Second Thoughts by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
brutti_ma_buoni for <user site="livejournal.
Mar. 17th, 2015 01:24 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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spn_springflingTitle: Second Thoughts
Pairing: Genevieve/Adrienne
Rating: PG
"I want to be taller," says Gen, and she almost means it. Addy laughs, the way she always used to when she got a chance to enjoy their differences. It was the first thing that drew them together. It still works. Still lights up Adrienne's face, makes her shake back her curls, stick out a hip and exaggerate the curve of her. Still makes her someone Gen knows.
"You always want to be taller," she says, nose wrinkling, cheeks broadening. "It's a whole jealousy thing." She reaches for the bag, atop the closet, and swings it down easily, supporting with both hands, and passes it to Gen, patting her on the ass in passing. It's a more than familiar move, and it hurts like hell.
Addy stops. "Sorry. I guess-" I guess that's not appropriate any more, she means, or words to that effect.
"It's fine," says Gen, tired. "You don't have to forget my everything. It's been a long time."
It's been four years, since the first class where Adrienne passed Gen a worksheet between rows in the classroom, except Gen's arms weren't that long, turned out. A cascade of paper, an embarrassed exclamation, two sets of eyes meeting across the floor in Astrobotany 201, and- Well. And this.
This is not just the apartment, not just the shared decoration and cookbooks, or the furniture that's half Gen's but she's walking out on because- Well, because she doesn't want to sit on this couch without Adrienne Palicki, without this space they made. Without this this, which is not just the physical objects of their life together. Which is Addy's smile, and legs, and the way she cups her hand around Gen's shoulder sometimes when Gen's tired, or stressed, or trying not to spit at some douche at a party. Which is their bed, too, physical and metaphorical.
"I'm not going to forget your anything," says Addy. Says it quiet and low, and resigned, like it's obvious.
It's not obvious.
Gen listens, and hears, for maybe the first time in too long and-
"Addy?" Her voice is too tremulous, and Adrienne looks at her at once, quick-flashing. With something in her eyes that Gen reads as hope.
Hope. That's not what Gen was expecting. She thought she knew, where they were. Where they'd arrived at the end of too many sensible discussions. At the end of career opportunities and life choices and how damn far she was going away. Where the future led, beautiful but inexorable, in two different directions. And they were wise, and they were clear-headed, and they knew the stats and the arguments. So it was just going to be, in the end, goodbye.
"Gen-" says Addy. Gen nearly (so nearly she has to stifle the breath) says the sensible thing, even now. Nearly walks away from her nearly-packed luggage and says goodbye to the whole thing. She can stock up at the NavBar. She can buy everything new. Nothing needs to come along for the ride as a reminder. Nothing that will give her the scent of Addy, a hint of DNA, the memory of Addy's hands smoothing it, a marker Addy left to keep her place in a book long since abandoned.
It's going to be a long ride, after all. 229 light years, or thereabouts, and that's not nothing.
"I won't be back for eight years," says Gen, and it's pleading. "You can't wait for me."
Addy scrunches up her nose, wriggles her shoulders, and it's so familiar Gen tears up, prickly in the eyes at nothing. This is Adrienne Palicki, making choices. "I can, you know. I really can. We can write."
"We can write for a year, maybe eighteen months at the outside."
"And then you'll be gone a while-"
"Five years. Best case," Gen says, and there's desperation and a ragged edge. She's arguing against her heart, and dammit, that's the worst. But she can't-
"And then we can catch up," Addy says, and her sunny, wonderful smile. "You'll have plenty of reading time, right?"
Genevieve absolutely will. Genevieve is headed out to Cassiopeia for some sampling and seeding practice, first time out in the deep, great internship opportunity. Sure, it comes with three years of commute either side of two years of work, but if she wanted to live over the shop she shouldn’t have majored in extra-terrestrial species cultivation, right? Right. And that's exactly why a college girlfriend stays a college girlfriend.
Addy says, "You planning on hooking up, out there?"
"Doubtful," Gen snorts. It's a crew of twenty-three, mostly older, mostly guys. And Cassiopeia colony isn't all that, even if she wasn't looking forward to two years of intense twelve-hour shifts, no vacay. "But you-"
Addy's staying on Earth, so far as they know. Earth needs botanists, population's not getting any smaller. Addy has options.
"You think I won't wait?"
"I think you shouldn't," says Gen. It's nothing she hasn't said before. This time hurts, though. Hell, it always hurt. But this should be the last time – she's running out of hours, running out of times that she can walk away from Addy.
"I think I get to choose," is what comes back. Adrienne looks like she's shining. Like there's a big light at her heart and it's shining out to her whole body. "I- I don't know why I never thought before- I-" She stops, and breathes. And says more surely, "I never thought of it this way before. But I am not losing you." She stops again, and casts a wild look over at Gen's pile of bags and boxes. "You got a ring?"
"What?"
"Do you have a ring, Genevieve Cortese? Because you're gonna come back to me, and we're gonna make it official."
"Seriously, what? I'm not marrying you on a ship-out permit-"
Addy's hands whip out and grip Gen's arms, tight. She's so much taller, it puts Gen at Addy's throat, not seeing her face. "God, you're a genius," says Addy. "I forgot all about- That's exactly what you're doing, babe. That is exactly what we're doing."
Addy's crazy. They were broken up. Addy's whole life's ahead of her, full of freedom.
Gen is also crazy. She's smiling her way into a forever commitment she's always told herself was impossible, and in exactly fourteen hours and twenty-two minutes she is taking off, literally, for the unknown. But.
"Yeah," she says. "Let's do that." She pauses. “I want to be taller.”
“You always do,” says Addy, fondly. “Why this time?”
“I want to be kissing you right now,” says Gen. And then she is.
Pairing: Genevieve/Adrienne
Rating: PG
"I want to be taller," says Gen, and she almost means it. Addy laughs, the way she always used to when she got a chance to enjoy their differences. It was the first thing that drew them together. It still works. Still lights up Adrienne's face, makes her shake back her curls, stick out a hip and exaggerate the curve of her. Still makes her someone Gen knows.
"You always want to be taller," she says, nose wrinkling, cheeks broadening. "It's a whole jealousy thing." She reaches for the bag, atop the closet, and swings it down easily, supporting with both hands, and passes it to Gen, patting her on the ass in passing. It's a more than familiar move, and it hurts like hell.
Addy stops. "Sorry. I guess-" I guess that's not appropriate any more, she means, or words to that effect.
"It's fine," says Gen, tired. "You don't have to forget my everything. It's been a long time."
It's been four years, since the first class where Adrienne passed Gen a worksheet between rows in the classroom, except Gen's arms weren't that long, turned out. A cascade of paper, an embarrassed exclamation, two sets of eyes meeting across the floor in Astrobotany 201, and- Well. And this.
This is not just the apartment, not just the shared decoration and cookbooks, or the furniture that's half Gen's but she's walking out on because- Well, because she doesn't want to sit on this couch without Adrienne Palicki, without this space they made. Without this this, which is not just the physical objects of their life together. Which is Addy's smile, and legs, and the way she cups her hand around Gen's shoulder sometimes when Gen's tired, or stressed, or trying not to spit at some douche at a party. Which is their bed, too, physical and metaphorical.
"I'm not going to forget your anything," says Addy. Says it quiet and low, and resigned, like it's obvious.
It's not obvious.
Gen listens, and hears, for maybe the first time in too long and-
"Addy?" Her voice is too tremulous, and Adrienne looks at her at once, quick-flashing. With something in her eyes that Gen reads as hope.
Hope. That's not what Gen was expecting. She thought she knew, where they were. Where they'd arrived at the end of too many sensible discussions. At the end of career opportunities and life choices and how damn far she was going away. Where the future led, beautiful but inexorable, in two different directions. And they were wise, and they were clear-headed, and they knew the stats and the arguments. So it was just going to be, in the end, goodbye.
"Gen-" says Addy. Gen nearly (so nearly she has to stifle the breath) says the sensible thing, even now. Nearly walks away from her nearly-packed luggage and says goodbye to the whole thing. She can stock up at the NavBar. She can buy everything new. Nothing needs to come along for the ride as a reminder. Nothing that will give her the scent of Addy, a hint of DNA, the memory of Addy's hands smoothing it, a marker Addy left to keep her place in a book long since abandoned.
It's going to be a long ride, after all. 229 light years, or thereabouts, and that's not nothing.
"I won't be back for eight years," says Gen, and it's pleading. "You can't wait for me."
Addy scrunches up her nose, wriggles her shoulders, and it's so familiar Gen tears up, prickly in the eyes at nothing. This is Adrienne Palicki, making choices. "I can, you know. I really can. We can write."
"We can write for a year, maybe eighteen months at the outside."
"And then you'll be gone a while-"
"Five years. Best case," Gen says, and there's desperation and a ragged edge. She's arguing against her heart, and dammit, that's the worst. But she can't-
"And then we can catch up," Addy says, and her sunny, wonderful smile. "You'll have plenty of reading time, right?"
Genevieve absolutely will. Genevieve is headed out to Cassiopeia for some sampling and seeding practice, first time out in the deep, great internship opportunity. Sure, it comes with three years of commute either side of two years of work, but if she wanted to live over the shop she shouldn’t have majored in extra-terrestrial species cultivation, right? Right. And that's exactly why a college girlfriend stays a college girlfriend.
Addy says, "You planning on hooking up, out there?"
"Doubtful," Gen snorts. It's a crew of twenty-three, mostly older, mostly guys. And Cassiopeia colony isn't all that, even if she wasn't looking forward to two years of intense twelve-hour shifts, no vacay. "But you-"
Addy's staying on Earth, so far as they know. Earth needs botanists, population's not getting any smaller. Addy has options.
"You think I won't wait?"
"I think you shouldn't," says Gen. It's nothing she hasn't said before. This time hurts, though. Hell, it always hurt. But this should be the last time – she's running out of hours, running out of times that she can walk away from Addy.
"I think I get to choose," is what comes back. Adrienne looks like she's shining. Like there's a big light at her heart and it's shining out to her whole body. "I- I don't know why I never thought before- I-" She stops, and breathes. And says more surely, "I never thought of it this way before. But I am not losing you." She stops again, and casts a wild look over at Gen's pile of bags and boxes. "You got a ring?"
"What?"
"Do you have a ring, Genevieve Cortese? Because you're gonna come back to me, and we're gonna make it official."
"Seriously, what? I'm not marrying you on a ship-out permit-"
Addy's hands whip out and grip Gen's arms, tight. She's so much taller, it puts Gen at Addy's throat, not seeing her face. "God, you're a genius," says Addy. "I forgot all about- That's exactly what you're doing, babe. That is exactly what we're doing."
Addy's crazy. They were broken up. Addy's whole life's ahead of her, full of freedom.
Gen is also crazy. She's smiling her way into a forever commitment she's always told herself was impossible, and in exactly fourteen hours and twenty-two minutes she is taking off, literally, for the unknown. But.
"Yeah," she says. "Let's do that." She pauses. “I want to be taller.”
“You always do,” says Addy, fondly. “Why this time?”
“I want to be kissing you right now,” says Gen. And then she is.
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Date: 2015-03-17 11:21 pm (UTC)Love how bright and positive Addy is that they can make things work out.
And Gen's last reason for wanting to be taller just got me right in the heart.
Well done.
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Date: 2015-03-31 07:52 pm (UTC)HELLO.
I am getting old. I like these grown-together-over-time fics more and more.
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Date: 2015-03-31 09:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-03-18 04:15 am (UTC)This was absolutely gorgeous. I love how it's a pure romance story with the intricate sci-fi background for it all. Both Genevieve and Adrianne standing firm on their desires and able to still make it work out. I can't wait for that marriage!
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Date: 2015-03-31 07:52 pm (UTC)So glad you enjoyed this :)
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