fic: passage (10/10) (elle/claire)
Title: Passage (10/10)
Rating: NC-17 (language, disturbing imagery, graphic sex)
Pairing: Elle/Claire; side Adam/Elle, Adam/Claire
Timeline: Post-“ So”
Prompt: “love” at 10_themes
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing with them
Teaser: Ten stages between one thing and the next, between lust and love.
10, love
She can still taste Claire from long minutes before.
Before Claire slid down her body and slid fingers into Elle even though she was still trembling, lifted her head and grinned at Elle like a damn cat, her expression making Elle shudder instinctively. There had been a flash of a smirk and an arch of a back, and then her mouth had been on Elle, and what was left of Elle’s sanity had splintered down.
This is better than anything her head can come up with.
Elle wants to say something but a thin murmur is all she can manage when she opens her mouth, too overwhelmed by sensations to be able to communicate beyond the way her body arches to keep the feeling going.
Then a tongue strokes deeper and her hands fumble against the sheet, little gasp slipping out of her as the surge of feeling spikes, as Claire thrusts curved fingers lazily. She’s already close somehow, head tilting back as she tries to stay calm, keep herself together because she doesn’t want this to end already.
But Claire keeps going and when a thumb finds her clit, Elle bucks helplessly, feels and hears something that has to be a laugh and that, that’s all she needs.
Her head falls back, her mouth opening, and she’s only dimly aware that she’s babbling through her orgasm, fingers knotting into blonde hair as she keeps Claire where she wants her.
Claire doesn’t pull away even after Elle opens her grip, just strokes a palm along her thigh.
When Elle’s eyes finally flutter open, she’s staring at the ceiling.
She feels a breath against her hip as Claire moves up, as her arms glide around Elle’s neck and a damp mouth crushes against Elle’s, unyielding as always even as there’s no sign of the harshness that Elle has gotten used to over the months.
Claire pulls away with soft eyes, a slight twist to her mouth as she caresses a cheek, stares down intently and doesn’t look away as the seconds tick past.
Dazed, Elle can only stare back, aware of that new pressure in her chest.
But seconds fade into minutes and Elle's body feels heavy, her eyelids difficult to hold open.
Finally, Claire sighs and stretches out along her side, leg crossing hers as an arm curves across her middle. Nails scrape the skin between her ribs, a kiss is pressed to her chest above a breast and then Claire goes quiet, head pillowed comfortably on Elle’s open arm.
“Are you sure we should be here?” she asks, voice ragged with exhaustion.
But there’s no response, Claire’s arm heavy and her body warm, already sound asleep.
When Elle wakes up, there’s a muffled sound from the living room, the quick click of keys.
She’s alone in bed.
Elle pushes herself up but then hesitates, unsure what to do now.
Remembering what she’s read in her paperbacks and watched in all the romantic movies, she’s not quite able to make the connection between that reaction and her day with Claire. It doesn’t help that she’s not completely sure what she’ll find when she sees Claire even if she knows what she wants to find.
Slipping naked to the door, she cracks it open silently, eyes settling on Claire sitting on the couch, laptop on the coffee table as she types. Beyond her, there’s a black sky through the window, proof that they’ve been here as long as Elle thinks they have. Attention dropping back to Claire, she takes in tangled blonde hair and the set of her shoulders.
And the fact that Claire’s still naked.
Confidence buoyed by the sight, Elle slinks into the living room with one last glance to check that they’re alone, stepping lightly and carefully easing herself onto the couch beside Claire, freezing for a second. When there’s no biting order for privacy, no attempt to close the open windows on the screen, she grins and slides closer, legs folding under her body as she touches snarled hair cautiously.
No stinging response, no sign of Claire swatting her hand away.
Elle can’t remember any period of time between them that’s felt like this.
Deciding to prove herself, she squashes down the nosy urge to see what Claire’s doing and focuses on what’s suddenly open to her, the exposed body sitting beside her. Touching knotted hair again, she tucks back stray strands that fall across a forehead, impulsively runs a fingernail along the shell of an ear.
Admittedly, Claire’s intent on her… whatever it is, but she still isn’t upset.
Settling more comfortably on the couch, she watches the younger woman as she stretches one leg across Claire’s, grinning when a palm slips from the computer to stroke her thigh in response. The touch runs from her hip to her knee, lasts only a moment before Claire goes back to her work every bit as focused as before, but still, even satisfied from before, there’s an automatic spark at the touch.
Attention pulled away from the computer, Elle touches an elbow and walks her fingers up an arm to the curve of a shoulder, pleasantly enthralled by how much skin she can feel beneath her hand. Thinking about the hours before, she shifts her focus to a collarbone, following the line through Claire’s flesh as it curves.
If she’s the girlfriend now, not that she’s sure she is, than she gets to ask- “What are you working on?”
“Nothing I want you to know.”
Elle expects a sting at the response but the tone isn’t angry, just… different.
A second later, Elle flinches instinctively when a hand jerks up to grab her fingers, hold them still, but the grip doesn’t become painful and Claire doesn’t push her away, instead keeps her hand where it is.
“Do you want me to leave?” she asks helplessly, unable to understand Claire’s reaction.
“No.” Her hand is released, dropped as Claire pulls the leg stretched over hers closer, strokes the way she did before but then leaves her hand high on Elle’s thigh and types with one hand only. “Just a-”
Intent on not ruining everything, Elle only looks over when the e-mail window closes with the click of a key. She has a glimpse of an image beneath it, a rectangle of gray and red that looks like a painting before it’s gone as well. Lips pursed, she stares at the screen even as Claire closes the computer and pushes it back, trying to figure out what she just saw.
Then legs shift between hers and an arm slides around her middle as Claire eases back on the couch, pulling at Elle with strong hands until she's pinned beneath Elle, gaze already dark.
And Elle’s attention is back on Claire, computer forgotten.
Claire keeps clothes there.
When they finally decide to leave, she passes Elle shorts and an old shirt that is loose on her slim frame and then gets dressed a few feet away. Claire grabs the car keys, Elle their dirty clothes and they slip out of the building when the sky is just beginning to lighten.
In the car, out of Claire’s apartment, Elle goes quiet again, unease slipping back as Claire navigates through the thin traffic. The difference in Claire between the days before and now somehow hits Elle more fully when she reaches down to the compartment by the cup holder, scoops out a handful of change.
Counting through it when she stops at a red light, she spots the panic on Elle’s face out of the corner of her eye. “What?” Elle shakes her head weakly, panic becoming a wave of nausea, and Claire huffs out a breath, twist of her mouth not something that Elle understands. “You look like you’re about to puke.”
“Fine,” she mutters when she can speak, and shifts away, leaning against her window.
She hears a slow breath beside her and then the sound of change jingling as Claire turns into a drive-thru, rolls down her window and starts ordering. Elle keeps her mouth shut, staring at the parking lot tinted dark blue as light spreads a little more outside the car, and tries to process the thoughts in her head.
Useless, since she only understands half of them.
They pull out of the parking lot and Elle forces her eyes to shift back, finds a huge drink in the cup holder and Claire holding a breakfast sandwich in one hand, eating easily. Her shoulders are relaxed, her attention focused on navigating the roads, and she looks like Claire and sounds like Claire and that…
“What about Adam?” she breathes when she can finally force the question out.
Claire’s chewing stops for a second, just long enough for Elle to notice, and the hand on the steering wheel flexes, tightens its grip. Then she goes back to eating.
When there’s no response except for the continued chewing, she prods, “Claire?”
“I’m not-” She stops, grimaces and doesn’t look at Elle, taking another bite and swallowing it down. “I’m not going to fuck him anymore,” she says flatly before she takes another bite. “We only-” She stops again and then she shoves the last bit into her mouth, chewing for long moments as Elle watches, flustered.
When she’s done eating, she stares through the glass, says nothing for another minute.
Then she whispers, “I need him,” and goes quiet again.
The ‘need’ stings, the way she says it, because now Elle understands what that word means.
“Why him?” Claire’s fingers flutter for a moment along the steering wheel, her gaze unfocused as she stares straight ahead. “Claire,” she asks because she has to, because she needs to, because Adam is not like any of the others that Claire could choose to need, “why him?”
Green eyes flick to her, gaze bleak as she bluntly says, “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Maybe-”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Claire repeats, voice ragged as she crumples up the sandwich wrapper and drops it into the bag it came in. “You’ve never-” An odd beat. “You wouldn't understand, trust me.” And then she swipes the heel of her hand across her face, shakes herself and grabs the drink, offering it to Elle.
The older woman sits blankly, baffled.
“I didn’t have enough for a Slush-o,” Claire explains as if she doesn’t look like she’s near tears, as if her hand isn’t shaking. “You’ll have to make due with this until we go out later.”
The ‘we’ is what Elle hears so she accepts the drink, takes a sip and watches Claire relax again.
Watches her go back to acting like Claire.
When they finally park in front of the Bennet house, it’s morning and Elle is now realizing what will happen when Noah finds out what they’ve been doing, what will happen to her when he throws her out.
If he only throws her out, if she’s that lucky.
But Claire whispers, “Just go upstairs,” as she unlocks the door and ushers Elle in. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
Another step into the house and she notices Noah standing in the door way that leads into the kitchen, cup of coffee in one hand and expression heavy with something Elle can’t identify. She freezes until Claire nudges her forward, propels her towards the steps; she takes them two at a time, unable to break Noah’s gaze until the stairs turn and he’s gone, below with Claire.
Her hands tremble, goose bumps racing across her arms, and she lets herself into her room.
Doesn’t bother to lock the door as she sits on her bed and waits.
A few minutes tick by and there’s still no sign of Noah rushing up the steps.
The clothes Claire gave her smell like Claire, warmed by her body heat and loose around her frame, soft when she trails a hand down her middle to feel the fabric. Her own clothes are still in Claire’s car, and her hair is messy despite her quick attempt to comb it out, and her hands are shaking harder.
When she realizes she’s been sitting there for fifteen minutes, she stretches out and stares at the opposite wall, drops her head onto her pillow and tries to calm down.
She’s somehow dozing, somehow half-asleep, when she hears the door click and jerks awake immediately.
But it’s Claire slipping into the room, walking to the bed as Elle levers herself up, blinks and waits for Noah to come in, only growing more tense when there’s no sign of him. Claire says something but she ignores it, focused on the door on the other side of the room.
“Elle.”
She turns her head, blinks as Claire stands in front of her, blinks again and watches Claire’s stomach move as she breaths. She feels fingers touch her hair, skim across her bangs and then down her cheeks until Claire tilts her head back so that she can meet her eyes.
“I handled it,” is all Claire says as her thumb strokes across Elle’s pulse, as she leans forward to brush her lips against Elle’s, pulls back and pushes Elle back onto the bed in the movement. She shifts Elle’s legs to the side and then settles on the bed herself, reaching out to trail fingers across the older woman’s side.
The touch makes Elle jump, glancing at the door again-
But then Claire sighs and pulls her over, arm draping across Elle’s shoulders as her fingers slip through Elle’s hair, brush it back and down in an easy way, and Elle’s eyes close again. Cheek pressing against a warm side, she reaches up to slide a palm on a stomach, feeling it rise and fall as Claire breathes.
If Noah comes in to check on them, Elle’s asleep and doesn’t see him.
Her sleeping schedule is ruined for the moment.
Elle doesn’t care.
She wakes up stiff and sore but somehow alert as the light sneaking in beneath the curtains is still brilliant. Aware of a palm on her shoulder, she closes her eyes and stays where she is until she lifts her head a long time later, too awake to stay still any longer despite how nice it is.
Her arm is tingling as she climbs slowly off the bed, leaves Claire asleep where she is.
It’s another five minutes of careful movement before she’s downstairs, avoiding the unmistakable sounds of Lyle washing the dishes in the kitchen and instead edging to Noah’s office, peering in as well as she can.
He’s sitting at his computer, looking focused.
Not like he’s planning to come after her.
Refusing to give herself a chance to rethink this course of action, Elle opens the door and lets herself in, proud that she doesn’t flinch when his eyes snap up. “Yes?”
“Did you want to talk?”
“I don’t remember calling you down,” he says pleasantly and she swallows, sits hastily as his eyes drift past her for a second, mouth looking hard. Then the expression is gone and he studies her for a long minute, gaze shuttered but not unkind. “Do you want to talk?”
She doesn’t know the answer to that question.
“Elle?”
“You’re not upset?”
“I’ve learned worse,” is all he says, and there’s so much in the comment that she doesn’t understand that her fingers fold painfully into her palm, annoyance twisting in her middle.
“I don’t have anywhere else to-” His smirk is strange, confusing. “You’re not throwing me out?”
“I’m not planning on it, no.”
“I thought-”
Elle is pretty sure that the last time she was on even ground was before Noah and the dog bath, before Claire met her eyes that first time, before she screwed up everything and made daddy mad and he shot her and left her to die. But the last week in particular has been overwhelming and now she's just trying understand what all has changed.
Noah being so… pleasant about her fucking Claire is… almost too much.
“There’ll be rules, of course,” he’s saying when she can hear past the blood in her ears, his finger tapping once against a key before he rolls back from the computer desk. “And you’ll stay here so I can keep an eye on you, but Claire’s an adult now, and I’ve learned she can handle-” He stops, and she realizes her turmoil is apparently evident on her face. “Elle.”
“That’s it?”
“Like I said,” he sighs, standing up and coming around the desk to stare down at her coolly. “I’ve learned that Claire can handle herself, and I’d rather you-” Noah stops, something flickering over his face for a second and gone so fast she wonders if it was even there. “I think you two are good for each other.”
It feels like it’s the end of the discussion, but still- “That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
Elle has been dismissed, as completely as she ever was with daddy.
And he’s lying to her, every bit as well as daddy did.
Suddenly wanting nothing more than to hide upstairs until Claire is awake, can explain this, she manages to get to her feet, gets to the door just as he reaches past her to open it for her.
Elle goes upstairs feeling his eyes on her, goes to her room and slips into bed by Claire again, only begins to relax when Claire, half-asleep, touches her arm, her wrist, draws her closer.
“Claire?” A humming sound, tired but aware as fingertips trail across her skin. “Why did Noah save me?” She waits there, holding her breath, but there’s only a slow breath, Claire sounding uneasy as she pulls Elle down to her shoulder, cradles the back of her scalp. “Claire?”
“I need more time.” A palm rubs her back, her spine. “Can you give me more time?”
Yes, she decides, choice made without thinking as Elle licks her lips, swallows and nods. “Yes.”
Claire relaxes, strokes her back until her eyelids grow heavy again, her body loose.
Until she somehow falls asleep again despite the ache where daddy shot her long months before.
an: first off, massive thanks to everyone who commented as i wrote out this fic, you guys have been fantastic and have helped me work through several kinks in this thing without even realizing it. i know the wait between chapters was sometimes worthy of a smack upside my head but it made my day when you guys read anyway. so big love to all the readers.
and, as some people know from my rambling, yes, there will be a sequel, much of it dealing with the things laid down in this fic and ' what's past is prologue' and continuing to tell claire and elle's story. more sex, of course. the plot i've been setting up in ten parts and two oneshots finally comes to full fruition. finally. a few things purposely left open in here are finally resolved. and we answer the question of what happens when a regenerating cheerleader and an ex-company agent walk into a bar.
Rating: NC-17 (language, disturbing imagery, graphic sex)
Pairing: Elle/Claire; side Adam/Elle, Adam/Claire
Timeline: Post-“ So”
Prompt: “love” at 10_themes
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing with them
Teaser: Ten stages between one thing and the next, between lust and love.
10, love
She can still taste Claire from long minutes before.
Before Claire slid down her body and slid fingers into Elle even though she was still trembling, lifted her head and grinned at Elle like a damn cat, her expression making Elle shudder instinctively. There had been a flash of a smirk and an arch of a back, and then her mouth had been on Elle, and what was left of Elle’s sanity had splintered down.
This is better than anything her head can come up with.
Elle wants to say something but a thin murmur is all she can manage when she opens her mouth, too overwhelmed by sensations to be able to communicate beyond the way her body arches to keep the feeling going.
Then a tongue strokes deeper and her hands fumble against the sheet, little gasp slipping out of her as the surge of feeling spikes, as Claire thrusts curved fingers lazily. She’s already close somehow, head tilting back as she tries to stay calm, keep herself together because she doesn’t want this to end already.
But Claire keeps going and when a thumb finds her clit, Elle bucks helplessly, feels and hears something that has to be a laugh and that, that’s all she needs.
Her head falls back, her mouth opening, and she’s only dimly aware that she’s babbling through her orgasm, fingers knotting into blonde hair as she keeps Claire where she wants her.
Claire doesn’t pull away even after Elle opens her grip, just strokes a palm along her thigh.
When Elle’s eyes finally flutter open, she’s staring at the ceiling.
She feels a breath against her hip as Claire moves up, as her arms glide around Elle’s neck and a damp mouth crushes against Elle’s, unyielding as always even as there’s no sign of the harshness that Elle has gotten used to over the months.
Claire pulls away with soft eyes, a slight twist to her mouth as she caresses a cheek, stares down intently and doesn’t look away as the seconds tick past.
Dazed, Elle can only stare back, aware of that new pressure in her chest.
But seconds fade into minutes and Elle's body feels heavy, her eyelids difficult to hold open.
Finally, Claire sighs and stretches out along her side, leg crossing hers as an arm curves across her middle. Nails scrape the skin between her ribs, a kiss is pressed to her chest above a breast and then Claire goes quiet, head pillowed comfortably on Elle’s open arm.
“Are you sure we should be here?” she asks, voice ragged with exhaustion.
But there’s no response, Claire’s arm heavy and her body warm, already sound asleep.
When Elle wakes up, there’s a muffled sound from the living room, the quick click of keys.
She’s alone in bed.
Elle pushes herself up but then hesitates, unsure what to do now.
Remembering what she’s read in her paperbacks and watched in all the romantic movies, she’s not quite able to make the connection between that reaction and her day with Claire. It doesn’t help that she’s not completely sure what she’ll find when she sees Claire even if she knows what she wants to find.
Slipping naked to the door, she cracks it open silently, eyes settling on Claire sitting on the couch, laptop on the coffee table as she types. Beyond her, there’s a black sky through the window, proof that they’ve been here as long as Elle thinks they have. Attention dropping back to Claire, she takes in tangled blonde hair and the set of her shoulders.
And the fact that Claire’s still naked.
Confidence buoyed by the sight, Elle slinks into the living room with one last glance to check that they’re alone, stepping lightly and carefully easing herself onto the couch beside Claire, freezing for a second. When there’s no biting order for privacy, no attempt to close the open windows on the screen, she grins and slides closer, legs folding under her body as she touches snarled hair cautiously.
No stinging response, no sign of Claire swatting her hand away.
Elle can’t remember any period of time between them that’s felt like this.
Deciding to prove herself, she squashes down the nosy urge to see what Claire’s doing and focuses on what’s suddenly open to her, the exposed body sitting beside her. Touching knotted hair again, she tucks back stray strands that fall across a forehead, impulsively runs a fingernail along the shell of an ear.
Admittedly, Claire’s intent on her… whatever it is, but she still isn’t upset.
Settling more comfortably on the couch, she watches the younger woman as she stretches one leg across Claire’s, grinning when a palm slips from the computer to stroke her thigh in response. The touch runs from her hip to her knee, lasts only a moment before Claire goes back to her work every bit as focused as before, but still, even satisfied from before, there’s an automatic spark at the touch.
Attention pulled away from the computer, Elle touches an elbow and walks her fingers up an arm to the curve of a shoulder, pleasantly enthralled by how much skin she can feel beneath her hand. Thinking about the hours before, she shifts her focus to a collarbone, following the line through Claire’s flesh as it curves.
If she’s the girlfriend now, not that she’s sure she is, than she gets to ask- “What are you working on?”
“Nothing I want you to know.”
Elle expects a sting at the response but the tone isn’t angry, just… different.
A second later, Elle flinches instinctively when a hand jerks up to grab her fingers, hold them still, but the grip doesn’t become painful and Claire doesn’t push her away, instead keeps her hand where it is.
“Do you want me to leave?” she asks helplessly, unable to understand Claire’s reaction.
“No.” Her hand is released, dropped as Claire pulls the leg stretched over hers closer, strokes the way she did before but then leaves her hand high on Elle’s thigh and types with one hand only. “Just a-”
Intent on not ruining everything, Elle only looks over when the e-mail window closes with the click of a key. She has a glimpse of an image beneath it, a rectangle of gray and red that looks like a painting before it’s gone as well. Lips pursed, she stares at the screen even as Claire closes the computer and pushes it back, trying to figure out what she just saw.
Then legs shift between hers and an arm slides around her middle as Claire eases back on the couch, pulling at Elle with strong hands until she's pinned beneath Elle, gaze already dark.
And Elle’s attention is back on Claire, computer forgotten.
Claire keeps clothes there.
When they finally decide to leave, she passes Elle shorts and an old shirt that is loose on her slim frame and then gets dressed a few feet away. Claire grabs the car keys, Elle their dirty clothes and they slip out of the building when the sky is just beginning to lighten.
In the car, out of Claire’s apartment, Elle goes quiet again, unease slipping back as Claire navigates through the thin traffic. The difference in Claire between the days before and now somehow hits Elle more fully when she reaches down to the compartment by the cup holder, scoops out a handful of change.
Counting through it when she stops at a red light, she spots the panic on Elle’s face out of the corner of her eye. “What?” Elle shakes her head weakly, panic becoming a wave of nausea, and Claire huffs out a breath, twist of her mouth not something that Elle understands. “You look like you’re about to puke.”
“Fine,” she mutters when she can speak, and shifts away, leaning against her window.
She hears a slow breath beside her and then the sound of change jingling as Claire turns into a drive-thru, rolls down her window and starts ordering. Elle keeps her mouth shut, staring at the parking lot tinted dark blue as light spreads a little more outside the car, and tries to process the thoughts in her head.
Useless, since she only understands half of them.
They pull out of the parking lot and Elle forces her eyes to shift back, finds a huge drink in the cup holder and Claire holding a breakfast sandwich in one hand, eating easily. Her shoulders are relaxed, her attention focused on navigating the roads, and she looks like Claire and sounds like Claire and that…
“What about Adam?” she breathes when she can finally force the question out.
Claire’s chewing stops for a second, just long enough for Elle to notice, and the hand on the steering wheel flexes, tightens its grip. Then she goes back to eating.
When there’s no response except for the continued chewing, she prods, “Claire?”
“I’m not-” She stops, grimaces and doesn’t look at Elle, taking another bite and swallowing it down. “I’m not going to fuck him anymore,” she says flatly before she takes another bite. “We only-” She stops again and then she shoves the last bit into her mouth, chewing for long moments as Elle watches, flustered.
When she’s done eating, she stares through the glass, says nothing for another minute.
Then she whispers, “I need him,” and goes quiet again.
The ‘need’ stings, the way she says it, because now Elle understands what that word means.
“Why him?” Claire’s fingers flutter for a moment along the steering wheel, her gaze unfocused as she stares straight ahead. “Claire,” she asks because she has to, because she needs to, because Adam is not like any of the others that Claire could choose to need, “why him?”
Green eyes flick to her, gaze bleak as she bluntly says, “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Maybe-”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Claire repeats, voice ragged as she crumples up the sandwich wrapper and drops it into the bag it came in. “You’ve never-” An odd beat. “You wouldn't understand, trust me.” And then she swipes the heel of her hand across her face, shakes herself and grabs the drink, offering it to Elle.
The older woman sits blankly, baffled.
“I didn’t have enough for a Slush-o,” Claire explains as if she doesn’t look like she’s near tears, as if her hand isn’t shaking. “You’ll have to make due with this until we go out later.”
The ‘we’ is what Elle hears so she accepts the drink, takes a sip and watches Claire relax again.
Watches her go back to acting like Claire.
When they finally park in front of the Bennet house, it’s morning and Elle is now realizing what will happen when Noah finds out what they’ve been doing, what will happen to her when he throws her out.
If he only throws her out, if she’s that lucky.
But Claire whispers, “Just go upstairs,” as she unlocks the door and ushers Elle in. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
Another step into the house and she notices Noah standing in the door way that leads into the kitchen, cup of coffee in one hand and expression heavy with something Elle can’t identify. She freezes until Claire nudges her forward, propels her towards the steps; she takes them two at a time, unable to break Noah’s gaze until the stairs turn and he’s gone, below with Claire.
Her hands tremble, goose bumps racing across her arms, and she lets herself into her room.
Doesn’t bother to lock the door as she sits on her bed and waits.
A few minutes tick by and there’s still no sign of Noah rushing up the steps.
The clothes Claire gave her smell like Claire, warmed by her body heat and loose around her frame, soft when she trails a hand down her middle to feel the fabric. Her own clothes are still in Claire’s car, and her hair is messy despite her quick attempt to comb it out, and her hands are shaking harder.
When she realizes she’s been sitting there for fifteen minutes, she stretches out and stares at the opposite wall, drops her head onto her pillow and tries to calm down.
She’s somehow dozing, somehow half-asleep, when she hears the door click and jerks awake immediately.
But it’s Claire slipping into the room, walking to the bed as Elle levers herself up, blinks and waits for Noah to come in, only growing more tense when there’s no sign of him. Claire says something but she ignores it, focused on the door on the other side of the room.
“Elle.”
She turns her head, blinks as Claire stands in front of her, blinks again and watches Claire’s stomach move as she breaths. She feels fingers touch her hair, skim across her bangs and then down her cheeks until Claire tilts her head back so that she can meet her eyes.
“I handled it,” is all Claire says as her thumb strokes across Elle’s pulse, as she leans forward to brush her lips against Elle’s, pulls back and pushes Elle back onto the bed in the movement. She shifts Elle’s legs to the side and then settles on the bed herself, reaching out to trail fingers across the older woman’s side.
The touch makes Elle jump, glancing at the door again-
But then Claire sighs and pulls her over, arm draping across Elle’s shoulders as her fingers slip through Elle’s hair, brush it back and down in an easy way, and Elle’s eyes close again. Cheek pressing against a warm side, she reaches up to slide a palm on a stomach, feeling it rise and fall as Claire breathes.
If Noah comes in to check on them, Elle’s asleep and doesn’t see him.
Her sleeping schedule is ruined for the moment.
Elle doesn’t care.
She wakes up stiff and sore but somehow alert as the light sneaking in beneath the curtains is still brilliant. Aware of a palm on her shoulder, she closes her eyes and stays where she is until she lifts her head a long time later, too awake to stay still any longer despite how nice it is.
Her arm is tingling as she climbs slowly off the bed, leaves Claire asleep where she is.
It’s another five minutes of careful movement before she’s downstairs, avoiding the unmistakable sounds of Lyle washing the dishes in the kitchen and instead edging to Noah’s office, peering in as well as she can.
He’s sitting at his computer, looking focused.
Not like he’s planning to come after her.
Refusing to give herself a chance to rethink this course of action, Elle opens the door and lets herself in, proud that she doesn’t flinch when his eyes snap up. “Yes?”
“Did you want to talk?”
“I don’t remember calling you down,” he says pleasantly and she swallows, sits hastily as his eyes drift past her for a second, mouth looking hard. Then the expression is gone and he studies her for a long minute, gaze shuttered but not unkind. “Do you want to talk?”
She doesn’t know the answer to that question.
“Elle?”
“You’re not upset?”
“I’ve learned worse,” is all he says, and there’s so much in the comment that she doesn’t understand that her fingers fold painfully into her palm, annoyance twisting in her middle.
“I don’t have anywhere else to-” His smirk is strange, confusing. “You’re not throwing me out?”
“I’m not planning on it, no.”
“I thought-”
Elle is pretty sure that the last time she was on even ground was before Noah and the dog bath, before Claire met her eyes that first time, before she screwed up everything and made daddy mad and he shot her and left her to die. But the last week in particular has been overwhelming and now she's just trying understand what all has changed.
Noah being so… pleasant about her fucking Claire is… almost too much.
“There’ll be rules, of course,” he’s saying when she can hear past the blood in her ears, his finger tapping once against a key before he rolls back from the computer desk. “And you’ll stay here so I can keep an eye on you, but Claire’s an adult now, and I’ve learned she can handle-” He stops, and she realizes her turmoil is apparently evident on her face. “Elle.”
“That’s it?”
“Like I said,” he sighs, standing up and coming around the desk to stare down at her coolly. “I’ve learned that Claire can handle herself, and I’d rather you-” Noah stops, something flickering over his face for a second and gone so fast she wonders if it was even there. “I think you two are good for each other.”
It feels like it’s the end of the discussion, but still- “That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
Elle has been dismissed, as completely as she ever was with daddy.
And he’s lying to her, every bit as well as daddy did.
Suddenly wanting nothing more than to hide upstairs until Claire is awake, can explain this, she manages to get to her feet, gets to the door just as he reaches past her to open it for her.
Elle goes upstairs feeling his eyes on her, goes to her room and slips into bed by Claire again, only begins to relax when Claire, half-asleep, touches her arm, her wrist, draws her closer.
“Claire?” A humming sound, tired but aware as fingertips trail across her skin. “Why did Noah save me?” She waits there, holding her breath, but there’s only a slow breath, Claire sounding uneasy as she pulls Elle down to her shoulder, cradles the back of her scalp. “Claire?”
“I need more time.” A palm rubs her back, her spine. “Can you give me more time?”
Yes, she decides, choice made without thinking as Elle licks her lips, swallows and nods. “Yes.”
Claire relaxes, strokes her back until her eyelids grow heavy again, her body loose.
Until she somehow falls asleep again despite the ache where daddy shot her long months before.
an: first off, massive thanks to everyone who commented as i wrote out this fic, you guys have been fantastic and have helped me work through several kinks in this thing without even realizing it. i know the wait between chapters was sometimes worthy of a smack upside my head but it made my day when you guys read anyway. so big love to all the readers.
and, as some people know from my rambling, yes, there will be a sequel, much of it dealing with the things laid down in this fic and ' what's past is prologue' and continuing to tell claire and elle's story. more sex, of course. the plot i've been setting up in ten parts and two oneshots finally comes to full fruition. finally. a few things purposely left open in here are finally resolved. and we answer the question of what happens when a regenerating cheerleader and an ex-company agent walk into a bar.