#deenasam

Deena feigns an offended look while continuing to serenade her. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I love you…”

Although they’ve said that phrase many times, this goofy display of affection makes Sam’s cheeks turn red, and she turns her face away to once again bury it into Deena’s pillow, trying to maintain a little dignity while her girlfriend acts like a fool.

A mischievous smile tugs at the corners of Deena’s mouth, and as she sings the chorus once again, her fingers scribble at the bottom of Sam’s socked foot, making the blonde squeal and bring her knees to her chest, but Deena follows close behind, scrambling to take hold of her ankles so she can tickle without getting kicked in the face.

“Cut it out!” Sam whines.

“This is what you get for not appreciating my performance,” Deena replies.

Sam pulls her foot out of Deena’s grip again and holds up the pillow she’d been snuggling in a form of self-defense. “You were off-key!”

“Oh, so now you’re insulting my talent? Oh, this means war.”

Deena launches herself at her girlfriend, the two of them tumbling around on the mattress like overgrown children. It’s nice to think that despite all that’s happened, they’re still kids at heart.

A moment of wrestling leaves Sam sort-of pinned to the mattress, Deena sitting on her thighs to keep her in place, and begins tickling again, attacking her sides. But Sam isn’t going down without a fight, and when she realizes batting at Deena’s hands isn’t helping at all, she instead starts trying to tickle back, latching onto her girlfriend’s knees and squeezing.

Both of them are giggly messes by the time they call it a truce, breathless and desperate to use their mouths to kiss instead of laugh. When they pull away, there is a calm almost-quiet (because the long-forgotten music is still playing). And because calm and quiet are the times in which bad shit starts to resurface, Sam speaks.

“You know, for a former marching band member, you have terrible pitch.”

Deena gives her a glare which holds no venom behind it, and her fingers are darting beneath Sam’s shirt to tickle her belly in no time.