Bring My Pride In

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

It was a concept that - at one point - was unbelievable. Penelope Blaise in the beginnings of her senior year of high school would have never believed it to be possible. She would have scoffed at the idea of growing into liking Lucy - she even loved the Australian before she was sure if she liked her. Now? A friend. A wife. There weren't enough labels that could properly hold her title.

And when she spoke like that, Penny couldn't help the way her hands tightened their hold on the ink manipulator. She was kissed like they were truly in privacy, and Penny wished they were. Especially when she was being clever.

"It can." She breathed, because she wanted it so. And because it was a boost of her own confidence to hear it as it was put. So she let it be.

"When can you leave?"

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

There was no great privacy in the space they occupied. Glass windows invited the world outside as openly as the unlocked door or the welcoming neon sign hanging true.

Was that desperation lining her tone? She was almost sure of it.

"It'll be a few hours, I bet." Lucy replied, shrugging her shoulders through how irked she sounded by the fact. But she had reason. She had given her love the greatest reason as to why she should maintain her current reputation.

She did her best not to sound so torn, and so she replaced it with something understanding instead; "Gotta get us to England somehow, my love."

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Penny knew the answer that she was going to be given, especially with the reasoning her love had just provided. Yet nobody brought an irresponsible side out of the Brit like Lucy did. In part, she wished to have had the same affect on her.

But Lucy provided that nickname which had Penny's heart racing, and her hands had yet to move from below the psychometrist's waist. Worse, the ink manipulator even sounded as if she was struggling with the decision.

"I know." Penny offered. At the very least, she could acknowledge the hard work her counterpart was doing to get them to her home country. She appreciated every effort, but was rarely one to actively show it. But she still leaned forward to catch her lips again, hardly rushed in her approach.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Acceptance felt rare. Lucy felt reluctance from her counterpart, and it echoed in her own actions. Thoughts. Feelings. Every little thing clouded her mind and made her want to call for weaker judgement. She wasn't supposed to be level headed. She was Lucy.

She did move her hands, eventually, but they grazed across the body beneath them with an obvious sense. Longing. Disapproval for her own removal. Her palms pressed to the counter behind her instead, and she lifted herself up to sit at the edge, legs apart with space enough for a body between them.

"I love you." She recited, dying to reach out again. How easy it would have been. How difficult she made it for her.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

There was barely pressure in the hands that tracked along her form, but it still put an arch in her back that she had no control over. When she felt them draw away, Penny felt the beginnings of her own protest, but her counterpart hadn't moved far. And where she did, there was space already for her to step into.

Penny moved easily, hands dropping to press atop either of Lucy's thighs. Words of love still hit her with the same force as the first. The Australian knew better than anyone how to overwhelm her. It wasn't fair, given the space they were in, but the placement of her own hands were treading dangerously within not caring.

"I know." She replied as her voice dropped to a whisper, choosing to accept those words rather than reciprocate them, though hardly because she didn't feel it herself.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

It didn't take any prompting for Penny to realise the directive Lucy was handing back to her. She might have regretted having to move her hands, but it was all part of the idea that there was better proximity to achieve. It was second nature, now, but it still had her threatening a smirk to its own simplicity.

She made a point of keeping her hands exactly where they were, even if she didn't feel like she was making enough of a connection as they were. Fingers had to curl around the edge of the counter to keep them stagnant, because she wasn't to be trusted quite as well now that they were like this.

Because naturally, she was so close. And she knew it wouldn't take much time for nails to track the inseam of her jeans. "I know you know." She replied finally, tracking her own voice low to try and keep up; "You still deserve to hear it."

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

It had only been moments, but Penny was still longing to feel those hands return to her form again. Instead they found strength against a counter, perhaps making up for the bold placement of her own. Because as she had called it, her nails tracked across the rough material of jeans to the inner seam, and there they tightened to make up for the frustration building within her chest.

Because those words were hard to handle in a space like this. They were hard to handle anywhere. Especially in a place where she had no control. It was her place of work, but she was practically handing power to the pyschometrist.

"I love it when you say it." She admitted. It was selfish, but being loved was such an extraordinary thing. She never believed she'd get used to those words despite how she knew they were true. They would forever put a falter in her breathing and bring a bolder side out of the Brit who's hand was daring upwards.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Lucy had never really been good at self control. It was the entire reason their relationship had sprung as it had in the first place, because that lack promoted action that would otherwise seem ridiculous. She felt the way her own legs tightened against the body between them, because she didn't really want her to move away. She didn't want to see her leave.

But she had also never been subtle. She was never good at it. She could never keep her mouth shut and it had always been something loved about her. Short of breath already and that hand had only just been tracking her body now.

"Days like this are torture." She admitted, because she absolutely knew how her love was feeling. There was an obvious strain in the time they spent together when things felt restricted. It was why she moved how she did. And she tilted her head back a fraction, indicating to a short enough series of steps that could have been taken to make this so much easier. A closed door was surely close enough.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

With legs tightened around her own form, Penny was quick to pick up the mixture of signals being thrown her way. All of them pointed in one possible endpoint, but the tilt of Lucy's head, she didn't have to look to know the direction she pointed in. But she couldn't properly move. Or, rather, she didn't want to when she had a grip like that held on her. When she spoke like that.

No longer on her thigh, fingertips threatening along the edge of her love's belt. She herself already felt short of breath.

The tip of her nose dragged along Lucy's lightly. "Lucy." Penny tried, but she didn't know what she was aiming for. Verbalizing her thoughts was never a strong point.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

There was an obvious difficulty to the situation put in place. Arguably, Lucy was to wear a majority of the blame from her own actions. She had coaxed her counterpart so close. She had decided to speak as she did over the subject she knew she couldn't properly handle. It was all relative. So she wanted to amend the obvious struggle that rolled its way through her love's mind. Hands held steady to the belt she wore, and it was only impacted further by the small connection made in tandem with her name now in the air.

"I know." She replied. It didn't take a forward statement to get Lucy on side with the way she was thinking. At least, she was often certain she knew where they were going. Some things didn't need to be said, and that was the beauty of this.

It was why Lucy knew there would be a stint of reluctance the second she freed her. Without applying pressure from either side, there was nothing actively keeping her there. She was trying to be good about the placement of her own hands. "You can either stop, or come with me." She reasoned, giving a clever enough raise of her eyebrows because while she could and would be accommodating, she was still Lucy. Sliding off the counter only left her in the space between her and it.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

It seemed as if her love had understood her completely. All it took was for Penny to call her by her name, and everything unsaid followed almost naturally. She held onto the ink manipulator still, even closer now that she moved from the counter without Penny giving her the space.

But words of reason were given to her - or as reasonable as either of them could truly be. So Penny exhaled, partly in her own frustration and partly for the way her counterpart talked. Naturally, she wanted to argue, but it was never like Penny to argue about something like this.

Instead, she kissed her again to account for the desperateness that burned her skin. Her hands pressed instead to her hips as she began to take a step back away from the counter.

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Despite how she had eased herself from the counter, Lucy was still stuck. She still felt caught by her love and between a harsh set of difficulties. It almost didn't seem fair to stall as she had, but it was necessary. And it worked, given the way footsteps were taken.

She followed willingly. After all, it was her own idea. She knew then that she shouldn't have pushed.

"What made you want it so bad?" Lucy asked her. Despite how she knew she shouldn't have, a real part of her had to know. There were a great many concepts thrown around in the last conversation had, and she was sure she was going to pay for them all.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

At the very least, her counterpart wasn't backing down on her footsteps. She followed in a space where she should have led, but Penny still took charge to bring them towards the more private work space Lucy had. Her fingers curled around the fabric of her shirt, and a misstep had her footing faltering as she felt the overt desire to flirt with the girl she called her wife. Like she wasn't truly that person - only for a split second in the eyes of a freshly tattooed stranger.

Her hand reached up to press a palm to Lucy's shoulder, and briefly, she felt confusion over the question. Or rather, what it was referring to.

"Why not?" She asked, "It's something to be proud of." Except, of course, Penny would never have gotten the tattoo she spoke of. And with the furrowing nature of her eyebrows, she caught herself. She tried to correct herself; "Want what?"

[Lucy Serrano-Blaise]

Though Lucy was usually adept at catching instances where other memories overtook a moment, she missed it entirely. Perhaps it was the notion of being so distracted in the first place, or the fact that the very possibility had completely slipped her mind. Either way, she was enthralled by the nature of her love and the steps they took. The hands that stared to work the fabric of the clothes she wore, if only for a moment or so. She stumbled, but really, it was never easy to direct someone backwards.

Lucy laughed at the notion of pride. Though it made little sense as to where her counterpart was jumping to, in her own mind, it was funny. It was the threat of a conversation she rarely dared to go anywhere near.

And then she was asked, like pieces were falling into place again. "This. Me. Now." She replied, a broad grin overtaking her features instinctively. At lest she didn't laugh again, "Was it something I said?" Of course it would be; such was the general way when the psychometrist found herself overwhelmed.

[Penelope Serrano-Blaise]

Penny had to be thankful that her failure hadn't been picked up on, and though her slip had her flustered, she tried her best to stay on point. It didn't slow her footing as they walked, because at the very least she had no plan to stop. Her hands curled into the fabric of the clothes of her love, doing her best to will away another shot of memories.

At the very least, the question posed had brought color to the Brit's cheeks - a distraction enough to keep her mind busy as she parted her lips and failed to actually speak for another moment.

"IS your existence alone not enough of a reason?" She asked instead, though quietly. She was rarely one to humor her counterpart with anything of the sort, but a small exception came into play here.