The Importance of Sex and Pancakes, Chapter 1
Title: The Importance of Sex and Pancakes
Rating: NC-17 (not this chapter, really, but eventually)
A/N: Hola! Bet you didn’t think you’d see me so soon again! Truth is, I didn’t expect to be back so soon again either - I was never supposed to write even one PepSi fic, let alone a second. But we know how that went. Now, as with the The First Time, the beginnings of this fic lie squarely with one Ms. supercontenta . Because for weeks I was subjected to “Have you ever written smut?” and “Hey, Elisa, I think you should try writing some smut” and “How about some sexytimes?” And while I steadfastly ignored these demands gentle suggestions, my muse was apparently listening attentively, and it turns out she’s got a much dirtier mind than I do.
So here's a little something for everyone who I put through the wringer with The First Time, and for all the smut hounds I know are lurking just off to the side (Yes, you. And you.). We’re going AU here, friends, an AU where El Gordo was nowhere near the wedding, and the girls are married and going about their lives. But they’ve encountered…a problem.
I’ll just apologize in advance, there is very little in the way of a legitimate plot here, but if I play my cards right, maybe no one will notice...And as always, I would love to hear from you, should you be so inclined.
Chapter 1
Pepa paced the length of floor between the kitchen and living room, waiting for her wife to come home. She had no idea how many times she’d gone back and forth or checked if everything was in order; she’d lost count about ten minutes ago.
Occasionally she detoured to the hallway mirror to check her appearance. Her dark hair was loose over her shoulders. The wine-colored button-down blouse she had on was neatly tucked into gray slacks that flared out slightly over a pair of black pumps. A simple silver pendant hung around her neck, a present from Silvia last Christmas. A little bit of mascara and eye liner accented her dark eyes. Pepa nodded, satisfied. She was by no means narcissistic, but she knew when she looked good. And right now, she looked good.
Walking back into the kitchen, she glanced at the clock. Seven fifteen. Pepa chewed on her lip. Silvia was late. This was not a good sign.
In truth, Silvia was late a lot these days. There were nights when Pepa barely saw her wife as she was logging in extra hours in the lab. If she did come home at a decent time, she usually gave Pepa a tired look, kissed her perfunctorily, and then disappeared into the other room to play with Maya or give her a bath before bedtime.
Maya. It had been ten months since their daughter was born. Pepa still remembered the day perfectly. She’d been scared out of her mind when she’d gone into labor, but Silvia had been by her side every step of the way, not even complaining when Pepa squeezed the hell out of her hand and swore so much the nurses blushed. And when Maya finally arrived, Silvia walked over to get her, cradling her in her arms. She carried the infant over to Pepa.
“You did it,” she told her softly. Pepa looked up, exhausted.
“We did it, Silvia,” she corrected. Silvia looked at her and nodded.
“Here,” she said, lowering her arms. “Hold her.”
For a second, fear gripped Pepa and it must have been evident in her eyes because Silvia stopped.
“Pepa,” she said, gently but firmly, “You’re not going to break her.”
Pepa wasn’t sure.
“Trust me,” Silvia said, her voice confident. “Here.” And she laid the little girl in Pepa’s arms for the first time.
As soon as her daughter was nestled in the crook of her elbow, Pepa relaxed. She reached up and ever so cautiously touched her forehead, her cheek. She smiled.
“Hi, gorgeous.”
Silvia slid into the bed next to Pepa, and Pepa leaned against her.
“We’ve got a daughter, Pelirroja,” she said, completely in awe of the tiny life in her arms. Silvia kissed the top of Pepa’s head.
“And she’s beautiful, just like her mother.”
Pepa sighed contentedly, confident her life, at that moment, was perfect.
But something had happened in the last ten months.
There was no doubt that both Pepa and Silvia loved being parents. They delighted in their daughter, cheered every new thing she did, worried sick if she had a runny nose, and sent a ridiculous amount of pictures to friends and family, blissfully unaware of the overkill as new parents often are.
But there was also a problem. It had crept up on them without either being aware, and by the time Pepa realized it, it was the pink elephant in the room - she and Silvia had been so busy being new moms that they’d forgotten to take any time for themselves. They’d barely gone out together since Maya had been born, just the two of them, let alone touched each other more intimately than a good morning kiss and hug.
It had started as simple logistics - Pepa had just given birth, and she needed time to heal, doctor’s orders. There wasn’t much time to think about intimacy anyway, as they were getting used to being new parents, with all the trappings that came with that responsibility. Besides, there was day-to-day life to contend with as well. After twelve weeks, Pepa went back to work on the force, and she and Silvia resumed their normal work schedule, Maya going into daycare. When they came home at night, they picked up the house, made dinner, played with their daughter, and then fell exhausted into bed. When was there time for anything else?
There were a couple moments that seemed promising.
A few months after Maya’s arrival, Pepa had woken up to Silvia’s mouth sliding down her neck, and her hand sneaking under her t-shirt, cupping her breast. Silvia smiled at her.
“I’m going to take a shower. Join me?”
Pepa, surprised, stretched and nodded, watching as Silvia padded into the bathroom. Pepa heard the shower turn on and glanced at the clock. It was early and Maya didn’t usually wake up for another half hour. Perfect. So Pepa grabbed the baby monitor and headed into the bathroom, stripping as she went.
She stepped into the shower just as Silvia was reaching behind her to wash her back.
“Here,” Pepa said. “Lemme help.” She took the shower puff and gently scrubbed it along Silvia’s back.
“Mmmm,” Silvia purred. Pepa soon abandoned the puff, however, opting instead to drop her mouth to the cord of muscle in Silvia’s shoulder, nipping lightly. Silvia turned toward her. She leaned up, kissed her, nudging Pepa’s mouth open and finding her tongue with her own. Pepa moaned.
But just as things were getting interesting, and Pepa’s hands were starting to move across Silvia’s body, the sure sounds of a baby waking up began issuing from the baby monitor. Pepa cocked her head, hoping she’d imagined it. But there was the sound again.
“Fuck,” she swore softly.
Silvia tried to get her attention back, pulling her against her.
“She’s fine. We still have time.”
Pepa sighed, disengaging herself from her wife’s arms.
“No, we don’t. She’s about four minutes from screaming her head off if she doesn’t get fed. I’m sorry, Silvia. Next time, okay? Soon.”
But “soon” never materialized. In fact, another opportunity didn’t present itself for another two months. It wasn’t until Rita booted them out of the house alone for a date, literally plucking Maya out of Silvia’s arms and telling them not to worry about a thing.
It had actually started out fun. They’d gone out for a nice dinner, and then gone for a drive along a stretch of road seldom used by anyone other than teenagers hiding from their parents to do what teenagers did. They’d ended up at the open space overlooking the city.
It was a Tuesday night, the overlook was empty, and they sat for a moment, admiring the view. Silvia even reached out for Pepa’s hand and squeezed. It was a rare moment of peace and quiet.
Pepa wasn’t quite sure what triggered it, maybe it was the realization that they were actually alone, but before either of them knew it, they were reaching for each other, hands and mouths vying for control, ripping at clothes, desperate to touch, to taste. Pepa felt like she was sixteen again. Silvia was straddling her in the driver’s seat, one hand braced against the seat, the other sliding into the front of the brunette’s pants as Pepa’s hips surged up to meet her. But just as Pepa thought that at last their dry spell was over, she felt a painful flair in her back.
“Ow, shit!” Pepa yelled. Silvia stilled, lifted her hand.
“Pepa, what is it? Are you okay?”
Pepa tried to relax her back, breathing through her mouth. After a few seconds, it seemed better.
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
Silvia’s gaze was worried. “You sure?”
Pepa nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. Really.” She smiled and guided Silvia’s hand back to where it had been and groaned when her fingers curled against her.
But five seconds later, she was again twisting in pain as her back flared up once more, and this time Silvia ignored her protests that nothing was wrong.
“Pepa, stop. You’ve thrown your back out. I’m taking you home. Let’s go, I’m driving.”
When they got home far before they were supposed to, Rita was more than surprised.
“What happened?!” she asked as Silvia assisted a limping Pepa through the door. Pepa, pissed off and horny as hell, glared at her.
“Never mind,” she snapped, managing to make it to the living room couch and gingerly lowering herself down.
Rita, knowing it was not the time to pry, quietly left without another word.
It ended up not being as serious as Silvia thought, but it had taken lots of ice and a few weeks’ recovery and by then, they were back into their new routine of completely ignoring what they both wanted (and needed) in favor of getting things done that seemed too important to ignore.
The two women dealt with the problem in different ways.
Pepa turned to exercise. She spent at least an hour a day working out at the precinct gym, running on the treadmill and working the heavy bag. And when she wasn’t in the gym, she was at the firing range, drilling bullet after bullet into the practice targets. If she’d been the best shot in San Antonio before, she might now be the best shot in all of Spain. She idly wondered if all people who were really outstanding in their fields were just incredibly sexually frustrated individuals. Maybe Shakespeare and Goya and The Wright Brothers just never got enough. Sure, society benefitted, but Pepa felt like maybe she understood their motivation to do something, and by virtue of doing it repeatedly, simply became very good at it.
Silvia, on the other hand, plowed into her work. Pepa didn’t think the forensic reports had ever been so detailed, precise, and complete as they had been in the last ten months. And that was saying something when taking into account Silvia’s normal methodic nature. Pepa heard from one of her interns that she’d even gone back and starting filling in missing information from cases already closed.
Yes, there was no question Pepa and Silvia had a problem. And the compounding issue was that they seemed incapable of admitting it and doing something about it.
However, Pepa had hit the breaking point last night. Silvia had come home early for a change, and was in a good mood. She kissed Pepa hello longer than usual, and even playfully swatted at her when Pepa tried tickling her as they both gave Maya her bath. Pepa took that as a good sign. Maya, for once, went to bed without a fuss, and when Pepa walked into their bedroom, Silvia was stretched out, reading a novel. Silvia usually only read for fun when she was relaxed. Otherwise, it was medical journals.
Pepa slid into bed beside her, tucked her head against her shoulder.
“What are you reading, Pelirroja?”
Silvia shrugged, showing her the cover.
“Just some silly romance Rita passed along to me.”
“Mmmmm,” Pepa responded, gently pulling the book out of Silvia’s grip. “Well, maybe I can do better than…” she glanced at the back cover. “…Miguel here.” She flipped the book over to reveal the stud in question, dark eyes and hair with a brawny build who was perched at the edge of a cliff, all but having his way with the willowy blonde in his arms. “Though I might not quite have his bulging muscles.”
She looked up at Silvia who was looking back at her with an amused expression, her eyebrows raised.
“You’re welcome to give it a shot.”
Pepa grinned, leaned over Silvia, and placed the book on the nightstand. And then realizing her position, already stretched out over her wife, she simply swung her left leg over her, straddling her.
Silvia slid her hands over Pepa’s knees and smiled up at her.
“Hi,” she said quietly, almost shyly.
“Hi,” Pepa replied, and leaned down to kiss her, one hand curling around the nape of her neck. Pepa indulged in the feeling of Silvia’s tongue sliding against her own before breaking away to place kisses along her jaw, her throat. She continued downward, her mouth finding Silvia’s breasts through her tank top, teasing her by gently nipping with her teeth. She heard her wife sigh, and she traveled lower still, her lips grazing the patch of skin visible between tank top and Silvia’s pajama bottoms. She pushed the material up, leaving a series of kisses across her ribs.
And then Pepa reached up to undo the tie of Silvia’s cotton pants. She knew she was moving fast, but dear God, it had been too long.
“Is this what you want, Pelirroja?” she asked. She expected a whole-hearted response - she knew well what drove her wife crazy.
But when she got no response at all, not even a sound, she looked up. And instead of finding her wife begging for her touch, she found Silvia…asleep. Her eyes were closed, and her head was already canted off to one side.
Pepa sat up, slightly stunned, and moved to her own side of the bed.
“Are you fucking serious?” Pepa asked out loud. She tried gently shaking Silvia, but the redhead was out cold. “Wow, Miranda,” she said to herself, “You’re so out of practice, you can’t even manage to keep her awake. Good job.”
About ready to crawl out of her own skin, Pepa switched off the light, and threw herself back against her pillows. It was several hours before she fell asleep.
The next morning, irritated and jittery from drinking too much coffee, Pepa headed for the precinct gym. It was a slow morning for murderers and drug traffickers anyway, and if Pepa sat at her desk one more minute, she was going to go insane. So she told Curtis to call her if anything interesting happened, and she slipped into the gym. She changed into her workout clothes, grabbed her boxing gloves, and headed for an available heavy bag.
Twenty minutes later, that’s where Rita found her when she came to talk to her about a case. She watched as Pepa pummeled the bag, sweat pouring down her face and back.
“Pepa, is something wrong?” her friend ventured.
Pepa threw another furious punch.
“Yeah, something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong.” Another punch and another one.
“Do you…want to talk about it?”
Pepa hit harder. “No.”
“Sometimes it helps,” Rita suggested. “If there’s someth-”
“Rita, I really don’t want to.” Her glove connected with the bag again, Pepa focused on the rhythm of her swing, hoping Rita would get the hint and leave her alone to take her frustration out on the bag in front of her.
No such luck.
“I’m just saying, maybe I can-”
Oh, hell….
“I need sex, Rita!” Pepa blurted out, straightening up from her crouch. “I need really good, curl-your-toes, fucking sex! Can you help me with that?!”
Rita seemed taken aback, and a couple of the other cops around them looked up with interest. At this point, Pepa didn’t care. Everyone in this precinct knew everything eventually anyway. But Rita, managing to recover from Pepa’s outburst, was more discreet. She leaned toward Pepa.
“Are you and Silvia not…having…sex?” Rita asked, her voice low. Pepa glared and got back in her stance to throw another punch. “Pepa, hey,” Rita reached out and grabbed the bag. “Stop. Talk to me.”
Pepa stopped mid-throw and looked at her friend. She gulped for breath.
“No,” she got out. “We’re not. We haven’t in a really long time.”
Rita searched her face. “Like, maybe for ten months?” she asked gently.
Pepa was surprised. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I don’t know what happened.”
Rita’s expression was sympathetic as she reached out, touched her arm. “You had a child,” she said. “It happens. It’s okay.”
Pepa shook her head. “It’s not okay,” she panted, still catching her breath. “I miss sex. I miss Silvia. I miss sex with Silvia. We used to never be able to keep our hands off each other. But now? Now there’s always something. The baby needs to be fed or the house needs cleaning or we’re both working hard on a case and we’re exhausted. Or we’re fighting about stupid shit that never used to matter. And then on the rare occasions when we actually do get to be alone together, something else happens, like Maya starts crying or I hurt my back or-”
Rita looked as if she was about to burst out laughing, and despite Pepa’s serious expression she asked, “Is that what happened that night?”
Pepa gave her a withering look. “Not. Helping.”
Rita sobered and cleared her throat. “Sorry.”
“I don’t know what to do, Rita. I’m at my wit’s end. It’s like we’re stuck in this rut, and neither one of us knows what to do about it. And we don’t talk about it, and it’s getting worse.”
Rita thought for a moment and then spoke. “Pepa, sometimes you can’t wait around for an opportunity to present itself, or you’ll be waiting around forever. Sometimes you’ve got to create one.”
Pepa’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Well, if you wait around for the perfect moment, it may never come. Being a mother is hard and it’s tiring and there are always a million things to do. So sometimes you’ve just got to say to hell with all of that, and take some time for yourselves. Go out to dinner or a movie or for a walk or…have sex. Just do it.”
Pepa stared at her friend, considered her words.
“You know,” she said after a moment. “You’re right.” A plan immediately started forming in her head. “Do you want to help me out?”
Rita nodded. “Of course.”
“What are you doing tonight?”
Rita shrugged. “Nothing much. What do you need?”
Pepa slung her arm around the shorter woman and started walking. “How would you like to have an extra house guest for the night?”
She explained her plan on the way to the locker room.
After letting the rest of her team know she was taking the rest of the day off, Pepa headed up to the forensics lab, where she found her wife busy as usual.
“Hey,” she said, letting herself in. Silvia looked up from her microscope.
“Hey,” she replied. “What’s wrong?”
Pepa shrugged casually. “Nothing. I just wanted to let you know I’m taking the rest of the day off. It’s really slow around here, and I’ve got a bunch of errands to run. So I’m taking off.”
Silvia nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you later.” She started to turn back toward her work.
“Hey, Silvia?”
The redhead looked back up. “Yeah?”
“Be home on time tonight, okay? No working late.”
Silvia nodded absently. “Sure, yeah.”
“Silvia.”
“Yes, Pepa, okay. I’ll be home by seven.”