Chapter Text
Lupe really didn’t mean to fall in love with Jess McCready.
In fact, she’d always planned never to fall in love at all. She’d accepted long ago that love was a commodity that women like her couldn’t afford. It was already dangerous enough to dress like her, look like her, be like her when she was on her own, but adding another woman to the equation? That was just asking for trouble.
She wasn’t someone who could take a woman out for dinner, hold her hand, or kiss her cheek in public, so what was the point of going any further than fucking women in dingy bar bathrooms, dark broom closets, and the occasional motel room? Having them for a night and never seeing them again?
It wasn’t like any of them would even want to keep her. She was always too loud, too stubborn, too much trouble. Lupe wasn’t someone people fell in love with, so she wouldn’t fall in love. Simple as that.
And yet here she was, standing by the side of the road with a bottle of Coca-Cola in her hand, suddenly and irrevocably aware that she had fallen in love with Jess.
Jess, who was currently crouching in the grass next to the flat tire of Bev’s car and showing Esti how to use a tire iron. Jess, who had somehow known exactly what to do to get Lupe and Esti to talk it out and did it. Jess, who cared about Lupe like no one had ever cared about her, who listened to her, who saw her.
Fuck.
There had been something between them for a while now, some nameless tension that neither of them had given in to yet. But this–this warmth spreading from Lupe’s chest to her whole body–was something else, something all-consuming, something terrifying.
She watched Jess gently talk Esti through the process of changing the tire.
“No, no, otra… otra dirección,” she was saying now.
“Otro sentido,” Esti corrected her easily.
“Otro sentido,” Jess repeated.
As she stood there, Lupe wondered when she had allowed it to happen, when she’d stopped thinking of Jess as a friend and started thinking of her as an extension of herself, when wanting Jess had turned from something casual into something serious, when Jess had started feeling like safety, like home, like everything.
—
Lupe didn’t come to the Peaches to make friends. That was something she’d decided before she’d even stepped off the bus in Rockford, something she told Esti in no uncertain terms to get the kid to back off.
She could play friendly—well, not play, not on the field at least—but she had no desire to get close to any of these women. She’d always been Lupe García, army of one, and she intended to keep it that way.
Except, then there was Jess.
Jess had caught Lupe’s eye the very moment she saw her at tryouts. Not because she was attractive, although she was, of course she was, but because Lupe recognized something in her.
Her energy on the field, her intensity, her butchness all felt so familiar to Lupe that she couldn’t help but feel drawn to her. And the more time they spent together, the more she found herself fascinated by Jess.
Jess was an enigma. She wore her heart on her sleeve, was deeply earnest and thoughtful, and yet so difficult to read and full of surprises that it never failed to fascinate Lupe. Despite herself, she wanted to know everything there was to know about her, to assemble every piece of the puzzle that was Jess McCready.
Before she knew it, the two of them were joined at the hip. Here she was, ever the lone wolf, and yet her inexplicable fascination with this weird Canadian shortstop had somehow turned into what she tentatively thought of as the beginnings of a friendship.
Jess, for her part, didn’t seem perturbed by this new dynamic at all. It seemed to come as naturally to her as anything else she did. In any group setting, she gravitated towards Lupe like a moon caught in her orbit. When they talked, she actually listened to everything Lupe said, asked follow-up questions, and seemed to soak up every bit of information like a sponge. She shared her food, her drinks, even her smokes with her without a thought.
Lupe had no idea how to deal with any of it. She was so used to fighting for everything—to be heard, to be seen, to be given anything at all—that she found herself caught off-guard by even the simplest of gestures, like Jess carelessly handing Lupe the other half of the apple she was cutting up for herself.
She didn’t know why Jess would treat her like this, why she would waste any of her time on Lupe. She thought that any second now, Jess would realize that she wasn’t worth it, didn’t have anything to give her in return, and drop her.
That was until one night on the porch. They’d developed a habit of sitting out there together in the evenings, sharing a pack of smokes. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn’t.
That night, Lupe came out of the house a little later than usual and found Jess already sitting on the porch steps, absentmindedly strumming chords on her guitar, an unlit cigarette dangling from her lips. As she sat down next to her, Lupe thought that she must’ve just forgotten to light it.
But then Jess pulled out another cigarette from behind her ear and offered it to Lupe. Next, she broke a match out of her matchbook and held it out to light Lupe’s cigarette for her.
The intimacy of the gesture struck Lupe, struck her even more as she realized that Jess hadn’t lit her own smoke yet because she’d been waiting for her.
Much later, once they’d started going to The Office, Lupe also realized that this was one of Jess’ moves, that she liked to light women’s cigarettes for them. How many nights had Lupe sat bewitched as Jess leant in close enough to allow the flame of her match to caress the end of her date’s cigarette, thinking back on the times Jess had done the same for her, wondering if it held the same meaning?
There, on the porch, with Jess’ hand carefully cupped around the glowing match, all she could think was that now, the two of them were truly friends. Whatever it was Jess saw in her, she wanted to keep her around. And who was Lupe to deny her that?
—
“Got some good news for you, García!” Jess announced one night as she dropped down next to Lupe on the porch steps.
It was not long after Lupe had been benched and not long before Dove would leave—so arguably, during one of the worst times of the whole season for Lupe. Accordingly, she only responded with a doubtful grunt as she fruitlessly tried to light a cigarette with her left hand.
Without asking, Jess took the lighter out of her hand and lit the cigarette for her before lighting her own. “You know Martin?”
“The bat boy?”
“Yup,” Jess said, popping the P. “Told me about a place in town that the two of us might like… if you catch my drift.”
Lupe looked at her with wide eyes. “Really?”
“Really. So if you don’t have plans for the night…”
Lupe could feel a grin spreading on her face. “I think I might just be able to squeeze that into my agenda.”
Jess smirked and leaned in close to Lupe’s ear, even though they were alone on the porch. “Then let’s get laid, Lu.”
It was only when she burst out laughing that Lupe realized Jess might just be the only person who could still get an earnest laugh out of her these days.
Stepping into The Office was like coming home. There was something about a queer bar, no matter where it was, no matter how big it was, no matter who was there, that always made Lupe feel that way.
She took in the room—the warm lighting, the soft music, the people mingling—and felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. When she turned around to look at Jess, she saw that very same emotion reflected back at her.
They got beers at the bar and found a small table in the corner. By the time they’d sat down, three women had already gathered around them, curious about the new faces. As it turned out, being a ball player, even an injured one, really had its benefits.
They each fucked a woman in the bathroom that night, though Lupe couldn’t remember much more than that. What she did remember was the look on Jess’ face when she came back to the table after, wiping her fingers on Lupe’s pants.
Lupe should have found it gross—probably would have if it was anyone else—but somehow the sight of Jess, chin still wet from eating another woman out, pupils still blown from the high of it, only managed to turn her on.
After that, they came to The Office every night that they could and before too long, had each fucked just about every dyke in the larger Rockford area. It was only in the privacy of her own mind that Lupe could admit that her favourite part of those nights was not the women or the booze or the atmosphere but spending time with Jess.
—
After a few weeks in Illinois, Lupe noticed that Jess was starting to learn Spanish.
It was an otherwise unremarkable afternoon. The Peaches had all gathered in the living room, and a discussion had broken out about whether they should go to the movies or the bowling alley in the evening.
Lupe could already tell that between all the yelling and talking over each other, Esti had gotten lost. She preemptively rolled her eyes and prepared the translation she’d inevitably be asked for.
But before Esti even opened her mouth to ask, Jess, who was standing on Esti’s other side, leaned in and murmured, “¿Quieres ir al cine o al boliche?”
It took everything in Lupe not to whip her head around and stare. Jess had just spoken Spanish. Sure, there was a bit of hesitation in her voice and her pronunciation definitely needed some work—but Jess had spoken Spanish.
It made Lupe’s stomach do a weird flip. Jess seemed to have a knack for that, doing things that made Lupe feel all out of sorts. Case in point, the fact that she had somehow picked up enough Spanish to now be whispering with Esti.
Lupe knew that she should probably be happy about this development. It meant she wouldn’t have to play translator as much anymore; it meant that Esti had someone else whose ear she could talk off. But still, something about it made her heart twinge.
Spanish was like an open wound for her. Her mother tongue, the language all her earliest memories were in, but also the language that made people lose respect for her, made them sneer at her, snap at her, spit on her.
English wasn’t so much a language she had learned as one that had been beaten into her. She’d spent years perfecting it until she didn’t need to translate her thoughts from one language to the other, until she stopped thinking in Spanish, stopped dreaming in Spanish. To this day, she still felt like she was making herself more vulnerable even just by speaking Spanish with Esti.
And here was Jess, who no one was forcing to learn a language—who could speak her mother tongue and be understood, respected—learning Spanish. For Esti. And probably, in a way, for Lupe.
It unsettled her.
Later that night, at the bowling alley, Lupe was sitting on a couch in the corner while the others played, smoking, lost in thought. Suddenly, Jess slumped into the seat right next to her and plucked the cigarette from her lips to take a drag of it.
“Hey!” Lupe protested, though it sounded halfhearted even to her own ears.
Jess just grinned at her, blowing a cloud of smoke in her face. Lupe rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything. And for a moment, they just sat in silence.
“How the fuck are you learning Spanish?” Lupe wasn’t sure why she asked it then, why she asked it at all, but now it was out in the world.
Jess turned to look at Lupe with a raised eyebrow, answering without taking the cigarette out of her mouth. “You yell at Esti more than enough for me to pick up a few words.”
Lupe scoffed.
And then, Jess added, “Also, I bought a phrase book.”
Lupe couldn’t help but stare at her. “You bought a phrase book?”
Jess shrugged, taking the cigarette from her lips and puffing a cloud of smoke out of the corner of her mouth. “Esti needs someone to talk to, doesn’t she? And you only teach Maybelle bullshit when she asks, so I couldn’t ask you.”
Lupe blinked. She hadn’t thought anyone would pick up on that. “Well, maybe I teach Maybelle bullshit because she’s annoying.”
Jess grinned at her crookedly. “You telling me you don’t find me annoying?”
Lupe rolled her eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head.”
Jess snorted. “Anyway, it’s my turn,” she said, pointing to the lanes. “Estoy ganando.”
Lupe suppressed a smile. Maybe she actually liked Jess learning Spanish after all.
—
“What’s the deal with you and Esti, anyway?”
They were sitting on a pier somewhere in Kenosha, looking out onto Lake Michigan. It was late at night, but they’d won the game against the Comets, so Jess had talked Lupe into going out with her.
“Just wanna breathe some sea air, Lu,” she’d said.
“It’s a lake, Jess,” Lupe had replied, but she’d already started putting on her jacket.
“Yeah, the fifth-biggest lake in the world. Basically a sea,” Jess had said, bounding down the stairs and out the door, holding it open for Lupe to follow.
“If I’d called it a sea, you’d have called me stupid.”
“Well, that’s just cause you are stupid,” she’d said, and then they’d chased each other down the street like little kids.
Now, with the dark lake stretching out into the night before them, their boisterous energy had dissipated, and they were just breathing together. The twin cherries of their cigarettes were the only thing illuminating the scene. Maybe that calm was why Jess asked such a loaded question.
“There’s no deal,” Lupe responded, taking another drag of her cigarette.
“Yeah, right,” Jess said, clearly unsatisfied, and turned to direct her full attention to Lupe.
Normally, Lupe liked having Jess’ eyes on her, her unrelenting stare that seemed to pierce through Lupe so easily and see her very core. But not when the topic was Esti.
“You don’t like her,” Jess said, probing.
“I don’t feel any type of way about her.”
Jess arched an eyebrow at her. “Liar.”
Lupe huffed. How did this person know her so well? “Fine. I just don’t like being responsible for her.”
Jess hummed. “Well, you’re kind of the only one who can really talk to her.”
Lupe stubbed out her cigarette. “Yeah, well, but that’s not my problem, is it? Her mother’s the one who let her teenage daughter come here to play baseball without knowing a lick of English. So why do I have to deal with that now?”
Lupe knew she was being unnecessarily cruel, that Esti’s mother was just trying to give her daughter a good future, that all of her own issues were getting tangled up with Esti’s. Jess’ eyes were still boring into her, searching for an answer that Lupe would hate for her to find.
“She’s just a kid,” Jess said, and she was right, of course. “It’s not her fault.”
Lupe huffed and looked away. The words stung, stung because they made her think of herself at seventeen—also just a kid, also not her fault. Not that anyone thought so at the time.
“Listen,” she said, hating how wobbly her voice sounded. “It’s my own personal shit. I can deal with it on my own.”
“Of course,” Jess said. “Of course you can. I know that. But just- If you ever wanna talk about it, you can do that too.”
Lupe turned to look at her. It was too dark to really make out any details of Jess’ face, just her silhouette against the vast lake behind her. But Lupe knew her by now, knew how she looked when she was being sincere like this, open like this.
“Okay,” she said. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Course,” Jess shrugged. “We’re brothers.”
Lupe’s chest felt warm at that, and she couldn’t help the smile spreading on her face. It seemed so easy for Jess—to like her, to see her, to be there for her—and slowly, Lupe was starting to think that maybe it was easy for her too. Jess made it easy.
—
“Hey!” Jess pulled her out of her reverie.
Lupe blinked, suddenly aware of her surroundings again: the car, the side of the road, Esti, Jess.
“You just gonna stand there and look pretty, or can you put this in the trunk?” Jess asked, holding out the flat tire to Lupe.
Lupe blinked again before pulling herself together. “Yeah, sure, of course, of course,” she said and took the tire from her.
Her hands were shaking as she opened the trunk. She was still reeling from her conversation with Esti, reeling from her realization about Jess.
Lupe had always wanted things that she couldn’t have. Safety. A life of her own. Baseball. And Jess might just be the worst of it.
Because she could have her. She could see it in the way Jess would look at her sometimes, like she wanted to eat her whole. In the way Jess gave her everything like it was the easiest thing in the world. In the way Jess loved her already, in a sense.
But then again, she also couldn’t have her. Because she couldn’t allow herself to get distracted now, not when they could actually win the championship, not when the end of the season was fast-approaching.
Because she couldn’t have anyone, because love was a dangerous thing that could get you killed, especially when you were butch, especially when you stood out like a sore thumb in any crowd.
And because Jess wouldn’t want her, not like that, not to keep. Maybe she wanted a quick fling, but she couldn’t love Lupe—wouldn’t love Lupe—if she learned all her secrets, all her pain.
“You good?” Jess’ voice pulled her out of her thoughts again, and Lupe jumped a little at how close it was.
She turned to see that Jess had walked up next to her with the little toolbox they’d found in the trunk and was putting it back in its place now. God, they’d have to repay Bev for the tire. That was really not a conversation Lupe wanted to have.
“I’ll drive us back, yeah? Cause this time we really don’t have a spare,” Jess said, and Lupe kind of wanted to kiss that stupid little smirk off her face. Jesus Christ.
“Okay. But you’re telling Esti yourself.”
“Wow, I really thought we had this whole thing going on where I’m the nice one, and you’re the asshole, but I see how it is now.”
Lupe rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”
Jess leaned in close, closer than she had any reason to. “Make me.”
It took everything in Lupe not to pin her against the trunk of the car right then and there, show her how she really felt. She really needed to get a grip.
Jess backed off again and shouted towards the front of the car, “Alright, Esti, ahora voy a conducir yo.”
Esti’s head popped up from behind the car. “¡Nooo!”
“Sí,” Jess asserted. “No tenemos más llantas.”
Esti huffed a little, but obediently got into the car on the passenger side.
The drive back was calm. The conversation was light and easy despite the language barriers, and Lupe felt something settle in her chest, felt a glimmer of hope in her traitorous little heart.
She should’ve known it would all go to shit then. Or really, had all gone to shit already, while they were gone. The moment they stepped into the house, a weeping Maybelle flung her arms around Lupe’s neck, and every tentative feeling of happiness and safety dissipated immediately.
That night, Jess found her in the garage. She hadn’t been able to bear sitting on the porch, not with the state everyone was in, not with the knowledge of who was missing. But of course, Jess still knew where to find her.
“Hey,” Jess said, and a part of Lupe wanted to push her away, didn’t want anyone talking to her, looking at her right now.
But then again, it was just Jess. “Hey.”
Lupe was sitting on the ground, her back against the car. Jess sat down right next to her, nudging her with her shoulder.
“Guess we got lucky this time,” Jess muttered.
“Don’t even–” Lupe shook her head. “Just don’t.”
“Sorry,” Jess said immediately. “You’re right, sorry.”
“All these people, Jess. Vi. Edie. Everyone at the bar. And Jo. Fuck.”
Lupe hadn’t meant to start crying, but the tears just started streaming down her face. She hated crying in front of other people—and even worse, she knew Jess hated seeing people cry.
But Jess didn’t say anything, just reached out a hand to wipe the tears off Lupe’s face. And for some reason, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Lupe leaned in and kissed her.
The kiss tasted of salt and cigarette smoke, of desperation and confusion, of everything Lupe wanted and everything she couldn’t have.
It was in no way a perfect kiss. The angle was a little awkward, and their knees bumped together as they tried to adjust their positions. Lupe’s hand came up to grip Jess’ shirt, pulling on her lapel with a bit too much force. Jess grabbed the back of Lupe’s neck, her long fingers tangling in her curls, tugging harder than she probably meant to.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was real and raw, a body crashing into another like a wave onto the shore, limbs tangling together until they were more one person than two, want and pain and fear bleeding into every motion.
When they finally broke apart, they were both flushed and out of breath. Lupe’s face was still tear-streaked.
“Fuck, Jess,” she said, her voice cracking in the middle. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”
Jess’ eyes were wide with confusion. “Why not?”
Why not? like there hadn’t just been a raid. Why not? like Jo hadn’t just been taken. Why not? like there weren’t a million reasons this could get them killed. Why not? like Jess didn’t know Lupe was in love with her and it was tearing her apart.
Lupe shook her head. “We just… we can’t.”
And with that, she scrambled to her feet and ran off towards the house, leaving Jess behind on the ground, alone.