You got it. Already have the song I’m going to listen to while writing set.

The City is a Crowded Place

I am amazed by peace It is this possibility of you asleep and breathing in the quiet air ["Poem for My Love," June Jordan]

Rose doesn't know when Emily became the bright center of her darker universe. It was quiet, the blonde's slow eclipsing of everything that had ever mattered prior to her arrival. One day, Rose woke up tucked into the sharp bend of the larger woman's elbow, and everything, and nothing, had changed. But somehow she knew then, listening to the soft rhythm of Emily's breathing, feeling the warmth of Emily's body curled around her own, there wasn't a thing in her life more important than this.

< ----- >

"Kelley's been texting me," she says one day when Rose isn't entirely paying attention, busy searching through the bookcase that lines the wall of their living room.

It had been her living room, once. Emptier, certainly, and colder. But hers, this little unit in the sky, eye-level with the cloud-covered Seattle sky. Until Emily had needed a place to stay, a last-minute trade that sent her across a continent against her will. Until Emily had called her in tears and asked if she could stay.

For a few days, Emily had promised. For a couple of weeks, maybe. And then--just until I get settled. Just until I find my feet.

Once, maybe, Rose wouldn't have had the courage to ask for what she wanted. Once, after all, she was a girl. New and unsure. About herself, about her worth, about the world and her place in it. Now, though, Rose knows what she wants.

She wants Emily. She wants the warmth of her, the space the older woman takes up in her home--their home--and her life. She wants the color and the music, Emily brings into her life. Flowers on the table, music playing in kitchen, shelf after shelf of books on the IKEA shelves the blonde had ordered and picked up and assembled just for her.

Now, older and wiser and in love, Rose can say it.

And she does.

Stay.

"Hmmm?" the brunette asks, stretching up on her tiptoes to pull down the title she's been looking for, the thin volume falling open in her hands as she brings it down. She's not really listening, too focused on flipping through the pages, breathing in the musky scent of long neglected leaves. "Kelley? Did you finally unblock her number now?"

Emily laughs softly where she's sprawled out on the deep cushions of the couch, remembering her threats to their friend after the final last year. She never would have blocked the older woman, but seeing the look on Kelley's face at the suggestion had been enough to keep the comments about Seattle's championship loss few and far between. "Something like that," she tells Rose in response, deliberating for a moment before continuing, "Gotham is shopping."

Rose hears the words, but they don't quite register. There's something about them that just doesn't make sense. The order, maybe, or the tone. "New Batmobile?" she asks, turning to look at her girlfriend. There's a curious look on Emily's face; anticipation, maybe, or a kind of guarded excitement; a kid at Christmas who's shaken all the gifts under the tree, and trying not to show it. "Or, wait, Batcave? Are they pulling a Kansas City and building their own stadium now that they've got a star on their jersey?" She's not jealous of them, or of the three times Emily has lifted a league trophy. Not more than is natural, anyway.

But the blonde only smirks at her, shifting to sit against the soft arm of the couch. She's willing Rose to come over, to sit with her on the couch while the rain falls heavy against the tall windows that overlook the city. Rose is well-aware of what her partner wants, even though Emily won't put it into words. It just so happens that it's what Rose wants as well--to be pressed against taller woman's body, to feel the brush of Emily's lips against her hair as she reads, the weight of Emily's arm over her side.

Rose is learning that it's okay to give in to what she wants.

Rose is learning that it's okay to give in.

"No," Emily says, tugging Rose onto her as the brunette steps close, "for sidekicks. Players, the midfield especially."

Irish blue eyes meet steely grey as Rose lets the words register fully, snapping her out of the lazy comfort of the off-season and into a place where soccer, her career, take second-place only to the woman beneath her. "Free agency," the smaller woman says slowly, realization dawning, and then blinks, looking away as something occurs to her. "She saved you last time, brought you to Washington when you were stuck in Orlando," Rose grips the book in her hand tightly. "Is it that bad here?" she asks, quirking her head, forcing herself to look at Emily, "is Kelley saving you again?"

But Emily's hand comes up to caress her jaw, settling her. Grounding her. And already Rose can feel the instinctive fear begin to dissipate, the anxiety fading away as her faith in this woman, her belief in them and what they have begun to build, overcomes her doubts. "I don't need saving any more," the blonde says softly, and Rose can hear the words she doesn't give voice to, the assurance and the promise. "But what she is saying," Emily looks at her, steady and true, "is that Gotham might have room in its salary cap for a couple of free agents. Some World Cup winners, some depth for their midfield, maybe someone who can step in at centerback now and then ..."

The blonde lets the words trail off, lets the space between them fill with what could be. New city, new team, new chances to grow together, to love one another. A city that doesn't belong to either of them ... yet. A city that could become theirs ... together.

Rose smiles, and lets the book fall to the floor. A story for another day.

"If you go, I go," she whispers, lips hovering just a breath above the blonde's.

It's a promise.

Kelley loves her like this, a little drunk and in love.

"I can't decide. I'm sorry." OR "I feel like an ass. Maybe I went too hard on the kid."

For Sonnett/O'Hara or Sonnett/Horan. Or O'Hara/Horan. The choice is yours haha.

"So," Alex says as she fixes her makeup in the mirror, "you want to talk about it?"

Kelley looks over from where she’s sitting on her bed, flipping through a magazine rather loudly. She gives her friend a look, eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?" the defender asks, sounding annoyed.

"Whatever's got you so twisted up that you're almost ripping those pages," the younger woman turns to fix her friend with a look all her own. "Like, whatever made you rip into Sonnett in front of the entire team earlier today?"

Alex is no fool. She's known Kelley for close to twenty years now. She knows exactly what was going on in her friend's head. Or, more likely, her heart.

She also knows that poking the bear, so to speak, will only make Kelley more frustrated. And while there was a time in their friendship when she would have done it just to amuse herself, now she does it because she recognizes this Kelley. This Kelley who wants something she thinks she can't have. This Kelley who's so knotted up inside, she can't see the way forward.

Kelley lets out a deep, frustrated sigh, and the magazine falling to the floor as she covers her eyes with her hands. "How bad was it," she asks, because honestly, she doesn’t know, but it feels important.

She'd watched Sonnett throw herself into a dangerous tackle, managing to toe the ball away from Carli, who'd seen the tackle coming but only committed harder in her drive toward goal. Emily had half-knocked herself unconscious in the process, head colliding sharply with the older woman’s knee. Watching, Kelley had seen red at the younger player’s gall, and had stormed up the field from where she'd been at right back on Lloyd's team.

Carli had already been up and shaking the hit off, but Kelley ignored her, grabbing the younger player by the pinny even as Emily blinked hard to clear the stars from her eyes. "What the hell were you thinking?" she’d half-asked, half-growled as she pulled Sonnett up. "This isn't a game, this is practice."

Kelley'd had to grip her arms tighter to keep the blonde steady on her feet, oblivious to their friends and teammates around them. "This isn't a Thorns match, you can't just barrel into--.” But the trainers had gently pushed her out of the way, ignoring her as she continued to berate the younger woman. "You could have hurt—dammit, Sonnett, you could—“

But Kelley hadn’t gotten the chance to finish as Becky pulled her off toward the side of the pitch. And it wasn't her captain's hard words that stuck in Kelley's head for the rest of the day, that ate at her. It was the look in Sonny's cloudy blue eyes. Hurt, a little betrayal, a little less hero worship than there had always been.

“It was—,” Alex debates how to phrase her impression of the scene. “It was intense, Kel,” is what she settles on. The truth, as it were. “I can’t remember seeing you that angry about something on the field in years, maybe ever. And, it wasn’t even that dangerous of a tackle—Carli was fine.”

She leaves the opening there on purpose, a taunt and an offer, one and the same.

“I don’t care about Carl—,” the older woman starts, but shuts her mouth as she sees the bright gleam of excitement spark in Alex’s eyes. “No,” Kelley shakes her head, “that’s not what I—“

It’s a lost cause, she knows it even as she watches Alex turn toward the bed on her side of the room again. The bloodhound has her scent. All Kelley can do is minimize the risks to her own heart.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Alex isn’t even bothering to disguise the amusement in her voice. “You and I both know that it’s Sonnett you care about.” And there’s a gleam in her eye, the kind Kelley knows well to be wary of. “What I can’t figure out,” the younger woman steps closer, “is why you’re not letting yourself go after what you want?”

Because Alex has seen Kelley chase women before, practically since the day the Georgian first realized she liked them. Hell, Alex could tell her, most of the time Kelley didn’t even have to try. Girls just fell into her life, willing and wanting.

“Al, it’s not—“ her friend tries to say, butAlex continues.

“You care about her, Kel,” Alex stands before Kelley at the side of the bed, taking the magazine away and tossing it toward the other side of the bed. “You care about her, enough that when you realized you cared, you ended your relationship with Maggie.”

Kelley looks up at her, shock and panic on her face at realizing that something she’d thought she hid so well had apparently been obvious to someone who knew her almost as well as anyone. For a moment, Kelley wonders who else knows, who else has realized.

“It wasn’t fair to her,” she says when Alex pauses long enough to let her speak. But Kelley doesn’t clarify who the ‘her’ is in that sentence. It doesn’t matter anyway, not really. “Does Sonny know?” The defender needs to know then answer, needs to know if her heart has been out on her sleeve this whole time.

Alex shakes her head. “No,” she says, “she’s too busy trying to figure out how to impress you on the field. You know she’s terrified of fucking up in front of you, right?”

But Kelley doesn’t know that.

She’s never realized that, never seen the look in Emily’s eyes that makes it clear.

Now, all she can think about are those blue eyes. How they hadn’t been able to meet her own in the wake of Kelley’s anger.

“Fuck,” she whispers in the hotel room, bringing her hand up to cover her face. “Al, I was really hard in her this morning…”

Alex presses a comforting hand to her friend’s cheek. Her poor, idiot, friend.