#swace

Mamrie hands Sarah a bottle rather clumsily. Sarah notes Mamrie's level of inebriation, taking it as she presses her lips together in amusement.   

"So, did you talk to Grace or something?" Mamrie asks without preamble. Sarah brings the bottle to her lips as she studies Mamrie.

"No. Not since Tyler's party. Why?"

Mamrie shrugs.   

"Saw y'all together then. I'd figured you'd talked to her." Mamrie gives Sarah a significant look. Sarah narrows her eyes suspiciously in return.   

"And?" Sarah prompts. Mamrie grins impishly and nudges Sarah.   

"Dude, come on. She broke up with him. Make your move, Swike!"   

Sarah gazes at Mamrie like she's grown a second head and suspects that Mamrie is less sober than she'd initially thought. She wonders briefly how much Mamrie's had to drink.   

"Grace is straight, Mames," Sarah says somewhat slowly, carefully.

"Historically, yes. But you're not," she replies in a sing-song voice.

A lot to drink, Sarah decides as Mamrie throws back the remaining liquid from her bottle.

"Mamrie, I'm not into Grace."

"Please," Mamrie says with a snort of disbelief. "Grace is gorgeous and you adore her."   

Sarah leans back in her chair, a marginal attempt to distance herself from admitting what she's never allowed herself to think about since that night. The music thumps around her and it's a nice distraction.

"Grace likes you, dude," Mamrie says in a soft voice, drawing Sarah back in. "It's not complicated. And don't even pretend you don't like her back. Most people can't help themselves." Mamrie adds, with a helpless shrug and a faint smile.

"Grace is a friend of my client. And she's straight," Sarah repeats, keeping her expression perfectly composed. She raises a brow at Mamrie suddenly. "Did she send you here to me?"

Mamrie smiles mysteriously and leans in toward Sarah.

"I'm supposed to be getting her a drink," she whispers conspiratorially. "But I think I'm going to challenge Lilly to a round of beer pong instead."   

She winks at Sarah and moves away. "Oh and Grace is out on the patio," Mamrie adds over her shoulder.

"Hart! Lilly better not get alcohol poisoning!" Sarah calls after her.

She glances in the general vicinity of the patio. With a sigh, she grabs a couple of drinks and pushes her way through the crowd. When she steps outside, the music fades away and the wind wakes her easily. Sarah realizes Grace is the only one out here. She can't help but think Mamrie had something to do with that.   

"Grace?"   

Grace turns and smiles when she sees it's Sarah.   

"You came!" she crows, throwing herself into Sarah's arms who catches her just in time.

"You are drunk," Sarah comments, somewhat amused. Grace tilts her head back and Sarah moves her hands more securely around Grace's waist to keep them upright, quickly transferring the bottles onto a nearby table.   

"I'm missing you. You're here and I'm missing you because I don't know how long you'll be here." 

Sarah looks at Grace and she falls through the memories of that night, of Grace's dark eyes, of Grace's moans, of her soft skin. Other memories from other nights quickly follow. More moments of kind Grace, loyal Grace, witty Grace. Sarah's mind is continuously generating a never-ending list of why resisting her is futile. Honestly, Sarah doesn't want to try to resist her, often forgets why she should.

"Sarah, what are you doing?" Grace murmurs, her voice bringing Sarah back. Sarah finds that she has pinned Grace to the railing of the patio, hands on either side of her waist.

"Sorry," Sarah mutters, stepping away with a red face. She takes tentative steps to go back inside.   

"Wait!" Grace grabs Sarah's hand and takes a step in her direction but it's harder to walk in heels when not sober. Grace's ankle gives and Grace falls, tugging Sarah along with her. They're sprawled on the deck and the first thing Sarah hears is Grace's laugh.   

"I'm literally falling for you," Grace says breathlessly, grinning down at Sarah. Sarah makes a face.   

"Cheesy."

Grace laughs again and Sarah feels the associated movement of Grace's chest against her skin. She's hyper-aware that Grace is effectively on top of her. The moment is short-lived as Grace rolls onto her back and looks sideways at Sarah.

"When are you gonna love me?" she asks with a slight sigh.

Sarah closes her eyes for a moment because Grace doesn't sound wistful or longing. She doesn't even sound drunk. She sounds curious, matter-of-fact. Like she knows that they are only a matter of when. Sarah feels the truth of this. The fact that Grace has stated it aloud makes Sarah believe in fate.

"When are we gonna be together?" Grace continues in the same tone. "I keep imagining these scenarios. And fuck, Swike, I'm so goddamned domestic in all of them." She giggles. "Ever since that Saturday. I can't get you out of my head."   

Grace rolls onto her side and brings a hand to Sarah's cheek. Then she leans in and presses a kiss to Sarah's lips. It's slow and deliberate and glorious. Very little time passes before Sarah's thinking wildly about throwing caution to this godforsaken wind and taking Grace home with her. Grace is kissing her and telling her that she wants her in this life. Fuck treading lightly.

Grace pulls away, slightly breathless. It reassures Sarah that she's not the only one affected by the kiss.

"You told me to finalize everything. I did. Everything was being rewritten when I met you and I kept pushing a narrative that wasn't mine." She kisses Sarah's lips again. "This one's mine. Are you with me?" 

Sarah can't help the hesitation. But she jumps anyway.

Lilly wants to go house-hunting. Discard. Already in her calendar.

Schedules for Jon and Lilly at Vidcon have to be finished by Wednesday. Discard. She's more than halfway done.

Her sister's birthday is in two and a half weeks. Keep. She needs to buy her a present and book a flight to see her.

She's running low on apples and oranges. Keep. She'll stop at the store today.

Grace Helbig has broken up with her boyfriend. 

Sarah hesitates, vaguely surprised that Mamrie had even bothered to tell her this. Another text comes before she can make another decision.

'Hannah and I aren't in town. I know we're not necessarily on good terms but...Grace shouldn't be alone.'

Sarah hesitates a second longer before replying.

'I'll take care of it, Mames.'

Grace Helbig has broken up with her boyfriend. Keep. And Sarah starts making a list of things to get at the store on her way to Grace's as she gathers her belongings. This fact is the only kept thought that matters to Sarah. Everything else will have to wait.

When Sarah climbs into her car, she dials Grace's number. She's not surprised when it rings and goes to voicemail. With a sigh, she pulls up Grace's messages.

'Hey, I'm coming over. Pizza or thai?' 

Sarah is already at the grocery store when Grace finally replies.

'Thai.' Another message immediately follows. 'You don't have to do this.'

Sarah considers these.

Thai. Keep. Grace likes pad thai.

You don't have to do this. Discard. Sarah shakes her head slightly at this and continues down the aisle. 

Sarah rings the doorbell, personal belongings and grocery bags in hand. She's quite pleased that she only had to make the one trip. And also a little nervous to see Grace. Their friendship did not have a clean-cut ending. When Sarah left, Grace stayed on that side of the battlefield. Grace is many things and loyal is one of them. Sarah cannot hate her for this. In fact, feels quite the opposite.

It takes a moment, but the door swings open to reveal Grace in sweatpants and a t-shirt. Her hair is in a bun. The tip of her nose is red and there are dark circles under bloodshot eyes that Sarah hadn't noticed before. It makes Sarah's heart hurt when Grace smiles weakly in greeting. Sarah smiles back and steps across the threshold.

"Tv or music?" Sarah asks as she sets down her bags on Grace's kitchen table. She knows that at times like these, Grace can only manage two options at a time.

"Music," Grace replies, her voice rather hoarse. Sarah nods.

"Pad thai or vodka?"

No response.

"Grace?" Sarah looks up from her rummaging to find Grace much closer than she'd expected. Her eyes are shining.

"You," Grace says with a sigh. "Only you." 

Grace closes the remaining distance and pulls Sarah to her, kissing her hard. Sarah can taste the alcohol on Grace's lips and she vaguely wonders how much Grace has had to drink. But when Grace runs her tongue along Sarah's bottom lip, the thought evaporates. Discard.

Somehow, they make it to Grace's bedroom. Sarah hazily thinks that Grace is rebounding, absolute and unapologetic. But they fall into Grace's bed and when Sarah bites down at her neck, her moans are so goddamn satisfying. The haze lifts in Sarah's mind only to make her more delirious as Grace tosses aside her button up. Discard.

When they're done, Grace lays her head against Sarah's shoulder, practically shivers into Sarah's side. Sarah wraps an arm around her and hates that somehow the air around them is heavy again.

"Thank you for coming, Sarah," Grace murmurs against her skin.

Sarah hums and pauses.

"We don't have to talk about it, but we can, okay?" Sarah says after awhile. She feels Grace nod against her and that will have to do for now.

"Will you stay awhile?" Grace asks after a moment, tilting her head to look up at Sarah. Keep. 

Even like this, Sarah looks totally put-together. She looks deliberate and effortless. Much like the models for Victoria Secret sporting sleep wear that Grace would most definitely buy. Grace almost hates her for it.

Grace’s headache snaps her back to reality and she says the first thing that comes to mind.

“We slept together,” Grace blurts out. Grace freezes then looks down at the ground. Maybe it'll open up like a clam and swallow her whole. Maybe she'll melt onto the concrete like an ice cream cone. She's not picky, she's honestly okay with either. Finally, Grace peeks at Sarah and this helps to keep the panic at bay. Sarah’s brow is noncommittally furrowed and she is regarding Grace with impenetrable green eyes as brilliant as this goddamn sun. Grace squints and her headache eases a little.

“A bit louder, Grace. I don’t think my neighbors heard you,” Sarah says finally, teasingly. She sends a wicked smile and relief floods Grace’s gut before embarrassment can. Sarah kicks her door open further.

 “Come in.”

Grace obeys and follows Sarah inside, shutting the door softly as if the neighbors may actually be listening.

Sarah leads Grace into the kitchen and Grace plops down into a seat at the island as Sarah moves to the milk frother on her counter. A tense moment passes before Sarah speaks again.

“So, you remember last night?” Sarah asks from her place at the stove. Grace takes her time to reply, watching Sarah quite literally whip up some pancakes.

Grace is used to professional Sarah, business tycoon Sarah. A force to be reckoned with. The Sarah in front of her now is foreign. This is casual Sarah, domestic Sarah. Unheard of, really. Grace almost believes this is something of a dream. It is uniquely charming and Grace is entranced, subconsciously savoring this rare moment with a different side of her. Later, Grace will obsess over this, will create endless universes in which she sees Sarah in sweatpants and they are together. Grace comes back to earth when Sarah glances at her over her shoulder, waiting for a reply.

“Yes,” Grace answers finally. “I remember. Bits and pieces.”

 Grace feels her cheeks redden. Sarah smiles sheepishly at her.

“Sorry for leaving so early. Had a stupid meeting in the morning. If it means anything, it was quite difficult to leave you. You were so warm,” Sarah says matter-of-factly.

The thought of Sarah’s body being close enough to Grace’s so as to provide warmth doesn’t cause her to break out into hives. The way any other form of human contact would have. In fact, Grace would go so far as to say that laying with Sarah that morning was... nice. Grace pauses on this and wonders if her body knows something her mind doesn’t, wonders if there is a biology to missing someone.

Attraction, her mind supplies. Wait. Does Grace find Sarah attractive? Her headache rages as if in protest.

Grace finds a stack of pancakes and a latte in front of her. She looks up just as Sarah places a fork next to her plate with a wink and Grace thinks, yes. Sarah is very attractive.

“Thank you,” Grace says. Sarah waves a hand dismissively as she goes back to her soggy cereal.

They don’t talk as they eat. Sarah seems unperturbed by this. Grace, on the other hand, gives a painstaking amount of attention to cutting the pancakes into small pieces, spearing said pieces with her fork, and chewing purposefully.

When Grace finishes, Sarah takes both their dishes over to the sink. The silence grates across Grace's nerves. Her head is spinning, her emotions are storming. Grace can’t take it anymore and rises to follow her. Right now, she cannot tackle, much less decipher, her feelings alone. Grace is desperate to talk to Sarah. But before she can say anything, Sarah speaks.

“We did sleep together. But we were both so far gone.” Sarah shrugs and turns to look sideways at Grace. “No one even noticed we left. We don’t have to talk about it if that’s what you need.” Sarah pauses.

 “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Grace really doesn’t know what to say. Not because of her headache which had settled somewhat thanks to an actual meal. But because Grace knows that Sarah knows about the breakup. Because Sarah seems to think last night was Grace rebounding from said breakup and therefore something she would want to repress.

This is not the case. Grace is touched by how thoroughly Sarah cares for her mental well-being.

“But it does mean something,” Grace says in a small voice, the words leaving her before she can catch them.

Sarah stills, understanding the implications of what Grace is saying. Grace, for her part, is slightly alarmed by this sudden revelation.

“Grace-“

“I know we were drunk. The fact that I was doesn’t mean anything,” Grace interrupts. Sarah shoots her a look.

 “Grace, you’re drunk now!”

“No, I’m not.” Sarah raises an eyebrow. “Okay maybe a little but Sarah, I want this. I’ll remember this and I want this.”

Grace doesn't wait for her mind to catch up as she strides forward and kisses Sarah. Sarah’s lips on Grace’s is a rocket-ship into last night, bringing a downpour of memories back to Grace. Sarah’s lips are soft and her arms secure themselves around Grace's waist. A reminder that tycoon Sarah is always just below the surface.

They pull apart but Grace refuses to pull her hands away from Sarah’s hips.

“I want this,” Grace repeats. But Sarah isn’t looking at her.

Grace follows Sarah’s eyes to find her clutching Grace’s oversized shirt between her fingers. Grace feels she’s been drenched in cold water as Sarah rubs a thumb across the fabric before looking up at Grace with unfathomable eyes.

“Grace, I’m attracted to you but-“

“No, this doesn’t mean anything!” Grace protests, tugging the hem out of Sarah’s hand. “I just grabbed this out of the pile and it was still dark when I was dressing. We just haven’t had a chance to separate our things.” Even as she says it, she knows it sounds bad and Sarah’s eyes do not change as she moves away from Grace.

“Just take some time, Grace,” Sarah tells her quietly. Dread begins to seep into Grace's gut and Grace senses a sort of surrender in Sarah. Grace keeps herself rooted to the spot, away from her, reluctantly.

“Right,” Grace says, clearing her throat. “I will definitely do that.”

Grace does not feel that it’s best to stay and so reaches toward the island for her keys. Sarah does not stop her. She walks toward the door and it feels a bit like the end of the world. And it feels a bit like she’d caused it. She turns back in the doorway to look at Sarah who gazes back with a slight tilt in her head.

“Thank you for breakfast,” she says somewhat robotically.

“Come again, Grace,” Sarah says by way of reply. Grace gets the impression that there is a double-meaning in this. But she’s too anxious to figure it out. So she nods and practically flees to her car.

By the time Grace slides in her front seat, she’s already convinced herself that she’s still drunk and was not acting like herself when she kissed Sarah.

“Just misplaced feelings after a bad break-up,” she mutters, starting the engine. Even as her mind feeds her the sensation of kissing Sarah in the kitchen, of Sarah’s hands under her shirt and against her skin.

Speaking of the shirt.