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“You know, her boyfriend, Hower, is in love with you,” Gabrielle tells Xena as they switch places in the task of washing the grime off of their backs. She doesn’t pay much mind to Gabrielle’s assessment given the task at hand; her attention is focused on finding the soap. “Hmm,” Gaby continues, “Guess I’ll have to straighten that out, too.”
“Why you?” Xena asks, failing to see how Hower’s infatuation – certainly not love – was Gabrielle’s responsibility.
“Because I do the sensitive chats,” Gabrielle answers, a touch of pride brimming in her voice.
Wanna bet? Xena thinks as she counters Gabrielle’s assessment. Maybe when it comes to other people, Gabrielle took the lead on discussing feelings and expressing – at times, naïve – empathy. But when it came to the two of them, Xena and Gaby, Xena knows without a doubt who they are to each other. Maybe she doesn’t discuss it in the tropey, usual way, but her dedication is permanently anchored to Gabrielle.
A sudden surge of hot water hits her and distracts Xena her from egging Gaby on. She exclaims, “That’s enough Minya!” With a glance at Gabrielle, she adds, “Thank you.”
“Sure!” Minya – the girlfriend to the somewhat thick-skulled Hower fellow who enlisted Xena and Gabrielle’s help to fight off a giant– says. “Have you got your plan yet?”
“Well…” Xena starts, still seeking the soap. It has to be in this tub somewhere.
“We want you to collect all the mirrors in town,” Gaby interrupts.
“Is that what you want, Xena?” Minya asks.
Xena’s neck prickles uncomfortably. If she didn’t know that Hower and Minya were together already, she might think Minya was the groupie to look out for. Then again, maybe they both were groupies to look out for. “Yeah,” Xena answers. “For now.”
Gaby gives her a provocative look. Or at least a proactive look within the context of bathing together. “What?”
“You said, ‘For now.’”
“So?”
“You’re not gonna do that again, are you?”
“What?”
“You know what,” Gaby says, and a few different options flash through Xena’s mind. Present-minded as ever, she can’t help but imagine exactly what she could do again in this tub full of hot water with Gabrielle. Ever on task, though, Gabrielle continues, “We set up a perfectly good plan, and then you change it at the last minute.”
“Well, you gotta be flexible. It comes with the job,” Xena answers, fantasizing briefly. If she could just find the soap, she could wash it over Gabrielle’s back, lower and lower, holding her still with one arm as the other reached around her hips to her battle-won washboard abs… “Are you sitting on the soap?” Xena asks.
Gaby mutters, “Oh… I wondered what that was.”
Seriously? Internally frustrated, Xena splashes. Not at anything in particular, just in general.
But Gaby splashes back.
Not one to be bested, Xena splashes more water, aiming for Gaby this time. A teasing light dances in Gaby’s eyes, almost flirtatious, as she splashes back again. It’s not quite flirtatious though, Xena realizes, and she remembers the Chakram earlier. She defiantly splashes Gabrielle in earnest. With a shriek, Gabrielle splashes back, and neither one of them can stop themselves from smiting each other with warm water and declarations of vengeance.
“I—was—doing—you—a—favor!” Xena shouts as Gabrielle shuffles to the other side of the tub, giggling, and Xena reaches out for the soap once more.
“Favor my ass!” Gabrielle yells back, hitting Xena with a wave big enough, water goes up her nose. She teases, “You know you want to!”
Xena sneezes involuntarily. Frustrated in multiple ways, she tosses the soap at Gaby’s face. She dodges, barely, as Xena says, “Favor your own ass!”
The playful light in Gabrielle’s eyes changes, takes on more bite. “What, like you favored your own ass with my scrolls?”
That kills Xena’s flirtatious mood, too. With one last splash at Gaby, she stands up out of the water, “All right, that’s enough! We’ve got better things to do than waste Minya’s hard work.” She pauses, taking a small bit of gratification with how color rises to Gabrielle’s cheeks while sitting at the receiving end of Xena’s full-frontal view. With a snort, though, Xena reaches for dry towel and clambers out of the tub.
Her spell over Gabrielle broken, the blonde quips, “So you appreciate her fervent efforts now?” Splashing nearby suggests that Gabrielle has also climbed out of the tub.
“Do I appreciate a hot bath after a long journey? Yeah, I do.”
“You know what I mean,” Gaby admonishes her, a note of jealousy in her voice.
“Do I?”
Blue eyes catch each other. Xena quirks her brow at Gabrielle. A shiver rushes up Gabrielle’s spine, but she has no chance to do anything about it; Xena has already fully dressed, and she heads out the door, watching Gabrielle over her shoulder as she fixes up her long black hair. For a moment, she has a mind to chase after Xena and pull her back into the tub. Then, her stomach churns, and Gaby remembers the fucking frying pan from this morning. Ruined. And now, she has half-cooked, half-gutted eel in her own guts.
By the time Gabrielle gets dressed and follows after Xena, she can see Hower running out of the village, Minya watching him go. Xena approaches Gaby, confides to her, “When Hower gets back, one of us has got to talk to him.”
“Hmm,” Gaby nods, already drafting a speech for Hower in her head based on previous versions of the same speech. Each one formulated to assuage varyingly incompetent men’s feelings without expressing what Gaby would say if she wasn’t so stinking compassionate. But it’s fine—she channels what she would like to say to all these entitled men into whenever she next encounters Ares, God of War and Not Taking No For An Answer.
Speaking of stinking: Gaby watches as Minya gathers some cooking implements nearby. “Minya?” she starts. “Is this your frying pan?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you wanna trade?”
---
Now she’s done it. Xena decided she wanted to do the ‘sensitive chat’ with Hower, and now she has done it!
Gabrielle stares up at Xena’s… contraption, flying off toward the woods with a mind of its own. She races after it, shouting at the floating piece of parchment with a belt-buckle hanging on it as if it’s an actual creature that can hear her. Parchment that better not be more of my scrolls, Gaby thinks, and her pace slows to a stop. Shortly enough, Xena’s contraption dips out of the sky into a tree’s upper branches. Hands on her hips, Gabrielle catches her breath, stares up at the tree.
“Yeah, I’m not climbing that.”
With that, she marches back to the village of Laurel. Absently, she recognizes Xena’s tracks into the barn where Argo is being kept, then she realizes with delight that she recognizes Xena’s tracks! Giddy, Gabrielle sizes up the situation and clambers up to the roof of the barn, giggling as she hides.
Shortly, Xena stomps out of the barn, calling for her. “Gabrielle?”
It does not occur to Gaby right away why Xena would call for her in the village when she’s supposed to be flying the contraption out in the fields. She shouts enthusiastically, leaping from the roof at Xena’s head. Only as Xena steps out of the way, leaving Gaby to belly-flop against the hard dirt beside her feet, does it strike Gabrielle that Xena knowing she’s in the village means she must have given herself away while climbing atop the barn. Her pride bruised, Gabrielle pulls herself up to her feet by way of Xena’s belt and breastplate. Small consolations.
Not just her pride. Gaby’s certain her stomach will be bruised from her fall in the morning.
Xena glares at her.
“You know, I would have had you if I hadn’t done the war cry,” Gabrielle insists, ignoring her screaming ribs.
“Yeah, sure you would,” Xena dismisses. “It’s your turn to talk to Hower.”
Of course it is. “Right. Your flying parchment’s stuck in a tree.” And it better not be made of more of my scrolls, Gabrielle admonishes in her head. Xena and Gabrielle separate, off to tackle each half of the couple that they somehow found themselves in between without ever trying or wanting to do so.
“Hey, Minya. Come here, let’s talk,” Xena calls to the villager.
“Hrmph, like you talked to Hower?” she accuses.
“No, look,” Xena says. “Hower is not in love with me, and I don’t want to be anywhere in between the two of you. The thing is, everywhere I go, people have heard these stories of Xena—”
“Thanks to your little friend,” grumbles Minya.
Xena pauses, restraining herself. “Exactly. Gabrielle knows me better than anyone in Greece, anyone in the world. And she puts that friendship and care into her stories, so people feel like they know me that well, too. But they don’t. Not you, definitely not Hower. Just Gabrielle.”
Minya doesn’t meet Xena’s gaze, but the glare has left her eyes. “The same goes for Hower. I don’t know a thing about him – besides he’s not put off by leather armor and he’s willing to run into a warlord’s camp in order to help protect this village. You’re the one who knows him.”
Still, Minya remains quiet.
“So look, I’m not saying treat him how I’d treat Gabrielle. It’s different, you know. Hower’s a man. Men, you gotta spell it out for them sometimes, that you’re strong and beautiful all on your own, not for their attention. But the point is-is friendship. Do you understand what I mean?”
“Okay,” Minya says, nodding, suddenly bright-eyed. “Thanks, Xena!”
Well I tried, Xena thinks.
From the barn, she hears Hower shout, turns to see Gabrielle approaching. Her own words echo in her head, reminding Xena of the friendship and care she feels for Gabrielle. “How’d it go with Hower?”
“Not well,” Gabrielle winces. Xena blinks back her surprise; it does make her feel better about his rejecting her own rejection of his advances in no uncertain terms. How dense can you get? Gabrielle suggests, “Maybe you could kick him around a little bit?”
“Yeah…” That bad? Xena wonders what he said to make Gaby want him kicked. Then—“No, he might like it.”
“That’s true.”
Friendship, Xena ponders. Soon enough, she would avenge to loved ones of her old friend, Goliath… who she killed herself. Because they both had decided to be people who kept their word, not mere warriors. You must regret my friendship, Goliath. With a huff, Xena says, “You know, if this works, I’ll repay an old friend a debt.”
“Goliath?” Gaby asks. Friendship and care… Xena ponders Gabrielle in that moment. More than anything, Gabrielle truly is such a friend to Xena. Certainly, Xena has had her share of lovers over the years—but none of those lovers had been a friend, not even Borias. Not really; they were rivals in love. Gabrielle, on the other hand, she was a friend, who loved with her whole heart in such an uplifting way. It’s an important distinction in Xena’s mind. A true friend who wants the best for her, including the best version of who Xena could ever be.
“Yeah. I’ve always regretted that Goliath had to die. At least now I get to even the score for him. The giant that killed his family is headed toward the wrong village.”
“The dead can hear our thoughts,” Gabrielle reminds her. “I’m sure that he knows you care about him.”
Xena sighs, “Yeah.” She wonders then if Borias heard her thoughts, comparing him to Gabrielle. If he does, she hopes he understands the place he still has in her heart—a heart transformed forever by Gabrielle. Without all that Gabrielle has been and done to Xena, she never could have had the heart to regret Borias’s lost life so immensely, much less the life of another friend, Goliath.
Time to kill a giant.
---
Starring down at Gareth’s charred corpse in the giant burial ground, offended by the stench of his cooked flesh and electricity in the air, Xena nonetheless stands rooted to the spot. Imagining if she hadn’t apologized to Gabrielle and if Gabrielle hadn’t apologized to her. First. Because Gaby always comes in first.
Step by step, Xena returns to the village on foot, first by the road—pausing to kick Gabrielle’s impromptu sign—then following along a creek, which leads her to the field where they tested Xena’s flying invention, and at last she can spot the village through the woods. She watches Gabrielle practice her footwork with her stick as she approaches. When Gaby sees her, she stops and runs her way. They slam together in a hug.
“Did you—?”
“Yeah,” Xena answers, wrapping her arm over Gaby’s shoulders and across her back. “Gareth’s dead.”
“With the- the thingie?”
“Yep! It worked.” As they pull apart, Xena runs her fingers through Gabrielle’s hair, then kisses her forehead.
“Wait, wait—love you, Xena, but you smell awful!” Gaby giggles.
Xena laughs. “Maybe Minya will prepare another hot bath for us, hm?”
“Uhh, probably not,” Gabrielle corrects her, nonetheless wrapping an arm across Xena’s back as they return to the village. “She and Hower have been a little too preoccupied.”
“Oh? Gathering the rest of village from the hills?” Xena asks, faking ignorance.
“No,” Gaby answers. “They have not done that. At all.”
“I see,” Xena grins. “Perhaps we should assist them with this task. You know, instead of lingering.”
Gabrielle nods deeply. “Right, not a bad idea. Set up camp—somewhere else—then go get the other villagers tomorrow.”
“Maybe swing by Piedmont, too,” Xena suggests as they pick up their pace, headed to the barn for Argo and their supplies. “They might have frying pans and good cooking knives to sell there.”
“Give us, you mean,” Gabrielle says, smiling nonetheless. “You managed to save their village without ever stepping a foot in town.”
“We managed to save their village,” Xena says, leaning against the barn wall. She lifts Gabrielle’s chin with her finger. “Remember? You made a sign.”
“Sure, okay,” Gabrielle says with a smile. “We saved Piedmont. And Laurel. Without anything more than an over-eager messenger and a flying parchment contraption.”
“Invention.”
---
***
Gabrielle insists: They should camp near the creek so Xena can bathe before they eat or sleep or proceed with their service to Laurel. Together, they decided they didn’t want to risk what might happen if they asked Minya and Hower if the pair of emissaries for the village of Laurel might have a meal for the heroes. (Granted, Xena did agree with Gabby that Minya qualified as an accomplice in heroism, too.)
“Fire looks good,” Xena praises as she rifles through their bags for some soap.
“Naturally,” Gabrielle responds, tossing ingredients into their pot. It might not be a frying pan and—disgustingly—Xena did manage to use it in the fight this morning, but the pot is not ruined beyond use, at least. And at least she could simply leave it propped over the fire with minimal attention to cook dinner while enjoying the view.
Sure, Xena has spent most of the day smelling of pond scum, raw fish, and (horrifying) electrifyingly-cooked flesh. Yet now, she quickly undresses, without either inhibition or pride in front of Gabrielle’s sight. Xena walks calmly and confidently into the swift stream of thigh-deep, crystal clear water. She doesn’t falter once as she walks barefoot across stones and pebbles, taking a seat to wash herself. As she settles in to wash up, Xena raises her brow at Gabrielle—teasing her with a grin.
Even that, knowing as much (and as little) as Gabrielle knows about Xena, this level of teasing is downright cheesy. Innocent even. As if to emphasize the fact, Xena sticks her tongue out at her, before grinning to herself and setting about rubbing her arms with soap.
Allowing for an excellent view of her breasts.
Gabrielle rests her elbows on her knees and crosses her arms, grinning back at Xena all the same. She just… oozes sex without ever trying to do so. Today’s hijinks prove it. And Gaby can’t resist it anymore than Hower. Or Minya for that matter. However, she differs from them and anyone else in two important ways: For one, Gabrielle would never assume she has any access to Xena—her heart, her mind, her soul, or her body—simply because Xena is sexy; and secondly, Gabrielle nonetheless has no desire to resist Xena’s sexiness. Nor any need to do so, if she so desires.
After a day full of tests to her faith in Xena, tests to her own patience, but tests that prove brittle to the strength of their friendship. The scholars—all men, by definition—discuss women like Xena in a derogatory manner for their ‘manliness,’ their performance of it anyway.
Performance nothing. Xena oozes sex in any and all genders.
“How’s the soup coming along?”
“Oh!” Gabrielle chokes on her thoughts, transforming it into a laugh with some effort. “It’ssss coming!”
“Ah-huh,” Xena grins over her shoulder at Gabrielle, next examining her toes. A sigh escapes Gabrielle, and the day’s frustration escape with it. Long, raven hair clings to her surprisingly lithe back, decidedly hiding neither Xena’s elegant breasts nor her battle-worn musculature, shining in the water churning and splashing around her body as she sits.
No wait, she was sitting, wasn’t she? Where’d she go?
A moment later, Gaby’s eyes adjust to the fact that Xena is no longer sitting in the stream but rather approaching Gabrielle. Xena’s blue eyes haze over while watching Gabrielle, a look that she knows is drawing a blush to her skin even under her clothes. She stops her trek just at the shore, the stream coursing around her ankles, leaving Gabrielle to lick her lips on dry land.
“I’m hungry,” Xena says, her voice even gentler than when she apologized to Gabrielle earlier in the day, her blue eyes even kinder. Distracted as Gabrielle is looking up from Xena’s seemingly delicate ankles to her strong, lengthy legs… to her flawlessly rounded hips paired with muscular abs… and of course, those sky-blue eyes, amber firelight dancing in them…
“Huh what?” Gabrielle squeaks, too quiet for Xena to hear (hopefully).
The warrior woman reaches her hand out to Gabrielle, palm up. A hand covered in scars from battle and a childhood of farming, calloused and inviting. Xena repeats herself, gentler still: “I’m hungry, Gabrielle.”
Distantly, she knows she could quip that the soup’s not done cooking. Tease Xena back. It would be enough to send her grinning back to her bath in the stream. Instead, Gabrielle runs her hand over her long, red-blonde hair, roaming her own blue eyes up and down the willing body of the dearest person to her (outside of her own family). A beloved friend, as Xena liked to say.
Bashfulness nips at Gaby though. Once more, she runs her hands through her hair, returning her gaze to only Xena’s eyes and only Xena’s ankles. “Hungry, huh?”
“Yeah.” The hand remains outstretched. “So? May I eat?”
Mustering all her courage and bravery, willing herself not to squeal with blissful elation, Gabrielle raises her head and quirks her brow—gazing at first at nothing at particular because if she looks directly at Xena while she speaks, she will burst into flame without a doubt—and says, “You may.”
Her hand in Xena’s, she walks forward only a few paces, until just her feet are submerged in the stream. Xena’s lips adorn her forehead first, and she slowly lifts Gabrielle’s arms to rest on Xena’s sturdy shoulders. She rests at ease as Xena tentatively runs her hands over those arms to Gabrielle’s shoulders, then down the fastening of her top. Though she loosens it, Xena’s hands roam down the sides of her ribs. Her lips roam, too, burning at Gabrielle’s temples only to soothe her startled brow. Gaby gasps as Xena’s wet skin—her abdomen, the underside of her breasts, and ticklish curls between her legs, too—press against her own stomach and legs. But Xena’s lips move quickly, gathering that gasp with a smile. She takes yet another from Gabrielle as her skirt suddenly no longer wraps around her own hips.
Left open and exposed to Xena’s touch—save for where their chests meet, her green top still hanging loosely between them—Gabrielle blushes thoroughly. She’s sure of it; there’s no other way to feel this warm in a cool stream at night. Blinking up at Xena for assurance, she finds it in the restfulness upon her beloved friend’s face.
“You always look so at peace when…” Gabrielle whispers to Xena, unable to finish her thought completely as Xena’s lips glance across her eyelashes.
Softer yet, Xena hums in agreement. “That’s because I am.”
Gabrielle tightens her arms over Xena’s shoulders, pulling upon the back of her neck. Her lips seek Xena’s out, eliciting another hum that pleases Gabrielle in both its cheerfulness and surprise. In a matter of moments, however, Xena’s sweet gentle approach devolves (just as Gabrielle knew it would). As soon as she nibbles on Xena’s lip, a harder bite is returned, followed by the press of her tongue. Eager to let her in, Gabrielle moans around Xena’s tongue, giggles as those tough hands deftly remove what little separated their bodies.
“Finally,” Gabrielle mutters.
“I am trying to be nice,” Xena growls.
It’s short-lived though, as Gabrielle does her best to pull them closer together yet, longing to feel the pressure of Xena’s breasts upon her own. Longing for the weight of their bodies grounding her the same way every little look today tied her closer to Xena. Even in moments of irritation and hurt, this incredible woman’s eyes tethered Gabrielle in a way she hoped she would never need to resist. She tells Xena through sloppier, rougher kisses and bites, “Don’t be nice. Mmph!”
Xena’s hand at the back of Gabrielle’s head pushes her mouth against Xena’s collar. Willing and dutiful, Gabrielle sucks on the flesh there, breathing through her nose to prolong the bruising kiss. Meanwhile, Xena sucks in her breath and lifts Gabrielle up off her feet. That alone would be a feat, without a doubt; Gaby briefly opens her eyes to look at their surroundings. The image of them both naked by the fire in the rushing stream during the deepening night sends a wave of desire down her spine, at last removing her lips from Xena’s chest. For a mere second, she admires the deepening purple.
Then she realizes she is falling, and yelps.
“You’re not falling,” Xena assures her. Gabrielle looks around quickly, notices her surroundings. Xena’s arms surround her. One hand holds the back of her head still, the arm supporting her upper back. Another arm wraps underneath her waist, still hoisting her in midair, just above the shallow water. When she meets Xena’s gaze, the softness is back, ready to catch her.
Despite herself, Gabrielle gives raises her brows, communicating enough for her without a word—Okay. Wow. Unnecessary showing off?
If Xena’s little feral look could speak for itself, she would definitely be saying, You ain’t seen nothing yet.
And she is right.
Xena drops her to moss a few inches below, literally making a splash. The next thing Gabrielle knows, Xena’s lips are pressed to hers again and moans are escaping her lips because Xena is also very much pressing her body between Gabrielle’s legs. And everywhere else.
Again, the simple fact of what is happening—Xena, ‘warrior princess,’ is seducing her, Gabrielle, fully nude by a crackling fire on a perfectly beautiful night as pristine waters rush over their legs—sends thrills down Gabrielle’s spine. The sensation is powerful enough to make her kisses stutter against Xena’s lips and her spine arc up against the weight of all Xena’s muscles and the cloud-like serenity of her breasts. More, she wants, though the request comes out as a simple groan. Xena hears her loud and clear.
Calloused hands hold Gabrielle down at the wrists. She raises her head to watch as Xena gives her inner thigh a quick peck before diving tongue first beneath the blonde curls above her clit. The sudden heat and specificity of Xena’s tongue lashing against her tightens the coil. Gabrielle whimpers, only to have one of Xena’s hands press her chest down to the ground. With a glance into blue eyes staring up at her, Gabrielle is both grounded once more and somewhat terrified of how mad she might become in Xena’s embrace. Even as her tongue trails lower on occasion, teasing Gabrielle with other possible pleasures, Xena’s lips grip and moan round her center consistent and determined. Her wrists are once again bound by just one of Xena’s hands. Just Gabrielle’s fingertips can reach the crown of Xena’s head, sweeping her dark bangs out of the way so she can still watch those eyes.
For a moment, she thinks she’s already at the edge of orgasm. Gabrielle leans her head back, eyes shut tight against the night. “Fuhuack Xenaaaa!”
Then she feels Xena’s fingers.
Gabrielle’s eyes fly open, seeking Xena’s once more.
Taking a soft breath, tender blue eyes gaze back at her. “Gabrielle,” Xena breathes, awaiting permission. Blinking herself to the present, Gabrielle registers the question: Two fingers dally just under Xena’s chin, while the other no longer holds her wrists together, rather tracing gentle caresses over Gabrielle’s lips.
Before she can form words, Gabrielle feels her body alight like kindling. “Y-Yes, Xena, yes—mmm!”
Son of Athena! she thinks, whimpering immediately. Xena’s lips return to eating all the warrior can stomach and more as two fingers press smoothly into Gabrielle from one end and her opposite thumb becomes the most succulent treat Gabrielle has ever placed between her lips. Her whimpers transform when she hears Xena moan for her, breathless for her, Gabrielle—more than any mere lover, more than a friend by Gabrielle’s assessment, but both. As Xena gently pumps into her, she strikes against the perfect spot, and Gabrielle drops any pretense.
“Fuck,” she whimpers. Her hands return to Xena’s hair and holds on tight as the whole universe shrinks down and everything within her expands…
---
“It looks like a bear to me.”
“A bear?”
“Yeah!”
“How do you get a bear?”
“Look it, look,” Gabrielle says, pointing. Xena tries to see it, she does. “There’s the body, look. See the little ears and… the tail.”
Xena feels aglow after just… excellent sex and food and—
WHACK!
“Oh!” My nose!
“Xena?” Gabrielle, who she fully just dined upon, appears in Xena’s peripheral vision. Along with her s t i c k. For fuck’s sake. “Oh no. I-I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”
She actually got me, Xena realizes. Oh no… “I’ll live,” she says, defenses rising.
“I’m sorry! I-I never thought I’d-I’d really hit you. I—!”
“It’s all right,” Xena says gruffly, utterly heartbroken. I’m not in love, I’m not in love, I’m not— “Let’s just try and go to sleep, now, okay?”
…
“Did you just let me hit you?”
Xena tries not to roll her eyes too much. “No. You nailed me fair and square.”
“You did, didn’t you? You… You let me hit you because you feel sorry for me!”
Wait what no! Then Xena hears the light in her voice. She’s okay. More than okay. She’s… perfect. “Go to sleep.”
“All right,” Gabrielle agrees, snuggling in.
…
“I know you let me hit you.”