Work Text:
Over the next month, Josie sneaks Cruz’s things from the bedroom downstairs until her bedroom becomes their bedroom. They don’t even have a conversation about it, but it doesn’t feel like they need to. If Cruz notices, she doesn’t exactly say anything about it. Josie feels like that’s a win.
A month later, they’re sitting on the front porch as the sun goes down. Josie’s leaning her back against Cruz’s side, arm spread across her chest and stomach, fingers haphazardly beneath the waistband of Josie’s sweatpants. She has one hand on Cruz’s forearm, fingers absently sweeping against the woman’s wrist.
They both have the butt end of a beer bottle against their thighs as they watch the lights from the street lights flick on. The lights are about a football field’s length from the house just off of the sidewalk. The sky is a blue, the moon high and bright. Still, Josie watches the grandchildren from across the street kick a ball in the front yard.
“You did good on this house, kid,” Cruz murmurs against her neck.
“I’m older than you,” Josie reminds the woman.
The sun drops a little lower as Cruz snorts against her neck. The porch light snaps on a beat later, yellow and warm shining from the fan above them, but the fan isn’t on. Cruz’s hand shifts against her waistline, moving just enough to capture her fingers.
“We gonna talk about you moving my stuff into your room?” Cruz asks.
“Our room,” Josie corrects.
The pressure at the back of her shoulder leaves her, cool air immediately licking her warm skin where Cruz had been resting her head. Then, she quickly hears the liquid in a bottle shifting. It prompts her to take a drink too, and they fall into sync for probably the millionth time since Cruz’s bags crossed the threshold of that front door.
“Our room,” Cruz repeats, “You sure about this?”
Josie thinks about it for a minute, not even a full one, before she answers. She doesn’t have a lot of doubt about Cruz, never really has. Instead, she takes a moment to toy with the woman’s fingers between hers.
“If you don’t want-“
“I want this. You ,” Cruz interjects, hand squeezing hers, “All I’ve wanted is you. Nothing’s going to change that.”
Josie smiles to herself, allowing the words to settle into her chest. She feels giddy in a way that she never has. Not even in high school. She moves their entwined hands off of her lap and presses Cruz’s to the back of the porch swing. The porch swing is why she bought the house in the first place.
She leans forward and sets her bottle on the ground. With her hands free, she slides off of the swing. Josie feels Cruz’s eyes on her, hearing a disappointed grunt at the loss of contact. That settles something wild in her chest.
Josie’s only standing in front of Cruz for a second before she sinks down onto the woman’s thighs. It’s almost as if it’s second nature to them because, as she does, Cruz’s hand finds her hip to steady her. Cruz’s hands have only been steadying her for 31 days, but they’re already so comfortable with whatever this is.
“Jos,” Cruz breathes, “Your leg.”
Josie shakes her head at that. Cruz used to care in quiet ways - reminding her of her leg, helping her shower, cooking her dinner - but now it feels louder. Steadying hands, a gentle smile, a kiss that lingers, fixing something that Josie has said is bothering her. It’s more than just what it was then. It’s what they are now.
“It’s ok,” Josie assures.
“That can’t be comfortable,” Cruz tries again.
“It’s not,” Josie says with a snort. Still, she leans forward until her hips are against Cruz’s stomach. The woman’s breath hitches softly. “Are you happy, Cruz?”
“Happier than ever before,” Cruz replies.
“Even with things slow?” She asks, barely above a whisper, “Even with our lives so quiet?”
“There’s no one else in the world I would want to do quiet or slow with,” Cruz answers. Cruz moves her hand to the small of Josie’s back, and she feels a chill crawl through her. “You know that, right?”
“Part of me worries you won’t choose to stay,” Josie admits.
Cruz stares at her, gaze soft and lips loose. The woman’s eyebrows twitch slightly, like Cruz is at war with herself. But, then again, Josie’s never actually been a mind reader.
“I already did,” Cruz says, “I chose to stay. I chose you. I chose love.”
“You love me,” Josie says, the hints of a question rolling off of her tongue.
“Yes, you dork, I love you,” Cruz says with a low laugh, “That’s why I secretly started helping you move my stuff into your room when you weren’t looking.”
“Our room,” Josie says, jaw tightening as her gaze narrows warningly.
“Our room,” Cruz concedes with a grin, her dimples popping on her cheeks.
Josie sucks in a deep breath at the sight, looking down her nose because she’s taller than Cruz for once. She drinks it in, memorizing the shape of Cruz’s mouth. She winds one arm around Cruz’s neck as she leans heavily against the woman, pulling her other hand around to trace Cruz’s lips with her thumb. Dropping it to Cruz’s chin, she pinches it between two fingers and traces Cruz’s lips with her own next.
Cruz moans against her mouth. It makes her heart pound against her ribs so fast that Josie feels like it’s vibrating. She pulls back, eyes closed, lips parted, and presses her forehead against Cruz’s. The bottle in the woman’s hand disappears somewhere, Josie doesn’t know, and quickly presses the cold palm under the hem of her shirt.
“You ok?” Cruz whispers. Josie nods absently in response. The woman’s other hand moves to her cheek, thumb sliding over the bone. A breath later, Cruz’s hand pushes Josie’s hair back over her shoulder, tucking it behind her ear. “You want to go inside?”
“We can,” Josie says.
“Is that what you want?” Cruz asks.
“I think I could have everything I want right here,” she answers.
And Josie thinks that she does. When she bought this house, she knew that it needed some work. It was close enough to her sister while still being away from the noise of the city. Josie really wasn’t sure that she could handle the noise of the city. She still isn’t sure of that. What she had expected when she got the keys was that she would live here, try to fix it up, and try to take part in soothing things.
Josie certainly didn’t think that Cruz would show up at her door 2 weeks later. She really hadn’t even thought that Cruz would stay all that long. Just until she found somewhere else to go. But then they had breakfast, lunch, and dinner together. They would talk and remember that they enjoyed each other’s company. Because of that, they both learned that they could be happy or, actually, that they were happy.
All of that was amidst the quiet and slow. They had managed being still, and doing nothing in particular except for whatever they wanted to do. Which, they still haven’t quite discovered hobbies just yet, not outside of the rediscovered hobby of sex, but they’re learning.
“Me too,” Cruz says softly. Cruz tickles Josie’s neck with soft fingertips, and she shivers. She leans in to Cruz, and feels a guttural sigh crawl up her throat when Cruz immediately wraps both arms around her middle. “Which is pretty great since I didn’t know what else I wanted when I showed up at your door.”
“Me?” Josie says teasingly.
“Yeah, babe,” Cruz replies, words thick with emotion, “Of course you.”
It occurs to her that 2 years ago when they shared a space, when they kissed urgently then avoided each other for hours, Cruz had never called her that. In fact, Josie doesn’t think that anyone has ever called her that. She shudders as she leans in, her lips finding Cruz’s almost on instinct.
“We definitely need to take this inside,” Josie murmurs.
Cruz laughs gently. She’s never heard the woman laugh so damn much, but it’s the most beautiful sound that Josie’s ever heard. Josie wants to record the sound and make it her ringtone, and maybe even wants it to be the last thing that she ever hears.
“What are you thinking?” Cruz says, head tilted back to look up at her.
“Thinking that I love seeing you happy,” she answers with a sigh, “Love hearing you laugh.”
“Nothing on earth makes me happier than you,” Cruz says, beaming up at her.
“Not even sex?” Josie teases.
“Sex with you,” Cruz answers, fighting a blush, “It’s pretty top tier.”
“Take me inside,” Josie breathes.
“Yes, ma’am,” Cruz says, eyes darkening.
Josie’s breath hitches at how dark Cruz’s eyes get when she commands the woman to do anything in regards to sex. A lustful haze always settles in them, dark like chocolate, and Josie loves that she can give Cruz what she wants. It wasn’t always like that.
Cruz’s biceps stretch as the woman holds Josie tighter before standing. She’s in awe of Cruz’s strength, the cut lines in her arms flexing with every movement. Josie wants to stare at them, but she doesn’t want to distract Cruz all that much.
Cruz pulls open the screen door and takes them inside. Though Josie is barefoot, Cruz has her boots on and every step is heavier than the last. All until Cruz is pressing her against the arm of the couch, grip loosing, and lips dropping onto hers.
The kiss is drawn out, slow, like they have all of the time in the world. Josie can’t help wondering, hands sliding down Cruz’s front in search of the hem of the woman’s shirt, if they really do have all of the time in the world. The way that they’ve found retribution, understanding, and warmth in each other isn’t something that everyone in the world gets to feel. At least not anyone who Josie knows.
Josie peels Cruz’s shirt off and drops it to the floor. It’s just the first piece of clothing in a myriad of pieces of clothing to come off, until everything is a pile on the floor. The gentle gusts of wind toy with the screen door on its hinges, every rhythmic slam of it against the frame drowning out the sounds tumbling out of their mouths. More than just their bodies entwine.
Even their hearts wind around each other as Cruz whispers promises of not going anywhere against her skin. She’s never really known Cruz to be a liar. Not one to her at least. So she believes every word even if she can’t quite bring herself to say it back. Not because she doesn’t feel that way, Josie’s been in love with Cruz for a long time, but because she believes in her actions having already proven to Cruz how she feels. She doesn’t just want to say it because Cruz did.
As she lays on her back, trying to catch her breath beneath Cruz’s gentle touch, Josie has no doubts about this thing between them.
A few hours later, Josie slips out of bed from beneath Cruz’s arm. The woman must be tired because Cruz doesn’t budge when she usually has a tendency to sleep lightly. Josie pauses in the doorway for just a moment and looks over her shoulder, watching Cruz sleep soundly with her face in the pillow in the middle of the bed.
She avoids the steps that creak on the stairs as she descends them. It’s dark, except for the light halfway between their house and the road shining in through the window at the front of the house, so she flips the switch in the kitchen to give her a little light. With the bottom floor brightened, she makes her way down the hall to the downstairs bedroom.
Josie scours it for anything that might belong to Cruz. She runs her palms over the burgundy bedding just to make sure nothings beneath them. After that, she opens the drawer to one nightstand, the one closest to the door because she knows Cruz likes to sleep there, and finds the silver tags with information engraved on it. She lifts it to find Cruz’s name, birthday, blood type, there. She drops the chain over her head and keeps looking.
After a few minutes of looking, she finds a note pad with dates written on the pages. Including the day Josie practically through herself at Cruz. Not that Cruz wasn’t ready to catch her. They caught each other pretty tightly that day. She grabs that and takes it up the stairs with her, turning lights off as she goes. She puts the notepad in the drawer at Cruz’s side of the bed before going around to her side.
As soon as she lifts Cruz’s arm and slips back under it, the woman shifts. Her heart stills for just a moment as that hand moves from her ribcage to her hip. Cruz scoots a little closer, like she doesn’t want to be all that far from Josie in her sleep.
But, Cruz isn’t asleep, because she murmurs, “Where’d you go?”
“Downstairs,” she answers, “Wanted to see if you had anything left down there.”
“Yeah?” Cruz asks, voice thick with sleep, “You get the rest of it?”
“Found a few things,” Josie admits.
“My tags?” Cruz asks quietly.
“Yeah,” Josie says softly, almost afraid of Cruz’s reaction, “And that notepad you were using.”
“Ok,” Cruz says into her shoulder.
“You’re not mad?” Josie says.
“No,” Cruz says, hand slipping beneath the hem of her shirt, “Why would I be mad? I’ve got nothing to hide. I’ve always told you the truth and I always will.”
Josie rolls towards Cruz and buries her face into the woman’s chest. Cruz smells like cedar wood and cinnamon. Warm like coming home. The woman’s hand slides across her back and hugs Josie tighter against her chest. Josie sighs, content with this predicament and the way things are turning out.
She quickly throws her thanks up to whatever gods are out there for bringing them back together.