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The event had been a chore to attend. Or so Marika had whined the entirety of the evening, bemoaning with great dramatics that she could have spent her night any other way and had a better time. Whispered snark in her wife’s ear teased the other guests and their lackluster appearance, from dress sense to vocal tone to how hair was styled, turning a slow and tedious dance into a trading of wit and quips. A shared distaste kindled warmly between them as they surveyed the room from a distance, champagne flutes in hand.
When the night had drawn to a close mere moments after midnight, they had made their exit as quickly as Marika could pull Rennala out of the room.
Where they would go was irrelevant, and after a night of boredom even Rennala would not complain when Marika pulled her into a club. They stood out, but that did not stop Marika ordering them drinks and pulling Rennala onto the dancefloor.
It was past two in the morning when they came out onto the street, Marika stumbling and having to latch onto Rennala to stay upright. They made it down the street, Rennala able to remain balanced even with Marika attached to her side, heels in her hand and feet bare on the pavement. They might have simply called for Rennala’s town car had they made it to the next street where Rennala could stop and call without risk of Marika toppling over.
They did not make it, as on the side of the street was a small stand selling gyros, and Marika had begged for food.
Rennala had not been able to complain, as food to fill Marika’s stomach and sober her up was less of a headache than if she got sick, be it on the street or in the car. An order of two gyros, souvlaki, and a bottle of water later and they were sitting on the side of the street, shoulder to shoulder as they ate.
Head coming to rest on Rennala’s shoulder, Marika whispered, “That party was awful.”
“Remind me never to accept an invitation from them again,” Rennala seemed to agree, repositioning her hands on the gyro wrapper.
“Even you can’t pretend it was good,” Marika said in smug approval.
“I never pretend something is good when it isn’t, I only tend towards polite silence as opposed to your complaining.”
“Polite silence,” Marika said mockingly. “You mean stoic rage.”
“You would know better than anyone.”
“I haven’t suffered your glare of terror in months, you’ve positively domesticated me.”
“You make it sound like I’ve got you pissing in a litter box as opposed to teaching you basic human manners.”
Marika stuck her nose in the air, but grinned as she swallowed down a bite and said, “I was perfectly house trained when you got me, thank you very much.”
That got Rennala to laugh, muffled around her gyro, but she managed to elbow Marika.
“See? I can make you laugh, you might even be smiling, that's an improvement.”
“You’re terrible,” Rennala said, with equal affection and annoyance.
“I’m yours,” Marika pointed out with a smile, rubbing her head on Rennala’s shoulder. As she loved to do, she reminded her, “You chose me.”
“Did I?” Rennala asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Mm, mhm,” Marika mumbled around her gyro, wrapper crinkling as she nearly bit it, trying to hold up her hand to flash her wedding ring at her.
“No, as I recall you threw yourself at me until I took you home out of pity, and then you simply wouldn’t leave.”
“How kind of you, to keep me all this time,” Marika sighed, hand over her heart with a flutter of affection in her tone. She went on, almost purring, “Selfless, truly.”
“An act of charity,” Rennala said, but she could not stop herself laughing as she did.
Marika snorted, almost choking on her food as she shot Rennala a warning look. Or as much of a warning look as she could while her face was covered in tzatziki. She tilted her head back and gave a hard swallow, before countering, “You could always find another positively ravishing woman to date.”
“I could,” Rennala agreed with a smirk.
“No,” Marika quickly corrected, sitting up and staring at her, mouth still smeared with sauce. She glared at Rennala and sucked in a breath, insisting quite firmly, “No you couldn’t.”
“No?” Rennala teased. She reached over Marika, picking up a napkin.
“No,” Marika said, lip pushed out in a pronounced pout.
Dabbing at the tzatziki, Rennala smiled at her fondly and promised, “I wouldn’t want to.”
“Good,” Marika breathed with audible relief.
“Even if you make quite a mess of yourself,” Rennala chided playfully. Wiping the remainder off Marika’s lips, Rennala leaned in and gave them a soft kiss, whispering against them, “Much better.”
“I thought you liked it when I got dirty.”
Rennala stopped, their mouths close, for a moment breathless and trembling. She had the ancient and unstoppable urge to pin Marika to the ground and have her right there, on the open street, any who saw them be damned. She wanted to laugh at her, a mere breath from her face. She wanted to dissolve into her arms and listen to her heartbeat. She wanted to kiss her stupid grinning face until that same stupid grin was plastered in too-bright lipstick over her own mouth. She wanted to taste the way she laughed at her own joke.
Hand holding the back of Marika’s neck, she pulled her in and kissed her again, slower than the pulsing in her head begged her to. She held her, and kissed her, and let her fingers rub the nape of her neck.
Mouths parting just enough for Rennala to speak, she murmured, “You’re vulgar.”
“Disgusting?” It was a plea.
One Rennala met with grace as she whispered in enraptured lust, “Repulsive.”
Marika moaned, a guttural noise punctuated by a gasp as Rennala reached around her and grabbed her by the ass. She might have made a comment about her getting handsy and it not being like her, but it was not the playful groping she thought.
Rennala hoisted her up, keeping an arm around her as the town car pulled up in front of them.
“Marika?”
Looking up at her as Rennala opened the door for her and helped her in, Marika replied, “Yeah?”
“Don’t tell anyone about,” Rennala gestured vaguely to the gyro wrappers and souvlaki skewers, “this.”
“Can your reputation not handle proof you’re a fallible human being?” Marika teased as she sat sideways on the backseat.
“That it can handle, but that I enjoyed it,” Rennala trailed off, looking almost shy.
Marika grinned, asking with both eyebrows raised, “Oh did you?”
“Mm, not a word of this to anyone.”
“Not a word,” Marika promised, holding a finger up to her lips.
Her lips were sealed by Rennala’s as she fell easily into the back of the town car with her, door closing on the street, but not yet on their night.