Chapter Text
When Tina was seven, her feet still couldn’t reach the floor, and she was sitting on the pew at church, kicking the air like a football. That evening, she couldn’t concentrate. Of course, the attention span of a seven-year-old can’t be large enough to take in a whole sermon, but it wasn’t quite that that kept her from paying attention to what really mattered, to what the pastor was saying. Bette was the one to blame.
“We’re playing hide and seek when we get back home, and I’m gonna hide behind you so when Kit comes to find me, she’ll find you first and you’re gonna lose!” Bette pestered her in a whisper.
“Kit will know you’re there and you’re gonna lose too!” Tina bit back in a voice not quite as whispery as Bette’s.
“Tina, shush,” Maxine whispered to her, a harsh and rare expression on her face.
Tina pouted and then turned her face, giving Bette an angry stare, to which Bette responded with a smirk. Tina couldn’t help but smile back after a second, because that’s who they were, in some ways the same and in many others so different, in their forever game of push and pull with no winners, the game that kept their bond growing stronger, that made people say again and again how cute it was that they were always together—Bette would tease, Tina would huff and then they’d run around together, ending up tangled on the floor in a fit of laughter.
It wasn’t exactly those childish games that kept Tina up at night nowadays, though; they were just the spark that lit the fire that wouldn’t stop burning in Tina’s chest and lower on her stomach. But those games were where it all started.
Tina would never forget that evening.
“Get out,” seven-year-old Tina said to Bette that night, “you cannot hide where I’m hiding,” she said, pushing Bette out from under the kitchen table.
“I can do whatever I want,” Bette said in a bossy tone she’d had since she learned to put words together. “Let me stay, T,” Bette added, now in a soft tone, “It’s getting dark, and I don’t want to hide in the dark all alone.”
Tina considered Bette’s reasons for a second. She grimaced, then nodded, then held Bette’s right hand tightly. “You don’t ever have to be alone, B,” she said lovingly.
Kit, Bette’s older sister, was ten years older than the girls, looking good in her favorite baseball team jersey, looking around, saying both Tina’s and Bette’s names again and again like she couldn’t see their feet poking out from below the kitchen tablecloth. Bette was starting to get restless, Kit was taking too long to find them, and she was never one to sit still in one place for long.
“K—” she started saying the nickname, but Tina set her small hand over her lips.
“Bette!” She whispered nervously, “She’s going to find us.”
“She won’t,” Bette said, her attentive ears recognizing Eva’s voice coming from the living room, “her girlfriend just got here, now she’s going to go kiss her and forget all about us.”
“She’ll come find us first,” Tina reassured.
“I want to be kissed too!” Bette said, her voice dreamy.
“We’re too young for that,” Tina said, feeling her cheeks warm for reasons she couldn’t quite understand.
“Hannah said Johnny kissed her in school,” Bette said. “She said he tasted like tomato sauce.”
“Tomato sauce?” Tina asked, confused.
Her confusion turned into a breathless feeling like all the air had been sucked out of her chest. Bette’s lips were on hers—they tasted like the ice cream they had for dessert.
“You don’t,” Bette said with a giggle when she pulled away, “you taste like candy!”
Bette yelled, “We’re here,” and left their hiding spot right after, still giggling.
Tina didn’t move for quite a while. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that Maxine noticed her tiny feet showing under the table.
“T, why are you still there?” Maxine asked, pulling up the tablecloth to check on the little girl. “Bette gave you girls away. The game is over. Kit left. Come on,” she extended her hand. “Let’s go find your sister and get ready for bed.”
“She’s not my sister,” Tina explained, crossing her arms, an annoyed look on her face, “and she gave us away!”
“I know,” Maxine said reassuringly and picked the girl up in her arms. “She was a very bad sister. I’m gonna talk to her, I promise.”
“She’s not my sister,” Tina said again and kicked her feet to try to get down from Maxine’s arms, but the woman wouldn’t have it.
“I know,” she said again and tickled Tina's sides to stop her from struggling in her arms. Tina surrendered to giggles and gave in to the soft kisses on her cheek and temple.
Maxine helped the little girl change into pajamas and put her in bed before kissing her face again. “You’re gonna be good now and go to sleep, and I’m gonna go find Bette and bring her to bed, can you do that for me?”
“Yeah,” Tina said, yawning. “She’s probably hiding in the basement,” she added in a whisper, “she likes to go through the big trunk with momma’s things.”
Maxine found her right where Tina had told her she’d be, going through the trunk with Jenna’s things. It was funny, Maxine always thought, that Bette was always so close to Jenna, so much like her, and Tina so different, so much like Maxine, actually, like they had changed babies at birth, which could be true if the babies hadn’t been born three months apart. She guesses it’s a best friend thing, having a kid that’s the perfect copy of your favorite person in the world.
“Time to go to bed, baby girl,” Maxine said, and Bette turned to her with a pretty light blue dress in her hands.
“Mom, can I go to the prom in Aunt Jenna’s dress?” She asked, showing her mom the dress, “It’s so pretty.”
“I think Tina should have the dress if she wants it,” Maxine said, though she didn’t quite see Tina wearing a dress like that one ever, “but if she’s ok with that, yeah, you can wear it to prom in ten years. Now, bed.”
Maxine was right, Tina was never one to wear dresses. And Bette grew so tall that Jenna’s dress fit her in their junior year. The blue dress looked perfect for the winter formal—Tina was wearing white pants and a dark blue sleeveless linen shirt. She was happy to let Bette wear the dress—the fact that she looked so beautiful in it might also have influenced Tina’s decision to let her keep it. Later that night, Bette pushed Tina below the bleachers in school and squealed that she had been kissed by Tim, the quarterback and the oldest boy in school.
“He’s so strong, he even pulled me off my feet!”
Tina hadn’t been kissed yet, not since that night when they were little, and Bette had given her an ice cream-flavored peck. She wouldn’t be kissed again until a couple of weeks after the day of the prom. She wouldn’t be kissed again until that day she walked into their shared room and found Tim all over Bette on the bed.
“Bette!” Tina spoke her name in shock.
The boy was off Bette’s body and halfway out the window before she could even add anything to Bette’s name.
“Mom could’ve walked in!” Tina said in desperation, her voice wavering in fear—being the good kid meant she’d be held responsible if Bette was found making out with an older boy in their shared bedroom.
“We were paying attention—” Bette said dismissively.
“You clearly weren’t,” Tina cut her off.
“Ok, ok,” Bette said, rolling her eyes, “it’s just… he kisses me so good, T.”
Tina licked her lips and bit her tongue inside her mouth. She couldn’t quite pinpoint what that feeling in her chest was… Jealousy? Did she want to be kissed as Bette had been? Tim’s face flashed across her mind, and she had to fight the need to puke—Tina didn’t want to be kissed by him. Did she want to be the one doing the kissing?
“What does it feel like?” Tina asked shyly after a few more seconds of silence and a brain full of uncountable questions.
“What?” Bette asked, sitting straighter in bed, “Being kissed by him?”
“Being kissed,” Tina corrected, though she wasn’t quite sure Bette would understand what she meant.
“Wet. And warm,” Bette said, biting her lower lip. “Come here, I’ll show you,” she added, as if it meant nothing.
Tina stayed there, frozen in place, too scared to say yes, too willing to say no.
“Come on,” Bette said, standing up, a knowing smile on her face, “it’s not like it’s going to be the first time.”
Tina’s whole body shivered as she watched Bette come closer. She had never forgotten that innocent kiss from so many years before; she could never know Bette remembered it too.
Bette didn’t touch her then, just stood there, so close, her face the same one that Tina saw right before bed and when she woke up, every day since her mother died ten years before, not a birthmark she didn’t recognize. She was so pretty in her sundress and ponytail, Tina had to tell herself to keep breathing.
“It’s okay, T,” Bette whispered, “it’s ok to want this.”
Tina was so different from Bette. Right then, she was looking handsome in a baseball jersey she got as a gift from Kit, and sweatpants. Still, Bette never needed Tina to say much or explain anything; it was as if she had access to Tina’s every thought, which was the only explanation for why Bette always knew exactly what to say to make her brain settle.
Tina didn’t consciously make the decision, but could feel her body moving forward and clashing against Bette’s, her lips on hers, warm and sweet, but also rough and desperate— she had wanted to do that for ages, and it showed. Bette’s hands were on her face, and Tina’s arms around Bette’s waist, and they didn’t cut the kiss for long minutes until it started dying out and turning into a soft brush of lips.
Tina kept her eyes closed for a while, scared she’d open them and realize that it was all her imagination. When she finally opened them, Bette was staring at her, watching her expression closely.
“So?” Bette asked like she wanted to be graded on her kissing ability. Tina would give her an A+, but she wouldn’t ever say that.
“How did it feel for you?” Tina mustered up the courage to ask back.
“You taste better,” Bette said with a wink.
“Don’t tease,” Tina said, feeling almost hurt by Bette’s comment.
“I mean it,” Bette said, and the next thing Tina knew was that they were kissing again.
Bette and Tim seem to be becoming a thing, or at least Tina thinks, considering they’ve been seeing each other for three months now, and Tina has caught them making out in their bedroom at least ten times in those three months. Sometimes she wonders if Bette thinks about that day, about their kiss, if she lies in bed like Tina and can’t help but daydream about feeling her lips one more time. She wonders if Bette thinks about her when Tim kisses her. Tina has no one to compare her to, but she’s sure no one else would kiss her as Bette did. Was Tina’s kiss so bland that Bette decided Tim was better in the end? Tina shakes the thought away. She’s so tired of thinking about Bette and that kiss, and why is she picturing Bette’s hands on her skin again?
It’s a blessing to have a day for herself at home. Mom is working late, and Dad is out of town for some business meeting, and Bette is out, probably with Tim, but Tina tries not to think too hard about that.
Tina has had the house to herself since breakfast, and she made good use of the privilege. She did the dishes early, then sat in the backyard under a tree and read until her eyes felt itchy. She had pretzels for lunch. She put on music, took her laundry out of the drying machine, and carefully folded it on the kitchen table before setting it in a basket to take upstairs.
Tina was halfway up when she heard the noises, and she knew what those noises meant. They meant she was no longer alone at home, and Tim was yet again in her bedroom, making out with Bette. She cussed under her breath and stormed up towards the bedroom, ready to call Bette out, ready to ask her to please stop using their shared bedroom as a motel room.
She could hear the alert in the back of her head—it told her to turn around and simply not go in there, she wasn’t going for the right reasons. This wasn't about Bette using their shared space without asking permission, and it wasn’t about her concern for Bette’s safety if their parents ever found out she’d been taking a boy home for months now. It was jealousy—Tina could feel the bubbling anger below her skin, she could feel her veins popping out around her neck. He was just some guy, and he had her. Tina had put up with her her whole life, she knew her like the back of her hand, and yet a stupid boy who probably didn’t even know what he was doing could touch her and Tina couldn’t. Couldn’t—no. She shouldn’t. She knows she’s not supposed to want that. They’re as good as sisters. Sisters!
Tina drops her basket on the floor by the door and stops for a second before entering the bedroom. In that second, she remembers this sweet girl in her music class—earlier this week, the girl asked if she could have Tina’s number, and she texted her late that very day. Tina even had lunch with her just the day before. She's cute. At seventeen years old, Tina is now sure about her sexuality: she’s a lesbian. But this cute girl does little to her, so little compared to what Bette does to her, even when she’s doing nothing at all—like at Tina’s last band practice when Bette showed up and winked and waved at her from the doorway and then left like she hadn’t twisted Tina’s insides with that wink. Or that time when Bette first dyed her hair darker a year ago—Tina watched her do it at home, with no supervision, dubious quality products, courage, and a feeling of “I can do anything I want," that's so typical for their age. That afternoon, Tina watched Bette leave their shared bathroom with her black hair dry and molded into curls, and couldn’t help but ask herself how… How could Bette look more beautiful than before if she was already breathtakingly beautiful? Or that moment, just a couple of weeks ago, when Bette came out of the bathroom all wet, a towel barely hanging around her pointy breasts, handed Tina her hairbrush, sat between her legs in bed, and wouldn’t let Tina stop brushing her hair until her curls were almost dry. Tina can still remember the whimpers of satisfaction, how Bette repeated, again and again, “This feels so good, T.” The whining is not that different from the little noises she’s hearing now.
Tina is scared when she finally turns the doorknob. She’s scared because that should bother her—it’s Bette, and she’s using their bedroom to make out with a guy, and Tina wants to be him, and she’s not. But God, she sounds so good. Tina’s body doesn’t differ right or wrong; there’s only Bette and her sounds.
Tina’s breasts are bigger than she would like at this point in her life, so she is usually in a tight sports bra, trying not to pay much attention to them, but right now they’re all she can feel because her nipples are hard and they hurt below the fabric.
She walks in, looking at one bed and then the other—Bette’s nowhere to be seen, but Tina can hear the noises coming from their walk-in closet. The alert is still ringing in her ears, but Bette’s sounds are so much stronger.
She walks inside and gasps at what she finds. Bette is alone, sitting on the ottoman facing the big mirror. Her tight jeans and panties are down, hanging around her ankles. Her shirt and bra are up, and her boobs are completely free. Bette’s nipples are so hard—Tina can feel her own getting harder; she can barely stand how they feel at this point.
Tina looks down, eyes stopping at Bette’s hand resting between her own legs. She has to tell herself twice to look away.
“B-Bette,” she barely manages to get the name out, “I thought—ugh—you’d be out with your friends all—all day.”
“I thought you’d be outside reading all day,” Bette says back, and her voice doesn’t waver.
Tina can see the slightest motion of her hand as she gently rubs herself. She bites her lower lip and tells herself again not to look, though she wants to.
“No Tim this time?” Tina pushes herself to ask. She’s surprised her voice finally sounds normal, like this is just some regular chat.
“Oh, we’re done,” Bette says, like this is old news, but Tina is pretty sure that the breakup happened in the last couple of days because she had seen them together in school just earlier this week.
“I’m sorry,” Tina says, though she’s not.
“It’s fine,” Bette says dismissively, “he was boring me already.”
Tina has no idea what that means. She can still remember Bette’s dreamy voice telling her the guy kissed her so well.
“Apparently, you miss him,” Tina says, and she’s even more surprised when she hears those words and her voice. It’s teasy and dirty and not like her, but Bette is there, telling her she broke up with her boyfriend, with her legs spread and her hand still moving subtly over her labia.
“Oh,” Bette stops her ministrations for a second. “He’s not why,” she adds. “Come here.”
The alert is ringing so high at this point. Tina knows she should turn away and leave. But she's had one too many dreams about Bette to know she simply can’t say no to her—not when Tina has woken up wet and swollen after every single one of those dreams and touched herself really quietly below the covers all of those times.
Tina comes closer. Bette signals to the mirror with her head, and Tina knows what she means now. It’s Bette, sweaty and open and sticky and so needy. That’s what’s turning Bette on.
“You…” Tina whispers because she knows that feeling.
Bette nods and smirks. “Can you sit here for me?” She asks, pointing at the carpeted floor.
Tina has no idea why Bette is asking her that, but the alert bell is so much quieter now, almost like a warm melody buzzing at the rhythm of her body that’s getting warmer by the second.
“Facing me,” Bette clarifies when Tina starts lowering her body down.
Tina doesn’t question it. She could be dreaming, she thinks, so she’s soaking up every second of it. She sits on the floor and crosses her legs, straightens up her shoulders, and looks up at Bette’s eyes—Bette’s sitting on the stool, and Tina is almost at a combusting point because she knows all she has to do is look ahead and her eyes will be leveled with Bette’s gentle hand, with her warm center.
“I really like your hair short,” Bette says, looking into Tina’s eyes before she can say or ask anything.
Tina has been cutting it short for almost a year. At first, it was a nightmare getting her parents to let her do it, “That’s not very feminine, T, darling,” Dad had said—not that Tina would ever care about being too feminine, but she hadn’t told them that yet. Now she was out and proud, figuring out her style, and everyone was used to it… Bette had said Tina looked good when she first got that cut, but that was mostly it. So now Tina’s blushing, it feels like she’s cutting her hair for the first time all over again. She smiles shyly, cheeks blushing. Bette bites her lower lip.
“Can you take off your shirt?” Bette asks, and it’s the first time Tina can hear a little bit of hesitation in her voice, like she is scared Tina is going to say no.
Tina pulls the shirt off before Bette can start second-guessing how desperately Tina wants to be right there. She tosses it aside and breathes shakily. “The bra too?”
Bette whines at how willing Tina is, sitting right there, letting Bette tell her how she wants her.
“Please,” Bette says.
Tina is quick to comply, tossing the bra somewhere on the floor. Bette watches them closely—there’s a hunger in Bette’s eyes that makes Tina’s nipples tighten. Soon her eyes are back on Tina’s. Tina blinks slowly, then looks down at Bette’s hand, noticing how she’s now putting more pressure and moving it a little bit faster. She tells herself to look back up, and Bette smiles knowingly when their eyes meet again.
“It’s ok, you can look at my hand.”
Tina’s still struggling because one of Bette’s hands is still on her pussy, and the other is now pinching her nipple, and there’s something about watching Bette’s face as she touches herself. Tina wishes she could have a million pairs of eyes.
Bette’s whimpering is getting deeper. She’s getting louder—her hand between her legs reaching down and a finger disappearing between her folds. Tina thinks she died and went to heaven; that’s the closest to paradise she’ll probably ever get anyway. And she actually gets there when Bette’s eyes start rolling in their sockets. She’s the prettiest when she screams, and her thighs trap her hand, and her whole body curls in on itself.
It takes Bette a minute to come back to her senses. Tina herself is shocked in place, wondering if she’s ever going to recover from that, if she ever wants to know a life in which Bette’s not naked before her twenty-four hours of every single day.
Bette slides from the ottoman and sits on the floor right before Tina. She extends her hands and touches her knees over her sweatpants, and Tina feels a vibration between her legs she’s never felt before, not even in all the times she touched herself these last few months after they had kissed each other.
Bette’s hands move up Tina’s thighs to the sides of her waist, and when they’re below her armpits, Bette moves to her chest, cupping her and rubbing her nipples with her thumbs.
“Bette—” Tina gasps her name, and right then, having big breasts feels so fucking good, “fuck.”
“You cuss,” Bette says, teasing, “Daddy’s good girl knows how to cuss,” she adds before pinching her nipples.
“Bette—” Tina’s body twists involuntarily, “God, I—“
“Use your hand,” Bette says with urgency.
There isn’t one coherent thought in Tina’s brain as she lowers her hand, tucking it inside her pants and panties—she’s wet and swollen and so close. She rubs herself eagerly, and this time she’s not below the covers; it’s daylight, and Bette’s eyes are on her and her hands on her chest, and Tina wants to do that for the rest of her life.
“Bette, I’m—” Tina tries to share the feeling, the sensation of being on the verge of a precipice and longing for the free fall.
Bette knows the feeling all too well. “I know you are,” she whispers, then traps her lower lip between her teeth, “fuck, T, you’re so hot like this.”
And Tina is gone. Blissfully unaware that what looks like her teenage dream, made real, is actually her lifelong nightmare just beginning.
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