Chapter Text
“Say I won or I’ll send it for real this time,” Ava threatens, finger hesitating above the send button of a damning email.
She can’t believe they are stood here in the middle of a fucking garden party, Deborah decked out beautifully in red with a matching coat and long gold earrings while she is in a stupid white Hanes crew neck t-shirt her mom had bought her at Walmart a lifetime ago, having this showdown. What the actual fuck is her life right now?
Deborah's eyes go wide with panic. “Okay, okay, you won!”
“What?” Ava asks, leaning in closer as if she hadn’t heard her.
Deborah nearly screeches “You won!” at her. People are staring.
Jimmy breaks in, coming from nowhere, speaking fast and low through clenched teeth. “Listen to me. This is how this is going to go. You are going to stay out of each other’s way, you’re going to keep your hands to yourselves, you are going to keep your panties to yourself. I will be the intermediary…”
Ava rolls her eyes and imagines Deborah doing the same.
“So do me a favour, and stay the fuck away from each other, got it?”
“Yes,” Deborah says quickly, clearly wanting this to be over.
“Fine,” Ava concedes.
They are interrupted, again, this time by Winnie Landell rabbiting on about feminism or something and the cover story. Ava isn’t really listening until Winnie gestures over to her. “You said yourself she lifts you up,” Winnie insists.
Ava smirks and watches Deborah refute it immediately. They agree, however, to be on the cover of The New York Times Magazine together to appease Winnie. As soon as the conversation is over, they disperse, Jimmy trudging away to find Kayla and Winnie conspiring with Cece.
Ava watches as Deborah stalks off. She had won, but it felt like defeat all the same. The compulsion to run after and apologise sits in her gut, churning with the champagne she’d knocked back. The nail marks on her arm sting, however, and anger surges inside of her again. She moves quickly to go after Deborah. Winning wasn’t enough. She wants her to beg…
“HEY!”
Deborah turns and quickly schools her expression. It dissolves into one of disgust and anger. She was nearly at the row of cars lined on the road. “Now what? Jimmy said to stay away, so why don’t you just stay the fuck away?”
“You wanna hurt me?” Ava brandishes her arm where the nail marks stand out clearly against her pale, freckled skin.
Deborah glares at her.
“You wanna really hurt me? Is that what this is about?”
“You started it!”
Ava scoffs. “You lied to me, or does that not count?”
Some people come past the gate, heading towards the line of parked cars, so Deborah grabs Ava’s other arm and pushes her away from the archway and road towards a darker area near the wall surrounding Bob Lipka’s extensive property. Ava trips slightly on a hedge root.
“Be quiet,” Deborah hisses as she drops her arm. “You heard Jimmy. Behave.”
“You first.” Ava juts her chin in defiance.
“You conniving little —”
Snap.
Ava pushes her bodily, catching them both by surprise. With some kind of instinctual foresight, she puts a hand behind Deborah’s head to protect it from the concrete of the wall. She’s pressing her body up against the wall, hips pushing in, so that their torsos are completely flush. Ava can feel Deborah’s breasts against her own. It feels nearly electric.
Ava’s mouth slams into Deborah’s. There is slight yelp from Deborah, muffled by Ava’s lips. Her hands rake at Ava’s back and it is unclear if she is encouraging her or trying to shove her off. Ava rolls her hips into Deborah, pushing her against the wall again.
Deborah gasps and opens her mouth to Ava, tilting her head slightly for better access. It makes Ava clench and want to drop to her knees. She pushes her tongue inside roughly and is vindicated when Deborah’s meets it with her own, duelling against it hungrily. Her lips and the skin around them are soft from her many serums and moisturisers.
She hadn’t thought about doing this consciously, but the way Deborah’s eyes had lingered on her lips when confronting her in her new office just yesterday after calling her a “big brave girl” had been equally devastating and tantalising. Ava inhales Black Pashmina, and it conjures up a safe feeling from better times.
Then, Deborah’s claws are out again, tearing at Ava’s skin wherever she can reach it. Ava reaches around and grabs her wrists, pushing them away from her body and up against the wall. Deborah whimpers – not in a frightened way, but something else entirely.
Ava is losing her mind.
She drops one of Deborah’s wrists and reaches down to hike up the hem of her dress to put a knee between her legs. She’s running on instinct, letting her desire fuelled by anger and frustration lead her. Deborah’s free hand reaches up and filters into Ava’s hair stroking once before she tugs roughly at the roots. Ava moans and drops the other wrist, putting a hand on Deborah’s hip and pulling her against her knee. Deborah gasps loudly and grinds down.
Their mouths are doing all the talking, moving hard and fast. It’s I hate you for doing this and I’m sorry for having to and Deborah whines as Ava licks into her mouth again. They breathe each other in, gasping and panting between kisses.
Ava thinks she might come just from this. She tugs at Deborah’s hip again. She wants to turn her around and fuck the anger out of her from behind. It’s a dangerously exciting thought.
Before she can truly finish discerning it though, Deborah nips savagely at her bottom lip.
Ava pulls back sharply with a high pitched “Ow!”. Deborah surges forward to mouth at her jaw, then bites her ear.
“OW!” Ava pushes her with her body, hands gripping Deborah’s hips fiercely. “Okay, Mike Tyson…Fuck.”
Deborah’s chest heaves under her red dress, and she looks back with wild eyes like a dog who just got the zoomies. She might do anything.
She puts her hands on Ava’s shoulders, grips them and then pushes hard. It throws Ava even more off balance and she stumbles backwards a few steps before hitting the ground hard.
“Get off me, you fucking traitor.”
Deborah tugs at her dress and straightens it.
“Deborah, wait!”
But Deborah strides off to her car without a backward glance, leaving Ava sitting in the dust. Ava watches her go, a strange mix of elation and despair roiling inside her. She hears the roar of Deborah’s engine start and the squeal of tires as she peals out of her parking space.
She leans over and vomits up the two flutes of champagne she’d sucked down on an empty stomach. When she’s done, she crawls to the concrete wall and leans her back up against it, trying to catch her breath.
Fuck. Well, what is one more thing to be sorry for, Ava asks herself with a shrug. The list is long these days. She flicks her tongue out to feel the sting of Deborah’s bite on her lip. She tastes iron and shakes her head at the fact that Deborah drew blood.
She had won twice in a row, but there was no guarantee of a hat trick if she followed Deborah to the side mansion.
Ava leans her head back against the cool of the wall. She imagines showing up and shoving Deborah against the mattress in order to continue this. Thinks about how she would rip off her silk fucking pajamas and then kiss her dirtily to make her pant again. How she would sink two fingers in and fuck Deborah hard until she cried out, and then slide down to take her into her mouth and go more gently with her tongue until she couldn’t take any more. Ava clenches at the thought of how she might taste.
And if Deborah still hadn’t repented enough, she’d get her strap from the drawer in the closet of the guest room, if Deborah hadn’t donated that to Goodwill too, and fuck her slowly from behind until she was a shuddering mess of a woman. They’d apologise then, and kiss and cuddle and lick each other’s wounds until the dawn. Until Deborah realised what Ava had long ago.
Love…it seems so foreign in this anger fuelled fantasy.
Tears slip down Ava’s cheeks as she stares at the LA skyline. Actually, all she wanted was an apology and to know that Deborah was not willing to lose her over this. That seems impossible now.
When the air becomes chillier and goosebumps rise along her bare arms, Ava pulls herself up. A glint of something near her feet catches her eye. Deborah’s earring. She picks it up, examining it closely. It’s beautiful. She presses it to her lips before slipping it in her pocket.
With a deep sigh, she moves out of the shadows onto the road. All is fair in love and war, she quotes to herself. They were pursuing something great here, and she would try her damnedest to make it work.
All is fair in love and war…all is fair…