Since You Went Away - Chapter Twenty-Three: The Pajama Game (2/2) | M | The Closer
Title: Since You Went Away - Chapter Twenty-Three: The Pajama Game
Authors: i-must-go-first & UbiquitousMixie
Fandom: Brenda/Sharon, The Closer
Rating: M
Word Count: 11366
Disclaimer: Not ours. Please don’t sue.
Summary: A late-night craving and a coincidental meeting lead a certain deputy chief to discover that there’s much more to the inimitable Captain Raydor than meets the eye, and to realize that her mama was right: sometimes all a single woman really needs is a good girlfriend.
Authors’ Note: Yes, it’s been months since our last update, BUT, to make up for it, we present you with an M-rated chapter. Thank you all for your continued support and interest in this story. We DO intend on finishing it; please bear with us while we make a few more big life transitions (like starting new jobs and moving to another state!). Your comments are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!
**
If one of Sharon’s goals for the evening was to make Brenda laugh, she was off to a good start.
Brenda couldn’t help giggling merrily as she surveyed the dining area and the woman standing primly at the head of the table. The table setting was gorgeous -- with the blue and white china sparkling in the candlelight, it looked like something straight out of a magazine; but Brenda was distracted by the vision the captain presented. In an off-the-shoulder emerald dress whose flared skirt rustled with the unmistakable swish of crinoline when she moved, the bodice and front of the skirt protected by an honest-to-god gingham apron, and with her hair swept up into a chignon and shiny black pumps on her feet, she looked every inch the perfect 1960s housewife. Brenda Leigh felt as if she’d tumbled into an episode of Mad Men.
“I didn’t know this was a costume party,” she remarked, and Sharon’s eyes twinkled.
“Just wait until I serve the Jell-O mold.” She pivoted easily. “Would you care for a drink?”
“Sure. You know how to make a sidecar?” the chief teased, and the captain smirked.
“I do, actually.”
“I don’t want one,” Brenda intervened hastily. “It just sounded appropriate. -- Wine, please. And tell me you haven’t made a salad with green goddess dressing. I hate that stuff. My mama was a big fan.”
Sharon chuckled. “You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”
Brenda followed her into the kitchen as she uncorked a bottle of merlot and poured two large glasses. “That was a pretty elaborate ice-breaker,” the blonde commented.
Sharon shrugged. “But I think it worked. And it’s not often I have an excuse to wear this dress.”
“You look great. But --” Brenda instinctively lifted her hands to the other woman’s hair and then hesitated, waiting until Sharon gave her a nod of permission. Then she began to pull pins free until loose chestnut locks tumbled over Sharon’s shoulders in disarray, and then she stepped back with a smile, accepting one of the glasses of wine. “There. That’s better. There’s my Sharon.”
She froze again as soon as the words had left her mouth, her face coloring, but Sharon only smiled very slightly. “No. It’s all right.” The taller woman stepped closer, gently covering one of Brenda’s hands with her own. Brenda swallowed. Her Sharon. She liked the idea of that, liked it very much.
Sharon squeezed her fingers. “I truly am sorry about the last few days, Brenda Leigh.”
“I know.”
“Will you forgive me for acting like an insane control freak?”
“You are an insane control freak. And I do forgive you.”
Green eyes studied her face anxiously. “But?”
“No but. Except --”
“That’s just a synonym for but, Brenda.”
“You want to argue semantics with me right now, Sharon? All I’m sayin’ is you were right, in a way. All of this has probably been movin’ too fast. It feels so natural and easy because you’re my best friend, but that doesn’t mean --”
“No,” the older woman interrupted, shaking her head adamantly. “No. It should be natural and easy. I’m over thinking things, the way I always do.”
“Hey, I’m agreein’ with you,” Brenda pointed out. “You might as well enjoy it and quit arguin’ with me, because it doesn’t happen all that often.”
“I don’t want you to agree with me this time,” Sharon protested, a small furrow of frustration appearing to mar her smooth forehead. “I completely overreacted the other night. You should be doing anything but agreeing with me right now. What is the matter with you?”
Brenda arched an eyebrow, hoping to convey without words just how nuts the captain was continuing to be. “What’s the matter with me is that I’m tryin’ to do the right thing by you, Sharon Raydor. It all sounds good in theory that this should be easy and come naturally, but when we put it into practice...” You run away like you’re competing for an Olympic medal, Brenda thought, but tactfully did not add that part in. “We get into trouble. I’d rather we don’t rush into what we think should be happenin’ between us and just...let it happen as it will.”
The blonde ran her fingers through Sharon’s hair, wavy from the updo, still awed by the newness of the sensation of those silky strands against her hand. “Besides...it’s not the first time you’ve overreacted or overthought somethin’, and it’s probably not gonna be the last. A girl’s gotta be patient if she plans on gettin’ what she wants.”
“And what do you want, Brenda Leigh?” the captain asked, drawing the other woman in closer.
Brenda brushed her lips ever-so-gently against Sharon’s, letting their mouths touch without easing them into a kiss. “Cake.”
Sharon promptly blinked and then gaped while Brenda snorted with laughter.
“You, Sharon. I want you.” She wrapped her arms around her waist and rubbed their noses together. “And I intend to have you, complete with all that crazy.”
Though Sharon wouldn’t admit it to Brenda Leigh, it was exactly what she needed to hear. She recalled that old adage--the best of friends were the ones who know you and liked you anyway. “You’re going to regret saying that one day.” She kissed Brenda’s forehead. “You mark my words.”
“Maybe...but I’m stubborn. And even so...that day ain’t today, so no use worryin’ about it now.”
Sharon stared for a moment at the younger woman, unable to fathom that this unique, incredible woman that she was dating was the same person she had once defiantly loathed. It was startling how wrong she had been; her intuition, which had always served her without fail, had been completely off--in the aspects that mattered, at least. Her chest swelled with an emotion so strong that tears prickled in her eyes. She darted her eyes up toward the light fixture, deeply breathing until those tears were stashed away for another time. “I hope you’re hungry.”
Brenda couldn’t stop herself from giving the other woman a lascivious once-over. “I sure am. It smells amazin’ in here.” She sipped her wine, rolling the bitter red liquid around her tongue, and inhaled deeply. The scent of the food seemed only to highlight the texture of the wine and she hummed deeply in her approval. “What’s cookin’?”
“Roasted lamb and potatoes,” Sharon replied, smoothing her hands along the apron.
“And what kinda cake did you bake me?”
Sharon shivered at the warm timbre of Brenda’s voice. “I baked you a triple chocolate layer cake.”
Brenda’s face flooded with heat and they each recalled that very first slice of cake that had started it all. She smiled slowly, and Sharon smiled back. There was an anxious glint in those lovely green eyes, and Brenda found herself instinctively reaching out to touch the older woman’s hip -- just the slightest glancing contact. “Let’s you an’ me enjoy ourselves, all right?” Her thumb twitched; if she pressed just a little harder, she was sure she would be able to feel the line of whatever undergarments Sharon wore beneath her dress--if any. With great effort, she pushed away the thought...for later. “I think we’ve earned a night off from all this serious business, wouldn’t you say?”
A smirk--a genuine Raydor smirk--graced Sharon’s mouth. “Speak for yourself. I’ve been slaving away over a hot stove for you all evening.”
“Looks like I’ll have dish duty, huh?”
Sharon kissed Brenda’s forehead. “I’ll let you eat your cake first.”
“Why, how very generous of you, capt’n.”
The brunette’s smirk twisted her mouth into a preposterous shape. “Hmm, yes. I have a generous soul. I can be very... giving.”
Brenda swallowed hard as her imagination went careening toward all Sharon Raydor might have to give. The clink of silverware against china pulled it skittering back, and she looked over to see Sharon deftly maneuvering the steaming roasting pan out of the oven and onto the stovetop, her hands covered with bright patchwork potholders. The captain lifted the lid, gave a single satisfied nod in the direction of the contents, and glanced over her shoulder at Brenda. “The meat needs to rest for a bit. Will you get the salad out of the fridge?”
Relieved to have something to do, the deputy chief quickly complied. She had no trouble locating the large, plastic-topped bowl in Sharon’s predictably spotless, well-organized refrigerator, but she stood there staring at it, gazing into the Frigidaire’s depths. The cool recirculated air was a welcome sensation against her overheated cheeks, and she breathed deeply and steadily, reminding herself of all she’d just said to the older woman. They needed to take things slowly, for both their sakes, and not get ahead of themselves. Brenda felt confident that this was the right decision, but that confidence did nothing to slow the quick, impatient thump of her pulse.
It was like that cake that was waiting for them after they’d finished the no doubt delicious dinner Sharon had prepared. Real grown-ups didn’t eat their dessert before they had their meat and veggies.
A vivid image of a naked Sharon Raydor holding a chocolate layer cake appeared before Brenda’s eyes like a glorious mirage, only to be succeeded by a more vivid image of herself eating Sharon as if the captain were cake. Not even the Frigidaire could compete with the flood of heat that washed over her.
“Oh, my,” Brenda whispered, feeling dazed.
“Brenda?” That low, clear voice was tinged with amusement and exasperation. “Salad? It’s in that big bowl six inches from your nose.”
The blonde seized the salad bowl, hugging it to her chest, and slammed the door with unwonted force. “Dressin’?” she asked brightly, forcing a big smile.
From beneath one cocked eyebrow Sharon leveled a skeptical look at her face, which Brenda knew had to be a mottled red. “Oil and vinegar,” the captain replied in that droll little voice of hers. “Not, alas, green goddess.”
Brenda rolled her eyes as she finally relinquished the salad bowl, setting it down on the worktop. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me. Just how tired is that roasted lamb?”
Sharon blinked. “It needs to rest for fifteen minutes,” she replied, plainly hovering somewhere between irritation and humor. “More wine?”
“Please.” Brenda heard the eagerness in her voice and reminded herself not to gulp Sharon’s nice vintage down as if it were Kool-Aid. The last thing she wanted was to get tipsy and spoil the evening Sharon had planned.
As Sharon refilled their glasses to proportional levels, Brenda wondered what the other woman had planned for their evening. It occurred to her that the details didn’t matter; Sharon could have suggested that they silently read budget reports on separate ends of the sofa and Brenda would have been happy. What they did was irrelevant, as long as they did it together. She warmed at the thought, at the knowledge of just how much Sharon Raydor had come to mean to her.
A goofy grin spread across her face.
“What’s that look for?” Sharon asked, corking the bottle as she set it on the countertop.
“Oh, nothin’....just...happy to be here with you right now.”
Brenda had been nothing but patient with her, which Sharon had to admit must have been a strong concession on the other woman’s part. How long would it be before Brenda stopped being patient? How long would this last?
A surge of insecurity roiled in Sharon’s stomach and she pushed it away. In the years that they’d known each other, Brenda Leigh Johnson had been full of surprises. Even Sharon, who was so certain of most things and almost always trusted her instincts, had to consider the possibility that Brenda might just prove her wrong. She smiled and raised her glass. “To being happy--right here, right now.”
Brenda’s smile was so beautiful that Sharon’s stomach clenched. Their glasses clinked. “To us.”
***
Authors: i-must-go-first & UbiquitousMixie
Fandom: Brenda/Sharon, The Closer
Rating: M
Word Count: 11366
Disclaimer: Not ours. Please don’t sue.
Summary: A late-night craving and a coincidental meeting lead a certain deputy chief to discover that there’s much more to the inimitable Captain Raydor than meets the eye, and to realize that her mama was right: sometimes all a single woman really needs is a good girlfriend.
Authors’ Note: Yes, it’s been months since our last update, BUT, to make up for it, we present you with an M-rated chapter. Thank you all for your continued support and interest in this story. We DO intend on finishing it; please bear with us while we make a few more big life transitions (like starting new jobs and moving to another state!). Your comments are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!
**
If one of Sharon’s goals for the evening was to make Brenda laugh, she was off to a good start.
Brenda couldn’t help giggling merrily as she surveyed the dining area and the woman standing primly at the head of the table. The table setting was gorgeous -- with the blue and white china sparkling in the candlelight, it looked like something straight out of a magazine; but Brenda was distracted by the vision the captain presented. In an off-the-shoulder emerald dress whose flared skirt rustled with the unmistakable swish of crinoline when she moved, the bodice and front of the skirt protected by an honest-to-god gingham apron, and with her hair swept up into a chignon and shiny black pumps on her feet, she looked every inch the perfect 1960s housewife. Brenda Leigh felt as if she’d tumbled into an episode of Mad Men.
“I didn’t know this was a costume party,” she remarked, and Sharon’s eyes twinkled.
“Just wait until I serve the Jell-O mold.” She pivoted easily. “Would you care for a drink?”
“Sure. You know how to make a sidecar?” the chief teased, and the captain smirked.
“I do, actually.”
“I don’t want one,” Brenda intervened hastily. “It just sounded appropriate. -- Wine, please. And tell me you haven’t made a salad with green goddess dressing. I hate that stuff. My mama was a big fan.”
Sharon chuckled. “You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”
Brenda followed her into the kitchen as she uncorked a bottle of merlot and poured two large glasses. “That was a pretty elaborate ice-breaker,” the blonde commented.
Sharon shrugged. “But I think it worked. And it’s not often I have an excuse to wear this dress.”
“You look great. But --” Brenda instinctively lifted her hands to the other woman’s hair and then hesitated, waiting until Sharon gave her a nod of permission. Then she began to pull pins free until loose chestnut locks tumbled over Sharon’s shoulders in disarray, and then she stepped back with a smile, accepting one of the glasses of wine. “There. That’s better. There’s my Sharon.”
She froze again as soon as the words had left her mouth, her face coloring, but Sharon only smiled very slightly. “No. It’s all right.” The taller woman stepped closer, gently covering one of Brenda’s hands with her own. Brenda swallowed. Her Sharon. She liked the idea of that, liked it very much.
Sharon squeezed her fingers. “I truly am sorry about the last few days, Brenda Leigh.”
“I know.”
“Will you forgive me for acting like an insane control freak?”
“You are an insane control freak. And I do forgive you.”
Green eyes studied her face anxiously. “But?”
“No but. Except --”
“That’s just a synonym for but, Brenda.”
“You want to argue semantics with me right now, Sharon? All I’m sayin’ is you were right, in a way. All of this has probably been movin’ too fast. It feels so natural and easy because you’re my best friend, but that doesn’t mean --”
“No,” the older woman interrupted, shaking her head adamantly. “No. It should be natural and easy. I’m over thinking things, the way I always do.”
“Hey, I’m agreein’ with you,” Brenda pointed out. “You might as well enjoy it and quit arguin’ with me, because it doesn’t happen all that often.”
“I don’t want you to agree with me this time,” Sharon protested, a small furrow of frustration appearing to mar her smooth forehead. “I completely overreacted the other night. You should be doing anything but agreeing with me right now. What is the matter with you?”
Brenda arched an eyebrow, hoping to convey without words just how nuts the captain was continuing to be. “What’s the matter with me is that I’m tryin’ to do the right thing by you, Sharon Raydor. It all sounds good in theory that this should be easy and come naturally, but when we put it into practice...” You run away like you’re competing for an Olympic medal, Brenda thought, but tactfully did not add that part in. “We get into trouble. I’d rather we don’t rush into what we think should be happenin’ between us and just...let it happen as it will.”
The blonde ran her fingers through Sharon’s hair, wavy from the updo, still awed by the newness of the sensation of those silky strands against her hand. “Besides...it’s not the first time you’ve overreacted or overthought somethin’, and it’s probably not gonna be the last. A girl’s gotta be patient if she plans on gettin’ what she wants.”
“And what do you want, Brenda Leigh?” the captain asked, drawing the other woman in closer.
Brenda brushed her lips ever-so-gently against Sharon’s, letting their mouths touch without easing them into a kiss. “Cake.”
Sharon promptly blinked and then gaped while Brenda snorted with laughter.
“You, Sharon. I want you.” She wrapped her arms around her waist and rubbed their noses together. “And I intend to have you, complete with all that crazy.”
Though Sharon wouldn’t admit it to Brenda Leigh, it was exactly what she needed to hear. She recalled that old adage--the best of friends were the ones who know you and liked you anyway. “You’re going to regret saying that one day.” She kissed Brenda’s forehead. “You mark my words.”
“Maybe...but I’m stubborn. And even so...that day ain’t today, so no use worryin’ about it now.”
Sharon stared for a moment at the younger woman, unable to fathom that this unique, incredible woman that she was dating was the same person she had once defiantly loathed. It was startling how wrong she had been; her intuition, which had always served her without fail, had been completely off--in the aspects that mattered, at least. Her chest swelled with an emotion so strong that tears prickled in her eyes. She darted her eyes up toward the light fixture, deeply breathing until those tears were stashed away for another time. “I hope you’re hungry.”
Brenda couldn’t stop herself from giving the other woman a lascivious once-over. “I sure am. It smells amazin’ in here.” She sipped her wine, rolling the bitter red liquid around her tongue, and inhaled deeply. The scent of the food seemed only to highlight the texture of the wine and she hummed deeply in her approval. “What’s cookin’?”
“Roasted lamb and potatoes,” Sharon replied, smoothing her hands along the apron.
“And what kinda cake did you bake me?”
Sharon shivered at the warm timbre of Brenda’s voice. “I baked you a triple chocolate layer cake.”
Brenda’s face flooded with heat and they each recalled that very first slice of cake that had started it all. She smiled slowly, and Sharon smiled back. There was an anxious glint in those lovely green eyes, and Brenda found herself instinctively reaching out to touch the older woman’s hip -- just the slightest glancing contact. “Let’s you an’ me enjoy ourselves, all right?” Her thumb twitched; if she pressed just a little harder, she was sure she would be able to feel the line of whatever undergarments Sharon wore beneath her dress--if any. With great effort, she pushed away the thought...for later. “I think we’ve earned a night off from all this serious business, wouldn’t you say?”
A smirk--a genuine Raydor smirk--graced Sharon’s mouth. “Speak for yourself. I’ve been slaving away over a hot stove for you all evening.”
“Looks like I’ll have dish duty, huh?”
Sharon kissed Brenda’s forehead. “I’ll let you eat your cake first.”
“Why, how very generous of you, capt’n.”
The brunette’s smirk twisted her mouth into a preposterous shape. “Hmm, yes. I have a generous soul. I can be very... giving.”
Brenda swallowed hard as her imagination went careening toward all Sharon Raydor might have to give. The clink of silverware against china pulled it skittering back, and she looked over to see Sharon deftly maneuvering the steaming roasting pan out of the oven and onto the stovetop, her hands covered with bright patchwork potholders. The captain lifted the lid, gave a single satisfied nod in the direction of the contents, and glanced over her shoulder at Brenda. “The meat needs to rest for a bit. Will you get the salad out of the fridge?”
Relieved to have something to do, the deputy chief quickly complied. She had no trouble locating the large, plastic-topped bowl in Sharon’s predictably spotless, well-organized refrigerator, but she stood there staring at it, gazing into the Frigidaire’s depths. The cool recirculated air was a welcome sensation against her overheated cheeks, and she breathed deeply and steadily, reminding herself of all she’d just said to the older woman. They needed to take things slowly, for both their sakes, and not get ahead of themselves. Brenda felt confident that this was the right decision, but that confidence did nothing to slow the quick, impatient thump of her pulse.
It was like that cake that was waiting for them after they’d finished the no doubt delicious dinner Sharon had prepared. Real grown-ups didn’t eat their dessert before they had their meat and veggies.
A vivid image of a naked Sharon Raydor holding a chocolate layer cake appeared before Brenda’s eyes like a glorious mirage, only to be succeeded by a more vivid image of herself eating Sharon as if the captain were cake. Not even the Frigidaire could compete with the flood of heat that washed over her.
“Oh, my,” Brenda whispered, feeling dazed.
“Brenda?” That low, clear voice was tinged with amusement and exasperation. “Salad? It’s in that big bowl six inches from your nose.”
The blonde seized the salad bowl, hugging it to her chest, and slammed the door with unwonted force. “Dressin’?” she asked brightly, forcing a big smile.
From beneath one cocked eyebrow Sharon leveled a skeptical look at her face, which Brenda knew had to be a mottled red. “Oil and vinegar,” the captain replied in that droll little voice of hers. “Not, alas, green goddess.”
Brenda rolled her eyes as she finally relinquished the salad bowl, setting it down on the worktop. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it up to me. Just how tired is that roasted lamb?”
Sharon blinked. “It needs to rest for fifteen minutes,” she replied, plainly hovering somewhere between irritation and humor. “More wine?”
“Please.” Brenda heard the eagerness in her voice and reminded herself not to gulp Sharon’s nice vintage down as if it were Kool-Aid. The last thing she wanted was to get tipsy and spoil the evening Sharon had planned.
As Sharon refilled their glasses to proportional levels, Brenda wondered what the other woman had planned for their evening. It occurred to her that the details didn’t matter; Sharon could have suggested that they silently read budget reports on separate ends of the sofa and Brenda would have been happy. What they did was irrelevant, as long as they did it together. She warmed at the thought, at the knowledge of just how much Sharon Raydor had come to mean to her.
A goofy grin spread across her face.
“What’s that look for?” Sharon asked, corking the bottle as she set it on the countertop.
“Oh, nothin’....just...happy to be here with you right now.”
Brenda had been nothing but patient with her, which Sharon had to admit must have been a strong concession on the other woman’s part. How long would it be before Brenda stopped being patient? How long would this last?
A surge of insecurity roiled in Sharon’s stomach and she pushed it away. In the years that they’d known each other, Brenda Leigh Johnson had been full of surprises. Even Sharon, who was so certain of most things and almost always trusted her instincts, had to consider the possibility that Brenda might just prove her wrong. She smiled and raised her glass. “To being happy--right here, right now.”
Brenda’s smile was so beautiful that Sharon’s stomach clenched. Their glasses clinked. “To us.”
***