A/N: Written for the Brenda/Sharon Month of Love. Closer-verse. Brenda/Sharon established couple. Complete ridiculousness. Oh, and my first foray into this fandom.
With each relocation, kitchen table to living room sofa to patio chair, one hand clasping her wine glass and the other inside her pocket and gripping her phone, Sharon Raydor was turning more and more into a woman she refused to be. She sneered at her own self, the obsessive way she kept opening her recent messages to see if she had missed a text, the way her right index finger kept up a steady thrum against the side of her glass, her constant and deliberate attempts to find some other train of thought to occupy her mind. All were harsh pieces of evidence that she was turning into a fretting and ridiculous mess as she waited, on a Friday night, for some girl she thought quite pretty to pick up the telephone and call her.
Enough! She'd had the same behavior when it came to Marty Wesley and that had been in the seventh grade and turned out he did call, eventually, and ended up asking her older sister Karen to the Dance Your Socks Off Junior High Winter Festival.
Sharon had decided then that waiting around for shit just didn't suit her all that well.
Brenda Leigh would call when Brenda Leigh called.
The woman stood to move herself indoors, but then glanced down and analyzed the action. No! She ran a hand along her neck and rethought the thought with a little more poise. No. No, she would not continue to aimlessly move about. No, she would continue to sit outdoors. It was lovely out here. The June night was just perfect. Warm but still requiring of the light sweater the brunette had draped over her shoulders. It was half past six and the summer month sky still streaked of color, darkness over an hour to come.
Sharon sat back down. Crossed her legs and allowed her posture to slump for the first time all day. Better, she thought.
Her pool had been cleaned that morning and the clean water was enticing and sharp, not one dead June bug in sight. She could enjoy this. Another sip of the Pinot noir, a slow tilt back of the head as it came to rest against the back of her dark wicker patio furniture, and yes, this was quite nice. Peaceful and wouldn't Brenda Leigh look just lovely sitting next to her, hair down and open, her limbs all on display and relaxed. And, no!
Brenda Leigh was no longer some unattainable fantasy. The blonde had spent many an evening out here, sprawled next to and sometimes even on top of the older woman. This very chair even. And since Sharon Raydor was properly courting the woman (Brenda Leigh's word, not hers), and doing a fine job of it if she said so herself, well there were bound to be even more evening spent out here, together and just being. Although, the word in of itself was pretty ridiculous. Courting. Brenda Leigh tossed it around just about all the time. And wasn't courting the thing that happened before the sex and gosh, they'd been sleeping together from the very beginning of all this. And just because Brenda could be a little shit about things, Oh Daddy, don't be silly. Sharon and I aren't datin'. She's courtin' me. Well, all the same, Sharon didn't really give two flying fucks about what they named it. If it came with smirking lips and Brenda's morning face and shared evenings and the slow unwrapping of histories and the sharp tongues that turned into having other far superior uses, well then Brenda could walk around telling people they just got pinned for all it mattered.
Besides, the girl would call when she... A swim!
Yes, Sharon would take a swim.
And with that thought she stood, went inside to change (left her cell phone inside and on the kitchen counter!) and was completely immersed in water in under ten minutes. Take that!
Sharon Raydor, fifty-eight, rolled her eyes at her own self-congratulatory thoughts, slicked her hair back and began her laps.
There was one missed call and three text messages. All from Brenda Leigh. Sharon tried not to grin too hard, standing there in her kitchen, hair wrung but still dripping a bit down her neck, towel wrapped firmly around her waist.
The first message had come in twenty minutes earlier.
It's done. Come over.
Fifteen minutes later had come the second message.
Please. Sorry. Come over, please.
Which was followed immediately by,
This is Brenda BTW.
Well, that was concerning. Brenda knew Sharon hated shit like that, the gentle massacre of the English language and Brenda herself was just about as out of the loop with anything remotely popular as a person could be. But before Sharon could wonder more, a new message came in.
p.s. I'm drunk. Don't judge.
Sharon snorted, thumbed out a quick response, telling her she'd be there in twenty.
This was okay. This she had prepared for. Along with a few other likely responses one might have when in the situation Brenda Leigh had been in today. Fritz was up for some big promotion in D.C. and with it came a complete, interviews included, background check on his life. Which meant Brenda Leigh had spent all afternoon being grilled about her ex-husband, their marriage, and its dissolve.
Twenty minutes later, however, and Sharon was pulling into the driveway of Brenda's condo, using her own key to open the other woman's front door, and finding out that she was surprised.
Her eyes took in the situation, soaked up the scenario, and quickly realized that this exact response was not one she had had thought of. This she was not prepared for at all.
"Oh, snap! No needin' GPS here bitches!" Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson shouts to what she thinks is an empty room.
Her girlfriend is sitting cross-legged on her living room floor, ass parked five feet in front of her television. She's got a glass of Merlot wedged between her thighs, both hands gripping a video game controller, and half a Ding-Dong crammed inside her mouth. She's wearing tight gray briefs and a baggy t-shirt, hair in a messy spilling ponytail, glasses sliding down her nose.
Sharon blinks again.
The television lets out a string of chimes as some car with a blonde princess spins through a row of gold coins.
"Yeees!" Brenda shouts, releasing one hand from its death grip on the controller to grab the remainder of her dessert from its place on her bare knee. She jams it into her mouth before quickly grabbing the controller in both hands and turning her torso and arms to the side, thumbs punching buttons like crazy. And then suddenly, "No, no, no. Oh, no! I just hate the banana peel!"
And sure enough there's a slipping and sliding sound and then Brenda's character goes spinning off a rainbow and into an ocean. "Oh shoot!" the blonde pouts, slapping her thigh.
Sharon clears her throat. "Ah, Brenda?"
The younger woman snaps her head toward Sharon's voice. "Oh, you made it! Come in, come in. Don't just stand there. Come sit. I'm in fourth place!" Brenda smiles wide, shoots Sharon a scheming grin and then turns back to the screen as the princess is hauled out of the water by some translucent crane and set back on track. Brenda's car screeches off.
Sharon, eyes still wide, steps fully inside Brenda Leigh's apartment. She pulls the door shut behind her, sets her overnight bag down and steps closer to the clearly delusional and to soon to be forty-eight-year-old woman playing video games in her underwear. Some little graphic is clicking around in a circle at the edge of Brenda's game and a delightful squeal of joy comes tumbling from pink lips when the icon turns into a lightening bolt.
"I'm bout to jerk a knot in all y'all heads!" Brenda shouts, hits a button and the whole screen goes black, flashes like lightening while cars on either side of Brenda's go willy nilly and the princess goes zoomin' past.
Sharon just stares, mouth now officially open. Jerk a knot in all y'all heads? Good lord what did she just walk into. She decides she needs her own glass of wine and slips behind the blonde towards the direction of the kitchen. Not that the younger woman notices, too enthralled with dodging green shells being thrown her way from behind. Maybe this is how Brenda keeps her reflexes sharp? The game and the ease in which Brenda maneuvers through it is a clear indiction that this isn't the first time she's played. The half empty Costco sized bottle of Merlot sits in plain view on the kitchen counter.
Half way through her pour, Brenda's voice comes hurling from the living room, her shout whipping around corners and making its way to where Sharon stands.
"Sharon! Final lap! Final lap!"
The brunette snorts, takes a few healthy swallows from her glass, tops it off, and heads back into the living room. Her game plan? Take her cues from one very intoxicated and possibly out of her mind Brenda Leigh.
The blonde is now on her knees, bare skin on carpet, wine glass balancing precariously right beside her as she leans towards the screen, shouting obscenities at the other drivers.
Sharon has never heard her girlfriend curse this much. Wasn't aware her girlfriend knew this many curse words. She sneaks up behind the blonde and grabs the woman's wine glass and relocates it to the top of the television stand.
"In my way, in my way!" Brenda shouts and Sharon leaps aside. Brenda just keeps on talking, "Don't you worry, don't even worry. I cannot be stopped. Take that you sissy asshole!"
Sharon takes a moment to look at the screen to make sure the other woman is in fact talking to it and not her. And yes, Brenda's princess is launching a green shell at the back of the car in front of her. The princess giggles and so does the one sitting on her haunches surrounded by, Sharon counts, eight Ding-Dong wrappers.
The haphazardly thrown and crumpled foils are the real indication here that Brenda is having some sort of break from normalcy. Brenda Leigh only just recently started consuming her precious snack cakes in Sharon's company. Two weeks ago, to be precise. Sharon remembers the date. She had pulled up to her own condo while Brenda was parking her own Crown Vic on the street. She had waited for the other woman on her doorstep, opened her front door and allowed the blonde to enter first. They did this often, this was their now routine. Left work together, drove their separate cars to Sharon's, entered the condo, poured wine, planned dinner, etc.
It hadn't even been a particularly rough day for either of them. And yet, Brenda had kicked her heels off, ruffled through her tote, and produced the treat. She had held it flat on her palm while she crossed the room and sat herself down on the couch. Sharon had been taking her jacket off, her attention not on Brenda Leigh at all when a loan moan seeped through the room. Body relaxed and head rested back, the younger woman had her eyes closed as she chewed her way through bliss. She'd even opened her eyes for a moment to find Sharon, had held the treat closer to her own body and then timidly asked if the other woman wanted a bite. Sharon had only laughed, shaken her head in the negative, rolled her eyes when relief flashed over the blonde's face. So, the fact that the treats are now being consumed without thought, without deliberation, without wholehearted concentration and appreciation, is concerning.
"Just Mario left, Sharon. Just Mario." Brenda's voice comes out low and the contrast startles the brunette from her thoughts as she takes up residence in an overstuffed chair off to the side. "I am not lettin' him get away," Brenda continues. "I have got him in my- dammit! Squirrely lil' fucker."
Sharon can no longer help it. She starts laughing. Hard and sudden, the noises bursting up and out of her mouth at the pure ridiculousness that is everything right now. She knows eventually she will have to ask Brenda how the meeting went and eventually Brenda will have to answer. But right now, Sharon cannot control herself. One sharp look from the blonde has the older woman kicking her shoes off and pulling her legs up, attempting to hide her laughing face behind her knees.
And just as she gets her jean clad limbs arranged in a way that she can discreetly giggle behind, Brenda pushes her glasses up her nose with her forearm, finally locks onto her opponent and blasts him to high water less than a video-game-foot from the finish line. Blonde hair streams past the blundering Mario and whips over the checkered black and white.
"Yes!" Brenda shouts, leaps to her feet and then immediately jumps up and off to the side. "Ooh!" The woman lands and is still doing some weird tip-toe bouncy thing as she scans the carpet. "Where did it- I thought I-"
Sharon just points to the Merlot glass she placed out of spilling range.
"Oh!" The blonde grabs her glass and smiles into it before taking a mouthful. She swallows and pulls her face from the glass, her eyes landing fully on the woman sitting in her living room. Her grin goes from drunk-happy to drunk-sly so fast that Sharon's laugh is cut dead short. Confetti rains from the screen.
"I'm the winner," Brenda practically purrs, raises both arms up above her head and Sharon has to use her own glass as a shield so not to grin too hard into her girlfriend's face as she approaches.
The blonde doesn't seem to notice and instead stalks right on over, eyes slightly squinty and with an air Sharon thinks is suppose to be sexy. The approaching woman hands her glass off, barely making sure Sharon has a good grip on it before letting go. And Sharon makes a bit of a gasp at the exchange but then Brenda has her hands on either side of the chair and is leaning towards the woman and bare thighs are all pressed into Sharon's knees and the woman's shirt is all loose and exposing Brenda's collarbone and so Sharon just holds both glasses, smirks at the girl, and waits.
Brenda, fingers gripping the fabric covered arms of the chair, leans even further forward. She sways dangerously close and ends up almost splashing her face right onto Sharon's.
"Whoa there," Sharon says, reaching out to steady her girlfriend, but with two hands full she ends up just brushing her forearm against the air between them.
Brenda, however, is not fazed. Princess Peach, ultimate Mario Kart Champion, will not be distracted.
"Kiss me," Brenda says, her face less than a handful of inches away. Her voice all breathy and ridiculous.
Sharon raises an eyebrow. "Cause you're the winner?"
Brenda closes her eyes at that, hums her agreement, continues to speak with her lids lazily shut. She soaks in the truth of her coming statement. "I am. I am the winner."
And Sharon cannot resist. Brenda is flushed and beautiful and silly and good lord the woman is all bare legs and close. She holds her arms up and out so to avoid a spill and grabs Brenda's lips with her own. It's slightly harsh and warm and Sharon greedily accepts Brenda's tongue into her mouth, sucking gently and fully as the other woman breathes heavily.
Brenda finally pulls back, eyes still closed and smiles wide. "I'm definitely a winner," she drawls.
And Sharon loses it, laughing up and into the other woman's face. Reaching out to set the glasses down on the end table, the low laughter still ringing out.
"Hey," Brenda pouts and Sharon just rushes to grab at her hips and pull her down on top of her.
"You're laughing at me," Brenda pouts, even as she rearranges her limbs so she's comfortable and all on top of the other woman.
"Well, that's just real nice."
"Hmm," Sharon murmurs, nuzzling into Brenda's neck even as the other woman holds her head up so not to give in.
"Don't you want to be nice to me Sharon?" Brenda finally asks, slowly relaxing into the body and making her neck more available for the soft lips that are searching.
Sharon hums again, against her skin and starts to place open mouthed kissed along the smooth expanse of her girlfriend's pale throat. "Yes, yes Brenda Leigh I do."
Brenda grins, a bit too victoriously for Sharon's liking. And the older woman just knows Brenda is equating the triumph of getting her to admit to a positive and sappy emotion to that of kickin' Mario's ass. Sharon runs her hands along the other woman's back, drawing her in even closer. She connects their mouthes and both woman hum more eagerly into the touch. Hot and wet tongues, purposeful and slow.
"I can think of a few ways," Brenda murmurs between kisses, getting a distracted head nod from the brunette. "In fact, I can think of a real good way for you to be real nice." She moves her mouth away from the demanding warmness that is Sharon's and nips a bit at her jaw. "Wanna hear it?"
"Okk-ay," Sharon pants, frowning when Brenda pulls back.
Brenda shoots her a smirk and Sharon, god Sharon is ready to agree to just whatever dirty thing the woman has in mind.
The blonde leans forward again, her breath hitting against Sharon's throat. "Balloon battle," the blonde whispers into the shell of the other woman's ear. And then she is pushing off the warm lap, and eyes glinting hard, wide smile, teeth on display and everything.
The missing warmth is sudden and unexpected and Sharon swore she was less than five minutes away from getting a naked Brenda Leigh. "Balloon battle?" she asks, confusion coating her tone.
"Get your game face on Raydor. I happen to be really good at balloon battles." Brenda snaps, yes snaps, her fingers and points both index fingers at Sharon. And then she's turning away and is suddenly on her knees again and digging into the depths of her T.V. stand and producing another controller and Sharon is only then figuring out that they're back to talking about video games.
"Brenda," she tries, her voice that of schooling a petulant child.
"Oh no," Brenda starts, calling over her shoulder. "You're bein' nice, 'member?"
Sharon tilts her head, can't help watching the gorgeous ass that is on view, snaps out of it when the woman returns to her haunches after plugging the device in.
"Fine," Sharon concedes. "But first," she holds up her hand to hold off anything Brenda is about to say. "Are you okay? What happened today?"
Brenda turns to face her lover, still sitting on the carpet and peering up at the sincere green eyes of the woman who has completely surprised and enthralled her over the past few years.
"I am," she says, her face turning serious. "You just know how much I hate people pryin' into my private life and they kept askin' all these questions about how would Fritz respond to this kind of situation and would he this or would he that and you know, I didn't really know. Which was pretty depressin' seein' as I was married to the guy. Gosh, how do you even put up with me?"
There is a beat and there is a pause.
"I have no idea."
Brenda goes back to pouting. Sharon just smirks.
Brenda stands and crosses back over to the woman. Sharon pulls her back down on her lap.
"Yes," Sharon nods. "You can be a little shit," Sharon runs her finger along the scowl that is now on full display across from her. "But, I just happen to like you just fine how you are. Got it?" Sharon says, puts her hands around the back of Brenda's neck and squeezes a bit as she rubs her other hand along the woman's knee.
"Fine," Brenda concedes, moves in closer to Sharon's body, kisses her. "You too," she says. "Most the time at least," she mumbles against the woman's throat.
Sharon snorts, slaps the half of ass that is exposed to her. More caress than sting but Brenda yelps anyways, raising her head a bit to shoot her surprised look in the other woman's general direction.
"So, balloon battle?" Sharon asks.
"Nah," Brenda starts. "I'm gettin' sleepy." She shifts even more and drops her head to the other woman's shoulder.
"That's good," Sharon says, running her hands underneath the back of Brenda's shirt, palms finding warm skin. She drags her nails down lightly. "I would kick your ass at Super Mario Kart."
Brenda snaps her head up at that. "Oh, look who knows what the game is called," she drawls, a pointed look on her face.
Sharon laughs, leans in to nip at Brenda's lips. "I raised two kids, Brenda. What's your excuse?"
Brenda just blinks. "You, you've played battle balloon before?"
"Hmm." Sharon kisses the stunned and non-responsive woman on top of her. "I never believed in letting my kids win at all things. Everyone has to learn to lose. And Mario Kart?" Sharon's voice drops to an even huskier octave than typical. "They never won at balloon battle." Which is complete bullshit. Whatever version of this game her kids had over two decades ago definitely did not have balloon battle, but Brenda definitely does not need to know that.
And it works because Brenda's eyes go wide. She leaps off the woman's lap and in thirty seconds she's got more wine poured, controllers and screen ready and is grinning like a huge ole' fool. Sharon is still laughing. This thing she can't seem to stop doing when in the presence of Brenda Leigh.
"I am not playing on the floor though," the older woman says, pointing at Brenda and zipping her finger in the direction of the couch.
Brenda mumbles something about sixty-year-old knees.
"What was that?" Sharon asks, mouth open and green eyes narrowed. She tugs at Brenda's hip and pulls the standing woman to her.
Brenda is laughing. "Nothin', nothin'. Just, the colors of the game must be really surprisin' and all seein' as the last time you played, the thing was probably in black and white."
Sharon presses her lips together while Brenda taunts her. "Fine," she declares, pinching the woman's bare hip. "No mercy. You, honey, are getting a first rate lesson tonight in losing. And losing big."
"Oh, really," Brenda Leigh laughs, moving to the couch and pulling the fuming woman down with her. She hands Sharon a controller and then picks up her own. She hits a few buttons and the sound of the game fills the room. "Hey, Sharon?"
The brunette looks over at the smirking laughing woman she has somehow come to adore. "Yes?" she asks, tolerance low for anything else about to come out of those pretty lips.
Brenda raises an eyebrow at her, "Care to make it interestin'?"