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“Not to be a bitch -”Sam says and as far as beginning a sentence goes that has to be right there with ’promise you won’t get mad’ and ‘this isn’t what it looks like’, but for all the time Imra has known her (that is, for about a year) Sam has never been a bitch unless it was thoroughly deserved, so she elects to wait for the rest before passing judgement.“ -but does your girlfriend know you’re dating?”The finished question does not change her view on Sam’s capability for bitchiness either, it merely serves to confuse her.Her eyes flit to the black clad figure disappearing in the direction of the library, then back to the woman seated across from her, who regards her with patient curiosity.Next to her Lena is attempting to hide her grimace with an exceedingly long drink of her coffee.The three of them are sitting in the shade outside the campus most popular coffee shop (CATCUP. Look, the coffee is cheap and better than the sludge served in the cafeteria, okay?) enjoying the mild weather and waiting for Kara's shift to end.Moments ago, Gayle was with them as well, pressed against Imra’s side, their intertwined hands in her lap, before she muttered something about ‘meeting Leslie and her girl’ in the library for their group assignment, permitted Imra to brush a brief goodbye kiss to her lips and another against her cheek before heading off.How this - or any other interaction between them that Sam has been privy to - gives her reason to doubt Gayle’s awareness of their relationship status she can’t quite say.But her friend is still looking at her expectantly, while Lena is avoiding her eyes at all cost, so Imra cautiously ventures.“I think so? I mean, why do you ask?”Sam shrugs, still as far from bitchy as one can be (Imra would know. She loves Gayle, but god can she be a bitch) (Imra loves that about her, too. Don’t tell Gayle.) before elaborating - despite Lena hectically gesturing for her to not do that. Or maybe she is chasing off a bee?“It’s just - she never just touches you? Like, first I thought she was just super private and, I mean, she is, but also, when you touch her she’s all for it. And, you guys have been together for, what, a year?”“Ten months”, Imra volunteers (and eight days and sixteen hours and - uh, who’s counting, right).Sam nods, like this information proves her point somehow.“So, long enough for the honeymoon phase to be over. Especially since you’re already rooming together. But she still looks at you like she can’t believe that you’re real. I mean, it’s obvious she loves you, but .. She acts like she isn’t sure she’s allowed to show it?”And that’s -Well.Imra would like to wave it off because obviously Gayle knows that they’re dating. She is way too smart to have missed it.She is just very Gayle about stuff like that,Which is what she tells Sam.(And Lena and her fluttery hands.)But the thought sticks in her head for the rest of the day.*You see, Gayle is smart.There is a reason she is at NCU on a full academic scholarship.She is clever and studious and kind of a wise ass in the most charming of ways (so Imra is biassed. Whatever).Gayle is, however, also somewhat emotionally stunted.Imra doesn’t have the whole story of her home life and she isn’t sure she wants to (could take it without turning to homicide) because the bits Gayle drops without noticing are kind of horrifying?But they also explain a lot.When they first met - or rather, when Gayle first began to spend time in their dorm room while Imra was there instead of fleeing - because, as she said. ‘Leslie’s new girlfriend is a fucking banshee!’ - the blonde froze at every friendly touch and regarded any kind gesture with open suspicion.It still feels like victory whenever she allows Imra to hold her hand or put an arm around her waist with a smile instead of an uneasy frown.So she never dwells on why it is still always her initiating contact, because Gayle never fails to respond eagerly.Like she is only ever waiting for Imra’s permission.She assumed they’re on the same page.Even though she knows Gayle and assume are a combination bound for disaster.*It is still bothering her when she steps onto their room later that day.
“Does your girlfriend know that you’re dating?”
She closes the door gently, because Gayle is already here - sitting on her bed, surrounded by open books and loose notes, tapping away on her laptop in deep concentration.Had Imra slammed the door shut instead, it might have gone without notice.She watches her absentmindedly brush a lock of blonde hair behind her ear and sigh in irritation when it inevitably slips back, never taking her eyes off the screen.Almost two years have passed since Imra first walked into this room, with Mike trailing behind her, helping to carry her things, and came face to face with a scowling blonde in a black leather jacket.Beautiful.Imra thought then, without meaning to and with no particular weight behind it.She thinks the same today, only heavier now, underlined by a blooming warmth in her chest, like she swallowed a tiny star.Gayle pauses in her work, turns to Imra as though feeling her gaze accomplished what nothing else could have - to draw her attention away from her books.It took about half a year for Gayle to start spending more than five minutes at a time in the same room as her.Another two weeks before curt retorts skirting the edge of hostility turned into something one might call an actual conversation -Gayle was reading ‘The Song of Achilles’, so Imra, considering to check it out for herself, asked her how she liked it, only to find herself at the receiving end of a rant on Madeline Millers less than impressive writing style, her questionable choices in reinterpreting known historical facts and how Gayle was only re-reading it so she could list all the reason it sucked in perfect detail in class.- in short, Gayle had opinions and Imra was enthralled.(She ended up reading the book herself eventually. It was okay? Againk, don’t tell Gayle.)And soon enough, talking whenever they happened to meet in their room turned to meeting on purpose turned to spending more time together than apart - especially once Mike was out of the picture.“Hey you.” Imra says. It earns her that soft, adoring smile Gayle reserves for her alone.It lights her eyes up like starfire, making the responding flame in Imra’s chest spark even brighter.She can’t say when exactly they crossed the line from reluctant roommates to actual friends, only that it must have happened some time before Mike broke up with her.Because when Gayle found her failing to stifle her sobs into her pillow that night she barely wavered before sitting down next to her and asking what was wrong.She even hugged her, promising to make Mike pay with a graveness that almost made Imra laugh despite her tears.Stayed with her the whole night.“Hey yourself.” Gayle says now, begins to gather up her notes like the work that held all her focus mere moments ago lost all its importance just like that, making space for Imra in a wordless invitation she gladly accepts.It’s stuff like this, unspoken but clear and only ever for her that has her convinced Gayle understands.That she knows but never says anything, because she is still Gayle.“You okay?” Gayle asks, once Imra has slipped off her boots and onto the bed next to her - half on top of her, actually, arms wrapped around her waist, head resting in the crook of her neck.Carding her fingers through Imra’s hair and smelling like her body wash (she always steals Imra’s because she ‘forgets’ to buy her own) (Imra doesn’t mind) and being all together very distracting.
“Does your girlfriend know that you’re dating?”
On one hand, how can she not?On the other hand - it’s Gayle.Imra hums something noncommittal, presses a quick kiss against the underside of her jaw.Marvels at the way something so minor makes Gayle’s breath hitch, makes the hand not toying with her hair fist the back of her shirt.
Distracting.
“You know I love you, right?”*It’s been ten months (and nine days and about two hours and -) since Imra first told her that.She said it before - half asleep and hungover, being offered a cup of coffee God, I love you - knew it before, too, albeit not realised the full extent - Of course I love her, she’s my best friend!, but should your friends make you ache like this? - until that night ten months ago.Their position was similar to their current one, curled up together on Gayles bed, watching a movie - something about the struggles of a landowner and her shepherd lover in pre-electricity Ireland?Imra was unable to spare much attention for anything beside the play of light across Gayle’s features, the warmth of her body, the mix of Imra’s body wash and her own shampoo (that she never forgot) and just Gayle.Then Gayle turned her head, a little awkwardly due to their proximity, to say something snarky, only to freeze, eyes deepsea blue in the low light but burning all the same and fixed on Imra like the rest of the world had ceased to exist.And Imra thought I love you or maybe You are so beautiful or maybe nothing at all before she leaned forward, bridged that breath of space left between them and pressed her mout to Gayle’s.And Gayle kissed back like she was starving for it, like she had held her breath for years and now Imra was offering her a taste of fresh air, pressed her down into the sheets and covered her body with her own.And, well, sex with Mike (and Garth before him) had been fine.Imra had enjoyed herself, is what she’s getting at. Maybe they hadn’t rocked her world but she had also never considered faking a headache to get out of it either. They had both been considered lovers and it had been fine.But Gayle was Gayle.Attentive and focused and a very quick learner.Unable to settle for anything less than perfection.Perfection, that is a pretty accurate description for what she made Imra feel, mapping her body with her hands and following that path with tongue and teeth until the brunette was a whimpering mess beneath her, coming undone with a gasp of her name.The morning after, woken too early by an inconsiderate ray of sunlight but too content to really mind, she pressed a kiss to Gayles bare shoulder and murmured ‘I love you’ against her skin.And while back then the blonde was obviously not awake to hear her, Imra repeated it often enough, never making a secret of her feelings.Gayle never responded in so many words, but then Imra never expected her to.Gayles feelings were, are clear enough in the way she looks at her, the way she holds her close, lets her walls down for her and her alone.It’s been ten months of holding hands, of kissing her good morning and good night and just because she could, of dates to weird indie-flicks at Gayles favourite little arthouse joint or even weirder plays by Brainy’s drama group or whatever dive Leslies band managed to score a gig at that week.Ten months since Imra last slept in her own bed.What are three words against all that?*Except now Gayle draws back a little, tilts Imras chin up to eye her critically.“Something is bothering you.” She says.And maybe Imra doesn’t give her enough credit, because as hopeless as Gayle is with her own emotions she does have a knack for reading others and -She knows.Right?Imra lets her thump slip beneath the hem of Gayles shirt, lightly traces the skin of her stomach.Touch is a reliable way to keep her from fleeing potentially difficult conversations, she has found.“Just something Sam said earlier today.” She mumbles.Gayles brows rise, wordlessly prompting her to go on.And it’s ridiculous, right?They’re lying on Gayles bed, tangled together, close as humanly possible. The way they have basically every night for the last ten months, the way Imra intends to continue for the rest of their time sharing a home (the rest of her life seems a bit much to already plan for, but she can hope).That leaves very little room for ambiguity.Right?“Sam said - that is, she asked me-”Imra stops, takes a breath to help sort her thoughts and tries again.“I know it’s dumb, but - you’re aware that we’re in a relationship, right?”Gayle says nothing.She only stares at Imra, blues eyes impossibly wide, frozen like a deer in headlights.Imra pushes to her knees, ending up half straddling Gayles lap, half hovering above her. It gives her the necessary height advantage for adequate incredulity.“Gayle. Please tell me you’re kidding.”But Gayle does not look like she is kidding. She looks like Imra jus told her that Santa isn’t real. (Or that Santa is real? Nevermind, bad metaphor).Imra lets her head drop back to her shoulder, forehead pressed into the softworn fabric of her collar.Gayle still isn’t saying anything, but her hands are clutching at Imra’s waist like she is afraid the brunette might up and leave and fucking hell.Imra sighs.Mumbles a sorry and hurries on when she feels Gayles fingers dig in harder in response.“I know you’re bad with this stuff and I should not have assumed, but - Gayle, what did you think was going on?”She has the good grace to look sheepish, eyes anywhere but Imra and flushing with embarrassment.“I was actually trying not to think about it?” Is what she eventually offers, unusually meek.Imra just waits until those starfire blue eyes finally flick back to her own and stay, until the hands squeezing her hips relax the slightest bit and Gayle finds the courage to continue.“I was scared that if this got too real you might leave.”Imra does her best to hold back a goran of frustration.“Gayle, honey, how many times have we slept together? How often have I told you that I love you? What about that isn’t too real?”Gayle pulls a grimace, shrugs helplessly.“We’re in college, people experiment and you’re - you say that a lot so I thought - it doesn't mean -”“Gayle”, Imra interrupts, taking her face in both her hands and gazing deeply into her stupid blue eyes. “You’re a fucking idiot. And I love you. So, so much.”She punctuates the words with a quick kiss, pulling back before Gayle has the chance to respond.“I am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you. So will you please be my girlfriend for real this time?”“Oh”, Gayle says, somewhat dumbstruck.“Is that a yes?”“I - yes, of course.”“Good.”She dives in for a proper kiss then, but Gayle stops her short.“I - uh, I love you, too.” She murmurs.Imra smiles. “I know that, you dumbass.”
She knows.