#danielle ocean

“Get over here,” Debbie smirked, pulling the blonde in closer and wrapping her arms around her neck as she tugged her up along the bed and laid Lou flat against her.

“I thought you’d never ask, Mrs. Miller,” the blonde murmured, nails raking down Debbie’s chest as their lips meant until Lou was drifting down her wife, running her lips over her breasts, sucking at her nipples, biting her way down her stomach, making a detour to nip at her thighs before circling back to Debbie’s simmering heat to swirl her tongue through Debbie’s pooling arousal.

“Fuck, I love when Tammy takes the kids for the night,” Debbie moaned.

Lou looked up at Debbie from between her legs, arching an eyebrow before she wiped Debbie’s slickness off her lips with the back of her hand pointedly.

“Please don’t use your ex’s name and the word love in the same sentence, especially while my tongue is inside you.”

“She’s your ex too,” Debbie exhaled, pushing Lou’s head back down as the blonde laughed against her, grazing her clit maybe a little too hard with her teeth as Debbie cried out. “Was merely grateful for her as a babysitter precisely so I could have your tongue inside me.”

Lou bit down on her thigh before she looked up again. “Then clearly, I’m not doing enough to get your mind off of the kids,” she smirked, blindly grabbing at the dildo before plunging it into Debbie without warning, the brunette letting out a deep moan as her nails dug into Lou’s neck.

“Jesus, Fuck, Lou.”

“Had to shut you up,” Lou hissed, pumping the dildo in and out as Debbie groaned, cursing and grabbing at the blonde, biting down on her shoulder after reaching an entirely new level of loud to keep from going completely shrill. “Still thinking about anything else?”

“Just…your strap,” Debbie panted.

“Just the strap?” Lou asked, her rhythms stopping with the dildo just outside of Debbie, the tip brushing against her teasingly.

“And you…only you…Fuck!” Debbie moaned, Lou plunging the dildo all the way inside her. Hard. As Debbie fell over the edge, clinging to the blonde.

“Not bad,” Lou spoke aloud, an hour or so later, her finger running along Debbie’s exposed spine, tracing over her skin softly as Debbie let out a sleepy hum of agreement. “Glad to know we’ve still got game.”

“Strap game,” Debbie chuckled.

“That’s all mine, love.”

“Takes two to tango, Miller.”

“Also takes two for the finale,” Lou giggled, tugging at a fistful of Debbie’s hair to catch an additional moan from her partner before Debbie rolled over with a lazy smile.

“You get the Chinese and I get the ice cream?” Debbie asked.

“Just let me throw on some boxers.”

“Don’t,” Debbie grinned, watching the blonde stand up, walking towards the bathroom before placing a kiss on Debbie’s forehead. “Did you ever think we’d still be up to our same antics in our fifties?”

The heels clicked down the first few steps, revealing ivory skin they hadn’t been expecting and then the trim of a tight cocktail dress hugging hips, a gaping neckline, and then…

“Dad?” Constance shrieked, a pile of lo mein falling off her chopstick onto the floor as the crew looked up in surprise.

“What?” Lou smirked, tossing Danni a wink as her daughter gave her a thumbs up in the air and a toothy grin.

“Did you know she even owned a dress?” Amita whispered, as Rose’s eyes grew wide.

“No,” Rose mumbled. “Stubborn dear wouldn’t even let me show her a sketch of a dress when she married Deborah.”

“Been a long time since we’ve seen those legs, Miller,” Tammy grinned, spinning around on the couch to examine the blonde. “Run out of leather pants and velvet suits?”

“Hardy har, Tam Tam,” Lou rolled her eyes, coming to stand in front of the couch, her leg twitching in hesitation before she decided against propping it up on the coffee table like she usually would.

“I saw that,” Tammy snickered.

“To what do we owe this bizarre occasion?” Daphne asked, looking the blonde over from head to toe, shaking her head in astonishment.

“While I am rightly shocked, you are absolutely smoking in that dress!” Amita added, clapping her hands. “Who knew!”

“Debs bought a book,” the blonde sighed, leaning against the back of the couch, crossing her legs as if she was unsure what to do without pockets to tuck her hands into and not wanting to prop up her cleavage any more than it was already exposed by crossing her arms.

“A book about making your wife wear a dress?” Constance laughed.

“A couple’s book,” the blonde grumbled under her breath. “With these quirky little exercises and things to try and…”

“Wait,” Daphne grinned, holding her hands in the air. “Is this some sort of wife swap thing?”

“If you’re talking about clothing then—“

“Yes,” Debbie smirked, appearing at the top of the steps.

“Well, Fuck me,” Lou breathed, practically floating away from the couch on air as she came to meet Debbie at the bottom of the staircase, taking the brunette’s hand in her own.

“Language! Jesus!” Tammy yelled, throwing her hands over Danni’s ears as she giggled, trying to peer around her aunt to see her moms.

“Nothing she hasn’t heard before, I’m sure,” Amita sighed, smacking her hand against her face. 

“See something you like?” Debbie asked softly, running her fingers down the spaghetti strap of Lou’s dress as the blonde shuddered, licking her lips as she took in the brunette in a clearly stolen ensemble of Lou’s, noting that Debbie had foregone both the vest and button-down that Lou would typically wear under the blazer of that suit. “Told you taking the book seriously was worth a shot.”

“Shut up,” Lou whispered, pulling Debbie in by her neck before tugging at Debbie’s bottom lip with her teeth.

Rose cleared her throat, looking around the room.

“Perhaps we should let you two get to dinner? Or might we—um, Danielle, would you like to pick a place to eat, so your mothers can—er—someone help me, damnit.”

“Coming!” Lou sang loudly, rolling her eyes as she grumbled a quiet “Deborah,” under her breath.

“Need something, honey?” Lou asked, coming down the steps to find Debbie in the kitchen, palming through the cabinets as if she was looking for something.

“Yeah,” Debbie sighed. “I just can’t remember what it was.”

“You’re looking for something, but you don’t know what you’re looking for?” Lou smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe put your mind off it for a bit and it’ll come to you and then I can help you look for it.”

“Thanks, Louise,” Debbie smiled, kissing the blonde’s cheek before spinning away, heading into the living room.

The blonde’s jaw twitched in irritation, but she tried to brush it off. If anyone could get away with calling her by her given name, it was Debbie, even if it made her want to scream slightly.

“Want to watch a movie or something now that I’m down here?” Lou suggested, sinking into her favorite chair as Debbie curled up on the couch.

“I was just gonna read, actually,” Debbie smiled, waving her book up in the air. “But thanks, Louise. Maybe after dinner?”

There it was again. Lou was grateful that he wife missed her eyeroll, settling back into the chair as she whipped out her phone, scrolling through her texts as she merely sighed at the fifty memes Constance had sent to their group chat even though they had lectured her about what constituted a proper group text a solid dozen times. Facebook was just annoying. Instagram was useless. She couldn’t even be entertained by the comments on Daphne’s latest premiere post from her fan club that was only made up of Daphne herself.

“Louise?” Debbie asked softly. “Could you flick that lamp on over there? Having trouble seeing the pages with the rain making it all dark in here.”

“Yes,” Lou spoke through gritted teeth, smacking the lamp on with a bit more force than was necessary. “It would be my pleasure, Deborah.”

“Thanks, baby,” Debbie winked, before turning back to her book for a moment, Lou saying a silent thank you and a prayer, never more grateful to hear the pet name come from Debbie’s lips.

“Of course, honey,” Lou smiled, slipping her phone in her pocket as she leaned forward to reach for the remote.

“Oh, Louise, that reminds me!”

“That’s it,” Lou exhaled, tossing the remote back down on the coffee table as it rattled for a moment. “Why in the world are you full naming me like that? You know I can’t stand my name.”

Debbie’s face dipped behind her book as she mumbled something that Lou couldn’t make out, standing up to walk over to Debbie, snatching the book out of her hands as Debbie looked up, grinning as she tried to bite back a giggle.

“Six,” Debbie smirked, snatching the book back from Lou as she sat it in her lap smugly.

“Yes, it’s almost six. Did you want to start thinking about dinner, or—“ Lou sighed, scratching at her head.

“No,” Debbie grinned. “Took me six times calling you that before you snapped. Wonder how long you can last next time. You really upped your hame. Last time, it was three. I’m impressed.”

“You were doing it on purpose?” Lou gaped, looking down at her wife, unamused as she crossed her arms.

“Danny used to do it to me,” Debbie shrugged, blowing Lou a kiss. “Wanted to see how long you could last. Always used to drive me crazy.”

“Oh, you drive me crazy alright,” Lou sighed, shaking her head. “You really that bored, love?”

Debbie pulled into Lou Miller’s driveway, unabashedly gawking at the size of the house and the way the drive wrapped around in an enormous circle, wondering if it was Lou’s husband who had three motorcycles parked on the edge of it and who each of the vintage cars belonged to. Lou’s driveway and its contents were probably worth more than triple Debbie’s house alone and if this were a time before Danielle and if Danny were still around, Lou would have probably been more of a mark than a playdate.

“Cute shoes,” Lou smirked, swinging open the door as she looked down at the heels Debbie was wearing.

“Thanks,” Debbie blushed, trying to tuck her hair behind her ear, suddenly feeling embarrassed and ridiculous for having worn them on purpose this time. “They’re yours. Well, not yours, of course. But you, um, designed them—well, you probably didn’t design them yourself, you probably have a whole team who—you—“

“You ramble a lot when you’re nervous, don’t you?” The blonde mused, peering around Debbie where Danielle was clinging to her thigh. “Dani,” Lou winked. “Good to see you again, kid. Stevie’s upstairs. Why don’t you run up there and join her? Her bedroom door’s wide open. Can’t miss it.”

Danielle gave Debbie a quick wave before barreling past the two women into the house and darting up the steps, her backpack flapping wildly against her back as Debbie heard Stevie shriek and giggle with delight.

“So,” Debbie smiled awkwardly, snapping her fingers nervously. “Are you married?”

“That depends,” the blonde grinned, studying Debbie like she was sizing her up, Debbie suddenly self-conscious in her simple jeans and blouse while Lou stood there looking runway ready in a designer suit that seemed to be tailor-made to her body. “You looking for a date?”

“Who, me?” Debbie laughed, the laughter getting too away from her with her nerves. Idiot, she chided herself, hating that she probably looked like a moron standing here talking to Lou Miller when she should have been at home, minding her business and paying her bills and drinking boxed wine while Dani watched tv. “No, no, no. Of course not. I just saw the motorcycles and thought—“

“It’s…complicated,” Lou offered, closing her eyes in frustration before the look dissipated from her face as if it had never been there in the first place, leaving Debbie feeling like she had gotten a glimpse of Lou she wasn’t supposed to quite see. “But yes, technically. The bikes, however, are mine,” she finished, whipping around as she started to walk into the house, gliding down the corridor as Debbie watched after her in awe, her heeled boots clicking along the tile. “Coming? Or dropping off? Thought you were having steak night with me?”

“Coming!” Debbie squeaked, stumbling into the house as she hurriedly closed the door behind her, feeling Lou stare at her as she fumbled messily with the lock. She whipped around to face Lou, only to find that the blonde had disappeared and was replaced instead with a large painting of…Lou. Stark naked. But her hair much darker, almost Debbie’s tone.

Lou shrugged, rolling her eyes at it.

“Used to dye my hair,” the blonde shrugged, like they were discussing the weather. “I get bored easily.”

“Who painted it?” Debbie swallowed, trying not to stare at the perfect swell of porcelain breasts or the gentle curves of her hips, feeling like she again was seeing more of Lou than she was meant to, even though it was on display in a home she’d been invited into. “It’s…terrific.”

“An almost famous painter,” Lou sighed, now frowning at it. “Back in New York.”

“Almost famous, huh?” Debbie pondered.

“Fucking bitch,” Lou grumbled, making Debbie’s head snap up suddenly as if she’d done something wrong, until she realized Lou must have been talking about the artist. “Music?” She asked, flicking on a remote before Debbie could answer, a swell of classic rock, swarming through the enormous home.

“Your house is incredible,” the brunette breathed, looking around in awe. “Simply gorgeous.”

“It’s a Fucking money pit,” Lou snorted, leaning against the marble counter with her hand under her chin.

“Oops,” Debbie smiled, pretending to zip her lips.

“Oops?” Lou asked, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

“Sorry, it’s just with Dani, I had to break myself of cursing. Such a bad habit. I mean—if you want to—there’s nothing wrong with it—I just used to curse like a sailor and when Dani came to live with me I—force of habit. We have an oops jar for Dani.”

“You should smash that damn jar,” Lou grinned, shaking her head. “It might change your whole life.”

“I’m sorry,” Debbie sighed, feeling terrible for swooping in on Lou’s parenting style. Who the hell was she to judge this stranger in her own home?

“Stop it.”

“Stop, what?” The brunette asked, nervous again as she picked at her thumb.

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” Lou sighed. “It’s a fucked up female habit and you shouldn’t have to say it.”

“You’re right,” Debbie exhaled. Because she was. Women were always taking themselves down a notch or eight for no good reason. “That’s—that’s solid advice.”

Why was she such a hot, fumbling mess around this woman? But Lou didn’t seem to mind. If anything, she was amused.

“Come on,” Lou laughed. “Let’s get you a drink. Calm those nerves.”

“So your uh, kitchen. You must really love to cook,” Debbie cleared her throat, watching the blonde fiddle through the cabinet for some glasses.

“I used to,” Lou shrugged, placing two glasses down on the counter as she considered them for a moment. “But it was something Claude insisted on. I’d be just as happy with cartons of shitty Chinese food.”

“Claude?” Debbie asked, running an index finger along the cool countertop.

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” Lou chuckled, shaking her head. “And of course it is. She learned to ride a bicycle when she was eight.”

“And that had training wheels!”

“Right,” Lou grinned, nodding her head. “And then, when she got better, we took them off. And riding a bike, has been perfect practice for well…riding a bike.”

“A motorcycle.”

“Yes,” Lou smirked. “I’m familiar. And you’ve always been quite the fan when it comes to me riding one.”

“Lou, she’s fourteen, baby,” Debbie whispered, her face turning to sheer panic. “You’re…”

“In my late fifties?” Lou scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Go ahead and say it. But come on, Deb. Wouldn’t you rather she learn to do it safely with a parent?”

“Yeah,” Debbie sighed. “When she’s forty. Or fifty. Or never, would be even better.”

“Come on, Deb,” Lou teased. “You think it’s sexy when I take you for a ride. Or when I used to be your getaway driver. It’s hot.”

“Not the way to convince me,” Debbie huffed.

“Motherhood has made you a square, Deborah Ocean,” Lou laughed. “Look at her, honey. She’s got a helmet on. And riding leathers.”

“You bought her clothes for this too?” Debbie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“They’re my old ones,” the blonde shrugged.

“They fit her?” Debbie gasped, looking over at Danielle, who was leaning against the bike, laughing at something on her phone. “When did she become this whole small adult?”

“In the blink of an eye,” Lou whispered, leaning against her wife as she wrapped her arms around her. “She’s not our little girl, anymore.”

“Well, she might not be running around in little purple overalls or sitting on your shoulders at concerts, but she’ll always be our little girl,” Debbie smiled. “Just keep her safe, baby. I need my girls to be safe, okay?”

“Oh, she’s not leaving this lot on that bike until she’s eighteen,” Lou promised. “And even then, I’ll probably be riding along for safe keeping.”

“I still don’t like it,” the brunette whispered, leaning against the blonde’s chest as she mumbled against it.

“But you love her.”

“I love her,” Debbie sniffed, nodding against Lou.

“And you love me.”

“I love you.”

“And we’re raising a little badass.”

“Just get her some knee pads. Or elbow pads. Or I don’t know…”

“A suit of armor?” Lou chuckled. “A shield?”

“Pleaseeeee, Aunt Deb,” Dani pled, bouncing up and down in her carseat as Debbie chuckled at her reflection in the rearview mirror.

“You’ve already got my yes, love,” Debbie laughed. “But you know the playdate rule, both moms have to say yes, alright?”

“If Stevie’s mom is at drop-off can we ask her?”

“Her name is Stevie?”

“Yeah! Like Stevie Nicks from Big Mac!”

“I mean that’s half right,” Debbie mumbled before she nodded, granting Danielle’s request. “Of course we can ask her. You know, I’ve never heard you talk about Stevie before.”

“She’s new!” Dani smiled, showing Debbie her toothy grin as she zipped her backpack up, noticing Debbie was pulling into the school parking lot. “She used to live with kangaroos!”

“She’s from Australia?” Debbie mused. “Wonder what they’re doing in New York now.”

“You already know, Aunt Deb,” Dani sighed, smacking her face against her cheek as if to prove that Debbie was the most ridiculous person in the world. “You wear lots of clothes.”

“I wear lots of clothes?” Debbie laughed. “Thank you, D. That’s very helpful.”

“You’re welcome!” Dani sang as she giggled, cheering as they parked in a spot. Debbie shook her head with a grin as she got out, carefully buckling the little girl and taking one of her hands and her backpack as she closed and locked the car, walking them across the street. “There she is! That’s Stevie!”

Debbie followed Danielle’s excited pointing finger to a sleek black car where a blonde woman in a dark green, velvet suit was leaning against the side as a miniature blonde spoke excitedly at her, shaking a ziplock bag up and down as the woman chuckled, before checking her watch and calling something to someone inside the car.

Seriously? Debbie thought. Who used a driver to drop their kid off at elementary school?

“I have to be going now, sweetie. But we’ll find her mum after school, alright? I promise.”

“That’s Dani!” The little girl suddenly squealed, pointing to Debbie and Danielle as Dani tugged excitedly at Debbie’s shirt before sprinting towards the black car, the tall woman turning to them with a smirk, aviators sliding onto the bridge of her nose to cover deep blue eyes from the sun as she swiveled, waving with a single posed finger.

“I take it this is Danielle,” the woman chuckled, as Dani darted towards Stevie and the two danced around showing each other their beaded bracelets.

“And the famous Stevie,” Debbie smiled. “Debbie Ocean.”

“Lou Miller.”

“Lou Miller?” Debbie repeated. “Like the Louise Miller who designed my shoes?”

The blonde made a zipper motion across her lips as she smiled.

“What are those? An 8? Want them in another color?” She smirked. “My treat.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Debbie laughed. “But if that’s not a joke, yes, I’m an 8. Actually, I was dragged over here to see if you’d be alright with the girls having a playdate. Maybe this afternoon?”

“Dragged over?” Lou tsked, amused. “I consider myself to be very exciting company, Debbie Ocean.”

“I’m sorry,” Debbie sighed. “I didn’t mean to—“

“Don’t apologize,” the blonde rolled her eyes. “I hate when women apologize. You don’t owe anyone shit.”

“That’s a bad word,” Dani sang.

“You don’t owe anyone…salt?” Lou tried, lower her glasses as she turned to Danielle. “That better, kid?”

“Much better!” Danielle giggled, turning to Stevie.

“I’m not around this afternoon,” Lou frowned, turning back to Debbie. “But I can make some time tomorrow evening. Maybe you two would like to come over for dinner? I make some mean drinks.”

“Oh, I don’t let Dani—“

“For us,” Lou snorted. “Stevie lives off of juice boxes and sprite. Who do you think I am, Debbie?” She laughed, looking amused once more at Debbie’s naivety.

“Yeah, yeah,” Debbie backtracked. “Dinner would be great. Would 6 work?”

“It’s a date,” Lou smirked, waving Stevie over as she hugged the child before pushing her off with Dani as Danielle sent Debbie a small wave before the two ran inside. “Here’s my number,” she murmured, slipping a business card into Debbie’s pocket as the brunette swallowed thickly. “Do you like steak?”

“Oh, Dani doesn’t—“

“Do you like steak, Debbie?” Lou smirked again, one long leg starting to climb into the back of the car and hesitating, her multi-ringed fingers tapping against the car door as she waited.

“One of my favorites,” Debbie nodded.

Tammy teased her for it. Danny would have given her absolute hell for it. But she knew she was making both of them proud. And Lou had done her the unasked favor of renting her a secret hideaway apartment in the city where she could disappear from time to time to plot cons or read a book, or what usually ended up happening, texting or calling Lou anyway, and missing all of the Miller-Oceans too much to end up even staying the night. She’d miss home too much.

But today, the two partners were enjoying the last few moments of silence before chaos was bound to descend upon them once more. The news had already called for cancellations the next day due to snow and that meant snow day pancakes, sledding, snow ball fights, and the kids attempting to shovel the driveway to get kudos from their mothers before Lou snuck out to re-do it all before it had a chance to freeze while Debbie distracted their children with hot chocolate.

“We have enough groceries if the storm gets crazier than we think?” Lou asked suddenly, breaking Debbie out of her overthinking and reminiscing as she looked up from the document she’d been neglecting to read for almost an hour now. It was an accounting file from her day job, or as Lou referred to it, her normal person moonlighting with the usual side of crime.

“Think so,” Debbie muttered, eyes scanning through the document to determine how much time she’d actually need to read it once she managed to have the concentration for it later. “Could always just do take out. The kids love that.”

“You love that,” Lou chuckled, shaking her head. “I don’t want some delivery person mucking through the snow because of our poor planning.”

“We’ve got plenty, baby. We just went. And even you said I went a bit overboard.”

“I didn’t know a Costco membership could make even millionaires rethink their savings,” Lou sighed. “Should’ve known better than to let you go alone.”

“I made rational decisions,” Debbie protested as the blonde let out a snort.

“It could’ve been butter. It could’ve been paper towels. But no, you go insane on jars of pickles.”

“It was a good deal, Lou.”

“Because no one in their right mind could ever need that amount of pickles!”

Debbie burst into giggles as her wife gave her a stern look, completely serious about such a ridiculous topic until the two were laughing together, Lou closing her laptop and taking her reading glasses off to wipe at the tears forming at her eyes.

Debbie’s heart fluttered as she looked down between them, Lou’s right hand in her left. She hadn’t even realized. She wondered if Lou had. Debbie didn’t know who had initiated it, or if their hands had just found each others’ and held on tight, Lou balancing her laptop and scrolling with her left and Debbie holding her paperwork with her right. Without rhyme, or reason, or a plan.

“Just tell me there’s chocolate chips,” Lou spoke once she’d caught her breath. “You know Danni will flip shit if you offer her plain snow day pancakes.”

“Imagine the horror,” Debbie rolled her eyes. “She’s not the only one.”

“If there’s no chocolate chips, they’re just not pancakes, Deb.”

“You’re a pain in my ass, Miller.”