Work Text:
“Let’s go home,” Deborah says.
Ava hates her for it. She hates how the word slips from Deborah’s lips: as though she means it; as though it were the truest thing in the world.
It’s not.
It’s Deborah’s home. Not Ava’s. Ava may live there, but it’s not home.
It can’t be.
Because Deborah will never let anyone into her life that way ever again.
But Deborah convinces her otherwise:
By kissing her.
By telling her, “You’re terrible at reading the room.”
By rolling her eyes at Ava’s wide-eyed shock.
By putting her hand in hers.
By taking her home.