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Its cruel, Beatrice thinks. This should have been Ava’s first proper Christmas.
Her first with her new family, her new life, her new…person, or whatever Beatrice supposes she could have been with Ava. She tries not to dwell on it too much, she can’t. Because every time she does, an all too familiar ache pains her chest.
It’s Beatrice’s first proper Christmas too. Growing up her parents didn’t really believe in it; rather, they didn’t believe in the catchy pop songs, or the movies, or in decorating the house in joyful, festive paraphernalia. They most definitely didn’t allow horrendously ugly Christmas jumpers or socks.
It was a strictly religious holiday, which she supposes it traditionally was. What she struggles to understand though, is that the birth of the Lord was a joyous occasion, a day of celebration and love. Not cold stares and disapproving tuts when she lingers too long, staring longingly at the line of children waiting to see Santa.
Oh no her gifts were practical. Books, non-fiction of course, clothes which were simple and plain. She longed for what the other children had, so much so that it hurt. She used to write letters to Santa, even though her parents told her he wasn’t real when she was 5. She would write and ask him not for a present, but for freedom. For fun and for friends.
There was always a low abundance of friends.
And so, she sits here. At her crooked wooden desk, in front of a frosty window overlooking Edinburgh. The apartment was slightly pricey as it was in the city centre, but the Catholic church certainly isn’t low on money that’s for sure. She was offered a ‘pension’ of sorts when she revoked her vows and left the Cat’s Cradle.
She wrote to her parents and received a strongly worded letter back. She could feel their disappointment deep in her bones but cannot find the will to care.
The apartment’s nice, its small and cold and full of mismatched furniture. Ava would love it; it reminds her of their apartment back in Switzerland.
The glow of the candle illuminates her letter, but it can’t be blamed for the heat she feels in her cheeks. That is to be blamed on the childish task she is currently doing.
“Stupid,” she whispers, squeezing her eyes shut. She doesn’t know if Ava would laugh or do the same.
She’s writing a letter to Santa at 23 years old. What has become of her?
Beatrice signs her name at the bottom and reads it over, gnawing at her bottom lip thoughtfully.
Dear Saint Nicholas
How are you? My name is Beatrice, though you will likely already know, despite not having delivered to me before.
I am very much aware of the fact that at my age and maturity, it is perhaps childish and rather pathetic to write to you.
Despite the fact that this is an activity of young children and over excited adults (I’m sure you know a few), I am writing to ask you for a favour.
My friend girlfriend.
My Ava. She has been lost to another realm, peculiar, I’m aware. Though you have pet reindeers and a corporate business run by brightly coloured elves so who are you to judge?
Sorry, anyway I have prayed and begged and done all I can, but its been five months and I’m exhausted of the feeling of my heart stopping whenever someone rings my doorbell.
So, should it be in your area of expertise, could you please direct her my way. I speak as though I know she’s alive and I do. I know.
So, thank you for your consideration and please, tell her I miss her.
Kind regards,
Beatrice (Former Nun)
She ducks her head shamefully, cheeks burning, and she folds the letter. Beatrice glances around her bedroom, smiling softly at the sparse decorations.
A festive red blanket thrown over the foot of her charcoal grey bedding, the snowman snow globe on her dresser, the admittedly adorable set of 3 wooden, carved reindeer in front of her on the windowsill next to her potted plants.
Her desk itself has a Christmas card from her neighbour Mrs Sutherland and a card sent from the Cats Cradle. Her lips twitch at Camilla’s messy excitable scrawl of affectious words, Mother Superion’s signature, Lilith’s very obviously disgruntled, ‘merry Christmas’ and Mary’s blocky scribbles with a crudely drawn image which was definitely crossed out by Camilla.
The desk had a small professional wooden desk tidy, equipped with a pen, quill and two pencils. Beside her letter to Santa sat her Bible. She looks to the open page and smiles.
“Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!
Shout, O daughter of Jerusalem!
Behold, your King is coming to you;
He is just and having salvation,
lowly and riding on a donkey,
a colt, the foal of a donkey."
“Zechariah 9:9,” she mutters as she closes it over, standing and grabbing her letter.
Even the Bible calls people to rejoice and celebrate, so why do her parents live as though everything must be done perfectly with precision. Why must they suck the joy out of everything she’s ever had an interest in. Anyone, she’s ever had an interest in.
They are the reason she feels so isolated, living her life in solitary confinement, shamed of her own skin, itching to tear it off and hide.
Ava once said they should try and pull the sticks out of their butts, Beatrice at the time winced and chastised her.
Now she smiles.
The living room and kitchen are part of an open area, the fireplace is connected to the wall of her bedroom, near her bedroom door. The bricks are uneven but its nice. She doesn’t love things to be just perfect.
Above it, a reasonably sized television on the wall, she’s been watching movies Ava always quoted and complained about when Beatrice didn’t recognise them.
They were out on a lake, on a rowboat to be exact. Beatrice has been trying to improve Ava’s confidence with water and their time in Switzerland seemed like the perfect opportunity.
That was until the boat started to tip because it was albeit smaller than Beatrice had bargained for with the gap-toothed man, who rented them it.
Ava stood, knees bent, arms spread wide. The fact that she could swim at this point, relieved Beatrice, however the boat was still sinking and that was not fun at all.
A smile split across Ava’s face, “Bea we’re going to need a bigger boat”, she threw over her shoulder at a flustered Beatrice.
“Well yes Ava we will, its sinking.”
“Wait-no Bea, the shark.”
Beatrice scoffed, “Ava there is only otters and non-lethal fish in the lake, I checked beforehand.”
“No, Jaws! The big shark that ate a bunch of people. The movie Bea!”
They did in fact need a bigger boat. Beatrice sulked all the way home and Ava convinced her to buy both of them ice cream. She remembers the way the wind caught Ava’s short hair and how she spluttered while almost tipping her triple scoop cone over. Pistachio, bubble-gum and Oreo flavoured, she’d insisted and guilt tripped Beatrice into buying them because she’d never had them before.
She kneels in front of the fire; onto the vintage rug she’d found at one of the small Knick knack shops commonly found around Edinburgh. It was soft, against the dark, worn wooden flooring. She carefully moves the fire screen away and is blasted with an even stronger heat than before.
The bright flames lick the alcove and rise into the chimney. Beatrice closes her eyes and breathes in the smoky scent of burnt wood. Raising the letter to her lips she kisses it softly, squeezing her eyes shut and tosses it into the flames.
She watches as its consumed by the fires warm embrace and lets out a deep sigh.
She stands to move around the coffee table to the sofa facing the fire. The rest of the apartment is still quite bare. There is a bookshelf to the left of the fire, still on the same adjoining wall as her bedroom. Its filled with biblical texts, encyclopaedias, dictionaries, and research journals. But also, some other texts.
Recently she’s been expanding her palette when it comes to literature. There are some classics such as the Odyssey, The Picture of Dorian Gray, Jane Eyre, Frankenstein, Dracula, the Hobbit, 1984 and many others. There’s also some more…personal ones, she might say.
A few feminist books, books on inequality, racial inequality but also, some silly romance books.
Except their not your normal run of the mill romance books, and Beatrice could almost always feel them burning in the back of her mind when she first got them. The shame she felt upon indulging herself and reading stories rather similar to her own. To her and Ava.
At first when reading about two women openly loving each other so proudly, it felt as though something cold and heavy sat in her stomach and a hot poker, pricked the back of her neck, but now.
Well, she still feels rather conflicted. Its not something that just dies away, something growing for years can’t just be removed so easy. That hate that shame, its rooted deep inside. Planted by her parents.
But she can’t fully understand the disgust of indulging in forbidden fruits because if it was wrong, if it was vile and disgraceful; why did kissing Ava feel as though she was floating. Light and so, so happy. How can something so beautiful be viewed as horrifying?
It is beautiful.
Ava was-is, beautiful.
A low purr pulls her out of her reverie, and she smiles when seeing her cat Algernon jump up next to her on the sofa. He’s a big black fluffy thing with white fur around his lips that looks like a moustache. His crazy, long whiskers tickle her cheeks as she picks him up for kisses.
Beatrice buries her face into his thick fur and breathes in that unique cat smell.
Camilla had freaked out when she found out Beatrice had adopted a cat. So much so that herself, Yasmine, Lilith and Mary all came over to visit “Beatrice” immediately. It was really so Camilla could spoil him with toys. Yasmine was spouting out cat facts faster than it took Mary to successfully raid her fridge. Mary doesn’t like cats, so she sat a safe distance away and tried to feed him tuna.
Lilith was a whole other story. Algernon hisses and she hissed back. The room was very quiet for a few minutes after.
Beatrice scratches his chin and stands up with him, making her way to the quinte kitchen area. It has brown counters, and the cabinets are painted a sage green colour. It needs some TLC, but for now, its perfect. The soft orange candles flicker against dark grey painted walls, it provides a comfort she feels has been absent almost her whole life. It’s almost perfect.
She places him down on the countertop gently and coos at him. One by one she feeds him his turkey Dreamies, a festive treat for the holidays.
Algernon huffs and inhales each one like it may be his last.
Beatrice makes her way over to the tree, which stands proud in the middle of her bay window. Its orange lights phase on and off slowly, the orange light makes the baubles glitter with warmth.
For the first time in her life, there’s actual presents under the tree. Mostly sent from the Cats Cradle, but also a small box from Mrs Sutherland and a soft looking parcel from her friend Iona. She met Iona at work when Beatrice got a job in a small book/café.
There’s also some small, wrapped toys for Algernon, as well a few other presents that Beatrice had bought months ago. For Ava.
It happened because of a conversation they had, walking home from the bar one night.
Ava giggles, head thrown back gleefully, and all Beatrice can do it try her absolute hardest to not look infatuated with her.
They pass a small antique shop, the window lit with odd bits and pieces.
“Ooh, Bea look!”
Beatrice peered towards what Ava had pointed at. It was a ring, a silver Claddagh ring at that. It was cushioned carefully in a violet velvet box.
“Get it for my Christmas,” Ava winks, throwing an arm around Beatrice’s neck playfully. Though Beatrice is fumbling for her brain to function normally.
“Ava Christmas is months away.”
“But Bea, I’ve never had a proper Christmas. They’ve all been spent with shitty nuns-”
“Language.”
“Yeah, yeah ok.”
The very next day Beatrice bought the ring. As well as other things. It felt silly to wrap them and put them under the tree, but she did, upon Camilla’s insistence.
Perhaps a Christmas miracle? She’d said to Beatrice on the phone, a few weeks ago.
Yet it is Christmas eve, and she’s not home. She’s still lost somewhere, alone.
Beatrice closes her eyes tight and reaches under her jumper to thumb the cross of her necklace and whispers a silent prayer.
“Come home.”
xXx
Ava waking up in bumfuck Kentucky was absolutely by no means where she wanted to end up after escaping Reya’s freaky ass realm.
Colombia, Kentucky. Population 4,996. The original home of Lance Burton a stage magician. That’s about all she found out after spending 15 minutes in a rundown diner, being fed pity fries and a glass of water. Because the waitress said she looked like, quote, “came from hell and back.” Unquote.
Which is not far off the mark by any means. Except Reya isn’t really the devil, she’s closer to God. God really is a woman, in the wise words of Ariana Grande. Who Ava DOESN’T listen too, by the way, she was just played a lot on the radio at the orphanage.
The woman, Marisha, was in her 40’s, with curly blonde hair that had very obviously fallen victim to dollar store hairspray. She spoke fast and Ava literally fell out of the sky like two seconds ago and is pretty sure she smacked her forehead against the ground so hard, she’s seeing stars.
Ava doesn’t have a phone or money, or anything really. Which obviously sucks balls.
As she’s chewing on a fry, she only just notices her runny nose and red fingers, as well as the slush around her boots and the wet strands of hair.
She swivels on her stool to look behind her out the window and her mouth falls open upon seeing a thin layer of snow outside.
“Hey uh, Marisha, right? Yeah, so um funny question-what day is it, oh and month?”
Ava gulps when the woman gives her a once over and wipes down the counter.
“December 18th sweetie. 2022, in case you needed that as well.”
Ava nods and smiles wide, Marisha turns away, and strolls back into the kitchen.
Ava’s smile immediately falls, and she turns back around to look outside. “Fuck, fuck, fuck me dude.” She whispers, chewing on her knuckle. “Bea’s going to kill me.”
Beatrice!
Holy shit she needs to find Beatrice.
She doesn’t have phone number, but the Cat’s Cradle does. Ava sheepishly manages to get some change off of Marisha and makes her way to the phone at the back of the diner.
She punches in the numbers and waits. It rings and her breathes become rapid.
“Hello, how do you have this number?” Yasmine.
“Yasmine, hey its me, Ava. Ava Silva. I made you a warrior nun which I’m not entirely sure was allowed but I’ve got a halo, so it makes me kind of a big deal around here an-”
She’s cut off immediately by Yasmine’s squeak and then there’s the sound of rustling and hushed voices on the other side.
“Uh hellllo?”
“Ava. You are alive. That’s fantastic.” Mother Superion murmurs down the line and Ava frowns a little.
“You could sound little happier mother.”
Mother Superion huffs a laugh down the phone and reaffirms her, “my dear I am thrilled, give me your location and I’ll send someone immediately.”
“Sweet, uh Colombia Kentucky.”
“I’m sorry did you say, Kentucky?”
xXx
After staying a light at the motel (the owner owed Marisha a favour), Ava stood on the curb, with her hands in the pockets of a University of Kentucky hoodie. Also, courtesy of Marisha.
At about 8 in the morning a non-descript black van pulled up, sloshing snow all over Ava’s impractical boots.
A whirlwind of blue barrels out the van and into her arms almost knocking her off her feet.
“Oh, Ava I’m so, so happy you’re ok!” Camilla squeals, pulling her tighter against her.
Ava grins and squeezes her back just as tight, Camilla’s escaped curls, tickling her neck. Camilla talks about a mile an hour, saying there’s a private plane to take them back to the Cat’s Cradle and how she brought fresh clothes for Ava to change into. Ava nods along but there’s only one thing on her mind.
“Where’s Bea,” she breathes out, her chest tight and stomach tickling with nerves.
Camilla hesitates, “why don’t we both get breakfast first?”
So here they are, sat opposite each other in faded blue booths. Camilla has a hot chocolate and pancakes whilst Ava is inhaling a full English breakfast, as well as waffles and a fruit bowl. And what may be the best coffee she’s ever had.
“So, Bea left the order and is living in Scotland.”
Camilla nods, there’s whipped cream on her top lip. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. But Ava, she never said what happened before you left, she-she was a mess.” Camilla pauses and hushes her voice, leaning in close. “She couldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat, she revoked her vows, Ava.”
Ava doesn’t know what to say, if Beatrice would feel comfortable with Ava telling Camilla what happened. But at the same time its Camilla. She’s like Ava’s sister, as well as being her (holy?) sister.
“Ok, don’t freak out.”
Camilla nods quickly, leaning almost completely across the table.
“I kissed her.”
“WHAT.”
xXx
“I don’t know how you can feel so calm when we’re like a gazillion feet in the air.” Ava hisses at Camilla who is dancing along the aisle of the plane to Christmas music.
She shrugs and just keeps dancing, pulling one of the nuns that accompanied her, Sister Dora, into a dance. It was funny because sister Dora looks like she could snap your neck with her biceps.
Ava tilts her head to the side, gazing out the window. Her thoughts always lead back to Bea. Her soft smile when she reads or sees a small animal. Her scowl when Ava does something stupid, the pinch of her brows whenever she did the crossword over breakfast.
Her curious eyes tracing over everything, noticing everything. How she could tell Ava had, had a bad day the second she entered the room.
Her hands, good god her hands.
Ava feels herself falling hopelessly in love with her.
She can’t wait to tell her that in person.
Herself and Camilla had agreed to return to Spain and meet up with the others. Ava will give them a debrief on what went on in her 5-month absence, then she will have a shower and make her way home to Bea. She’d made the others promise not to say anything to her, she wants it to be a surprise.
Before they know it, they land in Andalucía, Spain. She doesn’t know why she feels so nervous.
Upon pulling up to the Cat’s Cradle, Ava and Camilla exit the van and someone grips her arm. Next thing she knows is that she’s on her back, staring up at the sky and Mary’s angry face.
“What the fuck man, did you just deck me?” Ava shouts, standing up, whilst Yasmine, Lilith and Mother Superion appear from a nearby courtyard.
“Hell, yeah, I did and what are you going to do about it halo-bearer?
“Fuck you dude.” Ava scowls, shoving Mary’s shoulder and she hears at least five different voices call them out on their language.
Mary and Ava are locked in an intense stare, before Mary pulls her into a hug.
“Do anything stupid like that again and I’ll pull that halo out myself,” Mary whispers in her ear.
Ava grins and replies, “oh ok Lilith,” she mocks and Mary cackles loudly.
As soon as they separate, she’s hugged quickly and tightly by Yasmine who speaks a mile an hour, asking about every question she can think of, and all Ava can do is nod. Lilith squeezes her arm, but can’t meet her gaze. Camilla had explained on the way over that Lilith had come home, things were a little tense but better than before.
Lastly, she turns to Mother Superion, who surprisingly engulfs her into a motherly embrace and Ava has to swallow the sob building up in the back of her throat.
She hushes Ava and speaks softly to her, guiding her inside and to her room.
Later, a freshly showered Ava stands before everyone, giving a little presentation on what went down during her little vay-cay.
“So, she let you keep the halo,” Mary notes.
“To use to protect Earth against any threats, but she promises to not send any Tarasks to Earth anymore. Thank God-dog guys am I right?” It sounds stupid, but it’s what happened. Unless she was in a coma for like 5 months and dreamt everything.
She explains how it was basically some kind of morality test she had to do over her time there. Boring shit, which she doesn’t care to spend anymore time dwelling on. Especially when tomorrow is December 20th, and she still needs to get home to Bea.
Everyone is sat eating dinner, everyone speaks at once, talking over each other. Camilla steals a mushroom from Yasmine’s plate, while Yasmine gives Ava an update on everything that’s happened in her absence. While speaking about her training session she did this morning she says, “it wasn’t the best I’ve had.” To which Ava and Mary at the same time whisper, “that’s what she said”.
This then ques them to try and keep a straight face while Yasmine continues, unfazed. Except they keep making eye contact and eventually Mary snorts and Ava’s water comes out her nose. Freaking painful by the way. Lilith smacks the back of Ava’s head, and chastises her and Mary, to which Mary replies, “fuck you girl, lighten up a bit.”
To which Yasmine hisses, “Language!” Camilla steals a potato and Mother Superion tells them all to just eat their food.
Ava imagines this is what a family dinner must look like.
Its late by the time Ava retires to her room, feeling light and buzzing, yet exhausted at the same time. She’d spent the other half of dinner discussing her next plans and finding Bea by Christmas. Camilla being the absolute Godsend that she is reminded Ava to try and find Beatrice at least one present before Christmas. Ava doubts a jumbo-sized mars bar from the airport shops will cut it.
Beatrice is more of a Twix kind of girl anyway.
She hums at the thought of her. She turns on her side, pressing her nose into the pillow and inhaling softly. It’s been so long since she’s seen her, since she’s heard her laugh, smelt her hair. She’s lost Bea for longer than she’s had her. You’d think she was some goddamn widow, grieving her wife of 20 years of something. But she’s in deep, so, so deep.
She’s drowning in Beatrice’s love, and she won’t fight it.
The thought of her makes her heart race and her palms sweat. She smiles so wide her cheeks hurt and it feels so astonishingly good.
She wants to wake up in the mornings to Beatrice on the pillow beside her, the morning sun haloing her head. She wants to pepper her face with kisses to wake her up and dance in the kitchen to 60’s love songs. She wants to bring her on picnics and coffee dates, wants to tangle their fingers together at a farmers market.
She wants Bea to be hers.
More than anything.
xXx
The next day she has a duffle bag stuffed with some clothes and essentials. Plus, a new iphone (courtesy of Camilla) and a thick wad of cash (courtesy of the Catholic church) and is ready to embark on her journey to the land of the freaking Loch Ness Monster.
Before she was kinda sceptical because y’know, it’s a giant dinosaur in a loch BUT, her previous job was fighting demons for the catholic fucking church so she’s a little bit more open minded now.
She’s flying business, no need to take another private jet, as lovely as the mini bar was.
Her arms grip the arm rests so tightly that she feels a warm hum in her back and has to calm herself down before she phases out of a freaking plane.
The flight attendant flashes her a suggestive smile, she’s Norwegian, Ava thinks and pretty. Not as pretty as Bea. Very few people are, and she can say that confidently.
“Can I get you anything else ma’am?”
Ava squeezes her eyes shut at another bump of turbulence, “vodka will do it,” she says sarcastically and to her surprise the flight attendant (Kari, she can see her name tag now), smiles and goes to get it.
“Oh shit, no sorry I was kidding, it’s like 9:00 am, and I am not a fan of flying or flying things. Bats? Freak me the fuck out.”
Kiri laughs, showing pearly white teeth and lays a soft hand on Ava’s shoulder. She squeezes and Ava’s smile falls slightly when she realizes where this might be going. God its so hard being a freaking chick magnet.
“Well, if there’s anything I can get you, let me know,” she winks and saunters away.
This is going to be a long three hours.
The plane lands in Glasgow at 12:00 and Ava is so hungry she could eat an entire cow. So, she indulges in a huge ass burger at Frankie and Bennies. Next on her itinerary is to book a hotel up until the 24th of December, then drive down to Edinburgh. This way it gives her four days to get Bea the best presents you can find for a sweet, repressed catholic nun (former nun?), whose favourite animals are frogs.
Nevertheless, she’s going to find something she knows Beatrice will love.
xXx
Beatrice dabs at her mouth with a napkin, and reaches for her small glass of red wine.
She’d made herself a small roast dinner, lamb to be specific, with roasted potatoes, carrots, peas and mint sauce. With gravy of course. She’d had to do most of the cooking when in Switzerland with Ava. She’d tried to teach the girl the basics, but she managed to burn water and Beatrice just took over. She stands and cleans the dishes, putting them on a rack to dry and pours some more biscuits into Algernon’s bowl. Its methodical, as if her body moves only on autopilot these days. Beatrice grabs the extra glass she had laid out and put it in the cupboard. It’s silly, yes. But its something that gives her solace in times like these.
But she keeps going, keeps living for her.
She watches a Christmas movie, Elf. Ava had said it was one of her favourites, so Beatrice felt obliged to watch it. Watching buddy, the elf eat used gum strangely felt akin to something Ava would do. After it finishes, she stretches and yawns, its almost midnight, almost Christmas.
She stands again in front of her Christmas tree and closes her eyes shut tight. She thinks of her. Her eyes, dark brown with flecks of orange and gold. They were always happy yet held a beautifully gentle kind of regret.
Beatrice is well versed in godly beings, the worship they require and devotion they demand. But the urge to worship Ava to devote her entire being to her is stronger than it has ever been for anything else before.
The wooden clock on her fireplace mantle ticks and her head falls forward.
She should be used to the disappointment, but it still feels fresh and surprising every time a day passes without Ava in it.
Beatrice clears her throat and makes her way to her room when the doorbell rings.
She abruptly stops in her tracks.
Her mouth opens and closes a few times, she can’t hear anything over the thump of her heart and roaring in her ears. She makes her way to the door, and grabs the keys, jamming them into the lock and jerking the door open.
To see a familiar mischievous smirk, with one arm propped against the door frame, the other holding mistletoe above their heads.
“Merry Christmas baby,” and then Beatrice is on her.
She shrieks, grasping at Ava, and she grabs Beatrice just as tightly, they spin the hall rocking from side to side. She smells the same and her hair is the same length. Beatrice presses a kiss to the crease of her neck where she’s buried her head. Ava’s sharp inhale makes her grin.
They pull apart and Ava’s hands are on her chest, Beatrice’s cupping her cheeks as they butt heads and rub each other’s nose’s together. Beatrice may burst at any given moment.
Ava leans in and Beatrice pulls back, smiling at her annoyed pout.
“Inside.” She tugs at Ava’s corduroy jacket and Ava giggles, eye’s creasing and smile widening by the second.
“Hold on I got shi-er stuff with me.” She turns around and grabs a small duffle bag and what looks like a big shopping bag. She enters the apartment and puts them on the floor, looking around the place appreciatingly.
“Damn Bea this is nice I re-” She trails off when she notices Beatrice’s dark look, her hungry eyes as she approaches Ava. Ava backs up, squeaking when her back hits the door and Beatrice raises a hand to her face, stroking her cheekbones, she can’t stop staring at her.
She’s so beautiful.
Her thumb reaches Ava’s bottom lip, and she opens her mouth, eye’s black with anticipation and want. Sinning has never been so appealing.
“Fuck it,” she whispers, and Ava’s eyes widen in shock before they slam their mouths together. Its fierce and passionate and so unlike the one they shared back before. She’s never done this with anyone before, there’s no one she’d rather to it with. She bites down on Ava’s bottom lip and swallows her moan. Ava sinks her hands into Beatrice’s hair and pulls.
It was at that moment; Beatrice knew she had felt the touch of God because this is heaven.
Beatrice pulls her in closer by the hips and Ava moans again. Its dirty and filthy and downright sinful; Beatrice has never felt more alive.
Ava’s hands are grabbing at any piece of skin she can find, finally settling on Beatrice’s neck, pulling her down to meet her better, turning her head to another angle to deepen the kiss.
Cold hands sneak their way under her sweater and Beatrice jumps in shock. She looks wide eyed at Ava who looks like a little kid with her hands caught in the cookie jar. Lips swollen and cheeks dusted cherry blossom pink, hair mussed, and eyes dilated.
“Pretty great timing right, I mean bang on Christmas day huh?”
Ava grins smugly, looking pretty damn proud of herself. Beatrice rolls her eyes and moves to turn away, muttering to herself when Ava pulls her back in by the wrist. They bump chests and Beatrice looks down at the smaller girl, their noses touching.
“Sorry Bea what was that” Ava murmurs softly, looking only at her lips. A grin tugging at her mouth.
Beatrice mumbles again, avoiding eye contact with Ava purposely. The girl moving her head whenever Beatrice moved hers. “Sorry what?”
Her pearly white teeth are showing now, and Beatrice may melt on the spot.
“Well, I was just going to say I love you, but since you’re being annoying…”
Ava inhales sharply, her nails digging into Beatrice’s wrist, the other coming up to the base of her neck. Holding her, tight. “Say it again,” she hisses, looking at Beatrice’s eyes.
“I love you.” And Ava is on her again, she presses a series of short, firm kisses to her lips and they both end up smiling too much to continue. Their foreheads pressed against each other gazing into each other’s eyes. Both so, so happy.
“I missed you so much,” Ava whispers tearfully, “I’m sorry it took so long.”
Beatrice shushes her and pulls her into another embrace. “You’re here now,” she whispers into her hair, pressing a soft kiss down after it. Ava winds her arms around Beatrice’s waist and sighs happily, breathing in deeply.
She pulls back, running her hands up Beatrice’s sides, to lay them flat on her chest. Her lips curl and she says, “God you’re so cute,” in reference to the Christmas jumper Beatrice is wearing. It has Rudolph on it. Ava toys with the neckline and stares at her with adoration in her eyes.
They simultaneously lean in for another soft and sweet kiss. It’s awfully domestic and everything Beatrice has ever wanted.
Ava opens her mouth to say something when she spots something behind Beatrice.
“No way you got a cat!” She squeals and makes her way over to Algernon. Beatrice doesn’t have time to warn her that he’s grumpy towards new people, and watches as he hisses and swipes at Ava.
Ava jumps back, mouth hanging open.
“Algernon be nice.” Beatrice chides. Ava spins around to look at Beatrice shocked, mouth wider than before.
“You named your cat Algernon.”
“Yes.”
Ava blinks and looks around the apartment. She giggles and grabs her shopping bag, kneeling by the tree and pulling out poorly wrapped packages.
Beatrice moves closer, confused. “Ava what are those?”
“Christmas presents, for you!” She says as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Then something clicks and Beatrice frowns.
“Wait Ava,” Ava hums in acknowledgement, wriggling under the tree to arrange everything nicely. “How long have you been back.” She knows she failed to keep her voice steady and her heart pounds when Ava emerges from the tree, looking guilty.
“I’ll tell you all about Bea, but why don’t we sit down first?”
Beatrice grabs Ava’s duffle bag and grabs her hand, leading her to her bedroom. Ava replies by wiggling her eyebrows. Beatrice huffs and lays the bag down by the foot of the bed. “Alright ready to tell me all about your little advent…” She trails off when she sees what Ava is looking at on the top of her dresser.
It’s a flag.
The orange, white and pink isn’t hard to miss.
Ava thumbs the material of the flag and turns to Beatrice, eyes curious but understanding and patient.
She swallows and ignores the burning sensation in her chest. She’s never actually said it aloud before.
“I’m gay,” she lets out a deep breath and feels as though years’ worth of heavy shame and guilt has been relieved from her shoulders. No longer does she carry the heavy weight with her.
“A lesbian actually.” She nods to herself and Ava’s eyes glimmer. She reaches for one of Beatrice’s hands and kisses each knuckle.
She smiles and moves closer to Beatrice, “you’re beautiful and I’m so proud of you.” With that Beatrice pulls her closer and kisses her, it’s a little sloppy and messy but Ava has a dazed look in her eyes when they pull apart.
They meet each other’s gaze and smile.
xXx
The sunlight filters through the frosted window of the bedroom and the golden light paints Beatrice hair and face. It looks like a halo and Ava has never seen anything more holy in her life.
She stifles a yawn and is contempt to keep watching her sleep. Her eyes trace the freckles along her face and plump lips which Ava fell asleep kissing last night.
They’d laid in bed, after Ava had changed into pyjamas, and she told Bea everything. They then lay there, holding each other and trading sleepy kisses until they both drifted off to sleep.
Now she lies under Bea’s thick comforter on her unfairly comfortable bed, sated and almost delirious with happiness. Her stomach flutters at the sight of the woman next to her.
She smiles as Bea twitches in her sleep and moves closer, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of her nose. Beatrice huffs an rolls onto her back. Ava hovers above a presses a kiss to both cheeks, her chin, her eye lid, her forehead, her cheekbones and just about anywhere she can reach. The kisses are slow and soft.
Her lips are the only place left untouched and as Ava’s breath hits Beatrice’s lips, her lips twitch, puckering up. Ava grins and kisses her, smiling wider when Beatrice opens her mouth to welcome her.
“Hmm, good morning,” Ava whispers, in awe of the woman beneath her.
“Good morning indeed.” Beatrice replies sleepily. God Ava loves her.
She grabs her face again and begins to pepper it with kisses, “I love you so much.” When Beatrice blushes, Ava kisses it too. “It’s Christmas morning,” she squeals excitedly, sitting up, practically straddling Beatrice’s lap.
Beatrice sits partly up, leaning back on her elbows and Ava short circuits when she sees her jumper ride up and reveals a hint of abs. She gulps and stands, telling Bea she’s going to brush her teeth. The smirk on Beatrice’s face tells her she knows exactly what just happened.
She’s just spitting out the last of her toothpaste when arms encircle her waist and lips attach to her neck. She moans softly when Beatrice’s teeth pull at her earlobe. “Wait on the bed for me, ok?”
Ava nods and scurries back to the bed kicking her feet while she waits for Bea to finish brushing her teeth. When she emerges, she has something hidden behind her back. Ava quirks and eyebrow at her and Beatrice hands her a bundle of clothing.
Its elf themed pyjama pants. She squeals and hurries to pull them on completely forgetting Bea’s there. When she looks up, Beatrice’s ears are red, and she pulls her in for a kiss.
“Thanks babe, wanna open your presents now?”
xXx
Beatrice lets Ava tug her into the living area and watches her get the fire started unprompted. Its like she’s been living here for years with Beatrice.
Beatrice rummages under the tree, “do you want to open one of yours first?”
Ava pauses and looks confused. “What do you mean, Bea they’re for you.”
“Ava, I got you presents in case.”
Her lip trembles and just nods as Beatrice hands her a meticulously wrapped gift. She watches anxiously as Ava opens it. It’s a dark purple vintage Nike sweater, which had made her thought of Ava for some reason.
“Oh, Bea, I love it thank you so much,” she leans forward and casually pecks Beatrice on the lips. She sheepishly then hands Beatrice a messily wrapped gift.
It’s a box and she opens it slowly under Ava’s watchful eye. Her heart slams in her chest when she sees what it is.
It’s a simple gold cuff bracelet. She turns it around and on the inside is carved, In this life.
She bites her lip and Ava begins to ramble, “I’m so sorry if you hate it, I just thought it looked nice but if you don’t like it, we can totally get it returned or even replaced if you want-mph.” She’s cut off by Beatrice’s lips on hers.
“Thank you, my love,” she whispers against Ava’s lips and Ava whimpers.
They spend the next hour exchanging gifts and Ava watches as Beatrice opens her other gifts. A big shotgun from Mary and a bottle of whiskey, some books on Celtic mythology from Yasmine, a homemade scarf from Camilla and an expensive looking tea set from Lilith. From Ava she had some pieces of clothes, chocolates, a little porcelain frog figure, which she will sit on her desk, and a few other bits and pieces. Including a book about LGBT and the Catholic church. Ava nervously had said that maybe it would help her with a few things. Beatrice made out with her for a solid five minutes after that.
Ava had sweets and chocolates, some clothes, a framed picture of the girls back at the OCS, some earrings, a polaroid camera and some other small bits and pieces.
Lastly Beatrice handed her the small box and Ava jokes, “bit early for that Bea,” but her chuckle dies in her throat when she sees that it is in fact, a ring box.
Beatrice nods at her to open it and so she does.
Ava frowns for a second before recognition washes over her face. “Oh, baby you didn’t,” she breathes out in shock. Shaky hands pull it on her hand, she puts in on her left ring finger and Beatrice tries to not pop a nerve.
“When did you…”
“The day after you pointed it out.”
Ava huffs out a laugh, “that was freaking months ago Bea.”
Beatrice shrugs and is engulfed by Ava, who whispers her thanks into her ear.
Later they sit next to each other on the sofa, tea and coffee in hands, the polar express on the television, the roaring fire. For the first time in her life she feels at peace, and happy.
Ava has an arm slung around the back of the sofa, tracing shapes on the back of Beatrice’s neck, totally enraptured by the movie. Beatrice watches enraptured by Ava. She’s so pretty. Ava glances at her out the corner of her eye and then turns to her.
“What?”
Beatrice shrugs, feeling shy. “You’re just, you’re really pretty you know that?”
Ava’s eyes soften and she leans in, their lips brush softly, just as her phone vibrates with a message from Camilla. She pulls back, eyes dancing with mischief. “Wanna send Camilla into a stroke?”
Beatrice frowns, “not particularly no…”
“Let’s send her a picture,” Ava smiles, holding the phone in front of them and smiles, the smile falling when Beatrice grabs her by the chin and into a steamy kiss. Ava almost drops the phone, but quickly takes the picture. She throws the phone to the side, moving to straddle Beatrice properly.
“Best mph,” another peck, “Christmas,” another one, “ever,” she pants into Beatrice’s mouth.
xXx
Camilla smiled as her phone pinged, she waved everyone over.
“Guy’s its from Ava, probably a merry Christmas message or a photo or something-OH MY GOD.”