Hi can you do this au where Danny an Deb are both persuing Lou and kind of have this competition to see which one of them can get her to be with/date them ?
Ah thank you! I have a plot idea note like this that has been sitting on my laptop forever, but I’ve never written anything for it besides “Betting on Lou” or “Danny versus Deb for Lou?” so I’m really excited to write this!
Rusty slid the photo across the poker table and both Debbie and Danny shared a look.
“What do you think?” Rusty grinned, tapping on the glossy paper with a red chip.
“What do we know about her?” Danny sighed.
“Used to run with Zurik in Australia,” Rusty explained. “New to the states.”
“He’s good,” Debbie nodded. “Bet she’s better.”
“Think you’ve got that backwards, Deb,” Danny snorted, pushing his beer to the side.
“You don’t think she left cause she butted heads with that asshole?” Debbie asked, rolling her eyes. “She’s probably too good for him. Gave her dirt for her cut. Doesn’t know her worth.”
Danny scoffed. “I’d bet more along the lines that they hooked up, things went sour, and she went batshit and refused to work with him.”
“Because women always want to sleep with the man they’re working for?” Debbie rolled her eyes again. “You’re a pig.”
“I mean, don’t they though?” Danny grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Never fucking ends well, I’ll tell you that,” Debbie grumbled, examining her nails.
“Is that why you’re back on women?” Rusty smirked, smacking Debbie’s shoulder.
“I’m not back on anything,” Debbie sighed. “You of all people should not have to have me explain what bisexuality is to you.”
“Debbie, Danny and I, it was just—“
Danny shot him a warning look.
“Knew it,” the brunette smirked, examining the photo again. “God, she is gorgeous though.”
“We were looking for someone new for me,” Danny hissed, snatching the paper.
“Yeah,” Debbie sighed. “For a job. Not a date, Danny.”
“Oh,” Danny laughed. “So you think you get to date her?
Debbie pushed her chair back and stood, giving her brother a long, dark look. “Oh Danny,” Debbie laughed, shaking her head. “Nobody just gets to date a woman. You’re not entitled to her. She’s not a cookie at a bakery.”
Even Rusty flashed a grin at Danny, nodding along with Debbie.
“But yes, yes I will,” Debbie added before leaving the room. “So let me know when you call her in to meet her and see if she’s a good fit.”
***********************************************
“Oh,” Debbie laughed, slamming the door behind her. “So I see we weren’t all meeting at 10 this morning. Some of us were here earlier. Funny.”
The brunette paced across the floor, stilettos clicking across the tile before she landed in front of the table. She ignored Danny as she reached across the table offering her hand out to the blonde woman who sat looking at her with curious, twinkling eyes and a matching smirk.
“You must be Debbie,” the blonde nodded, moving to kiss the back of Debbie’s hand instead of shaking it. “I’m Lou. Lou Miller.”
“I’ve heard only good things,” Debbie murmured, locking eyes with Lou.
Danny cleared his throat. “Anyway, Deb, if you want to sit down. Lou and I were just—“
“I have a counter-offer,” Debbie smirked, pulling out a chair and sitting down, lifting her legs to the table and crossing them at the ankle.
“Debbie,” Danny warned, looking pissed.
“Let me guess,” Debbie spoke, ignoring Danny. “Danny has offered you a spot on his team of ten men, right? That’s ten assholes. Ten guys trying to convince you to wear a skirt for ‘the job’ or that your cut shouldn’t have to be as big because you’re a woman and that—“
“Actually, Debbie,” Danny hissed. “If you’d let me get a word in, you’d know that Lou and I have had a real heart-to-heart about how things used to be on my team and how I screwed up big time with you and learned my lesson. So thank you, Deb. For teaching me how to treat a woman, especially when she’s on my team.”
“You wouldn’t know the first thing about how to treat a woman,” Debbie mumbled. “And I highly doubt she’s on your team.”
Lou let out a laugh that she tried and failed to hide as a cough and Danny was glaring daggers at Debbie.
“Can I speak to you for a second?” Danny asked through gritted teeth, pulling Debbie up by the collar of her blouse.
Lou shrugged, waving them off before sitting back in her chair, crossing her arms.
Danny pulled Debbie into the kitchen, nearly hitting her head on a cabinet as he backed her into a corner of the counter.
“Can we not make this a whole Debbie Ocean moment right now?” Danny hissed, still gripping at her blouse.
Debbie swatted him off, reaching into the cabinet for a mug.
“Like every moment isn’t the Danny Ocean show,” Debbie rolled her eyes, slamming the cup on the counter.
“You’re being a brat,” the older Ocean muttered.
“That’s my specialty,” Debbie smiled, pouring a serving of coffee into her mug. “Do you have any cream?”
“You can fucking date her,” Danny sighed. “Okay? If she’s even gay. But I want her for my team. She’s good.”
“Have you seen the way she’s sitting right now? Or the motorcycle parked outside I’d bet a million dollars on being hers. She’s gay.” Debbie smirked over the rim of her cup. “And didn’t you listen to me? She’s not some claw machine prize. You can’t just reach in and grab her. Like I said, you’re a pig, Danny.”
“Whatever,” Danny huffed. “Just cut this counter-offer shit. It’s childish.”
“Actually,” a deep velvet voice started, startling them both. “I’d very much like to hear this counter-offer of Debbie’s.”
The two Ocean siblings shared a nervous look.
“I really appreciate the hushed screaming for my benefit,” Lou smirked. “But I can hold my own.”
She started to walk back towards the table, motioning for them both to join her with a nod of her head.
“Oh,” Lou grinned, sitting back down as she spread her legs wise. “And Debbie was right. I am most definitely really fucking gay. Now, did we want to finish this conversation?”
Danny let out a long sigh while Debbie grinned, both moving to sit back at the table.
“Listen, Lou,” Danny breathed. “Do what you will with Deb, whatever that is. Just neither of you tell me. But job wise, think of how amazing you’d be on my team. The territory we’ve covered. The money you’d make. The reputation you’d have.”
Debbie rolled her eyes. “That’s your speech?” Debbie laughed. “Lou, here’s the deal. Danny will paint this pretty picture of Vegas and fountains and riches, but then you will never see that cut. And you will never get to play in the big leagues. But with me, I’m looking for a partner. Just me and you.”
“You are not pitching yourself as a girlfriend right now, Debbie. I mean Jesus,” Danny groaned.
“I’m not,” Debbie hissed at him. She turned back to Lou. “I’m proposing that Lou and I become partners and run our own jobs. Splitting the profits fifty-fifty. Like how a team should work. I don’t plan to con my team, Danny. Just my marks.”
Lou looked impressed and Danny looked like his head was about to implode.
“Tell you what,” Lou sighed, standing up. “When I make decisions, I really like to take a long drive, find a bar and find a woman to take my mind off things. Sleep on it, if you will. So, I will weigh both your offers and let you know in the morning. Alright?”
Debbie’s mouth dropped open slightly as Danny sat there dumbstruck, both astonished they’d apparently been equally unpersuasive.
“Debbie?” Lou called, turning back to the woman still sitting in awe. “You coming with? I assume you’ve got drinks back at your place and I’m hoping we can sleep on this together. You ever been on a bike before?”
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I’m so happy you make dev Patel x black reader cause girl I needed it
You know what they say, if you can’t find any well written work, then you might as well do it yourself and baybay let me tell you, it’s what we deserve at the end of the day.
Thanks for reading and the love. Honey,
I’m still waiting on the day he ends up having another black woman as his love interest.
i pop open a can of mandarins and eat them on christmas morning. somewhere, two states over, a stranger is eating mandarins in late afternoon. we are sharing pieces of the same fruit - an intimate act i would reserve for the dearest of my friends. take this sweetness from my plate and put it on yours - it tastes delightful, i want you to have it. an intimate act, and yet, here i am, sharing a canned mandarin with a stranger i will never know the name of. an unknown soulmate, connected by a piece of fruit split into two separate cans. every time i meet someone new, i wonder, “have i ever shared a fruit with you?”
1 - Nothing is perfect - I’m quite fond of this and I accept it as a Writer’s Law myself. I think this is true of anything in a writer’s world. Rough drafts? Never perfect. Second and third drafts always seem to have those few words that escape multiple rounds of editing. They both slip through our notice and the seemingly impeccable spellcheck - even the pros have fallen prey to this. Nothing for any writer of any rank to be ashamed of, that. Perfection, to paraphrase wiser minds, is like the wind: you can chase it but you can’t catch it. We’d drive ourselves to madness trying to get anything perfect. There is only “as perfect as can be for each of us individually”.
7 - Just Write - Also true of any writer. Write as often as you can. That’s the only way to get better. Have a journal? Make an entry. Stuck on a scene in your novel? Just write whatever comes to mind, it doesn’t have to work (who cares if it doesn’t?) but it may get your gears working in such a way that you’ll figure things out without realizing it. Have a commissioned project to work on? Write the next bit, even if it’s only one page out of fifty. Just bored? Pick one scene from your favorite movie and write it as if you were novelizing it (Just for fun! Don’t try and publish it!). Are you a poet? Who cares if you’re not, just jot down something that sounds funny or even slightly poetic. Stories wouldn’t exist without the likes of us.
19 - Write Drunk - Edit Sober - I’ve attended a few conventions of this nature. The takeaway from it is that you have to learn to write even when you’re not feeling up to it. Take a break from your art, whatever it may be? You may get comfortable with the idea of not working. Because if you’re not working, you’re not failing. Foul! Red flag! Don’t give in! When you have your troubles in life (granted that some are terrible and crippling and it’s okay to take a break from your art in such times) there are time when - even when you’re having troubles - that are the best times to write. When you’re writing, you’re not thinking about what is bothering you. You may even find ways to alleviate your troubles through writing. You invent creative solutions, imagine alternate scenarios, conjure variations of events that otherwise didn’t happen. Never look at these words you scribble again if that’s what makes you happy. Or do, and look at them sometime down the road and think, “Jesus and Buddha in a hammock! This was actually pretty good!” Writing even when you’re not in the mood can bear fruitful results even though you weren’t looking for it. However if you’d like to interpret this literally, I’ve been known to write with a pint in my hand on occasion. Sometimes alcohol-induced creativity can bear fruit - look at what Stephen King accomplished. And then when you go back and look at it with a clear head, who knows what you’ll have created? You might even inspire yourself.
23 - Kill Your Darlings - It’s a hard fact that I’ve learned in my years. But sometimes it becomes unavoidably necessary to kill what you create. Enjoy the characters you create, make them powerful, loving, relatable... make them into whatever you like. Make them into whatever you think your readers will want them to be. Have them go on grand adventures, solve the impossible, see what no one has ever seen before. Make them the most wonderful, practical, and most perfect characters that you can. Then murder them brutally. We all have those characters that we love in both literature and film. The Battle of Hogwarts in Harry Potter? I still tear up when I read that and I’ve read it at least a dozen times and it gets me every time. Hoban Washburn on Serenity? (Spoiler alert) The pain of his demise still hurts me. Sherlock Holmes in the Adventure of the Final Problem. Commander Data in Star Trek: Nemesis. Beth in Little Women. Jack Dawson in Titanic. Dizzy Flores in Starship Troopers (the film, I mean). Every Dr. Who that has ever lived. What do all of these have in common? They took characters that we love and had a fancy for in one way or another and we got a squeeze of the heart when they met their ends. Yes, some were with us for the span of a single chapter... a single movie... a single season... a single episode even. But in that span of time, we learn to love them. And when they’re taken from us, we feel it. And more often than not it continues to haunt us even years after the fact. That, in my humble opinion, is the very essence of good writing: the impressions that we’re left with for people who didn’t actually exist. Now I don’t mean to say (obviously) that every single character that you create should be on the express for the executioner’s block. But you have to build up characters so that people will love them. And then if by some chance it becomes necessary to kill them, you’ll leave your readers with that feeling of vulnerability. You’ll leave them with that feeling of loss. They will grieve, just as you might. And it will prove, even to yourself, that no one of your creations is above death. Some authors have killed off their characters just because they tire of writing them or because they run out of adventures for them to have. But I like to think that by killing off some characters, it opens doors for new characters. “Oh, great gods! He’s dead! Wait, what? He had daughter! And she’s more bold than her father?! I must seek her out so that she may take his place! No, I don’t care that he was a general! She needs to take over!” It becomes tabula rasa. And what you make of it, depends solely on you.
Rachael what the hell. Are you trying to kill me with these fic??? Gosh it was so sweet. I was really bummed that he had other plans and then in fact BOOM what a surprise return. Nice one. And kissing while in a crowd. And making the plans behind her back with HER friends. Now that's what I call being comfortable with her friends. Damn. I love it. And I love fireworks. You are lucky you get them twice a year ;)
We actually get them a TON throughout the year here! New Year’s Eve and the 4th are super popular for cities to have fireworks displays, but where I live, we get them pretty consistently from like the end of May until August/September. We have a lot of local city celebrations and homedays and county/state fairs, and my sister and I LOVE seeing them, so we usually go to about 8 per summer. PLUS, my local baseball team has fireworks every Friday night home game at the stadium, and they’re so darn good.
And as for the story... well. I figured that the slow burn was gonna frustrate some people and wanted to let you know that after it all, there is still a lot of good things to come from this relationship (is it a relationship? I mean there’s no label, but...) with Ben.
He and Liz had been talking through Instagram (he’s not gonna give his phone number out to someone else just yet) since the day that you asked what his plans were, because he knew he wanted to spend the day with you and had to figure out how. BUT, he also kinda wanted to see what you’d say/if you’d ask, because he doesn’t want to be where he’s not wanted.
He says he’s not reckless, but he’s trying to show you that he isn’t trying to hide what’s going on, he just wants to keep you out of the public eye. This is a lot more than a simple friendship to him - and the fact that he invited you to his home proves that, because after he does so, there’s no more anonymity; you’ll know where he lives... which is another type of invitation all on its own.
Thank you for reading, I’m glad you enjoyed it!!!!
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i was wondering if u could write about debbie or lou worrying about getting old and all that aging stuff and the other telling the other that its fine and yadda yadda which is basicaly just full of fluff. thanks! xoxo
Hi anon! Same to you! Thanks for this prompt <3
“Just let it go grey, Deb,” Lou laughed, leaning against the wall of the bathroom.
Debbie pouted at her reflection, trying to hide the patch of newly discovered grey hair under brunette strands.
“Isn’t that something celebrities in their 60’s and 70’s do gracefully?” Debbie snorted.
“Yes,” Lou nodded. “So it’s not weird for normal people to do it in their 40’s and 50’s.”
“Says the bottle blonde,” Debbie rolled her eyes.
“Shhh,” Lou shushed her. “Nobody in the loft knows.”
“Honey, they all know,” Debbie grinned. “That is not natural blonde.”
“I was blonde when I was a kid,” Lou huffed.
“Just let it go grey, Lou,” Debbie mocked.
“I wish,” the blonde sighed, eyeing her own reflection over Debbie’s head. “I could be a silver fox. But there’s only one brunette in this marriage. I wouldn’t dare overstep an Ocean. Really—the dye is for your reputation, honey.”
Debbie’s face turned serious for a moment as she touched her cheeks and then her forehead, looking at her worry lines.
“I’m surprised I didn’t go completely grey in prison,” Debbie whispered.
“Still would’ve greeted you with a godfather kiss when I first saw you,” Lou winked, wrapping her arms around Debbie. “I think it’s sexy.”
“You think me walking towards the Toyota with a completely grey head would’ve been sexy?” Debbie gaped, shaking her head.
Lou shrugged, kissing the top of Debbie’s head. “I wouldn’t have minded. I won’t ever mind. It’s the inevitable for both of us,” she hummed. “But in a way, yes. I get the distinct honor and pleasure of seeing Debbie Ocean in all her glory in almost every decade of your life. And honey, you have only gotten sexier with age.”
“Stop that,” the brunette blushed, trying to hide in Lou’s shoulder.
“I’m serious,” Lou chuckled. “Sure, running around in our twenties was something. But watching you turn into this gorgeous, intelligent woman. With these curves and these smarts. And Fuck, that ass. If we had a kid, you’d be what those millennials call a MILF.”
“A…what?” Debbie snorted.
“A mom I’d like to Fuck,” Lou whispered, her voice deep and raspy.
Debbie wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to hear that ever again.”
“Suit yourself,” Lou shrugged, unwinding herself from the Ocean as she headed into their bedroom, Debbie following. She patted the spot on the bed beside her as she sat down, pulling Debbie against her side. “You know I’ve always loved you, right?”
Debbie nodded.
“Then you should know that I am just as excited to play bingo with you in a nursing home as I was to rig bingo twenty years ago.”
“Oh baby, we’d still rig it,” Debbie smirked.
“You know what I mean though,” the blonde grinned. “I will dye your roots, or put your slippers on for you if you can’t lean over, and I will kiss every gorgeous laugh line on your face and be grateful that I was able to be part of the reason why you laugh and why you smile.”
“This is starting to sound like your wedding vows,” Debbie pointed out with a snicker.
“I meant it then and I mean it now,” Lou whispered. “I love growing old with you. Doing life with you. It’s the greatest job we’ve ever worked together.”
“I guess every hair, every line, every scar. It all tells a story.”
“A Lou and Deb story,” the blonde smiled, her eyes soft.
“And it’s far from over, right?” Debbie whispered.
Hi can we get another top Debbie with the strap and a squirting Lou which shocks both of them ?and maybe they get walked in on by the crew when it happens which is also a shock to them too ?
“Don’t go,” Debbie whispered, running her hands through Lou’s hair. “Please. Just stay here with me.”
“Like this?” Lou smirked, rolling her hips into Debbie’s.
“Just like this,” Debbie grinned, locking her legs around the blonde’s hips and ass.
“How about this?” Lou laughed. “You and me. Tonight. Break in the new kitchen table with Chinese food. The new tv with Judge Judy. And then we break in the new bed together. Just like this.”
“How about we say goodbye to the old one again?” Debbie tried, grinding against Lou as the blonde groaned Debbie’s name.
“You are not making it easy to stick to this plan, Ocean,” the blonde laughed. “Aren’t you the one who loves plans?”
“Usually,” the brunette grumbled. “But why did I make this one so stupid? I don’t want to stay here without you.”
“It’s just for the day, honey,” the Australian promised. “You’re gonna help push things out of the loft and I’m gonna help take things into the new place. And then guess what? It goes even faster than moving usually would and we get to be back together with each other sooner.”
“I guess,” Debbie sighed forlornly, still disappointed even though she knew Lou was right.
“Honey,” Lou smiled softly, tapping on Debbie’s nose. “We have tonight. And then we have our whole lives together to do whatever you want. Whatever we want.”
“But—“
“Aw, Deb,” Lou teased. “You really want me that bad? Right now, honey?”
“Well, actually,” Debbie whispered, hiding herself against Lou’s skin. “I was hoping we could switch.”
She could feel Lou’s jaw open and shut twice in surprise. “Switch?”
“I want you thinking about me all day while I’m not with you,” the brunette breathed.
“Honey, of course I will,” the Australian promised. “I mean the first box I’m moving literally has your wedding dress in it. Not that I’m peeking. Promise. And I’m obviously going to see all of our joint belongings so of course I’m—“
“No,” Debbie whispered. “I want you thinking about me being inside you all day.”
“Debbie,” Lou whispered, a bit strained this time.
“Take the harness off,” Debbie breathed, rolling against Lou as she nodded. “I want to fuck you before you have to leave.”
“Fuck,” Lou groaned, rolling off of Debbie as the woman below her moaned, the strap sliding out of her slowly.
The blonde unbuckled the belt of the harness, sliding it down her legs before straddling Debbie again as she grabbed her neck, kissing her hard, while the two of them messily slid the harness up Debbie’s legs and over her thighs and hips before securing it tight.
“On your back, Miller,” Debbie panted, rolling away suddenly.
“Deb—“
“Shhh,” Debbie whispered before sealing Lou’s lips with hers, helping to push the blonde on her back. She ran her fingers through the Australian’s folds and groaned at the feel. “Fucking me gets you really fucking wet doesn’t it, Lou?”
Lou nodded, groaning at the touch.
“Deb, I want—I need—“
“Tell me, baby,” Debbie whispered, massaging Lou’s folds as the woman squirmed beneath her, making incoherent noises. “You want me here?” Debbie asked, swirling her fingers around Lou’s clit in a circular pattern that made the blonde’s eyes roll back.
“Yes,” Lou panted, rolling her hips as Debbie worked her clit. Debbie moved close against her, sucking a mark into her neck. “Fuck,” Lou groaned, her clit already threatening to twitch.
“What about these?” Debbie whispered, moving her lips down Lou’s chest until she reached Lou’s breasts, taking a nipple in between her lips as she sucked hard, Lou’s hips bucking up into Debbie’s.
“Debbie,” Lou moaned. “Fuck, honey.”
“God, you’re soaked,” Debbie groaned. Her fingers slowed for a moment, but before Lou could plead, Debbie’s long fingers were pushing inside her, spreading her wise as she started a rhythm, Lou pulsing around her as she cursed.
Suddenly, Debbie was sliding even deeper and Lou let out a throaty moan that made Debbie curse and moan herself, adding a finger as she stimulated Lou’s g-spot, wanting her to make that sound again. She was craving it.
“Can you hang on for me, baby?” Debbie whispered, teasing Lou’s clit with the tip of the strap. “I want to stretch you out even more with my strap. Hear you moan even louder. Panting my name. Begging me to come.”
“Fuck me,” Lou nodded. “Fuck me, Debbie. Please. I want you deep inside me.”
Debbie released her fingers, pushing into Lou hard as she yelled out, digging her nails into Debbie’s skin. She thrusted in and out experimentally a few times.
“Harder,” Lou panted. “Please, Deb. Fuck me harder.”
Debbie drove into Lou deeper, practically hammering into her as Lou ground against her, panting hard. The brunette smacked her ass and Lou hissed at the sting, moaning even deeper.
“Oh god,” the blonde groaned. “Fuck, Deb. I’m gonna—Fuck, I can’t—“
Lou came with a loud yell, shaking against Debbie, and then the two of them were looking between them with wide eyes as Lou mumbled an “oh my god” and Debbie a “well, shit Lou”.
“I cannot believe I just—“
“I can’t believe you just—“
Lou hid her face in Debbie’s shoulder as she rubbed the blonde’s back, chuckling against her.
“Do you know how fucking incredibly hot that was?” Debbie whispered.
“I’ve never…” Lou whispered. “I just couldn’t hold back and then—“
“You’re incredible,” Debbie breathed, pulling Lou in close, licking into her mouth as Lou moaned against her.
“Deb? Lou? What time do the movers get here?” Someone called up the steps.
“Oh shit,” Debbie groaned as Lou covered her face with her arms.
“Knock, knock, lovebirds,” Amita sang, coming through the doorway.
“We come bearing coffee and bagels!” Tammy announced.
“Happy moving—“ Constance paused.
Three eyes looked down at a naked Debbie and Lou, still twisted together like a pretzel, light blue sheets completely soaked through around them as Debbie sat there, strap still buried deep inside Lou.
“I’ll just be getting my eyes removed now,” Amita mumbled, leaving the room.
“Seriously?” Tammy asked. “Everything in this house is packed up but a mattress on the floor and this is what we walk into?”
“Shit, mom tops?” Nine chuckled, walking into the room and clapping.
“Even better,” Daphne smirked, sipping a coffee as she lifted her sunglasses up. “Lou squirts.”
“Kill me,” Lou groaned. “Kill me now.”
“Right,” Rose nodded, walking into the room covering her eyes. “Why don’t you, er, ladies get dressed? We’ll start on breakfast and sorting the boxes, yes? Yes.”
“Get out of our room!” Debbie yelled, ushering them out.
“You’re welcome for helping you move, you sick fucks!” Tammy yelled.
“Do you need a towel or three, Lou?” Daphne called.
“So when do they all disappear and we’re eating Chinese food just the two of us in our new home again?” Debbie groaned.
“Not soon enough,” Lou groaned, banging her forehead against Debbie’s. “Least we have hot fiancees.”
oh no this is too late for tomorrow, but I just thought about it: the heist crew at pride
It's never too late for a pride fic! I know it's August, but happy Pride! Here you are:
“Do you think they’d go for it?” Debbie asked, looking at her wife in the mirror as she scrubbed at her stubborn eyeliner furiously with a makeup wipe.
“You’re kidding, right?” Lou grinned, meeting Debbie’s eyes. “They’ll probably be even more excited than we were at the idea.”
“God,” Debbie sighed, leaning against the tile wall of the bathroom. “When’s the last time we even went?”
“It’s been literal decades,” Lou chuckled.
“Ooh, San Francisco,” Debbie breathed, followed by a giggle as Lou leaned against her, kissing her forehead softly.
“Dykes on bikes,” Lou winked as they shared a gentle laugh, Debbie lacing their fingers together.
“Let’s text the girls.”
The Australian pulled Debbie into their bedroom before throwing Debbie onto the bed with a grin and then diving in herself, rolling them over to grab her phone and pull up a group text as the brunette cuddled into her.
Lou: NYC Pride tomorrow. Who’s in?
Constance: Seriously?!
Constance: Sick.
Tammy: Are rugrats allowed? If so, I’m in!
Amita: Okay, but what do I wear as an ally?
Nine: Dope. What time? I’ll bring V.
Tammy: On second thought, how much PDA are you and Deb planning on? Don’t want my kids to have to clean up my vomit all day
Daphne: Rosie and I are in
Daphne: and out (;
Constance: Pregame at mom and dad’s?
“This is going to be the best,” Lou grinned, holding Debbie tight.
“And also a disaster,” Debbie laughed as three more texts from Constance rolled in asking something about tacos and matching sneakers and playlists.
Lou clicked her phone’s screen off for the moment, tucking it under her pillow as she smiled down at Debbie.
“Did you ever think we’d get to go to Pride as wives?” The blonde asked with a soft smile.
“I didn’t know if we would,” Debbie admitted. “But I did hope. Idiot partners but only fuck buddy Lou and Deb seem so far away now.”
“I’m glad they got their shit together,” Lou hummed.
“Took them long enough,” Debbie smirked, rolling over a bit to face the blonde. “The real question is: what are we going to wear?”
Lou groaned, pulling a pillow out from underneath their heads as she buried her face in it.
“Baby, you love getting all dressed up,” Debbie teased.
“Yes, but I’m old and married and I just want to stay in bed until we fall asleep,” Lou mumbled under the pillow.
“I’ll help you pick something out,” Debbie decided, getting excited to thumb through some outfits. “Better now than in the morning anyhow. You know Constance will bust in here at the crack of dawn on a skateboard.”
Lou made a noise, but didn’t move.
“Or Tammy will send herself in, kids first.”
That got Lou moving as she nodded her agreement with a grumpy “You’re right” as Debbie extended her hand, helping Lou out of the bed towards the closet.
“I can help you get undressed too,” Debbie winked, playing with Lou’s shirt as Lou flicked on the closet light. “You know, just in case you need any help with that.”
“How can I say no to that offer?” Lou grinned, dripping Debbie into a kiss.
Debbie and Lou looked up from where they were leaning against the counter sipping their coffees to, sure enough, see Constance skateboard in donning a pair of rainbow hightop with pride flags on her cheeks and a giant pride flag swirling behind her like a cape.
“Easy Con, it’s not even 9am dude,” Nine groaned, rubbing at her eyes as she trailed in slowly behind the younger woman with her sister in tow, who gave an excited wave.
“Sorry, I’m late!” Amita called, barreling through the door with two trays of coffees. “Tammy’s right behind me with bagels and shit.”
“Late?” Debbie asked, raising an eyebrow as she took a long sip from her mug.
“Figured you two would be asleep so we moved over to the parent-free group chat,” Amita shrugged.”
“Or Fucking,” Nine added with a wink.
Debbie and Lou shared a look, but didn’t elaborate.
“You riding in the parade, dad?” Constance asked, motioning to the helmet on the counter.
“Is there any other way, kid?” Lou grinned, standing up straight to reveal her full leathers, several pride pins tucked into her ensemble below the pride flag she was wearing as an ascot with her usual array of chains on top.
“And mom?” Constance smirked.
“Reporting for duty,” Debbie saluted, showing off her new white leather jacket that Lou had called “impractical but sexy” with a simple pride shirt underneath. “As ride or die, I think it’s my obligation to ride…or well, die I guess.”
“Oh, Daphne,” Amita sighed as the group turned to take in the newly arriving Daphne and Rose.
“What?” Daphne rolled her eyes. “As the penultimate lipstick lesbian, I have to give the people what they want,” she smirked, brushing her fingers against the long pink dress and her signature off the shoulder jacket that never quite seemed to make its way to her shoulders. “A Rose Weil original.”
“Of course,” Lou nodded.
Rose looked uncomfortable but happy by Daphne’s side, worrying herself with the hem of the dress as she frowned, eyeing the pin cushion she’d left on the coffee table as if she might make alterations on the go.
“I brought flag stamps for everyone,” Constance spoke, excited.
“Oh, the kids will love those!” Tammy squealed, coming in the door with two big brown bags of what the group assumed were bagels as her kids scurried in.
“I think that’s all of us,” Debbie grinned. “Should we put on some pump up music or wait until after breakfast?”
“Do it up, mama!” Nine cheered as Constance hollered.
“What should we play?” Amita asked.
“Something gay,” Rose offered.
“Something good,” Lou corrected, grabbing Debbie by the waist and smiling at their makeshift family. “Ready for some chaos, honey?”
“Always, baby,” Debbie grinned, her heart fluttering happily in her chest.
