Work Text:
The first day of an academic conference was always exhausting . Mary sighed as she swiped into her hotel room, checking her watch as she closed the door behind her. 7:23pm. There was some kind of plenary address going on downstairs in the ballroom, she remembered from the schedule. But she'd taken a very early flight to Glasgow from London and had already attended several sessions earlier in the afternoon. She was beat, really, and didn't think she had it in her to mingle with hundreds of other academics who were probably very well on their way to getting drunk and thus likely non-critical in their thinking and conversing.
As Mary was taking off her shoes and kicking them under the desk, her phone pinged. She went over it to find a text message from Marisa, her new colleague in the physics department.
Hello, the text said, and Mary stared down at it for a moment. She'd traveled with Marisa earlier in the day to the conference, sharing a ride over to the airport and even sitting next to her on the plane since the secretary had booked their tickets together. They got along well enough, but they weren't exactly friends who texted each other like this. Mary only remembered texting her about work, really. But conferences, perhaps, called for different texting etiquette. And Mary certainly didn't mind.
Hey, Marisa. How are you doing? Mary wrote back before setting her phone down on the bed and then taking off her jewelry. She'd put on her favorite silver necklace along with a pair of white diamond earrings for the occasion. She didn't normally wear them, but she liked to look decent in front of colleagues she hadn't seen for several months (if not longer, as Mary had skipped a few conferences this year).
Mary flopped down on the bed to check for Marisa's response, which read: Fine, thanks. Are you going to the plenary address?
Mary smirked, wondering if Marisa was debating on attending it, too. These addresses were so hit or miss, as sometimes the conversation was absolutely riveting and revolutionary and other times just doomed social interactions between very awkward people. Marisa seemed a lot more sociable than Mary, though, and had a natural sort of grace about her from the interactions Mary had seen. She was confident and charismatic while an astute listener who was so captivated by everything. Mary was thus curious about whether or not she'd want to go, and if she'd have a good experience or not.
Afraid not. Not in the mood for socializing after so many panels today! You? Mary laid back down on the bed and stared curiously at the screen as she awaited Marisa's answer. She had nothing better to do, she supposed, but to hang there and wonder about Marisa.
Marisa Coulter was such a puzzle. She'd joined their dark matter research group shortly after they'd first met back in her office. There was, from what Mary understood, some drama between her and a certain Charles Latrom, who ended up funding all of their research before he mysteriously disappeared never to be heard from again. Mary still wasn't able to find any public records of Marisa or her work, though, and she still didn't know what "experimental theology" was supposed to mean. But human resources apparently cleared her to work for the university, so who was Mary to judge? Something still seemed off about her, though, and Mary didn't entirely trust her…even if she admitted that she was for some reason intrigued by her.
Mary also wondered about her daughter, who Marisa seemed to actively avoid discussing but who had made such an impression on Mary all that time ago. It'd been years since Lyra first visited, and Mary wondered how she was and what she was up to. She also wondered if she was safe, as she'd seemed to be in some trouble.
Her phone buzzed again and Mary shook herself from her thoughts to read Marisa's response. Me neither. Room full of sweaty and drunk men? No thanks.
Mary snorted at that, a small chuckle escaping her. It was true, as much as it was a joke. Academia—and physics in particular—was entirely male-oriented, as Marisa well knew. Mary especially felt awkward as a lesbian who didn't particularly care about or tolerate the wandering male gaze. Marisa, as far as Mary knew, wasn't quite in the same situation, though, which did make her response a bit surprising.
That too, Mary wrote back. It was a cautious response, as one that acknowledged what was said yet didn't actively further the conversation. Texting was strange, overall but in this situation. Again, Mary and Marisa weren't friends. They were colleagues who were forced to get along at work and during their travels. Mary didn't think Marisa would ever speak to her if they weren't colleagues, or if she hadn't been looking for Lyra. So it surprised her as her phone binged yet again with a text message from Marisa.
What are you doing instead, then? Mary felt her heart begin to beat just a little faster now, which didn't entirely make sense. She felt like a foolish schoolgirl as she sat there and ogled at her phone, reading the words over and over again as if they had some kind of hidden meaning. This was ridiculous; both she and Marisa were almost forty years old. There was nothing to read into. She had to knock it off.
Nothing, I guess, Mary typed back, refusing to be ashamed by her perfectly respectable blandness. Unwind a bit from the panels earlier today. Maybe see what trash they have on TV over here.
Trashy Scottish TV indeed sounds fun, Marisa answered almost immediately. Again, that meant nothing; they weren't playing games, for God's sake. They were simply having a conversation. But maybe you'd like to have a drink? With me? We could watch the trash TV.
Now Mary supposed she was allowed to start feeling a little jittery. If she didn't know any better, she'd say Marisa just asked her out on a date of sorts, on…a conference hangout. It was so smooth, so casual, so tempting. How did Marisa do that, Mary wondered? Make a simple text message so completely mesmerizing? It didn't seem natural, really, and Mary supposed it had more to do with Marisa herself than the actual words on the screen. Mary could admit she did just have this alluring air about her, as well a general je ne sais quoi. It all made Mary feel excited in a way she couldn't possibly explain.
The exhaustion, she told herself. That was it. And since she was so exhausted she should probably decline so she could gear up for the next day's events. But she found herself typing something else instead: You know what? Sure.
3012 was the response, and Mary's heart began to race a little faster again as she set her phone down.
Mary didn't have the typical graduate school experience due to her entanglement with the church, but she knew that graduate students often hung out together like this during conferences, sharing drinks and spilling secrets and simply enjoying the company of friends outside of work and away from their cities. Neither Mary nor Marisa were graduate students, of course, and again they were not exactly friends, but this was something people did. This was a thing. It was common and acceptable and fun. And maybe Mary shouldn't be overthinking it.
Why was she so nervous, Mary had to ask herself? She went over to the little mirror in the bathroom and ran her fingers through her hair. It was so scraggly-looking today. Traveling always did this to her hair, making it frizzy and flat and entirely unflattering. She also had circles under her eyes, from a day full of non-stop coming and going. To boot her skin looked a little dull and listless in the harsh vanity lighting.
It didn't matter, though, did it? Mary tried to talk some sense to herself as she made what adjustments should could. She was just meeting with Marisa, a woman from her own department who she didn't need to impress. They were stuck together at work, for better or for worse. They were forced to do research together by condition of their employment. Nothing Mary could say or do would change that. So what was with the fuss?
Six minutes later she knocked on Marisa's door, holding her breath (in spite of herself).
"Hello," came Marisa's low, smooth voice flecked with just the faintest bit of amusement. "Right on time, I see."
Marisa was, without a doubt, completely gorgeous. That much Mary had always known on some level, even if not consciously. Her dark hair was slicked back into a tight bun and her face done up with just the perfect amount of makeup. She looked quite academic here, with her pencil skirt and tight blue blouse. And her smile, too, was so perfect as she stepped aside and invited Mary inside, closing the door behind them and asking brightly what Mary's drink of choice was.
It was natural, for Mary to notice the attractiveness of a woman. She shouldn't be hard on herself for that.
"Where did you get all this?" Mary let out as she looked at the desk with the liquor display. Marisa had several bottles of liquor lined up, along with a few bottles of wine, some juice and soda, and a pack of hard seltzer. It was incredible, and like she was gearing up for some kind of rager. Was Mary back in graduate school after all? Were there other people coming?
"The store," Marisa sang, floating back over and picking up a glass.
"Planning to invite the entire campus over here or something?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Marisa laughed, shooing away the statement with her free hand. "I just appreciate a bit of variety. Now, which would you like? At least to start. You can always have more."
Again, it was so smooth how Marisa said it and proceeded to pour Mary a screwdriver, mixing the vodka and orange juice together with a long spoon. It was good, too. Marisa hadn't skimped and had bought a good quality vodka.
"Shall we?" Marisa asked then, her voice comically trite and formal as she reached down for the remote and flicked on the TV.
They sat side-by-side on the bed watching the screen with round eyes. Some rerun of an obscure soap opera was on. Mary had never seen or heard of it before but it was enthralling as well as completely over the top and slightly disturbing.
"Did she just…" Mary started, tilting her head to the side as she continued to watch the scene in front of them unfold.
"Kiss her husband's best friend's brother's colleague?" Marisa finished for her, glass of wine mid-raised. "Why, yes. She certainly did."
"My God!" Mary exclaimed, and she laughed as she kept watching this sheer abomination unfold on the screen. She'd finished her screwdriver and was now drinking a vodka cranberry. "I swear…the lengths some of these women go to in order to chase after entirely mediocre men."
"Don't even get me started on that," Marisa groaned, rolling her eyes before turning to grin mischievously at her. "Unless you would like to discuss that. But I think we'd need some harder liquor for this conversation."
Mary shouldn't. It was almost nine o'clock now. She had sessions she wanted to attend in the morning, and she was growing rather tired since they'd done a lot of traveling and listening today already. A good night's sleep back in her soft, fluffy hotel bed was the thing Mary needed to do. So why was it that she nodded and felt herself smiling as Marisa jumped off the bed to go grab some bottles from the desk?
Not even another hour later they were quite drunk, the trashy soap opera long forgotten in the background as they both sat toward the center of the bed. Mary was giggling profusely as Marisa poured them yet another shot of brandy, her cheeks flushed and her eyes simply blazing in the dim lamp lighting.
"I hate all these men," she was saying, topping Mary's glass just a little too full and then handing it over to her. Her fingers brushed Mary's as she did so and Mary quite literally felt an electric spark course through her system. She knew she was blushing as she gazed shyly over at Marisa, who was sitting just across from her and leaning in. She was so beautiful. So breathtakingly beautiful. Did she know how beautiful she was? (she knew exactly how beautiful she was). "D'you know that physicist from Kent who we wrote that one article with?"
"Yes," Mary returned, just a little too late as she was too busy feeling flustered over the proximity to Marisa. Had her eyelashes always been so dark and long? Did she always smell so sweet, like lavender and lilacs?
"Well, guess what?" Marisa laughed, downing her shot in one quick motion.
"What?"
"He made a pass at me during session B right in front of all of his colleagues, and I told him as politely as I could to fuck all the way off back to England."
It wasn't really that funny, but Mary burst out laughing at that. Marisa's face cracked into a grin as she chuckled, too, but it wasn't as much of an entire-body experience as Mary was currently undergoing. Indeed, Mary felt herself double over slightly due to the laughter pulsating through her body. Marisa let out a puff of amusement and soon Mary felt a soft, warm hand rest on her back.
"Are you alright there, dear?" Marisa asked, voice airy yet serious. All Mary could do was continue laughing in response, and soon she felt Marisa's hand move gently back and forth down her back, a comforting gesture, perhaps, but also enough to make Mary want to entirely melt out of her skin.
Eventually she calmed down and came back to her senses, but Mary's head was spinning—from the alcohol but also from Marisa. The woman's entire presence completely enveloped her as they sat there together on the bed, faces warm and speech a little slurred.
"Tell me something you've never told anyone else before," Marisa was saying, her laugh overwhelming all of Mary's senses at once. Mary hiccupped then, her eyes widening and locking with Marisa's. They both giggled at that, leaning in closer. They were inches apart now.
"Like what?" Mary asked, returning to her drink (her third vodka cranberry). "A secret?"
"Yes," Marisa breathed. Her eyes shone so brightly and her voice was so soft. "Tell me."
The tension in the air was sizzling. Mary could tangibly feel it, almost, bouncing off her skin, fluttering in her belly. It made her feel alive, while also afraid. The intensity of it was too much. Anything could happen. Absolutely anything. Even...if she wanted…but even if she shouldn't…
"Well," Mary said, voice barely a whisper as she very audibly gulped, "I suppose one secret might be that I'm quite fascinated by you."
"You are?" Marisa asked. She moved even closer, if that were even possible. She was right there, just there. And that smirk that spread across her face.
"Yes," Mary said, and she realized how entirely juvenile she truly was behaving. Not even her graduate school self would have acted this entirely stupid. Or blurted out only half-realized and contemplated thoughts!
"Fascinated by me… how?" Marisa pressed. She looked so serene and gentle. Almost like an angel bathed in the warmth of God himself. Everything about her was so inviting, so intoxicating, so appealing. Mary couldn't remember wanting anything more in her entire life than she wanted Marisa in that moment.
Mary didn't answer, couldn't answer, and Marisa's smile only widened. "I see." And then Mary heard the mattress coils creak as Marisa bent forward and kissed her.
Marisa's lips were warm. That was the first thing Mary noticed. They were soft and warm and moist and sweet like the brandy they were drinking. It felt so good, as their lips met and pressed together. It was like breathing. It was natural. It made perfect sense.
Mary felt lost as their lips continued to move against one another's. It was like she was floating on a cloud as she leaned in and placed her hand on Marisa's shoulder. She felt the other woman lean closer at the touch, her mouth growing a bit braver. It was exhilarating, what was happening.
And then Marisa's tongue entered Mary's mouth, and Marisa's hand came to Mary's breast while the other tugged at the bottom of her shirt...
"O-oh," Mary let out, and then it stopped as soon as it started. She jerked her head back and opened her eyes to see Marisa gazing at her strangely, her mouth still slightly parted.
"Are you alright?" Marisa asked her, voice light but flecked with concern. Her eyes showed it, too, as they flickered over Mary's face.
"Yes, um, it's just I, well, I don't really…"
The words caught in Mary's throat, but she didn't seem to need them. Comprehension dawned in Marisa's eyes as she nodded, biting her lip. They were still sitting very close, and their breathing was still heavy. Mary grinned at that, listening to them both practically panting. Marisa smiled, too, and smoothed down her skirt.
"Well," Marisa said then, clearing her throat and looking from Mary over to their empty glasses. "What shall we do now? Have another drink? Watch the trashy TV?"
She didn't want the night to end, it seemed. The thought made Mary's insides flutter, as she thought she'd ruined it, that Marisa would be offended. But it seemed that she…wasn't. And that they were, indeed, adults and not like the schoolgirls they resembled in some ways during all of this.
"How about we just…talk?" Mary asked, looking over at the other woman shyly. Marisa's eyebrow shot up before she nodded, asking Mary what she'd found interesting at the conference so far.
Talking with Marisa was almost more enticing than kissing her. She was so intelligent, and so incredibly thoughtful. Mary knew this about her since they'd worked together, but she realized their interactions were fairly limited and always within the strict confines and limitations of work. They'd never been given a chance to talk so openly and plainly like this, and Mary had never heard Marisa share so much as usually she tended to listen and absorb ideas. She could listen to her talk forever, it felt like, as she had interesting ideas and the strangest perspective coming from her experimental theology background.
At some point Mary had started to grow very sleepy (she really had been exhausted all evening) and then she felt Marisa gently shaking her shoulder.
"Mary," she heard Marisa murmur, but Mary turned away, willing herself to sleep. She leaned back on the bed and tucked her head under her arm and curled her body up around herself. She was dimly aware of Marisa patting at her shoulder again but soon the pressure fell away as Marisa instead lifted up the covers.
Mary was half-awake as Marisa tucked her under the covers. The blankets were soft and very comfortable. Mary felt safe under the weight of them as Marisa made sure she was covered from shoulder to toe. It was a nice feeling, to be taken care of in this way when now Mary's head really started to spin.
And maybe Mary was dreaming or hallucinating, given the state that she was in, but she was almost certain she felt a warm, light kiss on the side of her cheek and a quick hand pushing the hair out of her face. When she'd wake up she'd probably forget about it, and likely be more panicked over what she didn't remember happening or not, but for now she was able to enjoy it, Marisa's touch and the fuzziness that overcame Mary as she slowly drifted off to sleep.