so in honor of femslash february and @patsyjen being a thing which exists now (god bless these united states of america and also you, blogger, whoever you are), have some fic while I wait for class to start *** Patsy grins when a heavy weight falls to her shoulder--it's followed by thick, strong arms circling her waist, and she lets herself lean back against Jen's chest. (Jen, of course, doesn't even waver.) "Stargazing?" Jen asks. Despite the extra inches Patsy gained by perching crosslegged on the edge of the roof, leaning down to rest her chin on Patsy's shoulder is not at all comfortable; she straightens up and manhandles Patsy- with difficulty, given that she's made like a cat and turned utterly boneless- into facing Jen, bringing Patsy's arms up to wrap around her neck, her own hands finding Patsy's waist. Patsy uncrosses her legs (her feet were going to sleep anyway) and settles a knee on either side of Jen's thighs, tilting her chin up up up to meet her girlfriend's amused gaze. "Nah," she says, huffing a strand of hair out of her face. (Jen's lips twitch in amusement.) "Spidey and Johnny are having some kinda argument." She jerks a thumb back over her shoulder, towards the flaming "BITE ME WEB BRAIN" just starting to fade from the sky. "What else is new?" Jen mutters. Her thumbs are tracing circles just under the edge of Patsy's t-shirt. Patsy wiggles her eyebrows. "The bottle of champagne in the fridge." "Oh? And what are we celebrating?" Jen's grinning, though, and she slides her hands down to Patsy's thighs, preparing to lift-- Patsy launches herself up first, heels locking behind Jen's back and hands gripping at her shoulders. "National talk like a pirate day?" she suggests, and Jen throws back her head to laugh as she turns towards the door back into the building. "Plus some Avenger somewhere on this Earth just saved us from a robot apocalypse, I can almost guarantee it!" Jen snickers again. Her hair is pulled back, a messy version of the bun she wears to court, and Patsy's fingers are already itching to yank it down. She settles for tracing the sharp line of Jen's collarbone, revealed by the loose tanktop she's wearing (over a Captain Marvel sports bra, and Patsy might be jealous if Carol weren't so damn awesome). "Maybe I just think you're cute?" she offers, leaning back, trusting Jen implicitly not to let her fall. "And maybe I just saw champagne in the store and thought it'd be fun to let you lick it outta my belly button." Jen pauses mid-step, hand on the doorknob. "That sounds like something worth celebrating to me," she agrees, voice slightly strangled. "Aaarrrgh, then take me home, matey," Patsy commands, in her best pirate voice, "or I'll make ye walk the--mmph!" Jen's laughing into the kiss, and then Patsy's laughing, too, giving up on the pretense of kissing to bury her face in Jen's neck. "I hate you," Jen insists breathlessly, finally moving once more. "Nuh uh!" Patsy punches Jen's shoulder ineffectively. "You love me and everybody knows it." "Nuh uh!" Jen parrots. "Our neighbors definitely know it." Jen winces. "We owe them each a fruit basket." "With plenty of melons!" Patsy announces cheerfully, beaming up at Jen as her face twists into a complicated mixture of apalled and amused. "Throw a couple lemons in there, too," she finally says, and the grin she's been fighting breaks out in full force as Patsy cackles. "Earplugs--" "Couple CDs of screamo--" "A business card with a "Complaint Hotline" that's your ex-husband's personal cell number." Patsy gasps, raising her face out of the crook of Jen's neck to stare wild-eyed at her. "Oh my god. Oh my GOD, Jen, can we please?!?" Jen makes a face. "Prank phone calls are illegal, and that'd definitely come back to us." Patsy groans, and Jen sets a hand over her mouth, grinning slightly. "But we could give them Stark Industry's official customer service number instead. Tony'd find it hilarious." "Oh, Ms. Walters," Patsy says breathily, fluttering her eyelashes. "I knew there was a reason I loved you."
