Work Text:
“Shit, shit, shit.” Maria darts around May’s small bedroom, scooping up her personal items from the floor, the cabinet, under the rumpled queen-size she is currently squeezing down the side of.
She thrusts her cell into the strap of her sports bra as she struggles into last night’s only slightly rumpled shirt. The call came in eleven minutes ago. The longest she has ever taken from one of Fury’s summons to muster is fourteen minutes. She has three minutes to brush her hair, pack her bag and put on some…
“Underwear!” she yells out loud. “May, have you seen my thong?”
May pokes her head around the bedroom door. “Only the last time you were wearing it.” She grins and her cheeks make wrinkles around her eyes that Maria would love to stop and kiss, but fuck she doesn’t have time.
“It’s fine. I’ll just have to go without,” Maria mumbles, lifting the quilt for one last look.
May turns a look of exaggerated dismay on her, covering her mouth in horror at the very thought. “Maria Christina Hill,” she chastises. “And you call yourself a good Catholic girl. What would Sister Angelique say?”
Maria snorts. “Probably something about my immortal soul.”
May nudges the door further open with her hip and sashays into the room. She digs into the tallboy drawers and pulls out a pair of navy and pink striped panties, holding them out for Maria. “Well then, you better take a pair of mine.”
Maria stops. Just stops. She looks from May’s face to her hand and the lacy flash of fabric clasped in them. She swallows. “Really?” she says.
May chuckles. “Really,” she says. “Best thing about having a girlfriend, you get to share each other’s clothes.”
Maria doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s such a simple thing, a three-dollar pair of briefs that May won’t even miss, but it somehow feels so much more. A girlfriend, sharing, that throaty chuckle of May’s that makes Maria’s stomach flutter. She takes the underwear and bends to step into them, sliding them up her hips and letting elastic snap to her skin. Then she pulls on her pants, zipping and buttoning them closed. She lifts her eyes to see May watching and that same fluttering morphs into a flash of heat that she absolutely does not have fucking time for, goddam it.
“Sorry,” she says, in part to May for having to leave her so suddenly and a little bit to Sister Angelique for her mental blasphemy. She edges around the foot of the bed, stopping in front of May to press a quick kiss to her lover’s lips.
“Be safe,” May says, stealing another.
Maria forces an easy smile. “I’m not one of those dumb boys,” she teases.
“Come home,” May presses, only the very slightest tremble in her voice.
Home.
“I will,” Maria whispers.