#danni ocean

“Who’s your favorite parent now?” Debbie rolled her eyes, tugging Dani to her side before she kissed her head. “Fine. Cotton candy for pseudo dinner it is. Mum’s right. It’s a special day.”

“So I can also have a slurpee on the way home?” Dani yelped, looking between them.

“Can you drink cold blue slime in a sports car?” Debbie asked. “Not again.”

“Yeah,” Lou snorted. “Stay focused on that sticky pink cloud instead.”

Debbie mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to the blonde before turning around to get a stack of napkins.

“I’ll work on her kid,” Lou whispered, sharing a high five with her daughter. “Don’t worry. Just don’t spill it on the seat this time.”

“No promises,” Dani giggled. “Can we do the swings again? Please?”

“Again?” Lou laughed. “Deb? Can you handle that post hot dog?”

“Can we take a carousel break first, honey?” Debbie compromised. “Then we’ll see where we’re at. Unless either of you want to see a hot dog flying through the air.”

“I do! I do!” Dani cheered.

“She’s a monster,” Debbie whispered.

Lou shrugged. “She came out of you, babe.”

Lou took Dani’s hand in one of her own and Debbie’s in the other, smitten with her two brunettes, mouths full of food as they giggled excitedly.

“Tell you what,” Lou smiled down at Dani. “Let’s get you and mom those matching shirts you want, alright? And we’ll see if there’s any way we don’t already own every stuffed animal here. And then, once we’re done shopping, we can watch mom pretend she’s not afraid of sliding out of a flying swing.”

“We told her not to wear heels,” Dani reminded Lou.

“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?”

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.”