bored at one a.m. and so, girlslash drabble! girl!pete/ashlee
no way but our own
rated pg13
don't know how many words
an: written at ass o'clock in the morning because i couldn't sleep before i wrote something adorable-ish. picture from sexisnottheenemy.
It’s a Wednesday, and Ashlee is staying late because she got detention for starting a fight in the hall. It’s not her fault, though. Not exactly. Ashlee is pretty much a pacifist, when it comes right down to it. She doesn’t like violence. She doesn’t agree with it. She thinks that there’s almost always a better alternative than causing physical harm. Over the years she’s kind of built up this reputation as being some super-mellow beatnik quasi-hippie who just wants the rest of the world to calm down and start fucking smiling at one another, and for the most part that’s pretty dead-on. And really, Ashlee doesn’t have anything against Lacey Pearson. The girl is dumber than a bag of rocks and tends not to think before she opens her mouth, but Ashlee has a lot of friends like that. Ignorance doesn’t bother her, and she’s usually more than happy to just slowly start integrating new information into the sheltered little loops that are the lives of those sorts of people.
But when Lacey sees Pete dancing down the hallway, iPod headphones secure in her ears, she mutters a slew of derogatory comments to her friends, the least offensive of which is ‘rug-muncher.’ And really, Ashlee is all for dancing in rings around pockets of posies and promoting peaceful negotiations, but this is Pete.
There isn’t really anything for it except for Ashlee to punch Lacey right in the teeth.
*
Pete’s waiting for her when Mr. McEllis lets her out, and he smiles sort of indulgently at the two of them before saying, “Petronella. I expect you’ll be keeping Miss Simpson in line from here on in?”
Pete grins at him, all teeth and too-wide mouth, and entwines her fingers with Ashlee’s, replying, “Only if it stops being flattering.”
Mr. McEllis is laughing while they walk down the hall, and Ashlee glances over at Pete. Her hair is longer now than it has been in awhile, almost to her shoulders but still choppy-cut and messy just like she prefers. Her eyes are ringed in smoky black and Ashlee thinks about the pair they must make. They hold hands all the way until they reach Pete’s shitty old Saturn, and even then they only let go as long as it takes them to get in and fasten their seat belts.
Pete doesn’t say anything until they’re on the beach, sitting facing one another so that their crossed knees touch.
“You know, you didn’t have to like, defend my honor or anything,” Pete says, but she’s smiling fondly as she says it. Ashlee snorts and leans forward, pulling the hood of her sweater up so that she and Pete match.
“Sure I did,” she murmurs. Pete’s smile grows even brighter and she leans in a little, reaching up to gently touch the side of Ashlee’s face. Ashlee meets her halfway so that their foreheads press gently together. Pete’s silent for a long moment, just sitting there looking at her. It used to creep Ashlee out at first. She wasn’t used to being under such intense scrutiny since it was usually Jess getting all the attention wherever they went. Now though, she just waits patiently while Pete’s mind jumps through whatever various hoops it’s managed to conjure up for itself.
“How did I get so lucky?” Pete finally asks. Ashlee’s only response is to kiss her until the disbelief dissolves from the corners of her mouth. She melts into Pete’s taste, familiar and sweet and everything Ashlee wants from the world all in one place. When they pull back, Pete presses her forehead to Ashlee’s again while a waterlogged breeze sweeps along the shoreline.
“I punched a girl in the face,” Ashlee says quietly, toying with the fringed part of one of the numerous holes in the knees of Pete’s jeans. “I punched her right in the face for saying things about you.”
“I know,” Pete replies, voice just as low and private and intimate. “You chipped her tooth.”
“I’m an awesome boyfriend,” Ashlee concludes. Her heart soars when Pete dissolves into laughter, wrapping her arms around Ashlee’s shoulders, face pressed into the crook of her neck like she never wants to leave.
“I love you,” Pete says.
“I made a girl bleed,” Ashlee replies, and knows that Pete understands when she sneaks her fingers up under the hem of Ashlee’s shirt, brushing that spot on Ashlee’s hip that Pete knows drives Ashlee insane.
“So much,” Pete murmurs. Ashlee pushes her back on the sand, stretches out slowly and intently until she and Pete are touching at every possible point.
“We’re the start of something revolutionary.”
Ashlee isn’t sure which one of them says it, but there on the sand in the fading sunlight it doesn’t matter who the credit belongs to. All that matters it that it’s utterly, completely, irrevocably true.
rated pg13
don't know how many words
an: written at ass o'clock in the morning because i couldn't sleep before i wrote something adorable-ish. picture from sexisnottheenemy.
It’s a Wednesday, and Ashlee is staying late because she got detention for starting a fight in the hall. It’s not her fault, though. Not exactly. Ashlee is pretty much a pacifist, when it comes right down to it. She doesn’t like violence. She doesn’t agree with it. She thinks that there’s almost always a better alternative than causing physical harm. Over the years she’s kind of built up this reputation as being some super-mellow beatnik quasi-hippie who just wants the rest of the world to calm down and start fucking smiling at one another, and for the most part that’s pretty dead-on. And really, Ashlee doesn’t have anything against Lacey Pearson. The girl is dumber than a bag of rocks and tends not to think before she opens her mouth, but Ashlee has a lot of friends like that. Ignorance doesn’t bother her, and she’s usually more than happy to just slowly start integrating new information into the sheltered little loops that are the lives of those sorts of people.
But when Lacey sees Pete dancing down the hallway, iPod headphones secure in her ears, she mutters a slew of derogatory comments to her friends, the least offensive of which is ‘rug-muncher.’ And really, Ashlee is all for dancing in rings around pockets of posies and promoting peaceful negotiations, but this is Pete.
There isn’t really anything for it except for Ashlee to punch Lacey right in the teeth.
*
Pete’s waiting for her when Mr. McEllis lets her out, and he smiles sort of indulgently at the two of them before saying, “Petronella. I expect you’ll be keeping Miss Simpson in line from here on in?”
Pete grins at him, all teeth and too-wide mouth, and entwines her fingers with Ashlee’s, replying, “Only if it stops being flattering.”
Mr. McEllis is laughing while they walk down the hall, and Ashlee glances over at Pete. Her hair is longer now than it has been in awhile, almost to her shoulders but still choppy-cut and messy just like she prefers. Her eyes are ringed in smoky black and Ashlee thinks about the pair they must make. They hold hands all the way until they reach Pete’s shitty old Saturn, and even then they only let go as long as it takes them to get in and fasten their seat belts.
Pete doesn’t say anything until they’re on the beach, sitting facing one another so that their crossed knees touch.
“You know, you didn’t have to like, defend my honor or anything,” Pete says, but she’s smiling fondly as she says it. Ashlee snorts and leans forward, pulling the hood of her sweater up so that she and Pete match.
“Sure I did,” she murmurs. Pete’s smile grows even brighter and she leans in a little, reaching up to gently touch the side of Ashlee’s face. Ashlee meets her halfway so that their foreheads press gently together. Pete’s silent for a long moment, just sitting there looking at her. It used to creep Ashlee out at first. She wasn’t used to being under such intense scrutiny since it was usually Jess getting all the attention wherever they went. Now though, she just waits patiently while Pete’s mind jumps through whatever various hoops it’s managed to conjure up for itself.
“How did I get so lucky?” Pete finally asks. Ashlee’s only response is to kiss her until the disbelief dissolves from the corners of her mouth. She melts into Pete’s taste, familiar and sweet and everything Ashlee wants from the world all in one place. When they pull back, Pete presses her forehead to Ashlee’s again while a waterlogged breeze sweeps along the shoreline.
“I punched a girl in the face,” Ashlee says quietly, toying with the fringed part of one of the numerous holes in the knees of Pete’s jeans. “I punched her right in the face for saying things about you.”
“I know,” Pete replies, voice just as low and private and intimate. “You chipped her tooth.”
“I’m an awesome boyfriend,” Ashlee concludes. Her heart soars when Pete dissolves into laughter, wrapping her arms around Ashlee’s shoulders, face pressed into the crook of her neck like she never wants to leave.
“I love you,” Pete says.
“I made a girl bleed,” Ashlee replies, and knows that Pete understands when she sneaks her fingers up under the hem of Ashlee’s shirt, brushing that spot on Ashlee’s hip that Pete knows drives Ashlee insane.
“So much,” Pete murmurs. Ashlee pushes her back on the sand, stretches out slowly and intently until she and Pete are touching at every possible point.
“We’re the start of something revolutionary.”
Ashlee isn’t sure which one of them says it, but there on the sand in the fading sunlight it doesn’t matter who the credit belongs to. All that matters it that it’s utterly, completely, irrevocably true.