Archive of Our Own

“Thank you. I appreciate you.”

And it drives her crazy.

Gentle hands stroking at her hair. The way her stomach flips — the way it always flips.

Because she’s always wanted to be good in life.

Wanted to be a good police officer, a good mother, a good wife.

But she’s never before wanted, so desperately, to be good for someone.

And it drives her.

It drives her to be better. To try to take care of herself. To begin the endless task of unwinding the tangled ball of guilt and grief that’s lived within her chest for so long it feels as much a part of her as her bones themselves.

Because she wants to be what Carla deserves, wants to learn to love the woman Carla loves, wants to love Carla with everything she has.

And it drives her wild.

It's never felt this way before — whispered praise that makes her go weak at the knees, tugging hands that make her shiver, knowing glances that set her ablaze.

She hadn't expected the safety and power she would find in letting herself go, hadn't known just how satisfying it could feel to be wanted, to be used-

To be good.

And today, it had driven her to distraction.

She'd spent the afternoon working in name only. Though really, it felt no less productive than any other day she'd squandered behind this desk. It made no difference how many mundane tasks she managed to slog through, how could any of it feel worthwhile when she knew that no matter what she did, the truth would remain the same.

She wasn't the one keeping people safe anymore.

Anything she could do from her desk was so disjointed, so utterly divorced from making any real difference in the world, that to Lisa, it all might as well have been nothing.

Carla had pinned her as a glory hunter once, (approximately seven months and one lifetime ago) when Lisa had found herself in a similar predicament — Carla sat across from her at the pub, stumbling over her words as she practically squirmed under Lisa's uncharacteristically confident gaze.

(That upper hand really hadn't lasted long.)

And whilst at the time she was mostly just sticking her foot in it, perhaps she had been right — had named some terrible thing that lived deep within Lisa.

Though it's not exactly glory that she’s chasing.

Just the selfless (selfish) desire to know she’s doing good.

Because there's a part of her that can only be at peace when she's able to convince herself that she’s of service — constantly scrambling to atone for some sin she could not even name — and she’s not quite sure how to just be with herself when it’s unfulfilled.

And perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if she didn’t feel that she was failing everyone in her personal life too-

Carla.

Betsy.

(Becky.)

But as things stand, work — the one thing she'd always been able to rely on to provide a solace from her own mind — has become a new form of self-torture. A space where she is stuck only busy enough to occupy a fraction of her brain, leaving the rest free to ruminate on the same fears and doubts that plague every other of her waking hours.

Except today, for once, none of these things were the cause of her distraction.

Because any potential for self-flagellation had been completely overwritten the moment Carla waltzed into her office like she owned the place, wrapped Lisa’s ponytail around her hand—

(the same way she'd wrapped Lisa around her little finger)

—and left her in a dazed puddle in her place of work.

After that? She’d hardly had the capacity to think of anything else.

So while most days now, she's ready to leave the moment it hits 5 PM, today it's barely 4:30 by the time she's packing up her things.

She figures no one will miss her.

And plus, she really, really wants to find out just how much Carla appreciates her.

—

That good mood begins to falter the moment she arrives home, finding the flat dark and silent.

Despite her earlier hangover, Betsy had already made it clear she was spending the evening with her college friends (which Lisa had begrudgingly accepted, partially as it kept her out the orbit of the attendees of Aadi’s party, and partially for the potential of having the place to themselves) but she’d assumed Carla would be back by now.

She checks her phone.

Nothing.

Usually Carla texts pretty frequently — banal updates about every aspect of her day that Lisa finds unreasonably endearing — but Lisa realises then that she hasn’t heard a thing since they parted ways this afternoon.

She leans against the doorway for a moment, wavering before ultimately deciding to shoot her a message to check in.

It’s probably fine, she tells herself as she drums her fingertips on the counter top in a feeble attempt to ward off the silence.

Repeats it as she shrugs off her blazer, draping it over the back of a bar stool, only to immediately pick it up and carry it through to the laundry basket.

And it is probably fine, but that understanding does little to stop her from fretting. Carla might have been putting on a brave face earlier, but Lisa had seen the ghosts flicker behind her eyes when she recounted Lauren’s unbridled terror at the feeling she was losing her mind — enough to tell that the situation was affecting her more than she was letting on.

She paces back through the flat, straightening things as she goes — folds one of Betsy's abandoned hoodies, pours a half-empty mug of tea down the sink.

Of course, she's worried about Carla, but it's not just that.

And it's stupid, she knows it's stupid.

After all, Lisa had done exactly what was asked of her, Carla had flirted relentlessly then left her with a kiss that just about knocked her off her feet — she should have more than enough proof.

But her guilt takes no notice, it has never listened to reason. It sits, cold and heavy in her stomach, patiently waiting to be addressed.

It’s been with her long enough to know that she’ll cave.

Finally, reluctantly, she drops down on the couch, turning on the tv.

Yet beneath its mindless noise, the silence still stretches. It clings to the room like a physical presence, pressing down on every inch of her body.

Her mind aches to fill it.

Unbidden, it replays the way Carla's face dropped when she'd brought up Lauren's trauma.

And she tries to shake it off, to remember instead the way Carla had grinned as she mouthed "love you" at her through the blinds, mere moments after having said it out loud when she left the room.

Only to rewind and play it again.

This routine — she’s always told herself it's logical. That she's working things through, holding herself accountable for her mistakes so she can be better. She is in control. She can make it stop, whenever she wants.

(It's obsessive, she will let her mind pick at ever scab, pour over every scenario till it can be neatly narrowed down to the singular point of failure: her.)

The needling voice of her guilt is simply too alluring, its promise of truth, of righteous condemnation, seductive in a way she's never been able to ignore.

(Its concern sounds a little bit like love.)

She's practically hanging off its every word as it details that Carla had come to her for help because she trusted her, only for Lisa to thoughtlessly, cruelly repeat the same sentiments that had once been used to dismiss Carla's own suffering.

And once she's hooked, it gleefully begins to unearth the calcified sediments of shame that lie beneath, chisels down through the layers till it dusts off something she hasn't touched in a while: the memories of how useless she'd been at protecting Carla when Stephen was around. Jeers as it points out that even when she'd done what was right by her bosses standards, (dismissing the accusations pending further evidence) and her own, (reaching out to Carla to continue investigating) she'd still been unable to stop the situation from escalating.

And suddenly she doesn't want to listen anymore. She tries to remind herself that she did everything she could with the information she had at the time, but the guilt burrows deeper into her skull. Cold, slimy tendrils coiling themselves tight around her memories, warping them till she can no longer be sure.

(She has never been in control.)

It purrs in her ear that surely, surely if she'd tried harder, there must have been something she could have done, a way she could have shielded Carla and everyone else involved from some of that pain.

And it's so convincing, its voice so calm and comforting, that she's more than ready to agree, except—

Beneath it, there's a quiet whisper reminding her that if things hadn't gotten so bad — if Peter hadn't felt the need to take matters into his own hands — maybe he'd still be here, occupying the space in which Lisa now so desperately wants to belong.

That perhaps it was for the best.

(The guilt nearly surges up her throat at the thought.)

She knows then what she's known a thousand times before: that she is rotten, that her desire to do good has only ever been driven by something sickeningly selfish, this vile craving to be needed, to be—

Sorry love. Rough day. Lauren was really struggling so I’ve only just left the hospital. I’ll be home in a bit x

Carla's message breaks the surface, and in a moment (for a moment) those thoughts fade.

I'll see you soon. I love you.

Lisa replies, catching sight of the time as she hits send. Carla's been by Lauren's side for hours. Has willingly spent her day rehashing old trauma and questioning teenagers in service of a girl she barely knows.

Lisa understands why though. Because in the beginning, even the people closest to Carla hadn't believed her, she'd had no one fighting her corner, no one keeping her safe. Carla knows what it’s like to face that terror feeling utterly alone and could not allow herself to leave anyone to suffer the same fate.

(If only she’d been—)

And because she's good, and kind, and selfless in a way that makes Lisa ache.

Lisa puts down her phone and flicks off the tv, having made up her mind.

Maybe no one had been there to take care of Carla back then, but that’s not the case now.

Getting justice for Lauren — if she had been spiked — would be a priority. But tonight, she wants to do anything she can to ease even the slightest bit of tension for Carla, to make her day a little bit brighter.

It doesn’t have to be a big deal, she thinks. She’ll order them takeout and run her a bath, then they can have a cosy night in cuddled up on the sofa—

Ah.

She realises then, with another overwhelming wave of shame, that she is planning to do the same thing she snapped at Carla for just a few weeks earlier.

Carla had likely felt the same way she did now — had seen her partner struggling, and wanted to do something kind, not to fix anything, but simply to show she cared.

And Lisa had known that at the time — yet she could do nothing to stop the cruelty that followed. It was barely a conscious thought, her brain shutting down at even the possibility of being asked to acknowledge that she was struggling — in its place nothing but the instinct to bare her teeth and scare away anyone who treads too close.

Because there's some pathetic animal within her that cowers beneath a gentle hand, that's only ever known how to survive by burying anything that might make it weak, by performing for scraps.

And so she knows, of course she knows, that when Carla reaches out her hand, she does so with nothing but warmth, with unbridled and unabashed love — and yet Lisa can do nothing but bite and bite.

She does not need tender words or open arms. Has no use for anything that might cause her to loosen her grip on the emotions she's long since learned to keep at arms length. Knows the safest way forward is to cram them down into the deepest parts of her mind, somewhere they can't hurt her.

She's never needed anything else. She's never needed anyone else.

And so Craig's death had completely blindsided her.

Because the first thing she’d felt after finding out that he was gone was guilt; a tiny, dull ache in her chest that grew and grew till it crushed the air from her lungs. Even once it had engulfed her entire body it did not stop — ballooning till the whole world seemed to tilt beneath the weight of it.

And it hurt.

And it hurt.

But it was a pain she'd felt a thousand times before, and so, as she sat in her office, she waited for the numbness to set in, for her mind to pack the grief back down into its neat little box.

But all that came was the overwhelming desire to crawl into Carla’s arms, to let herself be held and comforted until she remembered how to breathe again.

And ever since the guilt has been eating at her, simmering till it spilled over as rage.

Because for so long she's convinced herself that Carla too would be safest kept at arms length. That if Lisa were to let her get too close, all this pain she holds would surely spill over and mar yet another person she loves.

And if Carla were to see it — how pitiful, how weak Lisa really is — the facade of the partner Lisa has so desperately tried to be would inevitably crumble.

She cannot allow herself to be another thing that takes from Carla — wants to be the person with whom she can finally put everything else down and simply be cared for, the person she can trust to love her the way she's always deserved.

Because without that, what would be left?

And yet, despite it all, she's still beginning to want to let Carla in.

It's the thing that scares her more than anything else: that the walls she'd sworn were keeping her safe are beginning to feel like they're boxing her in.

Because impossibly, Carla has never asked her to hide. She demands to be privy to even the ugliest parts of her psyche, holds court with them, looks her in the eyes and doesn't flinch.

She tells her she could love even that which Lisa had long since been taught made her unlovable, and that she’d do so gladly, expecting nothing in return.

And the concept is so unfamiliar, so alien to Lisa that something within her brain still cannot bring itself to even consider believing her.

Because if love like this exists, what does it say for everything that came before?

But Carla has been doing her best to prove it. She hadn’t run when things had gotten tough. Hadn’t yielded an inch no matter how hard Lisa tried to push her away. Despite it all, she’s stayed right by Lisa’s side, soft and steadfast in a way Lisa is certain she can’t possibly deserve and—

Love you too x

She closes her eyes. Breathes in, taking a moment to physically shut down the mental spiral that’s once more threatening to pull her under.

Because no matter what her brain tells her, no matter how much it scares her, she wants to believe in the kindness of the woman she loves.

And tonight, she wants to take care of her girlfriend. Not because she has to, not to disprove some deep-rooted fear or to make up in some way for her own mere existence. But because she wants to, because Carla deserves nice things.

And because she's trying, trying to learn that she can lay down her armour without it crushing the people around her, that she is allowed to just be and that is enough.

She’s trying — she hopes Carla will see that she’s trying — to learn how to be loved again.

—

She's only just finished unpacking the takeout when she hears keys scraping in the lock.

As Carla steps through the door, for a brief moment Lisa can see her weariness, an exhaustion deep in her bones. One that comes from reliving pain you’d rather keep buried.

One that Lisa knows all too well.

But then, her gaze lands on Lisa, and everything shifts. The warmth crackles back into those tired eyes, every muscle seems to relax.

Lisa’s body works before her brain does, crossing the room and hugging Carla tight, face nuzzling into her neck.

“I haven’t even gotten my coat off yet!” Carla complains, though her arms wrap snugly around Lisa, holding her in place. “All this half days and working from home is getting to you, you’re like a flamin’ puppy waiting for it’s owner to come home.”

Lisa buries her flushed face deeper into Carla’s skin, grumbling something incoherent.

Carla’s hand winds round Lisa’s ponytail, tugging it slightly to dislodge Lisa’s face from her neck. Only to be distracted — enough to miss the tiny whine from Lisa — as she finally notices the boxes on the kitchen table.

“Ooh, what do we have here?”

Lisa pulls back, clearing her throat and smoothing down her shirt as if physically trying to get herself back on script.

“Sushi — for you of course — I’d rather stick with cooked food, thank you very much! And then I was thinking maybe I'd run you a bath and we could have a movie night— or, uh whatever you want, really.”

She smiles, fidgeting nervously, still afraid Carla might call her out on her obvious hypocrisy.

But Carla simply smiles back at her, eyes shining with adoration in a way that makes Lisa's stomach swoop.

“What did I do to deserve this, eh?”

Lisa blinks. Wonders how to tell this woman she deserves all the kindness this world has to offer, and then some.

But settles on-

“You’ve had a rough day. You deserve to relax. And I know I can’t fix anything or make it go away but-“

Carla shakes her head softly, hand reaching out to stroke Lisa’s cheek.

“No, I meant you. You’re an honest-to-god angel Lis, you know that?”

Lisa closes her eyes. She can’t agree, but for once, she doesn’t argue.

And maybe that’s a start.

—

Bracketed by a wall of fragrant steam, Carla steps out of the en-suite, pulling her towel tighter as her bath-warmed skin meets the comparative chill of their bedroom. Humming tunelessly, she pads across to her vanity, almost laughs when she's confronted with the cheesy grin still plastered across her face.

It's a jarringly different sight to the weary unease she'd glimpsed in her visor mirror as she'd sat outside Weatherfield General. She'd been so driven by the desire to provide answers for Lauren, to be the calm, comforting voice of reason she herself had once desperately needed, that for a while, everything else had been dulled. It was only then, left alone with her thoughts in the quiet of her car, that her momentum had finally given way, leaving behind only an encroaching sense of dread.

By the time she'd pulled away from the hospital she'd already resigned herself to spending the evening playing host to the ghosts she'd been chasing all day, and yet here she is only a few hours later: full, relaxed and utterly content.

And as she sits, she catches sight of the reason why: Lisa — lingering in the doorway, looking almost shy.

It’s silly really, because Carla’s always been fiercely independent. She had to be. Experience taught her from childhood that she was not something worth being looked after.

Yet here she is, watching her girlfriend gaze at her like she's the most important thing in the world, signalling that even after spending the evening devoting herself to caring for Carla, she still has more to give — and it's unlike anything she's ever known.

And in a way, it hurts.

Really, she should have known it’d be this way. Because from the moment they’d truly met — allowed themselves to be Carla and Lisa instead of Mrs Barlow and DS Swain — Lisa had demonstrated quite clearly that she was her own lowest priority.

In that first real encounter she'd listened as Lisa crushed herself beneath the demands and expectations of her daughter, her job, the ghost of her wife. Spent the next few months unable to do much more than watch as she ran herself into the ground, over and over again.

Lisa never stopped to care for herself, she wore her suffering like it was honour, clung to it like it was the only substitute she could offer in the absence of some inherent worthiness. As though, at the very least, this exhaustive effort could be some proof of how desperate she was to attain it.

Even when her fucking ribs were cracked she still would not allow herself a single moment of reprieve.

All Carla could do was softly encourage her to try to be a little less harsh on herself, and cajole the people around her (Betsy) to try to appreciate the amount she did for them. But it had always been evident that it would be an uphill battle.

Perhaps she had convinced herself that things would be different when Lisa was in a relationship. Perhaps a world in which Lisa would allow herself to fall for someone new seemed like such a fantasy that in it, anything would be possible.

Then once it finally happened, they'd barely had time to settle into their dynamic as a couple before Carla had found herself stuck in a rotation of hospital beds and hostage situations.

And perhaps she was a hypocrite, because she couldn't bring herself to ask for Lisa's help. Decided she'd rather let her go than become another strain on Lisa's life.

But Lisa hadn't given her a choice, she'd slipped into the role of protector happily, like it was made for her.

And so it hurts, of course it hurts, to have fallen in love with someone who would risk her career, her life to protect Carla on her worst days, and still try to find all the little ways to make her happy on her best — someone who could not bear to accept ever the most meagre kindness in return.

To see that person tell themselves that they are not worthy of love as they are, when loving them had come to Carla as instinctively as breathing.

How could she possibly explain that on some level, she thinks she knew Lisa deserved to be fucking cherished from the moment she clapped eyes on her? How does she explain the millions of ways that’s confirmed to her every single day she spends by Lisa’s side?

She can't. She knows she can't.

And if the past few weeks have taught her anything it's that even if she could, Lisa wouldn't be able to believe her anyways.

At least, not yet. These things need to be extricated the same way they're ingrained — slowly and painfully.

For now, all she can do is be steady and patient, show Lisa the love and care she feels she isn’t allowed, day after day. Keep reminding her that she is still a good partner when she needs support instead of only when she can provide it.

And though it has been slow, miraculously it does seem like they're starting to make progress, and Carla believes they'll get there.

It's why she was ok with Lisa looking after her tonight. She wants to remind her that this is a two-way street, that they can both take care of each other when the day has been long and cruel.

And plus, she could see that Lisa was coming from a place of love, not obligation.

Because she'd learnt something else important from the start of their relationship—

That yes, some of this kindness stems from a place of pain. That somewhere along the line, Lisa had been taught that she needed to provide to be worthy of love, that part of her feels she is repaying a debt Carla is owed simply for loving her. But also, that it's not quite that simple.

Because Lisa Swain also just really, really likes fussing over the people she loves.

She turns to Lisa, still stood fidgeting in the doorway, a hopeful little gleam in her eyes.

And truthfully, how could Carla possibly resist? She’s never known anyone to make her feel this special before.

“Come on then.” She holds out the brush and Lisa beams, happily trotting over to her side.

Carla pauses for a moment, brush still in hand, simply taking her in.

Silky golden hair finally free from the confines of a bobble, falling (slightly) messily over her shoulders. Shirt untucked from her trousers, a few buttons loose, looking about as comfy as anyone can in business-casual wear.

She’s fucking gorgeous.

“You’re staring.” Lisa says, tugging the brush free from her hand.

“‘Cause you’re pretty.” Carla replies, so matter-of-fact that it makes Lisa's cheeks bloom pink.

Well how’s she supposed to stop staring now?

“What? Dishevelled and exhausted from a boring day’s work?”

Carla rolls her eyes, more than used to the way Lisa deflects even the smallest compliments. Like she’s not used to being told just how wonderful she is, though Carla still isn’t sure how that could possibly be true.

She wishes Lisa could see what she sees.

She’s willing to spend a lifetime trying to show her.

“Yes, even then. You’re so unbelievably gorgeous in every single scenario, every time of day that it actually worries me.” and then, because she can't help herself, “you haven’t sold your soul for eternal beauty or summat, have you? You’d tell me if you had, right?”

Lisa scoffs, but still that blush grows stronger, flapping her hand with a flustered grumble that sounds a bit like do you want your hair dried or not?

—

She’s gentle — she’s always gentle. Carefully brushing out the tangles as she dries Carla’s hair.

She moves with a reverence Carla has rarely been afforded in her most intimate moments with others, one that with Lisa, permeates every interaction, no matter how small, how mundane.

“You know. I could get used to this whole cute housewife act.”

Wife.

She cringes a little at her choice of words, but Lisa doesn’t flinch. Just giggles as she moves to set the brush down, kissing the top of Carla’s head on the way.

She stoops down, resting her head on Carla’s shoulder, green eyes sparkling with mischief as she catches Carla’s gaze in the mirror.

“Would you like dinner, a bath, or me?” Lisa purrs, batting those pretty lashes at her, failing to hold back a smirk.

Carla shifts her legs round the edge of the stool, turning her body to face her. Shaking her head, she loops her arms around her neck, pulling her in till their noses brush. Lisa drops down to straddle her lap with an angelic grin.

”You,” Carla begins, pressing a kiss to the corner of her lips, “are a menace.”

Lisa just smiles lazily, her eyes fluttering closed as Carla begins to scratch gently at her scalp. When she finally speaks again her voice is low, softened by pure contentment.

“I hope you’d tell me if I was being overbearing. I just— it makes me really happy whenever I get the chance to spoil you a little like this.”

"Of course I would, darling."

Lisa lets herself droop forward, her face resting in the warm cubby between Carla’s neck and shoulder. That comfortable silence stretches on a moment longer before Carla murmurs, “y’know, you’d be a terrible housewife.”

“Excuse me!” Lisa exclaims, pulling back. She turns her face away from Carla, crossing her arms with theatrical indignance. “I thought I did very well today.”

Carla snorts, practically hearing the pout in her voice, “I meant you’d go crazy if you were stuck at home all day without your work, I’d come home to you chewing the walls, never mind dinner.”

And Lisa can’t exactly argue with that — thinks Carla probably has no idea quite how true it is.

Carla’s hand slowly traces the length of one crossed arm, brushes over her shoulder till warm fingertips meet the exposed skin at her collar. They trail up her neck, playing along the line of her jaw — clenched tight as Lisa tries not to melt into Carla's touch.

“But yes, you were very, very good to me today.”

Her tone is tender, but the way her voice drops has Lisa sure she knows what she’s doing.

Still, she holds her form, her cheek still turned to Carla even as it begins to redden. She harrumphs, face settling into a big, over-exaggerated pout.

Carla leans in, can’t resist pressing a kiss against her rosy cheek, then another, and another. She knows exactly what Lisa is waiting for — laying bait that Carla is all too happy to take.

“Sulky little thing, aren’t you?” She murmurs, nuzzling her nose into the soft space behind Lisa’s ear. “Shame, when you were being such a good girl for me earlier.”

Lisa’s breath hitches. She tries to steady it, to appear unaffected, but there’s nothing she can do to stop the stilted little whimper that breaks from her throat.

Not that there’s any way she could hide what this does to her — Carla already knows it all too well.

Because with Carla she'd never had to chase praise, it was always offered to her freely.

And once it stopped being something she needed just to breathe, it had sparked a different type of need entirely.

She craves it more than ever now, craves the way it makes her insides melt, her stomach warm and fluttery — how it turns her brain to mush.

Because when Carla tells her she’s good, when she looks at Lisa like she’s everything she’d ever wanted, the voice in Lisa’s head is finally silenced.

And even if only for a brief moment, she truly believes she is.

But as Lisa turns back towards her, Carla pulls away.

"Oh actually,” she taps her face with perfectly practiced nonchalance, “I did have one complaint—” she pauses, knows by now how to perfectly time them to maximise anticipation without leaving space for doubt to creep in, “you definitely should have joined me in that bath.”

Lisa rolls her eyes fondly. “I wanted you to relax, and I don’t think you’d have gotten much of that done with me there.”

“Oh trust me, I’d have found it plenty relaxing,” Carla's voice drops back to that husky register, leaning forward till her breath ghosts against Lisa's lips.

Lisa flushes harder, tries to avert her gaze. But it’s all an act — she’s fighting a battle they both know she wants to lose.

“I suppose,” she husks, lip caught between her teeth, faux innocence entirely betrayed by the way her eyes fall to the hint of cleavage visible above Carla’s towel, “if you have complaints about my service, I’ll just have to do my best to make amends.”

Carla smirks as Lisa picks herself up off her lap. Her legs quiver as Carla loosens her grip on the towel, that lip pulled tighter.

“And just what did you have in mind?” Carla asks, rising to stand before her, crowding in close enough that Lisa can feel the heat of her body against her own.

And Lisa knows exactly what she needs. She’s not ready for this to be over, wants to be praised more and more and more.

“Whatever you want. You can do anything you want to me Carla.”

“Jesus christ-” Carla mutters. Shaking her head, she attempts to compose herself, hand coming to cup Lisa’s cheek. “You’ve been so good for me, baby, let me take care of you now. What do you want?”

But Lisa just shakes her head furiously, wide eyes looking up at Carla, imploring her to understand.

She’s spent so long fighting a brain that seems to work against her. Being tormented as she overthinks every word, every action, constantly chasing some sense of worthiness that's always just out of reach. Dedicates so much of her energy simply to maintaining control.

And she's so tired of it all.

So tonight, she doesn't want to have to choose what to be, what to do.

She doesn't want to have to think at all.

She wants that control to be ripped from her grasp. Wants instead to place her mind entirely in Carla's hands, to let herself be unravelled till she knows nothing but her.

She needs to let go of everything else, to become suggestible and pliant for Carla to shape however she pleases, to be taken however she wishes. Until she knows she's exactly what Carla wants — until there's no more room for doubt.

Until she's good.

“I want what you want. Want you to use me— wanna keep being good for you.”

The sound of her own voice, that high desperate whine, should have been embarrassing, but when Carla’s eyes flash with understanding Lisa can’t bring herself to care. That look, it sets her alight, and the flames that lick deep in her stomach are enough to burn away every trite shame that came before.

She barely registers the sound of the towel hitting the floor before Carla’s arms are hooking round her waist, pulling her flush against her body.

“Oh, darling,” Carla drawls, teasing — hands sneaking up under Lisa's shirt, the lightest touch against the warm skin of her back, “are you sure you could handle what I want?”

Lisa nods fervently. Swallows. “Anything- anything for you.”

And they both know she might mean it.

Carla closes her eyes, breathing heavily. For just a moment, the whole night unfurls before her, the things she wants— needs to do to this woman. The ways she needs to take her.

But right now, the pulsing between her own thighs is too insistent to truly focus on anything else.

She grins hungrily, stepping back and perching on the edge of the bed, her hand fisted in the collar of Lisa’s shirt, pulling her down with her.

Lisa stumbles, momentarily bracing herself on Carla’s shoulders before realising exactly where she’s supposed to be.

She sinks down, settling on her knees between Carla’s legs. Staring up at her. Waiting. Wanting.

“That’s it. You know just what I like to see,” Carla purrs, softly caressing her head.

Lisa leans in, but Carla’s fingers tighten almost painfully in her hair, holding her in place.

Lisa mewls helplessly, beginning to beg without thought, “please. Fuck, please Carla I need to taste you I-"

Carla’s hand drops from her hair, trails lightly across her lips, silencing her.

“No teasing. I’m going to come hard in that pretty little mouth of yours and then I’m going to ruin you. Understood?”

A nod, and then Carla’s hand is back in Lisa's hair, scooping it back and pushing her head against the aching heat between her legs.

Lisa lets out a satisfied groan as her tongue makes first contact. She laps greedily at the arousal pooled at her entrance — savouring every drop of the evidence of what her submission does to Carla — until Carla’s hand tugs against her scalp with a noise caught between warning and moan.

And Lisa lets herself be pulled, mouthing over Carla’s throbbing clit, mesmerised by the soft sounds of pleasure that spill out from her.

For her part, Carla’s similarly entranced by how content Lisa looks on her knees for her. Her eyes closed, face slick with Carla’s arousal, little satisfied hums as she takes Carla in her mouth.

This devotion, this worship, it’s entirely unknown to her, and she feels herself torn asunder by the heady mix of power and adoration. Revels in the knowledge that she alone makes Lisa feels safe enough to give herself over so completely. That she is loved and desired so deeply that the brash and battle-hardened DS Swain will allow herself to fall to her knees, beg just to taste her.

Though she wants to indulge in this for Lisa as much as herself, cannot dislodge from her mind the way she’d looked, drunk with desire as she’d asked to be used.

“Fuck, you love this don’t you? Love when I make you all messy, when I fuck your mouth like this?”

Lisa whines needily in response, her own thighs clenching as she sucks harder, tongue flicking mercilessly over Carla’s clit.

Impatient, Carla’s hand cups the back of Lisa’s head, pulling her impossibly closer. Rolls her hips, using her purchase to begin harshly fucking into Lisa’s mouth.

Lisa’s whimpering along with her at the rough treatment, the noise mixing with the slick wet sounds of her mouth slipping against Carla’s cunt.

Carla leans back on her arm, hips grinding harder against Lisa’s eager tongue, her mouth running away with her as she teeters on the edge, “Just like that, fuck— so fucking good for me. I’m so close Lis—mmh— gonna come all over you.”

Lisa’s eyes are open now, staring up at her in awe, like she’s trying to savour every moment of Carla’s pleasure, and when their eyes meet it’s all too much. Carla cries out as her orgasm hits, twitching and shuddering as Lisa continues devouring her relentlessly.

When Carla finally has to pull her head away, Lisa’s flushed, glowing, as if the pleasure was hers, not Carla’s.

Lisa falls back on her heels, dopey, blissed-out smile adorning her face. Still a little breathless when she says, "thank you."

She's staring up at Carla with that same reverent look from before, as if — no matter the form — worshipping Carla is somehow the ultimate privilege.

It catches, tugs at something deep within Carla's chest, and she leans down to capture her lips in an achingly tender kiss.

"So polite, hmm?" She runs the pad of her thumb over Lisa's chin, grabs the corner of the towel left forgotten on the floor, gently wipes her sticky face. "And so pretty covered in my come."

And this time, instead of shying away, Lisa moans, gripping at Carla's thighs and pushing herself up till her lips messily crash against Carla's.

Carla sinks her teeth into Lisa's bottom lip, tugging as she pulls away. "You love that, don't you? Being pretty for me."

Lisa nods bashfully, now barely able to meet her eyes.

And Carla thinks this might be her favourite thing about Lisa when she’s like this, how easily those honest, vulnerable truths she’d usually have to excavate out from layers of self-doubt spill free.

She drags them both to their feet, spinning them round so Lisa’s trapped between her and the end of the bed. Her hands trail up Lisa’s arms and across her shoulders, meeting at the place where her collar gapes. Her fingertips walk down till they meet the first button in their path, feeling the sharp rise and fall of Lisa’s chest beneath.

“You know, I still remember how completely in awe I was, the first time I saw you come,” she begins, voice low, “you were so fucking gorgeous, and I think I knew even then that I’d never be able to get enough of you.” Her eyes never once leave Lisa as she speaks, slowly working open the buttons of her shirt, taking in every detail. The soft flush of her cheeks, the way her chest arches as her bra falls to the ground, the slight stumble as she steps out of her trousers. “The way you lose it, just for me, Lis, it drives me fucking crazy. Makes me want to watch you fall apart over and over and over again. Until you can’t take it any more, until you almost pass out from how good it all feels,” she pauses for a beat, tongue darting out over her lips, toying with the waistband of Lisa’s underwear, “is that still what you want?”

Lisa stares up at her with that same glassy, utterly mesmerised look she’d had at the station earlier; the slack-jawed expression of a woman whose brain is buffering under the weight of her desire.

After a moment, she swallows and nods. “Yes, god. Please, I need you.”

Carla presses a hand to her chest and Lisa lets herself fall to the bed.

She shuffles back against the pillows, watching as Carla moves to their beside drawer and pulls out her favourite vibrator. Her eyes widen as she clocks it, her clit already throbbing just at the thought of having it pressed against her.

Lisa's legs fall apart instinctively as Carla approaches, making space for her to settle between them. Carla nods approvingly as she does so, placing the wand aside.

She leans down till her lips are hovering just above Lisa’s, grins as Lisa strains upwards, chasing her mouth.

She diverts, pressing kisses all over her face until Lisa lets out such a sad, needy little whine that Carla cannot resist kissing her properly, slow and deep, till they're both left breathless.

She moves lower, lips trailing across Lisa’s jaw and down her neck, teeth scraping over the spot where she can feel her pulse jumping beneath the skin.

Her hands cup Lisa’s breasts, thumb gently circling a sensitive nipple before she pulls it into her mouth, pinning it between her teeth and teasing it with the tip of her tongue. When Lisa begins to arch into her she pulls away, waits till her back returns to the mattress before switching sides, repeats until Lisa’s squirming beneath her.

Her lips press into the silky skin on the underside of her Lisa's breasts, then drag down over her ribs till she’s nuzzling into the perfect curve of her tummy.

She loves this part, could spend hours just kissing Lisa’s body. She’s so much softer than anything Carla has ever known, so gentle and pliant beneath her lips.

And on another evening, she would. But at the sound of her strained little whimpers, Carla’s eyes flick back up to Lisa's face.

Her eyes are screwed shut, fist pressed hard against her mouth, like she’s trying desperately to hold her tongue, to take what she’s being given.

And as much as she loves the thought of teasing her till she breaks, Carla knows that when Lisa’s this wound up there’s only so much she can take before becoming overstimulated, and she wants to be able to take her time between her thighs.

So she tracks lower. Dipping down to kiss along Lisa’s hipbone, she finally catches sight of how utterly ruined her underwear is.

“Oh baby,” she drawls, "so worked up for me already. You really enjoy having me use that clever little mouth of yours, don’t you?”

She strokes a fingertip along the sodden fabric, far too light for Lisa to feel any relief.

Lisa lets out a high gasp as she nods. “I-“ she stammers, hips canting upwards, chasing Carla’s touch.

Carla pulls her hand just out of reach. “Yes?”

Lisa whines, finding it almost impossible to fight the pull of her desires when her head is already filled with the comfortable, mindless fuzz of submission; it dulls any sense of shame, wills her to give in to every depraved fantasy.

“Fuck- yes, I love it!” She sobs out. “Want you to fuck me till you’re satisfied, like I’m just a toy for you to use.”

Carla can’t contain the groan that bubbles up from somewhere deep inside her. She’ll never quite get used to how freely her mildly awkward, politely spoken detective can spout such filth in the bedroom — she’s never met anyone else who could get her so worked up with words alone.

The vibrator pulses to life in Carla’s hand as she trails it lightly down Lisa’s front, letting it settle against her clit — the gentle buzz of the lowest setting over the fabric of her underwear only serving to frustrate her more.

“Carla—“

“I want you to be patient for me, can you manage that, darling?”

Lisa bites her lip, as if she’s contemplating whether it’s even possible when she’s this worked up.

But they both know she will not deny Carla anything.

She nods, takes a deep shuddering breath as Carla ups the speed, pressing the wand harder against her clit. Her free hand moving to draw lazy circles around a tight nipple.

“God, you look so fucking pretty like this, spread out and trembling for me.”

A ragged inhale as Lisa imagines how she must look right now.

A woman who has built a career, a life off the back of her ability to stay in control, dripping down her thighs as she begs to be ruined for another woman’s gratification.

It makes her throb.

“For you, just for you,” she sighs out, her shaking voice barely more than a whisper.

“Mine.” Carla affirms, rolling her nipple between her fingers, punctuated by a harsh tug. “Just a pretty little toy, aren’t you? Made to please me.”

Lisa nods eagerly, and in this moment she thinks it might be true. That she must have been put on this earth for this purpose alone, there’s nothing else that matters to her, nothing else that could ever fulfil her quite like this.

And Carla finally clicks the speed up another setting, Lisa’s whines melting into an almost continuous throng of noise, her hips beginning to twitch.

“Fuck! Carla, feels so-“

And then Carla pulls the wand away.

Lisa responds with a strangled sound of confusion and frustration, but Carla simply clucks disapprovingly.

“Not yet. You need to earn the first one.”

She turns off the wand, shuffling down till she can free Lisa of her soaked underwear, eyes fixed to where Lisa is swollen and glistening, just for her.

“So pretty here too.” Carla purrs, with a slow teasing stroke. Luxuriating in the feeling of Lisa, hot and silky beneath her fingers.

Presses two fingertips just inside, before bringing them to her lips, sucking Lisa’s arousal from them. “God, you taste so fucking good.”

“Want you inside me, please,” Lisa whines, wide, dark eyes staring up at Carla, pleading.

Slowly, Carla draws back her hand, then brings it down in a harsh slap. Her palm collides with Lisa's messy cunt with a lewd smack. Lisa lets out a filthy moan as she spreads her legs wider, eagerly offering herself up for more.

"Such a greedy girl, aren't you?" Carla says, punctuated by another slap.

Lisa's hips jerk upwards, practically grinding herself against Carla's hand. "Need you to fill me up, please. Make me feel you."

And Carla takes pity on her, isn’t surprised by the ease with which her fingers sink inside, right down to the knuckle.

Lisa’s orgasm builds faster and harder this time, trembling as Carla’s fingers pulse and curl inside her, thumb teasing her clit.

“I’m already close- god-“ Lisa gasps.

She probably shouldn’t still be surprised about how her body reacts to this new brand of submission Carla has given her space to explore, and yet somehow it catches her off guard every time.

She's never known any freedom quite like it.

Because right now, her entire being is at Carla’s disposal, nothing else matters but her. Her own mind has no authority here; its voice finally silenced, its standards meaningless. All that's left is to listen to Carla’s voice, obey, and know that she is good.

“Not yet.” Carla repeats, voice syrupy sweet. She grins wickedly, pressing the vibrator back against Lisa, waiting for the blonde to nod before turning it on again, building speed rapidly.

Lisa’s body squirms and bucks, trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure, only succeeding in pushing Carla’s fingers deeper inside her.

She’s already panting desperately, eyes slamming closed as she tries to calm herself, wills her body not to give in to the intoxicating pull of the climax building within her.

She wants to be patient, to be obedient.

But she’s so fucking desperate for it.

And Carla thinks she might be obsessed with the sight of Lisa like this; somehow holding herself back when she’s so close it must hurt, just because Carla told her to.

It makes her greedy, makes her want to push a little further, to see how much more Lisa can take for her.

She clicks the wand up one more setting to the max, withdraws and reenters Lisa with three, then four fingers.

The noise Lisa makes is unlike anything Carla has heard before, choppy and almost agonised. It seems to catch in her throat as it’s pulled from her, tailing off into a strangled little squeak.

Carla can feel herself throb at it. Thinks if she were to check she’d find herself almost as wet as Lisa is, now dripping down Carla’s hand.

"Fuck, baby, you take me so well. Feels so good having your tight little cunt wrapped around my fingers."

As much as Carla loves all the ways Lisa reacts to praise, she’s certain her favourite is when she can feel the affect it’s having on her.

Lisa doesn’t disappoint, fluttering violently around Carla’s fingers with a choked moan.

“Fuck- fuck! Carla I can’t! Please, please let me come for you, I need it,” she babbles. The pathetic whine of her own voice only pushing her closer to the edge — proof of just how ruined she is for Carla.

“You wanna come, baby? Gonna make a mess all over my fingers?”

Carla leans in close, Lisa shuddering at the glint of something almost animalistic in her eyes.

Something that makes her instincts scream that she’s about to be eaten alive.

Yet in that moment, she’s certain she’s never wanted anything more.

“But you know once you do. . . I won’t be able to stop. I’m gonna keep fucking you until you break.”

A nigh incomprehensibly tangled string of yes and pleases falls from Lisa’s lips.

“Yeah? But that’s what you want isn’t it? To be made to take it, so you can show off what an obedient little slut you are.”

“Ah- baby- can't- I can't- 'm gonna-”

Lisa’s words come out as a helpless whine, her body arching off the bed, quivering with exertion as she tries to hold back.

“Go on then. Let go for me, my gorgeous girl.”

And then Lisa’s coming with a sharp, broken cry, sobbing out Carla’s name as she clamps down hard around her fingers. Carla works her steadily through every frantic, babbling, second of it, her lips pressed to Lisa's bent knee, whispering mindless praise against the soft skin. Only slowing her movements and easing the pressure of the wand against her as Lisa finally shudders through the last, lingering waves of her orgasm.

“That’s it. Doing so well for me, baby.” She murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss against Lisa’s twitching hips. "My good girl."

And the praise combined with the unadulterated awe in Carla's expression makes something within Lisa come alive. She's barely down from her high before she’s grabbing Carla’s hand, roughly forcing the vibrator back against her clit, drunk on the need to please.

The overstimulation makes her body jerk and her eyes water but she’s too far gone to care, sobbing out, “yes, more- oh- fuck me, baby!”

Everything seems to blur from there, a thick haze of pleasure clouding her brain, and by the time Carla has brought her to orgasm once — or maybe it was twice — more, Lisa is completely untethered from reality.

Carla is working her up again, but she can barely even speak now; voice hoarse from the near constant stream of noise that’s been spilling from her throat. She opens her mouth to say she’s close, that it feels so good, but somewhere between her empty brain and her burning throat the words seem to melt to meaningless whimpers.

Though Carla knows her body well enough to hear her without speech, her fingers curl, press harder against that spot and Lisa sobs.

“Again,” Carla demands, her voice so low Lisa can barely hear it over the sounds she can’t seem to contain, “that’s it, god Lis- so fucking good for me.”

And Lisa shatters again, eyes screwed shut, all but howling as she takes it.

“Still green, angel?” Carla asks gently, pausing her movements as Lisa comes back down, still shaking and gasping for air. She’s a mess, hair wild, half plastered to her face with sweat and tears, the imprint of her teeth still visible as deep dents on her lower lip and across her knuckles. And Carla can only think that she must be the luckiest person alive to get to see Lisa unguarded and unravelled like this.

Lisa manages to force her eyes open, meeting Carla’s gaze, momentarily lost in the look in her eyes; the one that makes her feel so adored it manifests as a physical ache in her chest.

Carla stiffens at her silence, and the idea of this being over snaps Lisa back into the moment.

“Green, I’m so green. Don’t stop. Please let me keep taking it for you.”

Her body is on the brink of exhaustion, and she’s not sure she has another orgasm in her. But she can't stop, not till she's certain she's given Carla absolutely everything she has. Desperate to let Carla ruin her entirely.

She makes a noise as Carla removes her fingers, half protest, half confusion. Though she can barely keep hold of the thought long enough to question it when the wand is pressed against her painfully sensitive clit. She can barely tell whether or not she’s still coming, the pleasure burning so bright the sensations all meld into one.

Her whole body aches from the tension coiled in every muscle, tremors wracking her flushed form. She feels wild, unhinged and undone and free in a way she cannot name but which her body seems to embrace on a primal level.

“One more. Just one more for me, baby- fuck.”

Something in Carla’s voice catches her attention — a breathy undercurrent to her tone.

And somehow, through the blurry fog of shapes that’s become her vision, she sees Carla’s other hand.

Glistening fingers buried now between her own thighs, gasping as she desperately rubs her clit, eyes never once leaving the mess of a woman laid out before her.

Lisa sobs out again, pushed to the brink by the sight of how much this is affecting her girlfriend. By the knowledge that Carla is getting off on seeing her like this, using her body like a plaything.

“God-“ Carla growls, hips grinding fervently against her hand, “I love you like this, all brainless and obedient. There’s not a thought in that pretty little head other than pleasing me, is there?”

Lisa nods and babbles, barely able to form words but desperate for Carla to know how much she wants this, wants Carla to make herself come watching Lisa made so pathetic before her.

She’s panting, open-mouthed, helpless gasps and moans dragged from her throat. Everything is hazy and illucid, the only clarity in the agonising pull of the orgasm somehow building low in her gut, threatening to fracture something deep within her.

“Fuck- I- 's too much!" She chokes out. "Can't do it- I can't!"

“I know baby, I know,” Carla coos, her words dripping with the condescension that Lisa craves, “but you’re taking it so well. Just like I asked you to. You're gonna give me one more, aren't you?”

Lisa can only manage a broken whine in response, her body having made the choice before her brain can even catch up, already teetering on the edge.

She can’t tear her eyes away from Carla, desperately drinking in every moment of this fucking vision.

Slender fingers stroking her dripping cunt, Lisa’s arousal mixing with hers, hooded eyes tracking every twitch of Lisa’s body, matching them with her own.

She can’t take how good it feels to be ogled, objectified for Carla’s pleasure. Wants to put on a show. Be pretty and perfect for Carla to touch herself to.

Knows she'd do anything, would push her body to its very limits, just to keep pleasing her like this.

Carla’s moans grow louder as Lisa’s body begins to arch against the vibrator, mindlessly chasing her (Carla’s) release, even as she sobs and writhes.

“Oh Lis, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Fuck- please, with me!”

This time when it hits, Lisa feels her consciousness go fuzzy at the edges, her whole world melting into whiteness.

She’d been desperate to keep her eyes open, to see Carla come for her, and she’s not sure if her eyes are closed or if her brain has simply stopped processing the signals they’re sending it.

For a moment she knows nothing at all, she can’t even feel her body, every nerve overwhelmed with pleasure almost to the point of numbness.

And then she’s back down, whimpering as the waves of it pulse through her utterly spent body.

She's never quite felt anything like it, like any of this.

And the only thing she knows for sure is that it has already rewritten her in some way she won't be able take back.

Because the pleasure still floods through every exhausted inch of her, and yet she’s already thinking about when they’ll do this again.

Lisa's still quivering all over by the time Carla regains her faculties, her eyes screwed shut and mouth open around the sounds that have long since faded to silence.

“Oh, baby.”

Carla turns off the wand, lays down by Lisa’s side, scooping her little body into her arms. Pressing gentle kisses against her flushed skin and wiping her tears, whispering soft praise in her ear, until eventually Lisa comes back down to earth.

“Do you need anything, darling-“

Lisa doesn’t even let her finish, finally in control of her muscles again she clings tighter to Carla.

“Jus’ you.”

She’s silent for a while, face pressed to Carla’s chest, lulled by the steady rhythm of her breath. Basking in the warmth of her embrace.

Safe and loved and good.

It doesn't surprise her that as she slowly comes back to herself, so too does the distant guilt thrumming somewhere in her skull.

And the thrum builds till it's once more a voice, a voice berating her for taking an evening that was supposed to be for focusing on Carla and making it about her.

Tells her she's selfish and needy and emotional. That she takes too much and never gives back.

And the voice sounds familiar, nostalgic even.

Though she's not ready to place it.

Not yet.

It's been with her for so long. Whispers pointless, senseless cruelties that it promises are to keep her safe.

And for so long, she’s trusted the words it speaks to her, let them define her.

Because she's never had any reason to question it.

Not until Carla.

She'd always hoped there was a version of herself that would be enough, that would deserve to a love like this.

The voice promises her that if she listens, if she lets it teach her how to atone for what she is, maybe one day she'll get there.

But sometimes, she swears she catches a glimpse of her, reflected in Carla's eyes.

And she looks just like Lisa, exactly as she is now.

She doesn't know what to do with the possibility that she's always been there, that she's always been her.

Just waiting for someone to find them.

But even so, the voice does not falter. It tells her she is wrong, and only it can make her right.

And in truth, Lisa still believes it — her faith wavers, but refuses to crack.

Because nothing's really changed — not yet.

And yet, she’s starting to want to change, and not in the way she once did.

Carla doesn’t make her want to be someone else — just a better version of herself.

And maybe that doesn’t mean anything.

Maybe the desire to change is a tiny, insignificant seed, and maybe it’ll take a long, long time to mature.

Maybe it’ll never flower at all, perhaps she’s too stubborn, too set in her ways. Perhaps in the end her fears will be proven right.

But it’s there, and it's growing — Carla's made sure of that.

And for now, that’s enough.

So even though she can feel the apology forming in her mouth, dull and heavy against her tongue, she decides there's something more important to say.

“Thank you."

“What for?” Carla asks, fingers tracing mindless patterns against Lisa's spine.

And honestly, Lisa’s not really sure how to describe it all.

For allowing herself to be taken care of? For accepting Lisa's kindness without fuss? Maybe.

For taking care of her in return, even when she makes it difficult? For pushing her to love herself, for loving her with a ferocity she’s still trying to accept she might deserve? Probably.

For allowing her to explore every thread of her sexuality without judgment? For fucking her brains out? Definitely.

So instead she just says—

“Tonight.”

Carla snorts, the sound rumbling up from deep inside her, causing Lisa’s head to jolt on her chest, who grumbles lightly as she resettles.

“Maybe you were too busy squealing to notice, but I was definitely enjoying myself too.”

Lisa scoffs, about to deny any squealing allegations, only to be immediately distracted as Carla trails a gentle hand up from it’s position at her back, running her fingers through impossibly soft hair.

“Plus,” she continues, that cheeky lilt creeping back into her voice, “if the only time you’ll accept praise is in bed I’m definitely gonna take advantage of that.”

Lisa groans, burying her face further into Carla’s chest. “I’ve created a monster.”

Carla just grins, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head.

"I really am so proud of you, you know that? For everything. I know it's been tough lately, and I appreciate you trying to be more open with me and kinder to yourself, even when it's difficult."

For a moment she expects Lisa to deflect, until she catches those gorgeous green eyes peeking up at her, flushed cheeks still nestled against Carla’s chest.

"Thank you," she murmurs gently, "for being so patient with me, and staying by my side even when I keep getting things wrong."

Carla closes her eyes, trying not to let her emotions overwhelm her. She often finds herself wondering who taught this woman that she wasn’t deserving of love when she’s hurting or needs support. But right now she doesn’t want to pull those threads, just needs to remind her that they were wrong.

"These things take time, but you're trying, Lis, and I don't take that for granted. Besides, it's not just you — we’re both learning and growing together, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Lisa sniffles a little, wiping at her eyes with a weak giggle. “Alright, alright. I think I’ve reached my praise limit for tonight. If you don’t stop my ego is gonna be through the roof.”

“It would be, if you could see yourself the way I see you,” Carla replies with a grin.

But she knows not to push it.

After all, she’s got all the time in the world to prove to Lisa just how perfect she is.

"I love you," Lisa whispers, taking Carla's hand in her own, gently kissing each knuckle.

And the tender silence breaks as Lisa's stomach growls with such violence that Carla can't stop herself from laughing.

“Worked up quite the appetite, have we?” she teases, poking Lisa's soft little tummy.

Lisa hums noncommittally, nuzzling closer against Carla’s chest.

“Mmm maybe. Too comfy to wanna do anything about it though.”

Carla grins slyly; if she’s figured out the perfect way to cajole Lisa into taking care of herself there's no way she's not going to milk it for all it’s worth.

“Hmm, how ‘bout we go get cleaned up? And seeing as you so kindly got me sushi earlier-“ she leans down, mouth ghosting against the shell of Lisa’s ear, “if you’re a really good girl in the shower. . . maybe I’ll get you a kebab.”

And Lisa?

Lisa’s on her feet, tugging at Carla’s arm before the last words are even out of her mouth.