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Lara Croft was not the world’s greatest girlfriend.
It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy going out to clubs with Sam, or checking out expensive clothing shops, or even being invasively filmed on a daily basis. No, none of that stuff really bothered her anymore. The weird thing was that if you took something as horrifically dull as clothing shopping promised to be, and you added Sam to the equation, it never turned out as bad as Lara might have expected.
Her old college friends wouldn’t have believed it, but Sam was actually an amazing girlfriend; attentive, supportive, and even romantic when the mood struck. She knew exactly what to say and do to keep Lara’s interest, no matter the situation.
"A brain as big as yours needs lots of exercise," Sam had once said, which, yeah, was probably the truth, even if it did make Lara sound a little like an over-excited dog who might tear up the furniture if she wasn't taken for regular walks.
Admittedly, clothing stores could make her feel that way sometimes.
Yet Sam was especially attentive in situations like that. She had an impressive ability to follow whatever bit of historical minutia Lara was excited about that day, and just being able to bounce ideas off Sam was enough to keep Lara interested while Sam was busy trying on ludicrously-overpriced-sweater number fifteen, or whatever.
She'd dated history majors who weren't half as fun to spend a day with.
Yep, Sam was great, and Lara was lucky to have her.
There was simply an unfortunate complication in their relationship. An unfortunate complication that was all on Lara's end.
If she wanted to lie to herself, Lara could chalk it all up to inexperience, or on her being kind of a shut-in, or on all sorts of other things, but really, the problem was simply that everyone she’d ever dated, both past and present, had to accept one sad truth: books were Lara Croft’s first love.
There was no argument. Dangle a musty old hardcover book in front of Lara Croft, filled with the promise of revelations about some obscure piece of history and she would quickly forget everything else, including how to be a good girlfriend.
It was amazing Sam put up with her at all, to be honest.
“Lara, please.”
“Just one more minute.” Lara began mumbling to herself as she examined the pages closely, “The foxing on this one is pretty bad.” Not that the text was illegible or anything, but maybe she could play the role of book connoisseur and convince the clerk to lower the price just a little. There was no need to break the bank on one rare book, not when spending less on one would help facilitate the purchase of additional books.
Vaguely, she heard something that might’ve been Sam sighing and falling dramatically into a chair. She wasn’t sure, but aside from the clerk, they were probably the only people in here. Also, it was the kind of thing Sam did.
“Laaaaraaaaaa…” she whined.
Finally, Lara looked over her shoulder. “Just another minute?” she asked, flashing a shy but hopeful smile.
“You said that a minute ago.”
The smile faltered. “Did I?”
Sam nodded emphatically, then flailed her arms again. “Rescue me, Lara.”
Lara scoffed. “From what, exactly?”
“From boredom.”
It was only then that she noticed the street lamps shining through the store windows. It hadn’t been dark when they walked in. Oops. “Oh.” Placing the book gently on the floor, she pushed herself up and stretched her limbs.
Sam remained ensconced on her giant leather chair, still holding out her hands even as she eyed Lara appreciatively. “Rescue me, Lara,” she repeated, this time with waggling eyebrows, as she failed to suppress a smile.
Self-conscious, Lara looked around, grateful to find no one watching them. She sighed and picked Sam up easily, earning a peck on the lips for her trouble before dropping her girlfriend gently to the floor.
Sam grinned at her, fanning herself with her hand, which earned yet another eye-roll. “I love it when you do that.”
“Yeah. I… um… noticed.” Generally, this occurred in the privacy of their dorm room though.
“So, who’s stolen your heart this time?” Sam asked, arms behind her back as she looked pointedly at the book Lara had left leaning against the shelf.
It was quite heavy, but being leather bound and roughly a thousand pages would do that. She showed it to Sam, who did not regard the book with quite the same level of awe that Lara did. “It’s the Alexiad, by Anna Komnene, a Byzantine princess. It details the military and political history of the empire during her father’s reign.”
Sam remained not-particularly impressed. “So, a light summer read then?” Lara gave another bashful smile as Sam brushed some stray strands of hair over her ear for her. “Still on a Byzantine kick, huh? Twelfth century, right?"
After moving on from Japanese history, Sam hadn’t been able to follow Lara’s historical interests as easily as she used to, but it was still nice that she tried. Lara nodded.
Sam hugged her, squishing the book between them. “You’re like this socially awkward and totally buff super-nerd, Lara, and I love you. But we’ve been here for two hours.”
Only Sam could lace a description with sixty-six percent insult and still make the heat rise in Lara's cheeks like that. “I’m really, really sorry,” she replied, squeezing her back. There was a teetering stack of books lying on the floor next to Sam's chair. Wow. She must’ve been really bored.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Sam said with a sigh.
Lara pulled away, looking for some way to salvage the situation. She gestured at the row upon row of shelves. “Did you, um, want anything?” She’d be taking this book, of course. It was over a hundred pounds, but if Sam wanted something, Lara certainly wouldn’t mind paying for-
“I’ve got plenty of books, Lara," she replied with a snort.
Lara blinked, regarding her with a tilt of the head. “You do?”
Sam shrugged as she checked her phone. “Hundreds,” she replied absently. “Didn’t keep them all in the dorm.” Her eyes met Lara’s for a beat. “There wasn’t enough space.”
There wasn’t enough space because it was mostly taken up with books. Lara’s books. This was not a fact that needed to be conveyed through words. It was simply known. Anyone who visited their dorm knew it too.
Lara blanched, but all Sam did was smile wryly. They never actually fought about this sort of thing. Lara and books came as a package, and separating the two would be like separating Sam from her expansive wardrobe. It wasn’t going to happen.
There had been an unspoken agreement. Lara didn’t complain when Sam ninjaed increasingly large portions of her closet for her own use, and Sam didn’t complain whenever Lara brought home a new bookshelf and promptly filled it with books, some borrowed, some purchased.
Still, this was the first time Lara had ever heard Sam mention having a book collection of her own. She knew Sam read, of course - ‘The Classics’ some people would call them, stuff that made secondary school teachers giddy; Jayne Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, that sort of thing. A little surprising to some, perhaps, but Sam had depths. No matter how much her girlfriend liked to party, Lara never doubted it for a second.
Sam checked the time on her phone before slipping it back into her pocket. “The moving people should be long gone, but I’ve gotta run.”
Lara only nodded dumbly as a keycard was unceremoniously shoved into her free hand.
They had a new home. It was just another example of typical Sam behavior: ‘Hey, Lara, I bought us a new place to live, no big deal, ttfn.’ She'd first heard about last month, while they were enjoying a much-needed, non-cultist filled vacation. Lara understood the reasons for the move… well, some of them, at any rate. More security, less paparazzi, that sort of thing. But so soon after Yamatai, well, packing all her stuff into boxes, hauling it across London, and rearranging everything was just a little more than she could take. Sam, and what was no doubt an absurd amount of money, did it all for her.
This allowed them both time to decompress after all their trauma, because yeah, Sam was the world’s best girlfriend. Two weeks enjoying the calm serenity of Scotland, followed by another two spent in the Caribbean at Sam's insistence, and Lara felt almost normal again. Meanwhile, Sam was taking reports on the remodeling work through video calls, all of which Lara was forbidden to see.
It was a surprise.
A good surprise, Lara was sure, just like her relationship with Sam had been.
After an all too brief kiss, Sam was making for the door. “Remember: room 2215, Lara. Make yourself at home. I'll see you tonight!” she called out as the door shut behind her.
…
For a long while, Lara simply stood there, blinking in incomprehension and certain that she had somehow stepped through a door into a parallel universe. But no, there were the same old pictures of herself and Sam already hanging on the wall, there was Sam’s stuffed purple octopus-squid thing sitting next to an absurdly enormous television. There were other framed prints from Sam’s collection leaning against the walls, ready for hanging: Chinese landscapes, Degas’ dancing girls, and some other much more modern stuff Lara had never been able to identify. This was simply where she was living now, and Lara would have to get used to it.
With a deep breath, she dumped her bag onto the floor and fiddled with the light-switches until everything was lit up. She almost whistled. Yeah. She could get used to it.
Windows ran from floor to ceiling on one side of the enormous living room, and beyond that lay an open kitchen with brand-new appliances, their metal surfaces polished and gleaming. Even the microwave looked like it probably cost more than all the appliances in her old dorm ever had.
It was a lot like any hotel-room Sam ever rented for the two of them - ridiculously huge and overpriced, in other words - except this one was really their own.
A glance inside the fridge revealed fresh fruits, vegetables, and several types of juices. Lara poured a cup of orange juice for herself. Sam knew her all too well.
Increasingly curious as to what wonders she'd find in this sky-high mansion, Lara stepped into the hall and tried the first door on the left. What she found affected her more than stepping into the living room.
An entire study just for Lara and her books. A huge oak desk, sitting in front of more of those enormous windows, shelves from floor to ceiling, including two empty ones by the door for future acquisitions, comfy looking chairs, filing cabinets… everything a book-worm could possibly ask for. On what little free wall space there was Sam - or Sam's people - had hung the Croft family coat of arms and one of the few prints Lara owned, a photograph of Giza. Everything looked perfect. She really must’ve spent weeks laying this all out.
Sam certainly had a knack for design.
Curious, Lara pulled out a leather-bound edition of Suetonius at random and let out a relieved sigh to find it still in perfect condition.
The moving people had been careful. Everything was just as she remembered it, except now there was actually space for everything. It made her feel practically giddy.
Hopefully, Sam tipped them well. The downside of owning so many books - the only downside of owning so many books - was moving them all from place to place. It was a good way to lose friends, and sometimes even girlfriends.
Something was lying on the desk, under the lamp and beside a framed photograph of Lara's father; a leather-bound book sitting on top of a wide, but short, paper box. It was hardly the first time she’d come across something like this. Lately, Sam had taken to purchasing a book to go along with all the clothes she showered on Lara. Something to distract from the fact that they now owned yet another article of clothing that would likely get worn three times before it was replaced by something new.
At least Sam donated the old ones when they were done with them.
Lara brushed her fingers over the thick cover. Procopius’ Secret History, and in the original Greek too. A bookmark rested between the pages, and Lara dutifully opened it and scanned the page. Immediately, she slammed it shut. It was his vivid description of Empress Theodora’s nude theater exploits.
How Sam had found this particular passage, Lara was sure she didn’t want to know. Sam couldn’t tell you the difference between Greek and Cyrillic. She must’ve asked someone from school to find the most embarrassing passage possible.
God, was Lara ever glad to miss that conversation.
Setting her questions, and the book, aside, Lara turned to the box.
A post-it was stuck to the top. ‘Plz try this on, and let me know if it fits – love, your extremely thoughtful and generous girlfriend, Sam.’
Sighing, Lara gently removed the top of the box. To be honest, she expected to find something lurid, say lingerie, or even some kind of sex toy, but it was only a completely ordinary white dress shirt. Or, at least it looked like an ordinary white dress shirt to her. Knowing Sam, it was probably handmade in Italy by a famous designer who everyone has heard of, oh, and it costs several hundred pounds for some reason. She checked the tag. Yep. Italy.
Still, she tried it on, walking over to the master bath that adjoined her office slash library and another room as she fastened the buttons, and, hey, it actually looked good. Her brow furrowed as she tried to come up with a reason why Sam had bought this. It was probably for Sam's benefit somehow.
Was there another fundraiser Lara didn't know about? Was this because of that black dress Sam had convinced her to wear the last time? The dress Lara complained bitterly about because everyone had been staring at her cleavage the entire time?
Lara frowned at the memory. She'd asked for something less revealing next time, and she supposed that a suit and tie was her just reward. At least it looked good on her. Fiddling with the top button, Lara decided she preferred it open, and proceeded to the next door.
The sight brought a smile to her lips; it was a bedroom. An enormous bed sat in the middle, abutting one wall, and already made. A twinge of color suffused her cheeks. It had been a long time since they regularly slept in different rooms, but now, she supposed, it was official. Just one bed for the two of them.
Most of Lara’s personal effects were stacked by the door, but all the furniture was brand new. She couldn’t begin to imagine what it all cost, and she wasn’t going to ask, she was just going to mind her own business for a change. Sam’s parents had a bottomless pit of money somewhere, and they dumped it on Sam to ensure some form of familial harmony, that’s all Lara needed to know.
Really, this place was amazing, and it came with an equally amazing view of Hyde Park. For a few minutes she just stood there and watched the sun slowly set, imagining what it would be like living here with Sam, waking up every morning in this bed, with this view, with the person she cared most for in the entire world.
Hopefully, Sam would come home soon. Lara kind of wanted to kiss her.
Leaving her empty glass on the table, she continued her wandering, uncovering a number of closets, and an unnecessarily spacious laundry room. Finally, there was only one door left. What would this one reveal? A guest bedroom? A second laundry-room? A private bowling alley? Lara was running out of ideas.
The last thing she expected to find was another library.
This room was smaller than Lara’s library/office had been, but it was even more jam-packed with books, a plush couch lying in the middle - Sam's property - with lamps at both ends, provided the only seating. Bookshelves ran from wall to wall, thick oak shelves like one would see in the university library, only here, every single book was a hand-sized paperback.
She couldn’t believe it.
Every spine had the sort of garish colorful titles that Lara recognized immediately despite having never so much as opened books like these in her life. Romance novels. Sam had an entire library full of romance novels.
Words failed her. Some of the books had dog-eared pages, paper turning brown with age. Sam never bought anything used…
Oh my god.
Cautiously, as if it might explode, she pulled out a book at random. The cover was exactly what she expected: Fabio, or at least, Fabio's clone, his shirt open, was clutching a much smaller woman who was about to fall out of her dress, bosom heaving in defiance of Newtonian physics. Behind this was the open sea and a ship flying the Jolly Roger.
Huh. Apparently, pirate romances were a thing. She looked down the line of books: The Pirates’ Captive, Gentle Rogue, The Pirate’s Pleasure. Okay. Pirate romances were a very big thing.
With trepidation, she opened the book in her hand, flipping through random pages. Her face went red almost immediately. Shirtless sword fighting, check. Asshole main character with a heart of gold, check. Sex scenes where both characters achieve orgasm at the exact same moment, check. She flipped some more pages. Double check. A few more. Triple check. Hastily, she shut the book.
Those pages were dog-eared too.
Lara shook her head. This stuff was even more unbelievable than Procopius.
Suddenly, Lara was being tackled from behind. For a split second, her reflexes kicked in, and she raised the book as though it were a weapon. Then she finally noticed the size of the hands being wrapped around her stomach.
“Oh my god,” Sam was saying as she pulled away, but she wasn’t even looking at Lara’s beet red face, or the book in her hand, no, she only had eyes for the shirt Lara had forgotten she was still wearing. “This looks great on you.”
And just as suddenly, Lara Croft was being manhandled, Sam pulling her this way and that, like a model in an art studio, admiring her from every angle.
“I bought you a suit and a couple of ties to go with this,” and by ‘a couple’ Sam probably meant a couple dozen, “you have an appointment with the tailor tomorrow, by the way."
Oh, great.
“Damn, Lara," she said as walked a full circle around her. "You’ll rock this look. It’s a little loose in some places,” she continued, talking more to herself than her girlfriend, “and tight in others. You know, it’s a little hard to find shirts for women as jacked as you are.”
Lara snorted.
"Flex for me."
Her expression turned decidedly exasperated.
"Please,” Sam asked, pouting, eyes wide and hopeful.
With a sigh, Lara raised her left arm and did as she was ordered. There was just no resisting that face.
Sam hummed in pleasure, squeezing Lara's bicep for good measure. "Perfect. You might have to be careful when you wear this though.” She squeezed again. “Try to avoid any fights. We don't want you to Hulk out."
Briefly looking away, Lara rubbed at her temple, and when she turned back to Sam, she found her finally noticing the book still in Lara’s right hand. “You know, if you wanted to borrow one of my trashy novels, you only had to ask.”
Lara frowned. Fabio continued to stare up at her in all his pectoral glory. “Um, no thanks.”
Sam mimicked Lara's expression perfectly. “You’re not going to judge me, are you?”
Quickly, she shook her head. “I just didn’t know you… um…”
“Read?” Sam finished for her with a laugh.
“No,” Lara replied, defensively. “Er, um, yeah, not for fun, I mean, well,” she gestured vaguely at the shelves, “not like this.”
“I read for pleasure,” Sam replied.
“Not for historical accuracy then.” Lara doubted that real-life pirates were quite so… Fabio-y.
"Hey, I have some classics too,” Sam gestured vaguely, “in boxes. And I still have that copy of Robinson Crusoe I found on Yamatai."
Admirable, and presumably those books would fill the as yet unstocked shelves over by the window. Still, The Lay of Pirate-Fabio was probably not quite up to the same level as Jane Austen, Lara imagined.
“What's wrong? Fabio not your type?”
Lara rolled her eyes as she slipped the book back in its place and pulled out the very next one. Same thing, really: a man, not Fabio this time, but still appropriately muscle-bound, clean-shaven, shirtless, clutching a woman to his sizeable chest, standing on the prow of a ship, Titanic style. “Why are the women on these covers always like…” - Lara couldn’t find the right words, so she gestured appropriately - "half about to swoon, half overawed by their shirtless male companion?" If anyone caught Lara looking like that, they had permission to put her out of her misery.
Gasping and pressing the back of her hand to her temple, Sam mimed fainting on the couch in a manner worthy of a West End theatre, splaying out on the cushions, chest heaving as she fanned herself. "Oh, captain Croft, you look as though you're about to ravish me!"
Lara tossed the book at her.
“Hey,” Sam laughed, just managing to catch it, “I paid six dollars for this! It’s a classic.”
Shaking her head, Lara dropped onto the couch beside her. In an instant, Sam was on her lap and fussing with the shirt again. “Mmm. Definitely going to have to buy more of these. And maybe a few of those billowy pirate shirts too.”
Lara shut her eyes, suppressing a laugh. She felt a button slip open. “Sam. What are you doing?” Granted, it was pretty obvious what she was doing, but clarification would still be nice.
"Trying to determine exactly how many buttons we should leave unfastened in order to fit the whole Lara Croft aesthetic."
Her brow furrowed. What exactly was the Lara Croft aesthetic? What did that even mean?
When Sam got to four, she tapped her chin with a finger, looking thoughtful. Then she unfastened one more, then another, and Lara rolled her eyes. “I am not going outside with my bra showing, Sam.”
“Oh, right, hang on.” With a deftness that Lara knew was attributable to much experience, Sam wound her fingers under the back of her shirt and had the bra unfastened in seconds, yanking it free, and tossing it to the far side of the room. “You’re right. This is so much better.”
"Sam!"
"Just one more." Two buttons later, and Sam sat back. “Now you look a little like a pirate." There was exactly one button still left fastened.
"No, I look ridiculous,” Lara grumbled, pulling the two ends of her shirt together. If she went outside like this, she’d be arrested for indecency. She gestured at the book Sam was gently setting on the side table. "I just look more like that wilting girl on the cover. Not exactly your type."
Sam only grinned. “You’ve still got the heaving bosoms part down. That’s certainly my type.”
Oh my god. A year ago, a conversation like this would’ve had Lara burying her face in a pillow and praying for death.
Now, she was able to sit here and take it.
It was still embarrassing though.
“I thought it was always the damsels in distress who had the heaving bosoms in those sorts of books?”
Sam grinned. “Obviously, you haven’t perused my entire collection yet.”
“Yeah,” Lara deadpanned, aiming for some pretense at dignity as she buttoned her shirt back up. She didn’t get too far before Sam batted her hands away and did it herself, stopping four buttons short. When Sam smooshed her breasts together and grinned, Lara thought she really was going to die. “I’m - uh - afraid I didn’t have several months to kill.” She stared pointedly at the long line of shelves. "Or years."
Still amused, Sam grabbed a fistful of Lara’s shirt, and without the least bit of concern over damaging it, pulled Lara off the couch and gently across the room. Here, she produced another book. To Lara's surprise, it featured two women on the cover, in a familiar pose. Oh.
“See?" Sam said, pointing. "Het books on one side, gay books on the other.”
So, there was a method to all this madness.
“And it’s all grouped by genre," Sam continued excitedly, "lesbian werewolves, vampires,” her finger slid across the spines, “superheroes, knights... I've got them all."
Lara let out a long breath. "I'll say. I’m starting to wonder if I should be jealous.”
In answer, Sam pulled Lara to her by the shirt again until their lips met.
It was the kind of kiss that made you forget your own name, and before Lara knew what was going on, she was being pushed back on to the couch, Sam straddling her waist once more. “Don’t be jealous,” Sam breathed after they finally broke apart.
All Lara could do was nod. Had she been jealous? She couldn’t really remember. All she knew was she really felt like one of those wilting damsels right about now. Sam was an amazing kisser.
"I don't read quite so many of these books since Yamatai. Don't need them since I've got my very own superhero right here."
A bashful smile spread across Lara’s face. They've talked already about where they stood. It was important to Lara that Sam not think of herself as some kind of damsel in need of rescuing. But perhaps their shared bedroom activities helped remind Sam of that. Lara was always at her mercy.
She bit back a sigh as Sam sat there, admiring one part of her body in particular.
“Did you want me to leave, so you and my breasts can be alone?” Lara asked with a wry grin.
Sam ignored her. Typical. “See, the nice thing about lesbian pirates is you get both the rippling muscles, and the heaving bosoms.”
“Uh huh.”
“It’s also one of the advantages of dating Lara Croft.”
Lara blushed to the tips of her ears. “My muscles are hardly ‘rippling’, Sam.”
She let out a feigned gasp. At some point during their kiss, her fingers must’ve undone the buttons again, because Sam pulled the shirt completely open and bent down to place a soft kiss on Lara’s stomach. “Don’t listen to her,” she whispered, smiling against skin. She looked slyly up at Lara like she was being the most charming person in the world. And yeah, she kind of was.
"What was this shirt supposed to be for, exactly?"
"Your lecture tour,” Sam replied, drumming her fingers on Lara’s chest. “You'll look amazing in a suit and tie."
"Ah."
“And if I ever need a badass bodyguard, a suit would be perfect for that too.”
“A bodyguard?”
“Sure. Romance trope number two-thousand and eighty-three, Lara: wealthy socialite falls in love with her bodyguard. It’s a classic.”
Sam laughed at the face Lara made. “Now don’t get me wrong, I’d love to show you off tonight, but as it's our first night in our new home... we should probably... you know..." Sam waggled her eyebrows.
Yeah. Lara got it. "Real subtle, Sam."
She grinned.
"How on Earth did you convince your parents to pay for this place, anyway?" This much square-footage in Central London, maybe she didn’t want to know.
"Easy, I just said, 'Hey dad, can I have a couple million dollars so my girlfriend can thank me with a night of amazing sex?"
"Oh, just one night?" Lara asked dryly.
"Well," Sam drawled, "seeing as how I've found myself living in a real-life romance novel, I feel obligated to shower my heroic rescuer with gifts every day in order to show my appreciation."
"In exchange for sex?"
Sam looked at her seriously. "In exchange for the privilege of her company," she replied, voice soft as she smoothed out the fabric over Lara's right arm, "In exchange for the feeling I get when I wake up every morning and find her beside me.” With a wicked grin, she ruffled Lara’s hair. "Aww, made'ya blush," she said, grinning.
Lara rolled her eyes even as she was conscious of how red her face must look now. "Like that's hard."
Sam draped herself over Lara, drawing light circles over Lara’s bare stomach with the tips of her fingers. "Hmm. You know, those are good stories too."
"Which ones?"
"The ones where an awkward and shy young college girl is seduced by a fabulously wealthy and beautiful older woman. I've got dozens of books like that in my collection if that's more your thing. It’s practically its own sub-genre."
"You're barely seven months older than me, Sam." Lara looked up sharply, "And I'm not awkward!" Sam met her eyes with an arch look and Lara immediately deflated. Okay, she was a little awkward.
"You're adorably awkward, and you also can brain people with a hand-axe. You’re the total package, Lara.”
Apparently, there wasn’t much difference between Sam’s description of the perfect girlfriend, and a quirky yet bizarrely loveable serial killer. Lara had never been sure what to make of that.
“And I’m going to shower my awkward hero with gifts in order to show my love.” Before Lara could object, Sam had shifted over her and silenced her with another kiss.
More classic Sam behavior. Distract Lara from her very justifiable grievances with kissing.
Really, really distracting kissing.
God.
"Hey, Lara?"
"Huh?" Sam was pushing her down by the shoulders to keep Lara from reaching her lips.
"When you were little, did you ever dream about who you might marry when you got older?"
She blinked, confused by the randomness of the question. To be honest, she really hadn’t. She was never the sort. "I guess I just wanted a friend who would go on adventures with me. Someone who shares my interests." She tilted her head as Sam looked questioningly down on her. "Guess I found her, huh?"
Sam’s face took on this wonderfully soft look, and she canted her head as Lara brushed some hair behind her ears. It stayed put for roughly a second before Sam kissed her urgently, hands gripping Lara’s arms fiercely.
Despite their differences in strength, they often ended up like this; with Sam on top.
Not that Lara was complaining.
“I do love watching you brain cultists with an axe,” Sam said once they pulled apart.
It took a few moments before Lara was capable of speech. “Surprisingly, that wasn’t what I expected to be doing with my life when I grew up.” Hopefully, things would get a little less dramatic from now on. By herself, Sam was more than capable of providing enough drama for one lifetime.
Sam was giggling again, her voice teasing, "I bet you were that kid who could name every pharaoh of the eighteenth dynasty.”
“Yeah. That was me. I hit my Egypt phase around twelve-years-old.” There was also a China phase, a Mesoamerican phase, and even a megalithic Europe phase. Lara went through historical interests so quickly, at least three since she met Sam.
“Yet, until I came along you had no idea that dating girls was even a possibility.”
She scoffed and shoved Sam ineffectually. “I’ve had girlfriends!” And a boyfriend or two, of course. But none of her relationships had advanced as quickly as this one. After Yamatai, it was like someone had lit a fire under them both. “There were just some… gaps… in my knowledge.”
“And I was very happy to fill those gaps.” She pushed herself up until she was looking down at Lara and waggling her eyebrows. Lara only looked back curiously. Sam snickered. “If you know what I mean,” she added.
Lara didn’t, and her face must have revealed as much.
“Oh my god,” Sam said, laughing as she buried her head in Lara’s chest. “You are too cute!”
Given a few more seconds to ponder, understanding finally dawned. “Eww, Sam!”
Sam hung on when Lara tried to shove her off, albeit not particularly forcefully. She soon gave up, because, yeah, she enjoyed having Sam on top of her.
Sam propped herself up again as she looked over the shelves, leaving Lara feeling less like a lover, and more like a seat cushion. “You know, I wonder if I can find a book in here that you might like.”
Not likely. Lara wasn't much into fiction, not even the classics. “Do you really enjoy these books, or is it like an ironic sort of enjoyment?”
“I’m not a hipster," Sam said, eyes narrowing slightly, "if that’s what you’re trying to imply.” Lara had no idea what that even meant, and Sam snorted at the look of confusion on her face. “I enjoy these books completely legitimately."
"But aren't they... um… a little..."
She sighed. “Yes, some are mediocre, some are awful, but some are among the best books I’ve ever read. Romance novels are like any other genre of fiction, Lara. For every Lord of the Rings, there’s a thousand mediocre clones or, god forbid, one of those awful Gor novels.” Sam shuttered. Probably better not to ask.
Lara wasn’t successful in completely hiding her disbelief at all this. She pictured pirate-Fabio playing the role of Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice, but it just wasn't working. Then she stuck him in the role of the firefighter in Fahrenheit 451, then playing the eponymous hero of the Odyssey.
Nope. Maybe her imagination wasn’t up to the task?
Sam's expression was hard to parse. Perhaps she felt Lara really was silently judging her. "Pick out something for me to read sometime," Lara offered.
Her eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Sure." Lara shrugged, like it was no big deal. Honestly, she hadn't read fiction in years. Not since her last mandatory English class. But hey. Sam was always getting her to try new things, right?
“I’ve got some other period romances. Nothing set in Ancient Japan, or the seedy underbelly of Constantinople though…” Sam smiled knowingly.
Nope. Lara was still not going to ask how she found those lines from Procopius.
“I can always order more, though.”
“More?” Lara squeaked. Okay, she was the last person in the world to tell someone that they owned too many books, but still. There were hundreds here. Hundreds of Fabios… and their lesbian equivalents.
"Yeah. I mostly buy gay stuff now," she smiled. "For some reason."
Lara coughed awkwardly.
“Don’t be jealous though. I mean, you can be jealous if you want - it's kind of hot - but it’s not like a lesbian werewolf is going to come steal me away. So, I think you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“And if it’s a time-traveling lesbian werewolf pirate astronaut?”
“Oh, you might be screwed in that case,” Sam said, giggling. “You’ll just have to beat her up, in true trashy romance style.”
Lara made a face. “I would never do something like that, Sam.”
“I know. It's why I'm here, in your arms, instead of pirate-Fabio's."
Things were quiet for a moment as Sam hugged her, which meant that Lara started thinking again. “Sam? You know I don’t think of you that way, right? You’re not a damsel in distress. You’re not some trophy to be won.”
“I know,” she said happily. “And you’re not some brainless beefcake hero, even if you do look amazing without a shirt on.”
A finger tickled her exposed skin and Lara retaliated by slapping Sam on the butt. Lightly. Any harder and her girlfriend would probably get ideas on interesting new ways to take their physical relationship.
“You’re Lara Croft, and that’s all that matters to me.”
Sighing, Lara hugged the woman in her arms, the greatest girlfriend ever.
Sam hummed in contentment, but soon she was nibbling at Lara’s neck, and hands that had once been playful and merely teasing, became more urgent. "You know," she breathed into Lara's ear, "it’s all still in boxes, but I've also got a stack of gay erotica that could reach the ceiling. They've given me lots of ideas for breaking this place in, by the way."
Lara swallowed, back arching unconsciously as Sam clutched tighter, her eyes fixed straight up. The ceilings in this place were pretty darn high.