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Chloe’s in a bad mood.
It’s not that it’s unusual to see her this way. Steph’s used to it, used to her friendship with Chloe being at least fifty-percent cheer-up attempts. It’s fine, usually. But usually, all it takes is a half-hour of gaming in Steph’s basement lair and some gentle ribbing, and Chloe’s muscles will unclench beside her on the couch, and she’ll start shooting back, and her smile will break out across her face and Steph will have her friend back.
Today is not normal.
It’s been almost an hour and Chloe’s barely said a word, controller tight in her grasp, mouth a thin hard line as she kicks Steph’s ass across the screen again and again. They’ve been so quiet down here that Dad actually poked his head down the stairs for a second, no doubt scanning for signs that something was wrong, but Steph was able to catch his eye and wave him off (adding yet another win to Chloe’s side in the process, but, well.)
Steph finds herself watching Chloe out of the corner of her eye instead of the screen, which is only making her performance worse, but she just isn’t getting it. Why did Chloe agree to come over if she’s in this shit of a mood? Steph’s always been fine with Chloe canceling, usually to go hang out with her…girlfriend? She thinks they’re girlfriends. Chloe sure looks at Rachel like she’s the sun goddess descended to earth. Steph gets it. Chloe has every right to seek real comfort from someone closer instead of just goofing off with her fellow geek.
So why isn’t she doing that, instead of sitting here and—
“K.O.!” the television cries out.
Instead of that.
“Dude, you’re on fire today,” Steph goads, shouldering Chloe.
Chloe shrugs. “Lucky streak, I guess.”
“Are you kidding me? Look at that ratio,” Steph says, pointing at Chloe’s corner of the screen, where her characters’ fallen weapons lie in sprite form, rows and rows and rows. Her own side is pathetically bare in comparison. “Who are you pretending to beat up, huh?”
“Nobody,” Chloe replies, selecting her character again.
“C’mon, who pissed you off? David? Victoria? Wells?”
“Nobody, Steph,” Chloe says with a roll of her eyes. “C’mon, pick already.”
Steph purses her lips. There’s one way she can almost always reset Chloe’s funk, though she doesn’t like to use it too much since Rachel appeared in their lives. It’s a dangerous game. But desperate times call for desperate measures.
“If I win this next one, you owe me a kiss,” Steph says.
“What?” Chloe asks, and score, she jolts in her seat, blue eyes widening.
“That’s how sure I am this isn’t luck.”
“And…what do I get if I win?” Chloe asks.
“I dunno. Steal one of my beanies. Your lesbian wardrobe is lacking,” Steph says with a shrug, finally selecting her character.
“You’re telling me how to be gay?” Chloe says with a laugh, a flush coming to her cheeks, a little smile poking at the corners of her lips.
“You’re not as good at it as I am,” Steph counters as the loading screen completes.
Chloe doesn’t respond.
Then she fucking throws.
Steph knows how good Chloe is. She’s been better today. She doesn’t miss the low guards or get goaded onto the edge or whiff attacks like this. This is…
This might be bad.
“K.O.!”
It’s 2-0. Steph’s favor.
Chloe looks over at her expectantly, setting her controller to the side, and Steph pales. “Okay, okay, called my bluff,” she says with a forced chuckle, looking away, “You don’t have to—”
“Are you insulting my honor?” Chloe demands, quirking an eyebrow. “What, you thought I’d chicken out?”
“But—”
“Bet’s a bet, Gingrich. Maybe I am better at being gay than you.”
“Oh, fuck you, fine,” Steph says, throwing her controller down the couch and leaning over to Chloe. And, um, shit. Chloe’s waiting for her. Steph’s hands are shaking. She jumps in and touches her lips to Chloe’s briefly. “R-Rachel’s gonna be jealous,” she teases, starting to draw away, and then Chloe grabs her by the neck and mashes their mouths together. She opens her lips, captures Steph, warm and wet and hungry.
Oh.
Steph’s kissed girls before. Experiments with girls who drew away, wiped their mouths, laughed in her face. It never felt like this. She feels drawn to Chloe as if by magnetism, shifting her body on the couch, a hand going up to her shoulder and holding fast to the strap of her tank top. Fuck.
Chloe pulls away, just a little, her hands going to Steph’s waist and tugging, like, oh God, like she wants Steph on her lap. “I, I thought—” she stammers, feeling frozen, still tingling even though her conscious mind says this must be wrong—
“Rachel,” Chloe growls, deep in her throat, “doesn’t give a shit about me.”
Chloe tugs at her waist again. Steph follows her lead. Straddling her lap, letting Chloe’s hands travel up her body, weaving into her hair under her beanie, then pulling her in for more, it all feels so right. Like Steph’s been hoping for this ever since her gaydar pinged on the skater girl who wanted Blade Runner. Like she’s done lying to herself, done pro-actively denying that good things could actually happen for her. And Chloe…
Chloe’s a really good kisser.
One of Chloe’s hands travels down to the small of Steph’s back, the heat fading out from their kissing as they settle into each other. Steph only breaks off to breathe, laying her chin on Chloe’s shoulder. As the moment fades, some of Steph’s worries start buzzing in her mind again, and she has to be sure.
“So, Rachel…?” she asks softly.
“I’m done chasing straight girls.” The anger in Chloe’s voice hurts. It’s a familiar tone to Steph. Steph had sometimes caught Rachel looking at Chloe, too, but she supposes Chloe knows better than she does.
“I, um, made the same call a while ago. And…?”
“And you’re…right here. And really great. Is that okay?” Chloe sounds like she’s begging.
“Yeah. You’re pretty great, too.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Steph draws back so she can look Chloe in the eye. She’s biting her lip.
“It’s not just ‘cuz I—”
“Really,” Steph repeats, closing the distance and kissing her again. There’s no fire, this time, but there is warmth. Chloe smiles into Steph’s mouth.
It was a dangerous game. But Steph’s pretty sure she just won.