#soccercop

I feel like writing a few one-shots.

There's no shame in crying. i promise

Christmas isn't exactly her favorite time of year. Her family life left something to be desired and reminiscing about holidays as a kid didn't leave her warm and fuzzy. Rather, she liked to stave off the memories of her parents drinking too much and shouting at each other across the dinner table by creating her own traditions; Chinese food, cheap beer, and It's a Wonderful Life on the couch in sweats, alone. It had served her plenty well enough for years and she was of the belief that if something wasn't broke, don't fix it.

Alison, however, is insistent that they create new traditions. Some of them are fairly tolerable, like buying a tree and decorating it, and hot chocolate in a cozy little cafe by a roaring fire. And there are others that she only partakes in because she loves the woman, right down to her lululemons.

"I'd rather make a hundred popcorn garlands than ever go ice skating again," she grouses as they make their way back to Alison's. "Nothing worse than going around in a circle on a thin piece of steel with a bunch of other people and freezing to death. How is that fun?"

Alison casts her a side long glance from the driver's seat. "You skated circles around everyone, Beth. You're quite athletic. Besides," she bristles, "I thought it would be nice to try a new thing. But if you had such a miserable time, we don't ever have to go again."

She immediately recognizes the wobble in Alison's tone, the way her chin quivers and quickly, she touches her shoulder.

"It's not that I had a miserable time. I just think---"

"What?"

Beth shrugs, pulling her pea coat more securely around herself. "Nothing. It's fine."

"Well, it obviously isn't fine, or else you wouldn't have said so." Alison's grip is white knuckled on the steering wheel and she sighs, turning her head to stare out the window.

There was no way she was getting out of this and resigned, she slowly turns. "Okay...it's...uh. The thing is, you don't have to try so hard."

"What do you mean?" She asks tightly and oh boy, Beth swears she can hear the tears begin to form.

Realizing it's far too late to backpedal, she swallows thickly. "Look, I know you love me and you want me to have what you had as a kid. And I'm really grateful for that. Truly. All you wanna do is make me happy, but I don't think you get it. I am happy. Just the way things are. I don't need to go caroling or ice skating or have a big tree or a stocking. I love my tradition. It's what I'm used to."

"That's just it. It's your tradition. Which means it doesn't include me. I understand, Beth, I do. You were used to being alone for a long time and you've adapted to a certain way of life. But what you don't understand is that you aren't alone anymore."

Her voice is choked and Beth shakes her head, reaching over to touch her again, but she pulls away and navigates into the driveway.

"Ali, please--"

She gets out of the car without a word, Beth following her into the house and down the hallway where Alison neatly hangs up her vest, slips off her shoes, still giving her the silent treatment.

After a year of being together, Beth knows enough to let her cool off, which normally consisted of cleaning out the pantry or scrubbing floorboards and she goes to the porch to sit. It's cold but it's quiet and she stays for awhile to gather her thoughts before she leaves to find Alison.

And find her she does. Not in the kitchen, going at the tiles with a toothbrush or in the pantry or reorganizing the tea bags, but downstairs in the den.

She's sitting cross legged on the floor, in front of the tree, the twinkling lights framing her loose hair like a halo. Beth's throat hitches as she softly approaches, ambling down next to her.

"Hey."

"Hello." Her eyes are closed and she lays a tentative hand on her knee cap.

"You were right, you know. About me, used to being alone. I am, I guess. But I have you now, so I don't have to, I dunno, isolate myself so much." Beth brushes her thumb against the fabric of her leggings. "And I could have been more appreciative of what you were trying to do."

"Yes, you could have." Softening, Alison looks up at her, covering her hand with her own. "But you were right, too. Maybe I was trying too hard. Trying to make up for all of the awful Christmas's from before."

Gently, Beth crosses into her space, placing a tiny kiss on the side of her mouth, fingers going to tangle in her hair. "You can't."

"I know."

"I love that you want to, though."

They kiss, unhurried, unbothered, until Alison breaks away, eyes shining.

"I want to do your traditions. We did my favorites, so..."

"You'd be up for beer and Chinese?" She doesn't mean to sound so incredulous and Alison looks mildly offended. "Okay, sure."

"Really?"

"Really." She kisses her forehead. "I'll order the food and the beer and we'll be good to go."

"But it's not Christmas Eve, yet. It's too early."

"I want to spend Christmas Eve with you. Your mom's house and midnight mass and breakfast the next day. The whole thing."

"Still?" She sniffs a little and even though it very well have been a slight manipulation tactic, Beth nods.

"Yeah. It's close enough, anyway. What, just about two weeks, give or take? Let's do it."

And it's magical. They sit on the comfortable sofa with cartons of moo shu pork and noodles, drinking Molson (although Alison does rest hers delicately on a coaster) and Beth puts on It's a Wonderful Life.

She's seen the film thousands of times over the years, enough to have it nearly memorized, but it's never affected her in quite the same way that it does tonight. Perhaps it's because she and Alison are sitting knee to knee and Alison touches her leg excitedly during the romantic parts or the ambiance of the giant blue spruce in the background with its fairy lights and passed down decorations.

Or maybe it's just because she's really fucking happy.

She feels the wetness on her cheeks before she can even react as Jimmy Stewart runs down the street, shouting in unbridled joy over his second chance.

Alison's fingers are on her face, thumbing away moisture and she's murmuring comfort while Beth attempts to halt her sobs.

She's completely unsuccessful and spends the last ten minutes of the movie in Alison's embrace, crying desperately into her neck and when she's finished and the closing credits roll, she dares to lift her head, mortified at the spectacle she's made of herself.

"I must look like a wreck," she hastily wipes her face, blots puffy eyes. "I don't usually do that, I swear."

"Beth," Alison's tone is butter warm, "there's no shame in crying. I promise. Truth be told," she leans in, brushing her lips against Beth's, "I thought it was rather sweet."

She exhales, resting her head on Alison's shoulder, cheek meeting soft wool. "Thanks for doing this with me."

For the minific:

Soccercop:

9: things you said when i was crying❣️

"How much of an asshole would it make me to say he doesn't deserve you?"

It is the kind of candid confession that can only result from too much whiskey and the kind of fuck it, everything's on the verge of falling apart, anyway attitude Alison's come to expect from Beth. Being drunk only amplified it.

If she'd stopped to analyze the situation, if she'd been sober, maybe, she would clearly have recognized that nothing good could come from swilling red wine, straight from the bottle and camping out on the floor of the shed with Beth, who was the last person who should have been drinking in the first place.

But none of her decisions lately made much sense at all and she was long past caring.

Tipping back the bottle, she lets the slightly metallic taste rest on the edges of her lips, the points of her teeth before swallowing.

"A big one," she wipes her hands down the front of her LuLu Lemons. She's starting to get a little sloppy; an indicator to slow down. "But you'd probably be right."

Beth is a cool drunk. The liquor serves to make her less guarded, nothing more. Whereas Alison is a nervous ball of energy, even with a copious amount of alcohol in her system, Beth can drink her body weight in Jack Daniels and be none the worse for wear. It's both enviable and slightly disgusting and often, she watches in awe as Beth barely winces when she takes a swig.

Alison notes, watching her in the dark, that it wasn't uncommon for Beth to lay out casual questions or statements when they were drinking, phrasing them in such a way that they were completely organic. She got the sense that she wouldn't have dared in the light of day, knowing fully well that she couldn't or more precisely, wouldn't be equipped to respond.

So she saves it for nights like these, when Donnie and the kids are in asleep and they are crossed legged on the floor, each with their respective bottles. Safer, somehow, and they both know it.

"Mmm," Beth replies, cracking her knuckles, even though she knows it makes Alison wince. "I'd ask why stay but what's the point..."

"When you already know the answer," Alison finishes, trying her best to sound brisk. It's more of a kitten's whisker and she swallows against the sludge that's building up in her throat.

"Yeah, well..."

She leans over to catch a fallen eyelash off of Alison's cheek, capturing it on her thumb, blowing it into the air in front of them.

There are certain things that make her breath stick painfully in between the pockets of her ribs, make her feel as the wind's just been knocked out of her.

Beth's fingers against wisps of hair that have escaped her ponytail.

The way she catches her looking sometimes, the little flash in her eyes when she realizes Alison noticed, how she looks away then.

How she's been lingering slightly longer than normal when they hug good-bye.

A goddamned eyelash.

She's supposed to know what to do. To find a manual somewhere. She fucking prides herself on solving problems; Oscar's lost soccer ball, gum in Gemma's hair, Donnie's heartburn.

It's almost infuriating how lost she is and the one person she'd normally ask for help is out of the question.

"What if," Beth's mouth shifts into a pensive line, "what if I don't like the answer. What then?"

Alison doesn't like her tone, how it's drifted into an almost low drawl and she shakes her head.

"We don't have much choice, do we?"

It isn't the response either of them expects and to her horror, silent tears fall down Beth's cheeks, no warning, no ceremony. Her throat instantly constricts.

"Beth," her hand falls to Beth's shoulder but she shrugs, her turn to shake her head.

"Doesn't matter."

They both know that she’s lying and gently, Alison wipes the fallen tears with just the pads of her thumbs until they are gone.

There's only silence until Beth laces their fingers together, her eyes trained on something in the distance.

"What if," her voice is hoarse and Alison squeezes the hand she is holding gently, "I told you I loved you."

There's no hesitation, no pause.

"I'd have to say that I know," Alison replies, more measured than she'd thought possible.

Selfish Teenage Superheroes AU.

Hartwood Academy is a home for delinquent youth, among its students are three friends with mysterious powers. When danger strikes, can these troubled teens manage to keep their shit together long enough to do some good?

Probably.

Maybe.

Eh...we'll see.

To Beth.

Happy birthday, babe.

18- things you said when you were scared

Beth feels the moment where she freezes. The slow, dawning realization. The exact second Alison's muscles tense and twitch under her fingertips; feels it through the cotton of one of her god-awful floral button downs.

She doesn't move her hand, even though Alison's eyes have gone wide with terror.

If she'd been pressed to explain herself, she doesn't think she could. The moments serving as a precursor are entirely mundane, unremarkable.

They were standing in Alison's kitchen and it was safe. Same shiny applicances, no doubt cleaned within inches of their lives, every utensil, every dishtowel, hung up neatly, perfectly in place. Cookbooks alphabetized. She knew, without a doubt, if she happened to look in the pantry, she'd find each item, not only correctly categorized but colored coded, too.

Nothing ever dangerous could happen in this kitchen.

Except, that it had.

One minute, she was drinking tea at the gleaming hardwood table out of a ridiculously oversized mug, the kind she lost her face in when she picked it up to sip from. She didn't even like tea, preferred black coffee that was so strong it put hair on your legs but Alison always insisted. This one smelled like pear and sadness and tasted just as bad and she found if she brought the edge of the cup to her lips, she could get away with looking like she was actually drinking it.

Alison was on edge. There was good reason to be, Beth allowed. Mild anxiety was Ali's baseline, though, all things considered, and usually, she could easily placate it with a few words. But tonight, she wasn't having it. No amount of coddling and gentle reassurance seemed to be working.

So, Beth had risen abruptly, nearly sending her mug clattering, amber liquid sloshing over the sides.

"Oh, Christ on a cracker," instantly Alison was up, too, her hand flitting to her mouth as she rushed to grab a damp cloth from the sink. "Here, let me get it."

Beth reached out, stilled her hurried movements. "Ali."

And just like that, she'd stopped, chewing on her lower lip, ponytail swishing as she looked up.

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Okay? Promise."

She watched as Alison's breath caught, the way her chest seemed to inflate and collapse before she nodded tightly.

"Okay."

From the fast expulsion of air, her conviction was sorely lacking so Beth stood closer, so close that she could've caught the eyelash that had fluttered down to land on Alison's cheek.

She wasn't exactly an intellect before action type of person and she definitely did not apply a look before you leap philosophy. Her palm opened and was on Alison's back before she considered any sort of ramifications.

Beth never touched without purpose. Not a hand on the arm of a friend for comfort or a throwaway pat on the back in an attempt as congratulations. There was something sad about it, something pointless, and she couldn't bring herself to do it.

So, as her fingertips linger on the small of Alison's back, her heart is dancing a goddamn tarantella. It's weighted, this touch, whether or not she'd intended it to be.

And maybe she should have been taken aback or the slightest bit chagrined. Hell, Alison is a fucking deer in headlights, rooted to the spot. She could apologize or at the very least, take her hand away.

But she doesn't do any of that. Because she's tired. She's exhausted and it feels good. Call it carnal pleasure or basic human need, but touching Alison feels good, so she presses the tips of her nails in, not hard enough to hurt; just to see Ali's eyes widen comically.

And then, her hands are on Beth's face, cupping her chin, Beth's not moving from their spot, and she's biting her lip again, tounge running over the faintest of chapped areas on the bottom one.

Do it, Beth thinks. Because I'm too much of a coward.

Just as quickly as the weird, nervous spark had lit up in the depths of Alison's eyes, it's out and she's pushing Beth away with two fingers pressed to her jacket, shaking her head as though she'd suddenly remembered she had a dentist appointment.

"Holy cow, Beth, what are you doing?" Her voice has risen in pitch and immediately, Beth steps back, hands in the air. It's a classic Alison freakout and she can see the gears turning...she's trying to figure out how exactly to navigate damage control.

"Nothing you didn't want me to."

Her response surprises both of them and Alison's mouth collapses, twitches once, before settling into an angry, thin, line.

"You think I wanted that?" Her fingers flutter to her high necked collar, pecking at the series of buttons. "I'm sorry to inform you, Beth, but you are sadly mistaken. I've never, in a million years, thought of you in that...manner. I don't know what I could've done to make you possibly believe that I..."

She trails off, blowing out a stream of air through gritted teeth. "If we're being honest, I'm so upset, I don't think I even like you much right now."

It's defensive but it stings, just the same.

"Alison-"

"I think it would be best," she draws in an odd breath through her nose, "if you leave."

She's shaking and under normal circumstances, Beth would find a way to bring her down.

But these are not normal circumstances and Alison's fiddling with her buttons again, the ends of her hair, looking very much as though she wished Beth would vanish into thin air.

"I'll see you... whenever," she mumbles and she's out of there, barreling down the driveway and speeding back to her lonely apartment.

Pills and a half a bottle of wine quell the ache but only a little and she doesn't hear from Alison for a week.

It's a Friday night and she's camped out on the sofa in ratty sweats and take-out, a dumb movie playing in the background. Any attempt at normalcy in the midst of a fucked up, life or death situation is at least an attempt, she figures, and she's in the middle of slurping a beer when the phone rings.

"I'm sorry."

The voice on the other end is small and morose and more than a little tearful and Beth sits up straight, setting the Molson down on the coffee table.

She takes a second before responding, doesn't want to tip her over when she sounds fragile.

"Hey. It's alright."

"No, it's not. I was mean."

"You were afraid."

A hiccup, a sucking in of air. "I...suppose I still am."

Beth's chest aches. "Of me?"

There is a silence, then a faint, "not of you."

"Oh."

"Um, I'm actually outside your door. May I come in?"

There's that dull ache again, the kind she gets when she wants to cry, maybe the tears are sitting right there, but she can't.

"Uh, yeah, yeah. Sure. It's messy, though."

"I don't care about that."

"Well, okay. I'll buzz you up."

In the brief reprieve before she does, Beth glances around, wincing, throwing shit away from the coffee table, moving her beer and food to the small dining area.

Before she opens the door, she takes her hair out of its rats nest, finger combing it, contemplates quickly running to change.

But there's no time.

No time in between letting Alison in and Alison tugging, gentle, at the collar of her hoodie and pressing her lips to Beth's in a way that leaves her dizzy.

"I'm sorry," she says into the space that separates them. A strand of Beth's hair is stuck to her lip by pink gloss and she giggles a little as they work to remove it.

Beth smiles, dusts her mouth over Alison's jawline. "You already said that."

She blushes. "Well, I'm saying it again."

Beth swallows. "I'm scared, too, you know. Of everything."

Alison shakes her head. "No, you're not. You can't be because you're the bravest person I've ever known."

"Oh, holy shit," Beth laughs, her hand landing on Alison's shoulder, "if you only knew."

"Wish I was half as brave as you are."

She takes Alison's trembling chin in both hands, forces their eyes to meet.

"You came here, didn't you? I'd say that took balls."

Alison's eyes flash and her lips are on Beth's again, a little more boldly this time.

"I lied to you," Alison says. Her grip tightens and there's fear in it.

"I know."

Her eyes, dark and hooded, scan Beth's face, looking for god knows what...anger? Regret? Some weird combination of both, with a side of guilt?

When she can find none, she relaxes, her body melting into Beth's, kissing her again.