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“Velm, why do you even like drinking that stuff? It’s not good for you.”
Velma peers over her book at Daphne, who’s pointing at the cup of coffee sitting on the table between them as if it was a spider.
“It’s just coffee,” Velma says, rolling her eyes. “You drink it all the time.”
“Not decaffeinated coffee,” Daphne argues. “I drink normal-people coffee.”
Velma sighs, setting down her book. “Why does it matter so much? It’s just your coffee without any caffeine in it.”
Inwardly, she feels all warm and fuzzy. She knows Daphne likes teasing Velma to the point she’s flustered, and doesn’t want to take that away from her girlfriend.
(Besides, she loves it, but she’s never going to admit that out loud.)
She’s fighting a smile when Daphne throws her hands up. “The entire point of coffee is that it has caffeine in it! Besides, the chemicals used in decaffeinating coffee beans are absolutely terrible for your body.”
Oh.
She’s not teasing.
She’s actually serious.
Mildly offended, Velma takes the cup into her hands. Her eyes meet Daphne’s for the first time that morning. “Not all decaffeinated coffee is made that way. I did my research. I’d like to think that I would know if I was putting toxic chemicals into my body.”
“You clearly didn’t do enough research, since—”
Her gaze unwavering, Velma slowly and deliberately tilts her head back to chug the rest of the coffee. She’s just swallowed her first mouthful when she hears Daphne’s strangled shriek. The next thing she knows, there’s coffee all over her, Daphne’s on top of her, and the cup’s fallen onto the ground with a loud shatter.
“Daphne! ” she yelps, wiping the coffee off her face.
“Sorry! ”
She doesn’t sound very sorry at all, Velma thinks, as Daphne faces Velma with a big grin on her face.
“There’s decaffeinated coffee all over my sweater, and you’re sitting on it.”
“It’s okay. We’ll clean those later.”
“How about I clean my glasses now, since I can’t see a thing and they’re covered in coffee.”
Without taking her eyes off Velma’s, Daphne blindly reaches a hand out back towards the table to grab a tissue. Velma snorts with laughter after she misses the tissue box for the third time.
“Oh, shut it,” Daphne says as she turns around and snatches a tissue. “I thought you couldn’t see a thing?”
“I didn’t actually mean it that way—”
Daphne laughs. “I know, darling.”
It’s a soft, wholehearted laugh, Velma notes. It’s raw and pure. It’s charming. Beautiful, even.
I love her so much.
She knows, for a fact, that if anyone else in the world had been in Daphne’s position, she would’ve never forgiven them as quickly as she did just now. She especially wouldn’t be laughing with said person.
“May I?” Daphne asks quietly.
Velma’s eyebrows arch.
“Take your glasses off. So I can clean them.”
“Of course,” she responds, matching Daphne’s volume.
Velma sits patiently until she sees Daphne gently placing her glasses back on her nose. She’s met with the taller girl’s smile, which hovers over her like the Sun.
“Your sweater.”
“Hm?”
“We need to wash that.”
“I’ll go do it if you stop sitting on me.”
Daphne laughs softly again, and it occurs to Velma that she wants to hear that laugh for the rest of her life.
“No, Daph, I insist—”
She’s silenced with a kiss that practically melts her insides. She leans her head onto the back of the chair as the kiss deepens, as Daphne probes her lips with that wicked tongue—
Daphne’s cold fingers ghost over the skin right above her hips, and Velma gasps. “What are you doing?”
“Taking off the sweater so I can go clean it.”
Liar.
“Go ahead,” Velma eventually murmurs.
She feels Daphne’s smirk against her lips at her response, before lifting up the sweater. The other girl’s pace is agonizing slow , and after a few moments, she feels as though the sweater is suffocating her. Daphne’s hands are intentionally brushing the shirt underneath, and she swears if she has to wait one more second—
“Please.”
She can see Daphne swallow visibly at her plea.
“Say that again.”
She’s almost scared at how significantly Daphne’s voice has lowered. She studies Daphne’s eyes for a moment to find nothing but lust in both of them.
She considers saying no, but after all, where’s the fun in that?
Velma tilts her head slightly just to capture Daphne’s lips with hers, before breaking away.
“Please,” she repeats in a hushed voice.
Daphne responds by finally pulling the sweater over Velma’s chest. Velma grabs the hem of her sweater and pulls it off in one quick motion, somehow managing not to knock her own glasses off in the process.
Looking smugly satisfied, Daphne leans down to Velma’s ear. “Your shirt is dirty too,” she whispers.
Velma immediately looks down, but finds that the orange t-shirt she’s wearing looks pristine.
“No, it’s not—” she begins.
“Yes, it is.”
Velma opens her mouth to argue, but a moan escapes instead of any opposition. Upon seeing that Daphne’s smirk has grown, she realizes what Daphne meant about her shirt being clean.
She can’t help but reach up and sink her hands into Daphne’s soft ginger hair and pull her down for one more kiss.
“Yes, it is,” Velma agrees.