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Tammy stands in a room that she’s been in quite a number of times, now disconcertingly bare of furniture.
They’ve stacked it carefully around the edges of Hannah’s dining room, out of the way of the mess they’re sure to create in the next few hours.
Neat painting has never been her forte. Not when just slapping it on the walls has served her efficiently in the past. As long as she doesn’t get any in her hair, of course. That’s not something she ever wants to go through again.
A part of her thinks this would be even more fun – or chaotic – if they were to get Naomi involved but Hannah is determined that it’s going to be a surprise.
For once, Tammy is feeling weirdly okay with the domesticity, the being stood in an old t-shirt and sweats, pulling her hair up into a bun as she waits for her girlfriend to return so they can do something special for the teenager who she’s quickly developing a bond with.
It’s something she’s shied away from in the past but it’s strangely natural with Hannah and Naomi.
And the smile that appears unasked on her face when Hannah simply walks back into the room is enough to make her think that the easy feeling might never go away.
Especially when she sets down her armful of supplies and Tammy realises she’s wearing one of her t-shirts.
It’s an old FBI one, too large on Hannah but there’s just something about it that makes the breath catch in Tammy’s throat and before she can think she’s closing the distance between them.
“I-“
Whatever Hannah had been about to say is swallowed up by a kiss as Tammy backs her slowly and methodically into the wall, pushing up against her, knee nestled between her thighs, gently pinning her hands above her head and silently thanking whoever may be listening that they haven’t started painting yet and the walls are still dry.
Hannah doesn’t object to the surprise attack, instead melting into her touch and sighing contentedly against her mouth.
Pulling back just far enough to gaze into her face, Tammy brushes their lips together once, twice, three more times, then watches as her eyes flutter open, pupils blown wide.
“You’re stunning, you know that?” she breathes and Hannah uses whatever grasp on reality she still has to smirk.
“Tammy Gregorio… you like me in your clothes, don’t you?”
Refusing to blush, she counters, “I like you all the time, darlin’,” reinforcing her point by placing a trail of kisses down her neck.
Hannah’s breath hitches when she sucks lightly on her pulse point, then she softly objects, “Nah uh.”
As soon as she starts to wiggle her hands, Tammy releases her grip on her wrists but she doesn’t move from her spot, enjoying the heat pressing up against her.
Making a half-hearted noise of protest, Hannah puts her hands to Tammy’s shoulders and applies a gentle pressure.
“Come on, we need to get this started or we’re never going to do two coats before Naomi gets home.”
“Nah uh,” Tammy echoes with a slight whine.
The way Hannah’s eyes light up give her the split second she needs to brace before she’s suddenly spun around, back slammed into the wall and Hannah’s hands on either side of her head.
She grins up at her girlfriend, who’s now towering over her, quite content with the role reversal if it means she gets another kiss.
It does.
It’s gentle though, nothing as aggressive as the flip would have suggested (for all they mess around, nothing they do is ever truly aggressive), and she’s panting as Hannah plants a row of kisses across her jaw.
When she reaches her ear, she leans in to whisper, “We can carry on after the first layer.”
Then she twists away before Tammy can react, lulled into a false sense of safety by her girlfriend.
"No fair,” she groans dramatically but Hannah just laughs, the light in her eye dancing.
With a half-hearted grumble, she pushes off the wall as Hannah grabs a plastic sheet to cover the carpet and throws a corner to her.
It crinkles at the movement and Tammy fumbles with it, the noise dragging her back with a jolt to that room with its pain and its heat and its just hold on a little longer, a little longer, they're coming, the team are coming for her.
Of panic, of not being able to breathe, of pull just a little more, a little more, of that noise again, that noise, the rage, the panic, the holding down the plastic with the final dregs of her energy in the hopes that the last few hours would be erased, never happened.
Pride's arms around her, holding her back, holding her safe, his voice telling her it’s okay, she’s okay, it’s all over.
But it hadn’t felt over; everything had hurt, ached or stung with each breath, movement and thought.
She can feel it now. Feel the stickiness over her skin, feel the throb in her arms, feel the plastic slippery with her blood under her fingers.
Then vaguely, right on the edge of it all, she hears another voice.
A safe voice. But out of place. It shouldn’t be here.
It’s calling her name, tone heavy with concern. It’s reminding her to breathe, it’s asking if it can touch her.
She wants to say yes but her throat is dry, everything is spinning around her and she’s beginning to realise that she’s not even aware of her body.
Carefully, painfully, she focuses on her breathing.
It’s too heavy, too panicked, but it’s there. She can feel the rise and fall of her chest and it’s reassuring in a way, proving she’s still alive.
Only conceptually aware of her fingers, she finds them laying heavily on her thighs, refusing to hold the weight of her arms. She forces herself to flex them, finding strange relief in the way they tremble under the strain.
Her weight is entirely on her heels, digging into skin, and she realises belatedly that she’s on her knees, the only sign of how she got there a slight pain in her joints.
Swallowing, she forces herself to open her eyes and the room comes spinning into focus around her, her gaze zeroing in on the expressive eyes of Hannah, knelt a safe distance away with clear concern on her face.
“Sorry, sorry, I-“ she chokes on her words, throat rough.
It had been rough that day too. Her vocal chords strained from strangled screams ripped out of her.
“Don't apologise, eshgham,” Hannah rebukes softly, shuffling closer and holding out a hand in silent question, “are you okay?”
Tammy grips at the hand with sluggish movements, letting their fingers tangle and taking all the comfort it offers her, already feeling her breathing slowing and the panic seeping out of her muscles.
“I will be.”
It feels like she’s sprinted a mile and she’s still high on the adrenaline that’s screaming to keep her alive, making her just slightly dizzy.
She tries to smile but the concern in Hannah’s face now so close to her own lingers, even as she lifts her hand to brush the errant curls out of her eyes and cup her cheek lovingly. Tammy finds herself instinctively leaning into it, soaking up the warmth and the comfort as she takes careful, controlled breaths.
Eventually, the screaming in her knees becomes too much and she takes a final deep breath before shuffling back to the wall, Hannah’s hand still tightly gripped in hers as she follows after her and settles cross-legged at her side.
Their legs brush as Tammy tips her head back against the wall, arms resting on her knees.
Hannah gives her the time she needs, a quiet and reassuring presence at her side and a thumb brushing over her knuckles every time it feels like she’s going to be sucked back into it again.
After a while, she softly asks, “What triggered it? The plastic?”
Tammy swallows, playing with their joined fingers, “I think so. Claire… she put down this plastic sheeting to stop the mess and that noise…” she trails off but a nudge to her knee shakes her out of the memories before they can grip her again and she tries for a smile, “I hadn’t realised it was going to be an issue until... but it's fine, once we get it laid out, it'll be fine.”
She doesn’t know who she’s trying to reassure, maybe she just wants to believe that she’ll be okay and it won’t affect her but she feels a chill travel the length of her spine at the vivid memory of the crinkles as Claire shuffled around.
“You know what, I have some old curtains somewhere, we'll put them down instead.”
Tammy frowns, gripping at her girlfriend despite her making no move to shift away, “No, wait, we don't want to ruin them.”
“They're going in the trash anyway,” Hannah reassures, tilting her head as her eyebrows twitch in such a way that she knows her girlfriend is trying to remind her that she shouldn’t force herself to do anything just because she thinks she should be able to.
Scrubbing a hand over her face, she sighs wearily.
“Hey, it's okay-“ Hannah scoots close enough to press their foreheads together and Tammy’s eyes flutter closed as she whispers- “you're okay, eshgham.”
“I know,” she breathes.
And she feels it, her fingers dancing up Hannah’s back, solid and comforting under her fingers, the lips familiar under hers as she tilts her head to brush them together.
She wraps her arms fully around Hannah, pulling her weight against her with a gentle tug and savouring how real it feels, how in the moment.
After a while, she reluctantly releases her grip, allowing Hannah to sit back on her heels.
“Those curtains are in a box in my closet, can you go and get it?”
Tammy knows she’s getting her to leave so she can fold up the plastic and a tiny part of her bristles at the implication that she can’t deal with it but the larger part reminds her that it’s just her fiercely independent side talking.
She’s in a relationship now. A good relationship, where they help each other and she doesn’t have anything to prove.
So, she forces the unease down and instead answers with a mischievous grin, “I can.”
“Nānāzam,” Hannah shoots her a look of fond yet pure exasperation and rewords, “will you, please?”
“Of course, baby.”
Winking, she pushes herself up the wall and holds out a hand of offering to pull Hannah up too, unable to resist letting her hands drift down to her hips then to her belt loops, drawing her gently close enough to plant one final deep kiss to her lips.
It doesn’t take them long to paint the entire room, even with the breaks that Tammy coaxes out of her. Not that it’s hard, Hannah is always reluctant to say no to her girlfriend.
Especially when she uses her weaknesses against her.
There’s no way she can resist the thrill of when Tammy hooks her fingers through her belt loops and tugs her forwards until their hips are flush… and her girlfriend knows it.
Even now, she feels the heat rising in her cheeks at the memory and she swallows as she shakes herself back to the present, finding her paintbrush dangling uselessly from her fingers.
Quickly she glances over at Tammy to see if she’s noticed, knowing she won’t avoid flirtatiously teasing winks for the rest of the day if she gets caught thinking about the very thing she’d been trying to hold Tammy off on so they can actually get something done today.
As much as she’s in two minds about doing something for her daughter and spending the day with someone who’s unexpectedly become one of the most important people in her life.
Possibly the most important, Naomi excepted.
It’s slightly terrifying. Amazing, but terrifying.
Thankfully, Tammy doesn’t seem to have noticed where her thoughts have wandered off to, not as she pauses halfway through attaching two pieces of wood together to sing into the handle of her screwdriver.
Hannah only vaguely recognises the song blasting out – something from a musical she apparently needs to be educated on – but Tammy is giving it her all, moving her whole body in time to the music, uncaring of the notes she’s not quite hitting.
It’s a carefree side to her girlfriend that no one else gets to see.
Somehow, Tammy is unapologetically herself and yet heavily guarded at the same time so moments like these are a privilege that Hannah is determined to never take for granted.
Especially not after everything that’s already happened today.
That had been a different type of terrifying, watching Tammy’s eyes glaze over and feeling the thud reverberate through the floor to her as she’d crashed to her knees. The knowing she’d been somewhere else entirely and having to force down her own rising panic to try and help.
Then trying to stop the guilt at having caused the flashback from engulfing because she knows in her heart of hearts that no one is to blame except the person who did that to Tammy but… she is very good at blaming herself.
Instead, she’d resolved herself to being there for her girlfriend, doing everything she could to make life – or at least the day – easier for her.
And she had noticed the residual panic surfacing at times. Moments she’d taken to breathe after unexpected noises or the way she’d lent into Hannah’s reassuring touches even more than usual.
Most of the time though, she’d been her normal self and Hannah thanks the relative peace and quiet of the day for giving them what they need.
“Go on and freeze your brain-” Tammy makes eye contact with Hannah as she sings the final line, proving she’d always been aware of her gaze, then throws her a flirty wink- “try it.”
Chuckling, Hannah blows a teasing kiss back and dips her brush into the paint as Tammy turns back to her neglected project.
“Done!” Tammy shouts, sprawling on the floor at her feet with a dramatic sigh, fighting a short but vicious battle with the elastic holding her bun together to let her hair pool behind her.
Hannah finishes the final leaf of the vine she’s painting around where the mirror is going to be with a flourish and turns to look at the newly built bedframe.
“Amazing!” she praises with a beaming smile as she dumps her paintbrush in a cup of water; she knows it’s everything her daughter had been wanting (and she would be lying if she said she hasn’t enjoyed the quiet delight Tammy finds in building flatpack furniture).
Flicking her wrist to glance at her watch, she figures they have about twenty minutes before they need to pick up Naomi. Which is twenty minutes that she’ll steal to spend as close to her girlfriend as possible.
That decided, she lays down next to Tammy, briefly wondering why they’re doing this here on a fairly thin carpet instead of the couch or the bed or, hell, anywhere else.
But they’re here now and moving would waste precious time so here they’ll settle.
Instantly, Tammy is nestling closer, interlocking their fingers and brushing her nose into the warmth of Hannah’s neck.
It’s rare that they’re together and Tammy isn’t touching her. Cuddled up to her or hand in hers or lips teasing at any exposed skin she can find.
On occasion, she’s wondered if it’ll fade, if this is just their honeymoon phase and the silent reassurances and wordless confessions of love will disappear over time but really she knows, this is just who her girlfriend is, with everyone.
Little pats, reassuring squeezes, boops on the nose. It’s her own language.
And just another thing Hannah loves about her.
Resting her chin on the top of Tammy’s head, she wraps her arms fully around her, holding her safe and she feels her girlfriend take a deep breath that allows some of the tension she’s still carrying to drain away.
She presses a kiss to her curls, burying a hand through them to gently massage her scalp in a way she’s learnt makes her practically melt into the touch.
“Hey, Tam?” she asks softly, an idea forming, “how about we join Naomi in the living room tonight? We could turn it into a sleepover?”
Naomi has never been a fan of the new paint smell, so Hannah is hoping that giving it a night to fully dry will decrease the lingering odour.
Plus, the novelty of sleeping anywhere other than in a bedroom is bound to cause some excitement and (maybe it’s overcompensation but) she’s always trying to find any way to make life that little bit more exciting or joyful for her daughter.
“What, on the couch?” Tammy asks sleepily and Hannah idly wonders if maybe her girlfriend is getting a little too relaxed for someone who has to get up again in ten minutes.
“I was thinking maybe we drag our mattress out there too, turn it into one big mattress floor.”
Tammy hums agreeably, “Throw in ice cream and I’m there, darlin’.” She presses a lingering kiss to the column of her throat.
“Perfect,” she tries to keep her thoughts on track as Tammy’s attention travels down to her collarbone, letting out an amused huff, “you’ll have to keep your hands off me, though. No traumatising the child.”
“Aw, on second thoughts-“ she can hear the teasing pout in her voice- “if I can’t sleep snuggled next to you…”
Hannah runs her thumb in loving circles over her back, whispering, “It just means you’re going to have to keep it PG, nānāzam, cuddles are allowed.”
She would never – could never – deny her the reassurance they both rely on.
And Tammy seems to be in agreement, simply nuzzling all the closer and mumbling into her neck, “Good, I couldn’t give them up.”