Work Text:
It had been a long night.
Avery had volunteered to drive them home, and Bree was in the passenger seat, looking out the window at the night sky.
It looked like it was cold outside. Something about the shade of blue the night had taken on, so dark it was almost black, but purple for a few moments after blinking. It looked cold.
The moon was hidden behind the trees as they drove by, and Bree was waiting to catch a glimpse of it.
The roads were practically empty this time of night.
And with the very few cars they did pass, Bree liked to look through the windshield, focus enough to see through the fog of the night and the tint of the glass.
She imagined all the cars were filled with the two of them. Slightly different, but in the end, all iterations of them.
Avery drove with one hand resting comfortably on the wheel, the other fiddling with the hem of her sleeve.
Bree thought about that time she was doing the laundry and found one of Avery’s sweaters with a hole in the cuff from her picking at it. Bree had sewn it up without a word.
Avery always did that when she was thinking. Like when she was so deep in thought that her hands would default to something repetitive and mindless. Or when she was nervous and wanted something to rub between her thumb and forefinger to soothe her.
How lucky was Bree? How lucky was she to know this about Avery?
At every streetlight they passed, Bree watched as it would cast a gentle glow across Avery’s face. She memorised each shadow as it appeared, as it grew and shrank. She wanted to take a photo of every point in time so she could study every shape the light made across Avery’s face. Every shift of the gleam in her eyes.
She wanted to be able to print them out on flashcards or a flipbook. Go over them again and again and again. She wanted something physical she could hold in her hands; she wanted to hold Avery’s face in her hands. She wished for a second that she could become one with Avery.
Bree had a friend in middle school who would draw flipbooks. Friend was a strong word, more like acquaintance. His name was Michael or Mason, or something just as bland. But boy could he draw.
He moved states after that first year of middle school, but Bree still remembered everyone crowding around him to see his newest creation. A little cartoon guy being chased by a crocodile, a dog swimming in a pond.
They’d all flip through over and over to watch the photos dance.
But when Marcus or Matthew or something handed one to Bree, she would stare. Slowly take in each page. Scan from top to bottom, then bottom to top, buying herself time to drink it all in.
Bree wanted to do that with Avery.
She wished she could bend time to her will, and she could sit in every millisecond and study it.
Avery looked so beautiful tonight. Under the dingy glow of flickering streetlights, she looked like an angel. As if the light was coming from underneath her skin.
Bree wanted to pause time and just sit here. Trace the shadows the lights make, make a constellation with Avery’s subtle freckles, stare into Avery’s eyes and see if Bree can see herself, and if she can, squint hard enough into her own eyes that she sees Avery again.
Bree wanted to pause time and get out of the car, walk around. Run her hand over every surface in the vicinity, wipe the dust off the streetlights and see if that makes them brighter. Bree was sure that even a touch more light would have elevated Avery from an angel to God herself.
Bree had never been religious; she was getting ahead of herself.
She was starting to doubt herself.
How could someone so beautiful be a product of chance? Stars and chaos, she could believe; Avery could tell her she fell from the stars, and Bree would have believed it. But pure chance? No way.
Avery had to be made of thought and time and effort. A labour of love.
Bree wanted to pause time and stand on the top of the old Nissan Frontier Avery had all but begged they buy. Bree never understood those people who knew the names of cars, but she knew the name of this one. Avery had wanted it forever, and they had finally done it.
She would have to apologise for stepping all over their brand new truck (well, brand new for them), but Avery would just have to understand. (And she would; Avery always understood.)
Bree had to see the world from every angle. Had to see if she could feel Avery’s presence from above her. She’d press her hand into the metal and see if she could phase through it, and stroke Avery’s hair.
But alas, time does not stop.
The passage of time is what gives things meaning; Bree’s sure she’s written that in a shitty essay or two growing up.
She thinks that’s stupid.
But she kind of gets it.
Watching Avery hum along to the song playing under her breath, tapping her fingers to the beat against the wheel.
She decides it is a good thing that time goes on.
They’re older than they were before. No longer bright-eyed high schoolers.
But with each passing day, Avery becomes ever more beautiful.
Bree uncovers a little more of her every day; maybe one day Bree will see the face of God.
They always warn against it in Greek myths, and Bree thought it was stupid that so many people would disobey.
She understands it now.
Fuck it’s sappy.
She watched as Avery concentrated; she assumed they might be merging lanes. Bree doesn’t look at the road, but she knows that’s usually what stresses Avery out.
The city passes outside in soft blurs of light.
Bree was tired.
Warm and tired.
Avery’s bangs were falling slightly into her face, she’d need to cut them soon. Her hair was slightly tousled, like how she looked in the mornings when they’d wake up side by side.
She looked so ordinary.
So familiar.
Bree knew Avery’s face.
Bree always knew she’d be the first person to see the true face of a God and live to tell the tale.
Avery glanced over at Bree and their eyes met for half a second.
Bree giggled, and Avery turned her eyes back to the road, face flushing.
Bree turned towards the window.
She rolled it down and laid her head down on the window ledge. The cool night breeze rushed in from outside, past her face and into the car.
The chill mingled with the warmth and swirled past her ears.
With her cheek pressed to the smooth plastic of the window, she turned her eyes to the moon.
Or where it should have been.
She still hadn’t seen it.
The gentle buzz of the engine lulled her into the night, but she fought against it.
She wanted to see the moon tonight.
Bree stared at the trees for a few long minutes.
Her blinks were lasting longer and longer.
Finally, she caved and brought her attention back into the car.
She stared at Avery again.
She could’ve sworn she felt her heart swell. The cold air attacked her face from the outside, and the warmth from the car heaters had settled behind her eyes.
Tears formed as she watched Avery’s brow furrow as she tried to change the song playing.
This was beautiful.
This night Bree had before her. A painting unfolding before her very eyes.
She wished you could take recordings with just your eyes. It would be like a GoPro with a three hundred sixty-degree view, but even better. It would let you walk away, go for a stroll like Google Earth Street View.
Everything about this was picturesque. So mystical.
And it was her life.
This wasn’t the first night like this, and it wouldn’t be the last.
She revelled in the fact that she’d be able to relive this, over and over again.
She revelled in the fact that Avery was so deeply interwoven in the fabric of her life that this - the night she’d consider an amalgamation of every good thing that’s ever happened to her - was defined by Avery’s presence.
Thankfully, Bree had held back her tears when Avery looked over at her again.
Avery smiled.
“Bree, look at the moon,” she said, gesturing towards the outside of Bree’s window.
There it was.
Now that she’d seen it, it was underwhelming. Pretty, yes. But not everything she’d hoped.
It added to the overall atmosphere, but Bree decided she could have done without seeing it.
It was pretty, but it wasn’t beautiful.
“It’s gorgeous,” Bree said. She wasn’t quite sure why.
“It is!” Avery responded, excited.
To hear Avery excited. That’s why Bree said it.
She said it to get the chance to witness something beautiful.
She turned her body away from Avery as she started crying.
Good tears.
She didn’t want to worry Avery.
She let them fall into her face and onto the car. She imagined a few making their way down to the asphalt below them.
She cried silently.
Her heart was too full.
The moon was trying its best to sing her off to sleep, and all this crying drained her of whatever energy she had left.
She watched the streetlights. Her tears made them look like the sun.
Bree woke up to a vague sense of movement.
She refused to open her eyes; she was so tired she probably couldn’t.
For a moment, she didn’t understand.
She was warm. So warm.
Bree was weightless.
There was an arm around her back, another beneath her knees. A solid sense of safety below her.
The vague smell of vanilla and the sea.
She was being carried.
The soft jangle of the keys Avery was fumbling with. A screen door brushing against her arm.
Avery was carrying her out of the car and into their apartment.
How did she manage to get all the way up here cradling Bree’s dead weight in her arms?
Bree’s face was nestled in Avery’s neck.
Avery cursed as she struggled with the lock, wiggling the keys.
Bree never wanted it to stop.
She didn’t dare open her eyes.
Avery adjusted Bree against her chest, nudged the door open and carried Bree inside.
Bree kept her eyes closed.
She wanted to pretend she was asleep forever.
She didn’t want it to end.
Bree remembered the last time someone had carried her like this.
Her dad carrying a five-year-old with incredibly poor acting skills into the house.
She would ‘peek’ (her eyes had been fully open) and see that her dad had gently hoisted her over his shoulder.
She would stare down at the grass of their lawn. Freshly cut, by her mom most likely.
He never really gave hugs, but that was okay. That’s just how it was. Bree thought this was nicer anyway.
Every car ride, she would pretend to fall asleep, and he would laugh and indulge her.
She wanted to feel him carry her inside. She wanted to feel taller than the universe; she wanted to feel weightless.
She wanted to feel his warmth radiate into her.
His arms around her.
Solid safety.
His love, seeping into her skin.
She didn’t remember the last time. She got accustomed to it, and didn’t soak it in to its full potential.
She remembered the first time she tried after the last time, however. When he had just shaken her and said, ‘I know you’re awake’, and left the car door open for her to climb out.
She didn’t understand why, but she cried instead of getting out of the car.
After a few minutes, he came back outside.
“You’re getting too old for this, Brianna.”
He unbuckled her seatbelt and waited for her to step down herself.
She was still crying; she wished he had hugged her or something, soothed her before telling her to get out of the car.
He didn’t.
She wanted to fake sleep again, to be close to him.
But she was too old for that.
Thankfully, Avery didn’t think she was too old for this.
But still, Bree refused to open her eyes. She wanted to stay this close forever.
Opening her eyes would end it.
Bree debated peeking. She was older now. She had much more control and awareness of her own face.
She did.
Just enough to see Avery lowering her onto their bed. So slowly, overly cautious.
Trying so hard not to wake her.
Avery’s brow was furrowed in concentration.
Avery’s eyes were so fixed on her.
Bree couldn’t help it. She turned onto her side as a violent sob clawed its way out of her chest.
She cursed herself for breaking the illusion.
There was this sickening, overwhelming fear that washed over her, fighting for a space in her already overflowing heart. An unreasonable strain of logic told her that that would be the last time she would get close to Avery like that.
It fused itself into the very real, overwhelming sense of love Bree was struggling to handle by itself.
She felt Avery’s weight sink into the bed.
“Bree? What’s wrong?”
Avery ran her fingers through Bree’s hair. Brushing the loose strands out of Bree’s face. She was looming over Bree, right above her.
Avery tried to coax Bree to look at her. Fingers pushing on Bree’s chin.
Bree gave in.
She looked at Avery. Abandoning her feigned sleep.
Avery settled into the bed next to her and pulled her into a tight hug.
Avery would hug her. Even if her eyes were open.
Avery hugged her.
Bree couldn’t help the cries that tore themselves out of her throat. Her breath was shallow and quick.
Avery tightened her hold around Bree. Wordlessly.
Bree cried into her girlfriend’s neck. Her fists clinging to Avery’s shirt.
Avery tilted Bree’s head back and gave her a once-over.
Anyone else, and Bree would have been self-conscious. Avery was not anyone.
Instead, Bree waited.
Avery lowered herself, her hand moving from the back of Bree’s head to her shoulder with a feather-light touch.
She kissed Bree’s cheeks, ever so gently.
Beneath Bree’s eyes.
Another on the tip of her nose.
Avery caught Bree’s tears before they reached her jaw, kissing them away. Tending to her.
Bree realised someone was actually kissing away her tears and almost threw up.
How romantic.
She couldn’t handle it. She wasn’t built to handle all this.
It was too much love, so much it was painful.
Like she was overstuffed, bursting at the seams.
Avery’s hand made its way down to Bree’s waist, rubbing gentle circles.
“What’s wrong, Bree?”
She was so warm, so quiet, so tender.
When Bree couldn’t answer, Avery pulled her closer again.
Avery would always hug her, Bree realised.
She would never wake up one day and decide against it, or that Bree was too old, or that she wasn’t into hugs anymore.
Avery took every chance to be close to Bree. Bree felt silly - she’d say stupid, but she knew Avery would object strongly to her calling herself that - she ever thought otherwise.
The Avery who would pull Bree back down to the bed when she got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, the Avery who would always magically end up with her head in Bree’s lap when they watched movies together.
She would never stop wanting to be close to Bree.
Bree could not stop herself from fucking crying. It was getting embarrassing.
She loves Avery so much it hurts.
Her chest is tight, and her muscles are too relaxed.
Her eyelids are tired and magnetising themselves shut.
She is so full of love she can’t stop crying.
“I love you,” Bree manages to force out, shakily.
“Baby, I can’t hear you when you mumble into my tits.” Avery was trying for a laugh, Bree wanted to give her one so bad, but she couldn’t handle even one ounce more of emotion.
Avery didn’t seem put off by it.
“One more time?” Avery asked softly.
“I love you.” Bree hiccuped pathetically through it.
“I love you too.”
Avery didn’t miss a beat.
Bree was so incredibly thankful that this was her life.
That Avery was the one she would fall asleep with every night.
That Avery would reliably be next to her every night.
That Avery would cuddle her to sleep every night.
She was so thankful she would have a million more late-night car rides, a million more kisses to her nose, a million more ‘I love you’s.
She would have to ask Avery about the whole carrying-her-to-bed-thing, but she wanted a million more of those too. If that wasn’t too big of an ask. Even if it was, Avery would never say that.
Bree listened to Avery’s steady breathing.
Bree was actively fighting sleep.
She wanted to memorise Avery’s breath.
Her eyes were forcing themselves shut, squeezing tears out of her tear ducts.
“Go to sleep, Bree. We can talk in the morning, okay? You seem so tired baby, just go to sleep.”
Avery sounded like she was underwater, or maybe Bree was the one underwater?
Either way, the warmth in her voice created ripples, strong enough to reach Bree.
Do ripples travel downwards in bodies of water? Or is that a surface-of-the-water-only kind of thing?
Bree imagined skipping stones. Avery would be next to her. There would be ducks out on the lake too, and Avery would make sure they didn’t accidentally hit any. The sun would be out, and Avery would be sitting so close she’d practically be in Bree’s lap.
Avery kissed her forehead.
Bree looked forward to receiving another one in the morning.
And another the morning after that.