Archive of Our Own ^beta

Joan wrapped a red candy lace deftly around her index finger, before finally winding the end into her mouth and pulling at it with her teeth. Grace was reminded irresistibly of a playful kitten.

"Have you ever noticed how Adam's eyes are kind of brown, kind of green?" Joan asked dreamily, taking tiny kitten-bites of her candy.

"Oh no," said Grace, removing her lollipop from her mouth with a sudden pop. "We're not having this conversation."

"What conversation?" Joan propped herself up on her elbows, the dreaminess gone from her expression. They were lying on the front lawn of the Girardis' house and as far as Grace was concerned, it was entirely too hot for this kind of shit.

"We are not doing that inane girly shit where you gush about your boyfriend and I pretend to care."

"Would you even know how to pretend to care, Grace?" asked Joan archly.

Grace lay back on the grass so that she wouldn't have to look at Joan's annoying little smirk. The sky was the colour of the sugared almonds in their bag of candy. Grace sucked hard on her lollipop. It was sour and some nondescript flavour that she could feel staining her mouth a lurid shade of red.

The silence was all too brief. "You two have been friends for years, right?" Joan persisted, and Grace was aware of her leaning closer, blocking the sun. "You must have thought about Adam . . ."

"You have a twisted view of friendship, Girardi." Grace shut her eyes, enjoying the red glare against her eyelids.

"Oh, come on! Don't tell me you don't find Adam the least, little bit attractive," Joan said. Grace could hear the spikes of irritation entering her voice, and she felt she'd won back a little of the power. She opened her eyes to find Joan right above her, mouth still engaged in gentle sucking and chewing.

"Nope," Grace said after the slightest pause. Joan pulled back with a pout and a frown, eating her candy faster, more greedily.

The ensuing silence stretched, slowing Grace's heartbeat. She closed her eyes and waited until Joan had settled back on the grass.

"Third grade," Grace said abruptly.

"What?"

"Third grade," Grace repeated, her usual level of annoyance tuned to exasperation. "Rove pushed me over in the playground, I pushed him back a hell of a lot harder, and we went out for a week."

"No way."

"Sure. I was young and impressionable." Grace's eyes narrowed, and Joan could tell she was becoming defensive. "For the record, we broke up on the grounds of complete apathy."

"No way! So you dated him . . ." Joan's eyes widened, and Grace could see her amusement mounting.

"We were eight."

"Yeah, but you like . . . kissed and stuff."

"We were eight! This story doesn't get kinky. There's no NC17 addendum."

"Dude," Joan pronounced, suppressing a grin.

"Shut it." Grace reached over and pushed a toffee bonbon into Joan's mouth. Joan choked on it as her desire to laugh won out, while Grace licked her fingers and tried not to join in with Joan's laughter.

*

"Why didn't you tell me you used to go out with Grace?"

Joan waited for the perfect moment to pose her question. Adam's hand froze, an inch away from her bra hook.

"What?" Adam's brown/green eyes widened suddenly. He pulled away reflexively, but his hand seemed to be no longer under the control of his brain and his fingers crept a little further up Joan's back.

"You and Grace," Joan emphasised. She squirmed nearer to him on the couch, savouring the warmth as his fingers splayed across her spine. Bill and Ted chattered on in the background, and Adam seemed momentarily distracted by the noise.

"Dude, we were like nine or something." Adam frowned, looking slightly disconcerted.

"Did you ever kiss her?"

"I . . ."

Joan's lips pressed suddenly against his. She tasted sweet and of strawberries. The taste seemed unexpectedly sharpened as her tongue wound enthusiastically inside his mouth.

"Would you like to kiss her?" She murmured the question between kisses, so that it was mere sensation against his lips.

*

"Don't start with it again," Grace warned. "I mean it." She glared for effect, but Joan seemed unruffled.

Adam was staring at the sky (looking for angels, Joan thought fondly), his fingers intertwined casually with Joan's as they walked. "Start with what?" Adam asked Grace vaguely.

Grace poked him in the shoulder, effectively puncturing his daydreams. "You and me. She's obsessed."

"I didn't say anything," Joan replied serenely, swinging their linked hands idly.

"You were looking at me funny -- again," Grace said irrationally. "Quit it."

Grace bit savagely at her stick of liquorice and glared some more. The evening air was soft and muggy; the heat of day seemed to be dimming perceptibly with the light. The park appeared ghostly and serene, devoid of children but still harbouring their suggestion.

Joan was nibbling on a bead of her candy bracelet, yanking at Adam's hand. Grace watched and remembered the bright, shuffling boy who'd thrown sand at her; grains that stuck in her hair for hours afterward. She remembered the clear, pure smile that even the worst ripples hadn't been able to shade in.

Grace placed both hands on Adam's chest, as if to push him. She kissed him calmly on the lips -- surprised at his height; surprised she had to stand on tiptoes to reach him. He tasted sugar-sweet, like Joan. She knew her own mouth was tarred black and sticky by liquorice.

When she pulled away, Adam was smiling. Joan was watching them, open-mouthed.

"Hey!" Joan protested, still seemingly caught between awe and annoyance.

"I think it's fair to say we probably wouldn't have worked out, Rove," Grace said decisively.

"Unchallenged," Adam mumbled, squeezing Joan's hand playfully.

Grace wandered a little further ahead, following the weaving line of the path. Her voice floated back to Joan and Adam.

"It's a whole new situation now, of course."