This chapter was written by the wonderful and sexy @coop-writes, who has been working with me on edits and plotting throughout the entire fic. Please go read all her stuff because she is an amazing writer and deserves all the love and praise <3
Their rush to the bedroom was usually a competition, a playful back and forth as Cat and Lena grappled for control. Cat found a sense of novelty, almost, in the moment of hesitation at the doorway. She and Lena exchanged a glance, deciding how to move this forward, and instead of competition there was… partnership.
It was nice.
It was a mutual decision when Lena stepped forward and pulled Kara into a sound kiss, scraping her manicured nails against Kara’s scalp. Kara melted into the sensation and Lena indulged it for a moment before she wrapped Kara’s hair around her fingers and tugged. Kara pulled obligingly back, lips still open, and Lena spun her around into Cat’s arms.
Cat picked up where Lena had left off, taking Kara’s bottom lip between her teeth, biting down a little more cruelly than she would have if she didn’t know that Kara was invulnerable, that she had no power to hurt her.
That was a lie. Kara had handed over that power almost the instant she had come into Cat’s office for a 10:15 interview. Kara chose to make herself vulnerable, and Cat had resisted that temptation so well. Here was her reward.
For @sometimesangryblackwomanwho prompted me with “Peanut plays in Regina’s makeup” a while ago. Sorry this took so long! Partially inspired by a certain Parks and Rec episode (x) though it grew in the telling.
Everyone is quick to comment on the particular blue of Vera’s eyes, the match of her father’s, and Regina nods with them, smiling faintly, all the while thinking (half affection, half exasperation) that the similarities hardly end there.
Their daughter has learned well from Robin, has practiced her own variety of sleight-of-hand since she could move under her own power, and it’s these mildly criminal tendencies she chides Robin for, with a put-upon grumble, when he endeavors to steal the covers away, again, on the nights he thinks she’s fallen asleep first.
“You’re incorrigible,” she tells him, “and you’ll make our house a den of thieves.”
She has already caught Henry fiddling at his bedroom door with an amateur lockpick set, and Roland has a knack for lifting sweets from their hiding places in the pantry, and Vera… as soon as Vera could toddle around the house, objects had found their ways into her tight little fists, secreted away in romper pockets or in the blanket folds of her crib until liberated by one or more members of the family during their daily sweep for lost things.
“And will you mind it so very much? Living in the company of such thieves?” Robin asks as he disappears a kiss behind her ear and draws it from her anew, from her lips, before listening for her answer and, ever so tactfully, not reminding Regina that she had once collected hearts with the same vigor that Vera collects lipsticks, nicked from the vanity table that Regina would swear was above the toddler’s reach.
She shakes her head (she disapproves, really, but there is something winsome about all this gentle thieving still) and lets Robin show her just how clever-fingered he can be, runs her own hand over his chest, around the rim of his heart, with a greedy longing.