The First Time, Chapter 1
Title: The First Time
Rating: I hate rating stuff. Nothing you wouldn't hear or see on LHDP. PG-13? R?
A/N: Okay, so this is my very first PepSi fic, which I never thought I'd write. But even as I vehemently insisted that I couldn't and wouldn't write one, due to the persistance of several veteran LJ fic-ers *cough*zoonerz *cough* and later *cough*supercontenta *cough*, I gave it a shot. And here it is. This is a post finale fic (though it spans from Season 8 to past the finale), and because I'm generally a slave to canon, Silvia is gone. But I felt like I had to make peace somehow with the ending they gave us and help Pepa back to a happier place (eventually), and I found it cathartic to write. I'm hoping you'll give it a try. And I'd love to hear what you think! Lots and lots of thanks go to my fabulous beta, supercontenta , who agreed to read this for me, and didn't even complain when I made large last-minute additions. So without further ado....
Chapter 1
The first time Pepa feels uneasy about her own wedding day, it is the morning of the ceremony.
Silvia is in the shower, and Pepa is standing at the door to the bathroom.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help in there, gorgeous?” Pepa asks through the crack in the door.
“Pepa,” comes the answer, “If you come in here, so help me God, you will be in such trouble.”
Pepa grins.
“Oh yeah? What kind of trouble? Bad trouble? Or good trouble?”
The retort is instant.
“The kind of trouble that will have you in traction for a week! We cannot see each other today!”
Pepa groans. “That’s what you said last night! And look where you ended up!”
Pepa had tried to be good the night before. After Silvia had left her on the dance floor, Pepa had caught up to her in the parking lot. And claiming since it would be the last one and she’d better make it good, she had pressed Silvia up against the car and proceeded to kiss the hell out of her. When they’d parted, Silvia practically buckled before composing herself and shoving Pepa back. She stalked around to the other side of the car, muttering something about Pepa not playing fair.
Pepa, for her part, smiled in satisfaction, and drove them both calmly home, silently telling herself that she would follow Silvia’s rules now. She would be good.
But that’s where her resolve ended. As Silvia searched in her purse for her house keys, Pepa reached out her hand, ostensibly to help, but her hand landed on Silvia’s hip instead, and she found herself spinning her fiancé around, pinning her between the door and her own body. She planted her hands against the door on either side of Silvia’s head. Silvia’s breath caught as she looked up at Pepa, her mouth mere inches from hers.
Pepa grinned wickedly.
“Got you,” she said, looking down at Silvia.
“Pepa,” Silvia started, her tone carrying a warning. “You said it was the last one in the parking lot.”
“Silvia,” Pepa explained in a reasonable voice. “You know I have trouble with the truth sometimes. What I meant was, second-to-last one.”
Silvia rolled her eyes and tested Pepa’s hold on her. She leaned forward and twisted in her arms, which as far as Pepa could tell, only made the situation worse. Or better, depending on how you looked at it.
Finding herself utterly trapped, Silvia asked, “Has anyone ever told you you’re annoying?”
Pepa leaned down so that her mouth was at Silvia’s ear.
“You tell me at least once a week, Princess,” she said in a low voice. She felt Silvia shiver, clearly telling her she was having the desired effect, and as a result, her hold loosened. As soon as it did, the diminutive redhead tried to wiggle out of Pepa’s grasp again, attempting to slip out to the side. Pepa quickly countered by sliding her hands down further and throwing out her right leg, effectively trapping Silvia’s hip. Silvia gave a frustrated sigh.
“Well, it’s because it’s true,” she told her, narrowing her eyes at the taller woman, even as Pepa watched her lean back against the door and look up at her with big dark eyes that were starting to hold more than just irritation. “And you’re not fair. You fight dirty.”
Pepa chuckled low in her throat. Sometimes her redhead made it too easy.
“Is there any other way to fight?” she purred, dropping her head and tracing her lips along Silvia’s jaw line, pausing just before her mouth. She lifted her right hand from the door and let it lazily trail down her fiancé’s arm.
She had barely touched her, and yet by now, Silvia was flat-out trembling. It was the reaction Pepa was hoping for, and she spent a few seconds feeling inordinately pleased with herself.
“You make me crazy,” Silvia told her, even as she reached to grasp Pepa’s shirt in both her fists. She pulled and at the same time pressed her hips forward, molding them against Pepa’s.
That earned another grin from Pepa. When Silvia got aggressive, things usually got…interesting. And Pepa was a big fan of interesting.
“You love me,” the brunette informed her, reaching one hand up and threading her fingers through Silvia’s locks. Her other hand reached around to turn the doorknob. This time, Silvia did not try to escape her hold. In fact, she pulled Pepa even closer.
“I love you,” Silvia agreed. At least, that’s what Pepa thought she said. Because at that moment, they were both falling through the door and their lips at last found each other, and Silvia’s words were muffled in the heat of her fiancé’s mouth. They stumbled against each other.
God, the woman could kiss, Pepa thought, certainly not for the first time, as their mouths tangled together. She knew as long as she lived, she’d never get enough of kissing Silvia. It was just impossible.
But there wasn’t much time to think about that as Silvia pushed Pepa back up against the door, effectively closing it at the same time. Dimly, Pepa was aware it slammed rather hard.
“Easy, Silvia,” Pepa breathed between kisses. “I don’t want to have to explain bruises tomorrow.”
“Oh, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” Silvia said, her hands already sliding up under Pepa’s shirt, her fingers playing over her rib cage. Pepa threw her head back against the door, her stomach muscles jumping at Silvia’s touch.
“Keep manhandling me like this and I will,” Pepa groaned, steadying herself with her hands on Silvia’s hips as her talented hands rose higher still. She wanted her touch. She needed it.
“Mmmm, no, I think you’ll be okay,” her fiancé answered. “Because…Pepa?” she said, almost in a conversational tone, placing kisses at Pepa’s collar bone, softly tonguing the hollow of her throat.
“Yeah?” Pepa breathed, arching toward Silvia. It was taking all her remaining concentration to form even one coherent word right now.
“Got you!”
And quick as anything, Silvia suddenly twisted and ducked, breaking Pepa’s hold. Before Pepa knew it, all she was holding was air, and Silvia was down the hall and into their bedroom, flinging the door shut behind her.
“Hey!” Pepa shouted.
She stood there, breathing hard and blinking. She stared at the spot where Silvia just had been. Where Silvia still should be.
It slowly occurred to her that she’d just been beaten at her own game. By Silvia. Who, by all indications mere seconds ago, was just as interested in where the evening was leading as she had been.
Pepa swallowed hard and tried to determine what she should be feeling right now. She was fairly certain she should be pissed off. Except she was also so damned turned on at the moment, it was affecting any other emotions.
Redheads.
“I changed my mind!” she yelled at the closed door. “I’m not marrying you tomorrow! You’re too damn mean!”
All she heard laughter.
“Yeah, right! You try to break the rules, and I’m the mean one!”
Pepa made a face at the door and concentrated on getting her breathing back to normal. It was not an easy task when her entire body was aching for the woman on the other side of the locked door. She spent a few moments considering kicking the door in, but she decided in the end that it wasn’t worth it. All it would earn her was a lecture about being a Neanderthal.
She stalked down the hall.
“Where the hell am I supposed to sleep?!”
“Guest room!” came the reply.
Pepa sighed. “Guest room,” she muttered. “Terrific.”
She passed the closed door.
One more try.
“I love you, Princess,” she said hopefully, laying a palm on the door.
“I love you too, Pepa. But you’re still not getting into this room.”
“Fine,” Pepa grumbled. “Have it your way. We’ll follow the rules. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Pepa.”
Pepa walked into the guest room, and pulled out the futon. She made the bed, changed into a pair of boxers and a tank top, and crawled under the covers. She shut her eyes, expecting to fall right asleep, but sleep didn’t come. She didn’t know if it was the somewhat uncomfortable accommodations, the prospect of the next day’s event, or the recent interlude in the hallway, but her body was too keyed up to sleep.
She tried curling up on her side; she tried taking advantage of the extra room and stretching out like a starfish; she tried stuffing her head under her pillow. Nothing worked. She finally punched her pillow in frustration and threw herself onto her back. She forced herself to take slow, measured breaths.
It must have worked because she eventually fell into the strange place between sleep and wakefulness. She might have even at last fallen asleep, except that she was suddenly wide awake, alerted by the soft click of the bedroom doorknob being turned.
Years of police training made her lie perfectly still, only cracking her left eye open to get a look at the door as it was being eased open. A second later, Silvia stepped into the room. Pepa couldn’t see her face, but she watched as she simply stood there, looking down at her.
“Pepa?” she whispered at last. Pepa said nothing, waiting.
“Pepa, are you asleep?”
Pepa still said nothing, more than a little curious about where this was going.
“Pepa,” Silvia sighed. “I know you’re awake.”
Pepa broke. “How do you know that?”
Silvia moved closer. “You’re not snoring.”
And without any preamble whatsoever, Silvia lifted the sheets covering Pepa and crawled into bed beside her.
Pepa was now utterly baffled.
“Uh…Silvia?”
“Hmmm?” Silvia asked, already curling into Pepa, her right leg thrown over hers, her right arm thrown across her ribs. Her head found its familiar place, tucked against Pepa’s shoulder, and she could feel the soft puff of her breath against her skin. Pepa reflexively turned and inhaled her scent.
“What about, you know, the rules?”
Silvia took so long to answer, Pepa thought she wasn’t going to.
Silvia nestled closer. “I couldn’t sleep.” Her voice seemed impossibly small all of a sudden. “I couldn’t sleep without you.”
Pepa smiled to herself knowingly. She kissed the top of Silvia’s head.
“Me neither,” she said. “But I thought it was against the rules to, you know…”
Pepa could practically hear Silvia’s eyes rolling.
“You’re still not getting lucky tonight, Pepa. We’re just sleeping.”
Pepa sighed. “You can’t blame a girl for hoping,” she said. “But what about tomorrow? The whole not being able to see each other thing.”
Silvia’s voice was already drifting off, sleepy and content.
“I’ll be out before you wake up. And I’ll keep my eyes closed.”
Pepa smiled again.
“Okay, Pelirroja.”
She pressed one more kiss to her forehead, turned into her fiancé’s arms, and promptly fell asleep.
True to her word, by the time Pepa wakes up in the morning, Silvia is gone, and Pepa can hear the shower running. Pepa lies still for a moment.
It is her wedding day.
It is her wedding day, and she’s marrying the love of her life.
Pepa’s smile is open and huge, and she has the sudden urge to fling open a window and tell everyone in the neighborhood. But she settles instead for climbing out of bed, stretching, and pattering down the hallway to amuse herself by harassing Silvia from the other side of the bathroom door. It’s a skill she never wants to lose, and so has made a promise to sharpen it regularly.
“That was purely a practical move, Pepa!” Silvia is saying. “I went into your room because it wouldn’t do for both of us to be exhausted today! I wanted to make sure we were both well-rested!”
Pepa snorts.
“Yes, sweetheart, very practical. And was you copping a feel also being practical?”
She hears what she thinks is a stomped foot.
“I did not!”
“Oh, I beg to differ. I think I know when I’m being groped!”
“Pepa, stop being ridiculous. If I touched you, I was asleep, and it doesn’t count!”
“Okay, Princess. Whatever you say. Except you know what?”
“What?”
“I can tell when you’re not sleeping too.”
Silence. Pepa grins. Verbally sparring with Silvia is about one of her favorite things to do. Well, aside from activities which require far fewer clothes.
“What, got nothing?” she calls playfully.
She hears Silvia clear her throat and pointedly changes the subject.
“Pepa, you can’t stay here. I’m almost done in here, and we can’t see each other.”
“Well, what do you suggest I do? I have to get ready too.”
“Go to Paco’s! You can get dressed with the guys. My father’s over there.”
“Paco’s! What if your dad has a last minute change of heart and tries to run me off or something?”
“He’s not going to do that. He’s all over that. He’s very fond of you.”
“He’s also fond of his gun!”
“Pepa, I’m not entertaining this nonsense! And you’re stalling. Go! Out! I need to get ready!”
And it is at this point that a strange feeling settles over Pepa. There is something inside her that is telling her to run into the bathroom, rules be damned, and step into the shower with Silvia. To look at her, to drink her in, to hold her. God, she wants to hold her right now. She wants to hold her, protect her, and never let go, even though Pepa can’t articulate why. Her hand itches to push open the door.
Except she knows Silvia will be true to her word, and she’ll never hear the end of it if she does. Plus, the possibility of attending her own wedding in some sort of cast would increase dramatically.
“All right, Princess. I’m going,” she concedes at last. “But you’d better be there! Don’t make me come find you!”
“As long as Leo doesn’t show up between now and then, we should be fine.”
Pepa rolls her eyes.
“Very funny. Goodbye, Silvia.”
“Goodbye, Pepa. I love you.”
The two simple phrases spoken together bring tears to Pepa’s eyes, and she cannot for her life explain it. Blinking rapidly, she chalks it up to the general emotion of the day. She’s never attempted to get married before, so she’s not sure, but she’s confident crying during the day is probably par for the course.
“I love you too,” she calls. And then taking a few minutes to throw on some clothes, she grabs her dress and her bags, and heads out the door to her brother’s apartment.