#michaelaxlaurel

Oh god. The trophy. And she had been doing so well, managing not to think of last night. Trying desperately to steer her thoughts into another direction, she rubs her eyes - and freezes abruptly. This is a bad habit of hers; she’s forever smudging her eyeliner and there is a tiny scab at the corner of her left eye, where her ring keeps breaking her skin.

Michaela’s breath hitches. The ring. Suddenly, tears are pricking at the corners of her eyes. She stands up, almost toppling her chair over in her haste, and heads for the door.

Behind her, Connor’s voice sounds in an accusatory tone. “Where are you going?”

"Bathroom." She’s too emotionally exhausted to put any bite in her reply. 

In the bathroom, she leans over the sink, hands braced on the cool ceramic, blinking back the tears. She refuses to cry. The others would notice, and the last thing she wants is for them to think her weak - especially after the spectacle she made of herself last night.

There’s a knock on the door.

"Michaela? Can I come in?" Laurel asks softly.

"No." Michaela snaps.

Laurel ignores her and slips inside anyway. She closes the door behind her and leans against it. Michaela doesn’t look at her outright, but watches her in the mirror.

"I wanted to say thank you," Laurel says. "For last night. If you hadn’t done something, he might have killed me."

Michaela scowls. “Can’t we just, not talk about last night?”

"If you want." Laurel takes a step closer and puts her hand on Michaela’s shoulder. "I just wanted you to know that I’m grateful. And that you did the right thing."

"Did I?" Michaela’s voice breaks on a sob, and suddenly Laurel’s arms are around her.

"Hey, hey, don’t cry." Laurel tugs at her shoulder until Michaela turns to face her. "You’ll ruin your makeup." She pulls out a Kleenex and dabs at Michaela’s eyes.

Michaela blinks rapidly, remembering her resolution to be strong. She sniffles, then nods determinedly.

Laurel smiles. Her face is very close to Michaela’s.

"Much better," she says. "Even though you are kinda pretty when you cry."

She leans forward and, before Michaela can realise what’s happening, she closes her mouth over Michaela’s.

The kiss is short and sweet, over before Michaela can decide how to react.

"What - What are you…?" she stutters, stunned. She never thought… Laurel liked boys, didn’t she?

"Kissing you, obviously." Laurel’s smile is a bit mocking.

"But. Why?"

"Because I want to."

"You’re not gay." This time, it’s Michaela who sounds accusatory. "And you have a boyfriend, Laurel! Two of them, even, at last count!"

"I thought we’d established that I’m a cheater and a bad person," Laurel says. "Let’s also establish that I am bisexual."

How can someone so mousy be so unflappable? Michaela can’t help but be a bit admiring. 

Still, she glares at Laurel. “Well, I’m not. I have a boyfriend, a fiancé even, and I’m not a cheater.” 

Laurel raises an eyebrow. ”Do you?” she asks, and Michaela wants to slap that smug expression off her face. But she can’t, not after what happened last time she tried to slap someone, and besides, Laurel probably has a point. So she grabs the back of Laurel’s neck instead and pulls her forward to crash their mouths together. 

Laurel kisses back hungrily, fingers tangling in Michaela’s hair. Michaela’s own hands are gripping Laurel’s shoulders, but when Laurel nips at her bottom lips, her fingers travel down Laurel’s back to tug at the hem of her shirt.

"O-oh." Laurel grins against her mouth. "Not such a good girl after all, are you?"

"Shut up," Michaela tells her, but there’s no real bite to it because Laurel has somehow picked her up and sat her on the edge of the sink and surely it’s going to break off under her weight - but then Laurel’s fingers push under her dress, down the high waist of her stocking, into her panties, and all coherent thought flees Michaela’s mind. 

Two of Laurel’s fingers press inside her - way too easily, just one kiss shouldn’t have made her this wet - and Michaela moans and throws her head back. Laurel takes advantage and sucks at Michaela’s bared neck, teeth nipping softly at her skin and god Michaela is lucky it’s winter and she has a scarf because that is going to show. 

Michaela moans brokenly and clasps a hand over her mouth - what if the others heard?

But Laurel’s fingers are moving just right inside her and the heel of her hand is grinding against Michaela’s clit and even biting down on her knuckles isn’t enough to keep Michaela quiet when she comes. Her entire body shudders and she slams her head against the mirror, almost expecting it to crack under the force of the blow. 

She sits there, panting, while Laurel smirks down at her. 

"Good?" Laurel asks, and Michaela nods, wide-eyed. She’d offer to return the favour, but she isn’t quite sure she’s comfortable with the idea.

Fortunately, Laurel doesn’t seem to expect anything of her. She shoos her off the sink with a teasing, “Let me wash my hands. The others will be wondering where we’ve gone.”

Michaela pulls her stockings up and smooths her hands over her skirt. Sneaking a look in the mirror, she arranges her hair over the mark that’s starting to show on her neck. 

"Let’s go, then," she tells Laurel.

Connor looks up when they enter the study room. “What’s it with girls and going to the bathroom together, anyway?” he asks. 

Laurel looks at him levelly. “We go there to have wild lesbian sex.”

Heat rises to Michaela’s cheeks - how dare she! - but Connor snorts. “Yeah right. I’d believe it from you, but Michaela? She’s way too much of a goody two shoes.”

Blushing even harder, Michaela sits down. She obstinately looks down at her notes, trying to ignore Wes, who’s eyeing her a bit too speculatively for comfort.