair. “But, informally, I will say that I prefer the second version of the article. It’s more cutting, and I like that”.
“Not too vicious?”, she asks with an arched brow.
“Just the right amount of viciousness”, Tobin confirms. “And besides… the readers love when you get a little sassy”.
Christen bites back a smile; she’d say something flirty back, but they’re still on the clock. “That’s good to know”, she opts.
“And I love it, too”, Tobin says. “But that’s just an aside”.
Christen smiles and gives a diligent nod. “Well, I look forward to reading your notes”.
“They’re good notes”, she shrugs.
“I’m sure they are”.
Tobin flicks her wrist to look at the time on her watch. “Oh, it’s five ‘o clock”.
“Really? Gosh, perfect timing on my end then”, Christen smiles cheekily, knowing she chose this exact time so they’d technically be off the clock during her little visit.
“Come here, baby”, Tobin invites, pushing her office chair back. “I’ve missed you”. She sighs contently when Christen sits down in her lap.
“It’s been a long week”, Christen sighs, combing her fingers through Tobin’s hair. “I can’t wait to get home, get in a hot shower and cuddle up with you and Mac. We have to go pick him up; and get your overnight bag, as well”.
“I have enough clothes at your place”, Tobin says as she places soft kisses in Christen’s neck.
“No, you wear my clothes and then don’t give it back”, Christen accuses with a smile.
“Your clothes are really comfortable and they smell just like you”, Tobin coaxes lovingly against her skin. “And you wear my clothes, too”. She runs a hand along Christen’s arm and cocks her head to the side. She’s in a grey blazer that yes, technically, belongs to Tobin – but she never wears it; it was just hanging at the back of her closet.
“So, anyway – what do you want for dinner?”, she tries to change the subject and gets a laugh out of the older woman. “Something fancy? Or those loaded fries I like?”
“I really wanna be all bougie and say let’s go to Laser Wolf and eat some really good food”, Tobin chuckles. “But I freaking love those loaded fries”.
“Right?”, Christen laughs, her slender hand cupping Tobin’s face before she leans in and gives her a delicate kiss on the lips. “Maybe not everything has to be super aesthetic and fancy”.
“True, and guess what it is?”
“Hm?”, Christen asks as she pulls back, her hand still on Tobin’s cheek.
“Karaoke night at Mic Drop”, she smiles. “Maybe we can get some drinks and sing a couple of duets…”
“You know what else it is?”, Christen asks softly, eyes earnest. They never really talk about it, but ever since they flew out to California for a quick visit with her family, it’s been on her mind. “Friday night dinner at your parents’…” She watches as Tobin’s face changes. “Maybe you could go?”, she suggests with her best smile.
“Chris…”
“Look, I know you said you’d deal with it in your own time; and I’ve given you the space to do what you feel is right—”
“Well, I need more space”, Tobin says, face serious. “And I definitely need more time. I’m not over my parents’ betrayal. I’m not ready to forgive them”.
“What about your brother and sisters? They’ve been trying to reach out to you; I see you ignoring their calls and texts all the time”, Christen says softly. She’s been patient and she’s been understanding – Tobin’s family all lied to her and the trust had been broken, but they’re still family. And she knows her girlfriend misses them.
“How about this? The next time one of my siblings call or text, I’ll answer. Is that good enough?”, the brunette asks with an arched brow.
“That’s good enough for now”, Christen says, then hops off her lap. She holds her hands out. “Now come on, let’s go home”.
-
“Oh, this is new”, Tobin says, turning to look at the framed article on Christen’s wall. “I’m guessing your parents sent that, right?”, she asks with a smile.
“Yeah, they have one up on their wall and sent me one, too”, Christen nods. “I didn’t want to hang it up because, well, it felt a bit too self-congratulatory, but then I realised what a big deal it was”.
“Of course it’s a big deal”, Tobin says, walking closer and wrapping both arms around her waist. “You’ve worked hard for years and now it’s time to reap some of those rewards. I’m proud of you”, she says softly.
Christen can see in her eyes that there’s layers to that sentence – a different meaning or two hidden in the spaces and the silence and the look. Tobin’s not just proud of her for writing an article and being a really good journalist; she’s proud of her because she’s finally starting to see herself in a different light.
She leans in and places a soft kiss on the older woman’s cheek. “Thank you… for everything”. She wraps herself around Tobin, hugging her tight as she rests her head on her shoulder. “Now…”, she pulls back and finds her girlfriend’s eyes. “… let’s relax”.
The steam from the shower quickly starts to rise – no lights, just candles strategically placed all over the bathroom. The hot water sprays down gently – and with Tobin here, it’s the only time Christen doesn’t have too many complaints about the building’s water pressure.
Tobin slides the glass door shut, sealing them in a warm, private chrysalis; they’re away from the world, away from work and its stresses and real-life and obligations. Alone, and in this steamy haze.
Christen lathers berry-scented shower gel onto her hands and runs them along the sharp wingspan of Tobin’s shoulders. Kick-boxing; that’s where the woman gets all of these well-defined muscles from. She places a delicate kiss by the soft hairs at the nape of her neck, her hands pressing gently into her shoulders.
“Are you stressed?”, she asks in a whisper, lips tickling against the shell of the brunette’s ear.
“Yeah, been working so hard all week”, Tobin sighs.
“I can help you relax… Give you a massage, make you feel better”, Christen offers. She gently caresses the woman’s back, hands sliding up and around her shoulders where she holds all of her tension.
Tobin groans softly, tilting her head a little as she enjoys the pressure and Christen’s strong hands working away the tension.
“Better?”, she asks after a few minutes of working her magic and doting to her girlfriend.
“Much, much better”, Tobin says through a low chuckle – a chuckle that quickly gets caught in her throat when Christen grabs at her hips from behind and starts peppering her neck and shoulder with quick kisses.
Tobin cocks her head so Christen’s got more real estate to leave kisses and marks on her neck. She’ll just have to wear turtlenecks or button ups for the rest of the week. She kisses her by her nape, drags her tongue down between her shoulder blades, all while her hands slide up Tobin’s front and fondle at her breasts.
“I can think of some other ways to make you feel better and help you relax”, she says, hands again on Tobin’s hips. She pushes the older woman up against the wall – the sound of Tobin’s hands slapping against the tiles echoing in the bathroom. She palms at her ass, then gives it a slap – Tobin’s back arches into the touch. “But I think we should shower first”.
Tobin turns around and stares her dead in the eye; and amused smirk playing over pouty lips. “Tease”. She cups Christen’s face and kisses her hard.
Christen’s usually the one that takes charge in the bedroom; Tobin prefers a more passive role and the dynamic works. It works in a way Christen didn’t expect; she’s new to this and Tobin’s more mature, more experienced. Yet, when they’re together in such an intimate way the roles from the office switch completely.
And then, there are nights when Tobin pulls rank; kisses her silly and shows a bit of aggression that’s usually reserved for the ring at the gym and not the bedroom. Christen loves those nights.
Tobin’s hungry kisses move down to her neck and then her chest, and then the woman scoops her up and presses her against the glass door of the shower.
She wraps her legs around Tobin’s waist, locks her ankles together and reaches out both arms. One grabs onto the railing bar while the other pushes against the wall. She arches her back, expecting a touch, but it never comes.
Instead, Tobin puts her down and smiles devilishly at her. “Two can play that game, I guess”.
“Last I checked, you’re not very good at playing games against me”, Christen bites back.
“Mm, that might be true”, Tobin murmurs, a hand sneaking between Christen’s thighs. “But this isn’t chess, and you’re absolutely soaked for me”, she breathes against the woman’s lips before giving her another hot, sultry wet kiss.
-
Christen wakes up with the sun in her face and Tobin moulded to her back. She smiles, enjoying the warmth that radiates off the woman’s body. Tobin’s always been so cuddly and warm – it’s one of the things she loves most about her girlfriend, the fact that Tobin’s so touchy-feely and lovely.
For the last few months they’ve been spending every weekend together; alternating apartments. One weekend Christen’ll pack a bag and go to Manhattan. And the next weekend, Tobin’ll bring an overnight bag and Mac over to Williamsburg. This weekend they’re at her place – Mac sleeping at their feet and Tobin latching onto her back.
Tobin’s been heavily hinting at them moving in together, but Christen still likes having her own place. She knows Tobin’ll ask again one day, and she’ll be ready to say yes then. For now, she likes the routine they’re in – she likes working together and keeping things professional at the office, and then being so in love the minute they clock out.
Some nights they’ll get a drink after work, or go to a fine dining restaurant, or just grab a kebab or loaded fries. Some nights they’ll work so late that it just makes sense for her to stay with Tobin. And other nights Tobin will drop her off at home and she’ll invite her up for a cup of coffee, but then they end up cuddling on the coach until they fall asleep.
Christen turns around in her arms and places soft kisses all over her face.
“Waking me up with kisses, are you?”, Tobin chuckles as her eyes flutter open and she pulls Christen even closer, their bodies now flushed impossibly close against each other. She breathes in Tobin’s scent; that addicting mixture of soap, perfume and that scent that’s just her and just perfect. “Good morning, beautiful”.
“Hi”, she says dreamily, tucking Tobin’s hair behind her ear. Her girlfriend looks beautiful in this light – with the sunrays reflecting off the windows and blasting through her thin, white curtains and illuminating her golden skin. “How’d you sleep?”
“I always sleep well when I’m next to you, babe”, the older woman says and cups her cheek; another little hint that she wants them to wake up like this every morning and not just on the weekends.
McQueen yaps at the feet and quickly comes up to snuggle in between them. Tobin laughs roughly, wipes the sleep from her eyes, then pets at the dog’s head.
“He’s so affectionate; wonder where he gets it from?”, Christen chuckles, running a hand through the dog’s soft coat.
Tobin’s smiles softly, then looks up to find Christen’s eyes. “I’ve always been affectionate; physical touch is definitely my love language”.
“I agree”, Christen giggles.
“And with you… it’s just heightened. I don’t think I’ll ever get over how good it feels to—” She reaches out a hand and trails the tips of her fingers down Christen’s forearm. “—touch your skin. Or wake up with you in my arms. Guess I’ve always been searching for that, you know? That person who feels like home to me”.
It’s a lot for eight in the morning; but Christen doesn’t mind. Whenever Tobin pours out her heart like this, she always appreciates and loves the honesty and openness. And this weekend could’ve been ruined last night when she brought up Tobin’s family, but still, the woman was understanding and got where she was coming from and why she was bringing it up.
Christen could see the longing look in Tobin’s eyes when they were in Palos Verdes, barbequing with her family, having dinner with her grandmother, playing volleyball on the beach with her sisters. The older woman was having fun, but she still seemed so sad. Like a piece of her was still searching for something.
“I’m glad I can be that person for you”, she says softly. “You’re my peace, in this… constantly changing, ever-evolving world”.
“Your peace; I like that”, Tobin says softly, her voice still groggy and extra rough from the sleep. “You’re mine, too”.
After another too-long shower, Christen gets dressed in jeans and Chuck Taylors and a sky blue sweater with crochet little white clouds all littered over it. She dons a cute matching beret over bouncy curls and applies a little bit of the lip gloss she knows Tobin likes.
And Tobin steals one of her comfy sweaters – the lilac cable-knit one that’s a little oversized but so cute on her. She pairs it with camel-coloured cargo shorts because there’s not a day that goes by that she doesn’t want to show off her legs and calves. And Christen won’t complain either – any excuse to ogling her girlfriend’s incredible body.
“Another sweater you’re wearing that you’re not gonna wanna give back”, Christen says with an eyeroll, and just gets a kiss on the cheek from Tobin in response.
They walk McQueen around the block, each with a coffee in hand. It’s normal and domestic in that way Christen would always see Crystal and Pierre being. Now she has that, too.
“So, Tierna got some intel… Says I’m on the list”, Tobin then says with smirk. “I get to pay over seventy thousand dollars to go to the Met Gala”.
“And are you going?”, Christen asks.
“I think I’ll pass and just give that money to charity”, Tobin shrugs. “I don’t know if it’s maturity, but… I have different priorities now. I’m not so obsessed with aesthetics, I care more about substance”,
“Well, a wise woman once told me that you can have both”, Christen quips playfully.
“That’s true; but if I had to choose between a stuffy dinner with boring celebrities or a night in watching Love Island with you… Love Island and you are winning every single time”, she says and smiles at Christen. “I just wanna be the Director of Luxe, put out a kick-ass magazine every month and chill around with you and our dog; all the other staff's not that important to me”.
“Our dog?”, Christen asks with a raised brow. She knows just how protective Tobin is over McQueen, so she feels particularly honoured that they’ve gotten to this place already.
“Yeah”, Tobin says easily.
“You have a funny way of sprinkling in the cutest things into a really ordinary conversation; do you even realise you do that all time?”, Christen smiles. She sees the bemused look on her girlfriend’s face. “Just casually slipping in that you ‘don’t just date models’? Or calling me Chris when we weren’t even dating yet?”
“Well, I-I suppose I like being spontaneous!”, Tobin chuckles. “I mean, would I sit down and write every beautiful thing about you? Yes, and maybe I already have… But I like just telling you things I think you should know”.
“Okay”, Christen laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind; and not be too surprised or disappointed when you ask me to marry you in the dairy section of the grocery store”. She realises what she’s just said and turns beet red; she’s turned the tables on herself now.
Tobin glances at her with a smirk and shiny, chestnut brown eyes. “Noted”.
They go to Christen’s new favourite thrift store in Williamsburg – one that’s nestled between a coffee shop and a small art gallery.
“Have you ever gone thrifting?”, Christen asks as they stroll down the first aisle.
“I went to charity shops all the time when I was a kid in England; thrifting for clothes? Not in a place with this much… character”, Tobin smiles.
“I know it’s not the gleaming floors and carefully curated displays of the high-end places you go to, but it’s charming”, Christen says with a chuckle. “And I’m sure you can find something you like”.
They rummage through the racks and bins and shelves full of interesting, gently-worn pieces. Blazers from the eighties right next to Knicks and Nets gear and raver outfits and boho dresses.
“Hm, how about this?”, Tobin asks, holding up a white and yellow ringer-style t-shirt that looks about a size too small. “And I’ll wear it like a crop top? Thoughts?”
“Oh, with those low-rise Guess jeans with the daisies down the leg? Perfect”, Christen nods in agreement. She holds up a light pink gingham print sundress with a frilly skirt. “For the summer?”
Tobin smiles and gives an eager nod. “You’ll look so, so good in that”.
“Mm, sexy even”, Christen bites at her lip as she smiles.
Tobin picks out a mint green silk scarf with white flowers and dark green vines. “I’m pretty sure this is a silk blend, but it’s really nice”, she says and wraps it around Christen’s neck. “Let’s get that for you”.
“As long as…”, Christen pulls out a sleeveless denim jacket from one of the bins. “… we get this for you”.
Tobin smiles and shakes her head in the negative. “Even I can’t pull that off”. She snakes an arm around Christen’s waist and they walk down the next aisle. “Have I ever told you that going shopping with you is my favourite thing in the world?”
“Even if it’s not after hours in a shut-down luxury department store?”, Christen asks.
“Yup, even then”, she says and presses a soft kiss on her cheek. “You know, I’ve really been having trouble with next month’s editorial spread… Maybe we should sent Megan and Crystal down here to look for some outfits… We can call it… Vinyl Vintage”, she says and nods down to the vinyl flooring in the old shop.
“Megan might have a heart attack when you try and sell that idea to her”.
“Crystal can make it work; give her a real challenge to fully welcome her to the Styling department”, Tobin shrugs. “I’m gonna pitch it to them; and if they don’t want it, I might just head it up myself”.
“Oh, so you’re a convert now?”, Christen asks. “Do you secretly love thrifting now, Tobs?”, she teases.
“There… is a certain charm to finding a unique piece. And I’m pretty good at spotting a diamond in the rough – or at least that’s what everyone always says”.
Christen smiles knowingly. “And do you think that?”
Tobin takes a beat before she answers. “You know, I don’t really think of it in those terms… I like to think of it as pearls”.
“Pearls?”
“Yeah, pearls”, Tobin smiles. “When pearls are harvested, they are usually already in their round form. And unlike other gems, they never occur in a rough state. Pearls are always shiny and smooth and beautiful and perfect… They’re just hard to come by, hard to break that shell open and find all that beauty hidden within”.
Christen swallows, realising the weight of Tobin’s words. Tonight, she’ll find a million ways to repay her for that sweet metaphor.
They pay for their clothes and make the trek back to Christen’s apartment building, stopping to pick up salt and vinegar potato chips, mango soda, praline and the latest issue of Luxe.
They’ll eat their snacks while paging through the magazine; enjoying the simple, little pleasures of just being in love and being together – and being totally obsessed with Luxe magazine.