“Hello,” she drawls back, with interest alighting in her eyes. Chloe can practically feel her gaze rake up and down her body, assessing silently. “Do you need another drink?”

Chloe smiles, tilting her head. “Not yet, but maybe soon. I’m a little tipsy,” she offers out of nowhere, as if it explains an unasked question.

The woman slides easily onto the stool next to Chloe, barely letting their knees graze each other. Chloe tries not to notice how nicely the woman’s dress fits her underneath the smooth, black, cropped leather jacket. 

She maybe stares a little too hard because the woman is speaking again, a lot closer than Chloe remembers. “Hi Tipsy, I’m Santana.”

It sounds teasing and innocent on the surface - the words. Instead, however, the pleasant chill that ripples up Chloe’s spine has everything to do with how Santana says it - all smooth timbre and blatant flirtation.

“Chloe,” she replies after a brief silence. “I - my name is Chloe. Sorry, I-” She fumbles for words for a moment. “You have a really nice voice. Did you know that?” She quickly wraps her lips around her straw, if only to stop herself from talking.

Santana smiles again, wider. She takes in Chloe’s action with purpose, her eyes seemingly tracking each movement. “What do you mean?”

If Santana’s being honest, she had no expectations coming to this bar at all. Kurt and Rachel had brought her here a couple times and she finally decided to just take the opportunity to go out by herself, intent on enjoying a night out without the two worst wingmen in the entire world.

Somehow, this stranger at the bar had caught her eye, for no reason other than she had been intently watching the steady stream of karaoke performers, almost critically. Though, Santana notes, this woman - Chloe - seems like she lacks a mean bone in her entire body.

(It went without saying that the most important reason as to why Santana sat down at all was that she was hot. Something about the sundress and light jacket makes her think of other sunny personalities and pleasant dispositions.)

“I - I don’t mean anything by it,” Chloe says quickly, after gulping down a sip her drink. “I just, I feel like you’re a really good singer. Are you a singer?”

Santana throws her a bone. “How’d you know?”

Chloe brightens, her smile only making her more beautiful under the dim light. “You are a singer!”

“I might have dabbled here and there in high school. And maybe occasionally now.” Santana crosses her legs, leaning on the bar. “What about you?”

“I was in an acapella club in university,” Chloe says, straightening a little. This, she can talk about. 

Santana looks thoroughly amused. “Acapella?” It’s in Santana’s amusement that Chloe finds herself drawn in, for the sole reason of wanting to be on the same inside joke that Santana seems to find so amusing.

-

In a record 15 minutes, Aubrey sees Stacie push through the double doors of the dingy bar they picked as a rendezvous point.

“Sooooo…” Stacie draws out the word, setting a beer down on the table in front of Aubrey before sliding into the booth across from Aubrey.

“Just ask,” Aubrey interrupts with an eye roll as she brings the beer to her lips and tips the bottle back.

“Why’re you in Texas if you’re not on my tail anymore?”

“I had leave building up. Decided to take it.”

Stacie levels Aubrey with a look and Aubrey almost immediately relents,

“I’m getting a new assignment next week. Deep undercover. It’ll be awhile before I can come back.”

“So this is you’re doing for your last hurrah? You came out to small town Texas-”

“I came to you.”

The smirk drops from Stacie’s lips as soon as Aubrey says the words. Aubrey wants to take them back almost immediately, but if this is going to be “her last hurrah” she’s going to make it count.

“Aubrey…”

Aubrey stares at the wall behind Stacie, unable to meet her eyes, “I know why we can’t. I know why we shouldn’t. But-”

“You’re the one who said no in the first place,” Stacie reminds her, peeling at the label of the beer in front of her.

“Being friends with you was hard enough.”

“I saved your ass. More than once.”

“I know.”

“More than a few times.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to do my job if we were-” Aubrey finally looks at Stacie again and waves her hand abstractly, “you know.”

“If we were what Aubrey,” Stacie pushes, leaning forward in the booth so that she can really study Aubrey’s face.

Aubrey exhales, some of the tension going out of her shoulders, “if I let myself feel everything that I feel for you. There’s no going back.”

Stacie doesn’t reply. Instead she sits back in the booth and tilts her beer bottle back, draining it of liquid before setting it back down on the table.

It’s the first and only time Aubrey has ever come close to admitting she has any kind of feelings for Stacie. And while Stacie wasn’t exactly insecure in their “relationship”, the confirmation that it hasn’t all just been a one-sided attraction is both a relief and a problem.

“Do you think it’s been any easier for me?” Stacie finally says, breaking their silence.

“Stacie-”

“I told you how I felt after Beijing-”

Aubrey frowns, “you asked me to stay.”

“I asked you to stay,” Stacie repeats, leveling Aubrey with a look.

Aubrey meets Stacie’s gaze but tears her eyes away to look around the relatively empty bar.

“This job is my whole life.”

“I know that Bree.”

“I have nothing else.”

“You had me.”

“I had you?”

“You’re not the only one with something to lose here.”

Aubrey doesn’t have a reply for that. Selfishly, she hadn’t necessarily considered how Stacie felt about….everything between them. She’d assumed that they were okay, that their relationship was enough for now.

Neither of them say anything for a long while. The waitress comes over to bus their table and asks if either of them want another beer. They both shake their heads and the waitress departs their booth with a smile. There’s another awkward long silence between them before Stacie is standing up and offering Aubrey her hand.

“What?”

“Dance with me.”

“Stacie-”

“Dance with me Aubrey.”

Aubrey takes her hand and allows Stacie to lead her out to the empty, makeshift “dance floor”. There’s a country song playing quietly. Stacie wraps her arms around Aubrey’s shoulders and on instinct, Aubrey brings their hips flush, letting her hands rest at the small of Stacie’s back.

They sway to the quiet music until they’re the only two left in the bar.

“We should go,” Stacie whispers into her ear.

Aubrey nods into her shoulder and steps back from their embrace. Stacie takes her by the hand the leads her out of the bar.

“I’m in the motel up the street.”

The walk is silent besides the crunch of dirt and rock under their boots. Aubrey tries to memorize the feeling of Stacie’s finger intertwined with hers, tries to stop thinking and let herself feel Stacie’s presence next to her.

Too soon, they’re in front of the decrepit motel at the end of the block.

“You could-”

“I shouldn’t.”

They stand there, staring past each other, both of them unable to say what the other wants to hear.

Aubrey reaches under her shirt, finding her dog tags and unclasps them. She slips the ring that hangs next to them and then refastens the chain around her neck. She holds the ring up, studying it for a long moment, before offering it to Stacie.

Stacie stares at the ring, but doesn’t take it from Aubrey’s hand.

“Bree- I don’t want to do that tragic soldier going off to war crap.”

“That’s not what this is.”

Stacie raises an eyebrow unbelievingly but takes the ring from Aubrey’s hand anyway, “you better come back.”

Aubrey just smiles and steps forward so she can wrap her arms around Stacie one more time. She leans her forehead to Stacie’s and they stand there, breathing the same air for a minute. Stacie is the first to pull away; the ring is heavy in her hand.

“I’ll see you soon.”