Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Anointing the sick is not the worst duty that Caitlyn has to perform as a priest, but it is up there. In fact, if she had to rank them, it would come just below giving the dying their last rites.

That has proved to be the most challenging - Caitlyn has seen a lot of death for a 25-year-old, not all of them strangers.

The woman who lies beneath her hands has a kind face. Deep wrinkles engrave her skin, and the laugh lines beside her eyes make Caitlyn conclude that she is a happy woman. Her breathing is laboured - she can tell that she is close to the end, yet there is still a present sparkle behind her brown eyes.

Oil gleams over her forehead from the path of Caitlyn’s fingertips, and her eyelids flutter like a butterfly preparing to rest. Her cracked lips part with a gentle wheeze.

“Pretty girl.”

Caitlyn blinks, firstly wondering if she is talking to her. Her eyes gaze at her with a sense of recognition within them, and a presence stirs her soul.

“You’re so young,” she slowly lifts a hand into the air, and Caitlyn takes it, feeling the frailness of her skin beneath her, “You have a good life, now.”

Their joined hands display a harsh juxtaposition - a life lived, and one that has barely begun.

She nearly laughs at the thought. Caitlyn feels as though she has lived a hundred lives already, none of them overly happy.

She looks up at her son, who stands at the opposite side of the bed, shoulders heavy with sadness. He leans forward and takes her other hand in his own, and her brown eyes find him. Her smile is small and weak.

"Through this holy anointing, may the Lord in His love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit," she says, bowing her head and gently lowering her hand back onto the bedside.

She looks at the man with the warmth of a thousand suns, like he is nothing more than her little boy. Oceans of grief swim in his soft gaze, but he finds the strength to smile weakly at her.

It makes Caitlyn ache. Silently, she slips out of the room and into the bathroom.

Warm water rushes over her hands as she washes the oil away. She sighs, feeling the heaviness in her chest. It makes her think of her own mother, who never got to live to that age. Her hair was already starting to grey when she passed, but she was far from ready to go.

She remembers the phone call, the way her heart dropped before it shattered into a million pieces.

“Father,” the son says softly when she moves to open the door to leave. “Thank you for coming.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” she smiles.

“Can I ask you something?”

The man seems hesitant; he wrings his hands together uncomfortably and furrows his eyebrows.

She has given advice for all sorts of issues over the years - some people like to speak to a representative of God about their troubles for assurance, whilst others seek direct guidance from Caitlyn herself.

“Sure.”

“My mother… She never married and she engaged with many lovers, she never really spoke about it with me but…” he lowers his voice, “she’s been with women.”

He shuffles on his feet and bites his lip, eyebrows arching with worry.

“What if she doesn’t go to heaven?”

The question churns her stomach, causing her breath to catch in her throat. She has thought about it a lot, for reasons she struggles to admit. Catholic school taught her that hell is hot and fiery for those people. But those teachings are outdated, and Caitlyn’s own heart tells her otherwise.

That has not stopped her from begging God to strip away the thoughts that curl in the dark corners of her own mind.

Like when she sees a particularly pretty lady in the congregation.

Or the kiss she had shared when she was 16.

No - she had repented for that years ago. There is no use mulling over her sins that God has since forgiven her for.

The man is looking at her now, face open and pleading.

“I think God makes everyone who they are for a reason, and his love is greater than any of us can understand. Is your mother loving?”

“Yes.”

“Then trust in that love. She will be welcomed to heaven with open arms,” she offers him a small smile, “if you need anything, come by the church.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Something strange stings the back of her eyes, but she blinks it away.

–

Caitlyn Kiramman has been a Catholic priest for three years.

When she was a girl, she went to a prestigious Catholic school and found comfort in faith. At 18, she began to study for a life of Priesthood. She participated in practical pastoral placements and received spiritual guidance until she was able to fulfil her vocation as clergy, a vocation in which she takes great pride, and subsequently peace, in.

She became Father Kiramman upon arriving into the Church. According to the Powers that Be, Mother is reserved for head nuns, and Caitlyn never wanted to be a nun. She knew that she wanted to be a priest. Besides, she is not entirely sure how she feels about constantly being referred to as Mother. Jayce had said that she would like it too much, to which he received a swift telling off.

“See what I mean?”

“Shut it, Jayce.”

“You can’t say that now you’re a woman of God.”

Her parish is small, which she enjoys - it is a comfort to know the regular parishioners and immerse herself in the local events. Lots of the church members like to talk to her after services and seek guidance surrounding events in their lives.

It does not stop her from feeling lonely, though. The parishioners are mostly older people, who she likes, but does not see as friends. Seeing couples and families stirs something uncomfortable in her which she always manages to pray away - envy makes the bones rot. She tells herself that it comes with the job. She seeks refuge from God, and more often than not, she finds it.

She does have friends - Jayce and his fiancee, Mel, are her closest confidants, but she does not see them very often these days. She feels like she speaks to her father less and less, too. She is busy with the Church, and it does not help that she had to move to a parish two hours away from home upon her ordination. She has left a lot behind for this life.

The Bishop who oversees her diocese is a man named Marcus. She tries to get along with him - God would want her to. But he can be rather challenging. They have very different beliefs, despite both being Catholic, and he always claims that everything Caitlyn says is wrong. You’re young. You’re a woman. She has no choice but to listen.

He does not come around often, which she is grateful for, but he likes to make sure that she is wholly dedicated to her vocation by adding extra tasks to her already heavy workload. Sometimes she thinks that he just likes to make sure Caitlyn has no time for a social life.

He does a grand job there if that is his aim. Her time is divided between hosting holy ceremonies such as Mass and having to go out to make blessings, such as the one she is currently driving to.

She parks outside of the shabby-looking building and straightens her clerical collar in the reflection of the passenger window. Her navy-blue hair is tied up, with two strands framing her face, and she wears a snug-fitting black suit.

Inside the large hall are scattered desks filled with children. Some sit on their own, others sit in groups, talking in hushed whispers. There’s a lingering chill in the air that urges Caitlyn to fold her arms over her chest.

As Caitlyn starts to wonder if anyone is actually supervising these children, a side door swings open, revealing two women involved in a heated discussion.

Her attention tunnels in on the woman with pink hair, who is quite simply, gorgeous. She wears black jeans and a tank top which shows off rippling muscles that gracefully flow into each other like waves in a vast sea. Her arms are covered by intricate tattoos which dance up her thick neck. Her hair is shaved on one side and choppy on the other, shrouding part of her face.

The other woman is blonde - she just looks annoying.

“Find somewhere else to gentrify. I’ve been running this club for a year and this has not been a problem before.”

“I know, Miss Vi, but the senator demands-”

“He can shove his demands up his ass!” Her voice booms through the hall, catching the attention of some of the children. “End of.”

The blonde’s face scrunches up in annoyance, and then she storms out of the hall, heels clicking against the polished floor.

Caitlyn catches the pretty woman’s eye, to see her irises are a deep grey. Beneath them, a small tattoo says ‘VI’. She walks over to her, and Caitlyn can do nothing but awkwardly glance at the ceiling.

“Who’s your kid?”

“I’m sorry?” Caitlyn meets her eyes, eyebrows raised in confusion. In the proximity of the woman, she can see the sparse freckles that dot over smooth skin and a scar on her upper lip.

She watches as Vi notices her collar with shock. Her expression soon morphs into annoyance.

“What do you want?”

She folds her arms and lifts her chin in an attempt to look down at Caitlyn. It half-works, Caitlyn does feel unfairly judged, but the woman is shorter than her, so the other part of her finds the act humorous rather than intimidating.

“I came to bless your charity,” she sneers at Vi, though tries to hold her holy composure.

“Bless it? Ha!” She puts her hands on her hips and scoffs.

Caitlyn's eyes widen, a flicker of indignation flashing across her face.

“Excuse me?”

“We don’t need your blessing, we need a way out of this cesspit.”

“Well… Maybe I can help. What’s the problem?”

She presses her lips into a straight line and quirks a brow.

“Someone’s bought this building. It’s going to be turned into some rich dude’s play pen, leaving these kids with nowhere to study.”

Caitlyn pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and thinks for a moment.

The idea comes naturally. It is part of her duty to the people.

“You can use the Church.”

At first, Vi looks surprised. There’s a glimmer of contemplation on her face, and then she disregards it and rolls her eyes petulantly.

“So you can preach madness to kids who are trying to study? No thanks, cupcake.”

Caitlyn furrows her brows, feeling suddenly offended, and utterly baffled by the strange nickname she had been bestowed with. Her heart jumps and sputters in her chest, and her fingers flex at her sides.

“Well, I bless your institution. Good luck with it,” she grunts, spinning on her heel and leaving the building as she sees a young girl with powder blue hair rise from her desk and beeline towards the rude woman.

She drives home in silence, unable to shift the interaction from her mind. People are usually pleased to be graced by her presence. She has never dealt with anyone so rude.

The traffic is terrible, and she feels anger bubble inside of her stomach. She beeps as someone pulls out on her and throws her hands up in the air, shaking her head.

She holds an evening service when she gets back to the Church, but she keeps it short. Her entire body feels a sense of irritation she can’t quite shift, and just as she is about to lock the doors for the night, The Bishop enters the building. She feels her mood sour even more.

“Your Excellency.”

And seriously - who came up with that name? She sees him bristle pleasantly at the greeting and is surprised that he can fit through the doors with an ego so huge.

“Father,” he nods, not returning her smile. He looks up at the stained glass windows, and then at the bronze statue of Jesus that decorates the wall to the left of the altar. Caitlyn has always found it to be quite ugly - the toes are entirely disproportionate, but she keeps the opinion to herself. “Shall we go to your office?”

Marcus visits unannounced like this often, though she always feels like she is in trouble like he has found something out about her and is about to confront her with it. Her palms sweat as they sit opposite each other in the small space.

He begins by asking her questions; about how she is balancing the tasks, and what community outreach she has been getting involved in - it is a general check-in that is required of him. He never asks her about her personal life, and she is glad of it; it keeps the meetings concise. Besides, getting into pleasantries with Marcus is a road she does not want to go down.

“I’d like you to offer a drop-in confession here. I think it is much needed in this area, and the response rate will be high.”

She is not sure what has prompted this from him - Caitlyn is already very busy, with her community work taking up most of her time, but she agrees anyway, even if it is just to get him to leave so that she can go about her evening. He probably just wanted something to say, she thinks to herself.

The meeting is swift, thankfully, and he leaves without another word, allowing Caitlyn to go about her checks of the church before retiring for the night.

Her house, which is attached to the church, is a small, humble space. She shares it with none other than her black cat, named Geppetto.

She scoops her up when she enters, earning a dissatisfied mewl.

“Oh shush,” she whispers into her fur, before placing her in front of the food bowl and pouring a generous amount of slop into it. She gulps it down greedily, and Caitlyn smiles to herself.

She starts to run herself a bath and then begins her evening prayers.

Every evening, she takes time out of her day for personal prayer and reflection. It is not only a duty, but a personal comfort. She kneels on the floor and interlaces her fingers together.

The first thought that pops into her head is the woman who she spoke to earlier, with the tattoos and the bright hair. Caitlyn audibly scoffs - trust The Man Above to have a strange sense of humour. She prays not only for her charity, but for her - she does not even know her name, but she wishes her the best. Something tells Caitlyn that she is a good person, with a good heart.

She prays for her mother, as she does every day. She prays for forgiveness.

Caitlyn, it’s your mother. Oh, Cait.

She prays for the woman who she blessed that morning. She thinks of her son, and prays that the grief comes to him gently. With a quiet sigh, she pushes herself up from her knees and heads to the kitchen.

Her fridge is a sad thing: she lacks the ingredients to make a proper meal, as well as any ounce of energy, so she pulls a prepackaged meal out of the freezer and shoves it into the microwave. The plastic container spins slowly, the dull hum filling the small kitchen.

She checks her phone - no notifications, and then connects to the speaker in the kitchen and plays slow, mellow music. The microwave pings and she sits down at her dining table, with four chairs, and pulls back the film, nearly burning herself on the escaping steam.

The food looks gross. She pokes it with her fork and swallows it down. It is fine. Not exactly inspiring.

Geppetto jumps into the chair beside her, and she extends her hand to scratch the space between her ears. Her grateful meow comes out as a little squeak, and Caitlyn smiles at her little friend.

She looks at the empty chairs, and thinks about calling Jayce. She taps her top lip with the end of her fork and closes her eyes. Jayce has his own life, she cannot keep disturbing him when she feels a drop of loneliness - he is getting married. It’s about time she gets used to this weight in her stomach.

With a dissatisfied huff, she tosses her plate into the sink and hops into the bathtub, willing all of her loneliness to dissipate down the drain.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn catches Vi at a terrible moment.

Really, the timing could not be worse.

She is absolutely seething; the club she has been running to provide poor children with the space to study for the past year is being shut down because someone wants to turn the degraded sports hall into a luxury apartment, of all things. The irony is insane and does well to boil her blood. She wants to punch a wall, and to make matters worse, the senator’s grating assistant is barking orders in her face as if she has any right to whilst her sister eavesdrops with those big, worried eyes and Vi cannot do anything to stop the hellish bulldozer that is going to fuck over these kids that they have grown to love.

And then a bloody priest shows up. A gorgeous, woman priest who has legs for days and the kind of figure you would see on the front of Vogue. But still - a priest.

Vi does not like priests. Why would she?

It does not take a genius to figure out that Vi is a raging lesbian. Famously, Catholicism and homosexuality tend to bash heads. So when, by some miracle, Caitlyn appears in her club just as it is about to be shut down, she feels like someone has set up an ill-timed joke.

Subsequently, she lashes out, making it known that she wants nothing to do with her church. She wants to do everything with her, though - she has never seen anyone so stunning.

Vi does not consider herself an obscenely sexual person, but the thoughts she has as she watches the woman’s ponytail sway with her vigorous steps are guaranteed to book her a one-way ticket to the bad place.

“Thou shalt not fuck or whatever, hello?”

Jinx claps her hands in Vi’s face, rolling her eyes with a scoff.

“I wasn’t staring.”

“Sure. And Jesus didn’t have sex. Now tell me what’s happening with this club.”

“It’s being shut down,” she sighs, not able to hold the truth from her sister any longer.

They had started the club when Jinx was in her final year of high school. With their house being small and their brothers always being at home, she found it difficult to concentrate on her studies in her space. Vi had heard about the hall through the gym she attends - the owners had wanted to buy it, but it was not for sale at the time. After a few emails back and forth with the council, she had gained permission for Jinx to use the space for her studies, as long as Vi was with her.

Her sister had invited friends, who then brought their younger siblings. That is how the club originated. Since then, there have been no issues. Not until now.

“What? They can’t shut us down.”

“They can. Someone’s bought the building.”

“I thought it wasn’t for sale.”

“It was listed a couple of weeks ago, apparently. From next week, they’ll have nowhere to go,” she nods towards the children, who all work diligently.

A little girl with choppy brown hair bounces over to Jinx. She gives Vi a look, and then crouches down in front of her, signing something with her hands that Vi can’t understand. The girl leaps into her arms, and Jinx hugs her tight as if it’s the last time she will see her.

“It’ll be okay, Isha.”

The girl’s hands flail wildly in front of her. She grunts, jagged teeth looking like jewels in her mouth.

“There must be somewhere, Vi.”

The pleading look in her eyes breaks Vi. She’d give her sister the world if she asked her for it.

It reminds her of when they were kids - Jinx was just 11 when Vi found out that she was being bullied at school. Vi had stalked down the aisle of the bus and grabbed the collar of the little shit who was the so-called leader of the group. She had threatened to throw her through the window, and they did not approach Jinx again. She told her that she was the best big sister ever. Vi did not know what to think, just that it was a strange feeling to be perceived as someone who should constantly be feared.

The church.

“The… It’s stupid.”

“Go on.”

“The priest said we can use the church.”

“Okay,” Jinx shrugs. “We might explode or immediately be condemned, but it’s better than nothing. Lets do it. For the kids.”

She expects her sister’s reaction to be… different.

She remembers how rude she was to the woman, and instantly regrets it.

There is no harm in trying. Besides, it’s not like she has much of a choice.

–

Vi really does ponder the possibility of having a trapdoor straight to hell open beneath her as she steps into the church. A large Jesus statue is fixed to the wall - the look on his face is one of judgement. She sneers at him, as if he can actually see her. As if he’s actually real.

The rest of the church is beautiful. Stained glass windows that depict a range of stories tint the sunset pink as it filters onto the wooden floor. The ceilings are high, decorated with gold and fresco paintings. It smells of incense and candles, a scent that Vi does not hate.

She sits on a wooden bench, towards the back of the room. A few people are dotted around, mostly of the older generation. She flicks through the little book in front of her; there are so many words. Her eyes skim over the rest of the interior, and she can’t help but feel misplaced, like there is no part of her that belongs in this space.

Until she sees her. And then something holy stirs her soul.

Maybe it is God. Ha.

Or maybe it is the delicious way she looks in her vestments. The way the curves of her hips are visible even under the blue cloak she wears.

Her eyes are a stark blue, she can see the way they shine even from way back here. Vi stares unashamed, acting extremely interested in the words coming from her mouth, punctuated by her delightful accent.

And then she is looking right at her. Vi notices the way she trips over her words, and then furrows her brow and looks at the book in front of her. A breath of air slithers past her lips, causing a strand of hair to blow adorably into the air.

Vi wants to laugh, but she feels a strange urge to encourage Caitlyn to keep going instead of ridiculing her.

She regains her composure and looks back up at Vi with a sense of confusion in her shiny eyes. A small smile brightens her whole face. Vi swallows, throat suddenly dry.

She begins to read a passage from Isaiah, and she swears her voice is borderline hypnotic.

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”

She risks a glance at Vi, and now it is her turn to shyly look away. She looks at her joined hands in her lap and feels a sheen of sweat forming on her skin.

“Since you are precious in my eyes, and honoured, and I love you, I give people in return for you, nations in exchange for your life. Do not fear, for I am with you; I will bring your descendants from the east and gather you from the west.”

Vi almost forgets to quote the response, and then the rest of the conference says, “Thanks be to God” in a monotone manner, reminding her that there are in fact others in the room.

She quietly clears her throat for the responsorial Psalm, and can’t help but notice the quirk of Caitlyn’s lips when she sees that yes, Vi is taking part in the cult-like sayings. You are my inheritance, O Lord.

The whole thing is straight-up odd, really, but she sits through it, if only to listen to the calm lull of Caitlyn’s voice. People seem really into it - she wants to laugh at them.

Then Caitlyn is talking about events that are happening in the community as well as the church. She says words Vi doesn’t pay attention to, like confession, and evening mass. It drags on, and when she is finally done, people start to filter out of the building, all murmuring things to her as they go.

She smiles at them all, and when Vi trails after them, her brows lift expectantly.

“I didn’t expect to see you again. Especially not here,” she says, gesturing to the church.

“Well, I didn’t burst into flames when I came in,” she shrugs, slipping her hands into the pockets of her red jacket. “Look… I’m sorry about yesterday. You caught me at a bad time. Name’s Vi, by the way.”

“Father Kiramman,” her fingers tap the side of her thigh as if she is not sure whether she should shake her hand or not. “It’s okay. It’s nice that you care about your club so much,” she pauses, “Do you drink tea?”

–

Caitlyn’s eyes catch Vi’s from across the room like the draw of the tide.

For a moment, she freezes, eyes widening as her breath catches in her throat. She is the last person she expects to see among the congregation this evening.

Her usually practised voice tumbles into a stuttering mess. She lifts her hands onto the lectern and notices that her fingers are shaking.

Get a grip, Caitlyn, she silently tells herself and fixes her eyes on the reading. The Latin phrases of the Kyrie eleison twist on her tongue until she is able to finally steady her voice and continue.

She risks a glance back up at Vi - who is still staring with twinkling eyes - and feels a blush play at her cheeks. Her lips quirk into an embarrassed smile, though the congregation don’t seem to mind her trip-up.

Twenty minutes later, Vi is standing in front of her, looking divine. In the low candlelight of the church, her grey eyes sparkle as if christened by the heavens themselves, and Caitlyn can’t help but melt within them.

She takes her to the little side room that acts as Caitlyn’s office, and briefly remembers the mess she left it in. She has been meaning to clean it for the past two weeks but simply hasn’t found any time.

Vi takes no notice of the mess. Her eyes stay mainly on Caitlyn, which she chooses to ignore.

“Do you mind if I remove my robes?”

“I don’t mind at all,” Vi smirks, sitting down far too comfortably.

Caitlyn blushes and decides to de-robe in a completely separate room. When she is left in just her black shirt and trousers, she returns to the office and starts to boil the little kettle.

“My sister thinks I should take up your offer and use the church to host the club.”

Caitlyn turns around to face her and nods.

“And what do you think?”

“That religion is bullshit, but I don’t have any other choice. If I decide to turn you down because of my own beliefs, I leave these kids with a huge disadvantage, and I can’t do that.”

“Hm,” she shifts her attention back to the tea, and then carefully places it onto the table before taking a seat beside Vi.

“Thanks.”

“So you’re an atheist?”

“Duh. Isn’t in obvious?”

“Why would it be obvious?”

Vi gestures vaguely to herself, “I look pretty gay, don’t you think?”

“There’s plenty of gay religious people.”

“Are there?”

“Sure,” Caitlyn shrugs. “The Catholic church welcomes celibate gay and lesbian people.”

“Well, that’s stupid. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Father, but a pretty huge part of being gay is fucking. Oh, sorry,” Vi’s eyes flit to a painting of Jesus on the wall, “Canoodling, or whatever you want to call it.”

Caitlyn rolls her eyes, not entirely sure whether to take offence or to burst out laughing.

“Pope Francis is accepting of gay people.”

“That’s another thing. He accepts. I don’t care. I don’t want his acceptance, but he isn’t exactly celebrating it, is he? He’s saying ‘it’s fine. You do you, I guess, as long as it’s behind closed doors and you don’t parade it around.’”

She sits back in her chair and regards Vi for a moment, cradling the tea in her hands.

It is refreshing to see such bashful passion, and have someone unashamed to call Catholicism out to her face. She doesn’t exactly hate it, and she feels a strange pull to get to know Vi more. Perhaps she could finally have a friend.

“Are you about to smite me down?”

“No,” Caitlyn smiles, “I rather like you, Vi.”

The words form on her lips easily.

“Didn’t think I’d hear those words from a Priest,” she laughs. “Especially not after I just called out your religion for being homophobic.”

“Someone should.”

She laughs again, and Caitlyn finds the sound pleasant in her ears.

“People do all the time. Do you not go on Twitter?”

“No.”

“Are you allowed social media?”

“Yes. I have Instagram, I just never use it.”

“Huh. I guess the Bible didn’t really have much of a chance to publish a think piece on social media.”

Caitlyn allows herself to laugh out loud at that, and her eyes shimmer with humour, showing off her tooth-gap.

She likes the airy feeling that inflates her chest. It washes over her like sunlight.

“Right. We need to discuss your club,” she smiles.

“Yes. I usually host them on Thursdays.”

“Thursdays are fine.”

They discuss the details of the club, what they will need, and where they will set it up, and then Vi leaves Caitlyn to sieve through some paperwork with a final goodbye.

She finds herself smiling at absolutely nothing as she scrawls on the files. She thinks of the causal way in which Vi speaks - she is funny, and something about her company makes Caitlyn feel comfortable. She runs her fingertips over her scalp and rests her head on the cold wood of the table. Her eyes squeeze shut as she attempts to stop thinking of Vi.

Nothing works. Instead of replying to her emails or reading through Bible verses to host sermons on, she skips straight to her evening prayers, which remain short and happy.

She jumps into the shower and thinks of Vi. Vi’s muscles, Vi’s hair, Vi’s eyes, Vi’s laughter. She cringes at herself. She is like a damn schoolgirl.

And then the guilt hits.

She should not be thinking about anyone like this, especially not another woman. She took a vow. This is her life; she is not allowed to indulge in sin. Matthew 5:28.

The easy feeling in her chest is replaced with bouts of dread, bleeding and black.

Towel still wrapped around her, she sinks to her knees beside her bed and begins to pray.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn has been, quite simply, spiralling.

She has doubled her workload for the week, hardly giving herself any breaks or time to rest. She is constantly anointing the sick, giving last rites, holding drop-in confessions and planning masses.

Despite her constant state of business, she cannot stop thinking about Vi. It’s sad, really, that the second she finds even the distant embers of friendship, she craves it so pathetically.

By Thursday, she is exhausted. Her throat scratches in the way that teases at the start of a cold, which should not be surprising considering how many sick people she had laid her hands on during the week.

She checks her phone; 17:37. Vi had said that she would be over at half five to help her set out the tables and chairs. Maybe she has forgotten. Or maybe she has changed her mind.

Caitlyn stands at the front of the church, arms crossed with the altar behind her. She chews her bottom lip and glances at the large clock, then to the tables. She briefly questions whether she should begin setting up. Will Vi even come?

She taps her foot, and then circles around the altar.

Screw it.

She crosses the room and lifts a desk from the stack, and puts it down behind her. The weight of it nearly causes her to topple over, and her chest slams into the top. She coughs onto the glossy wood.

“Need a hand?”

Her eyes shoot up, and land on Vi. She straightens her posture immediately, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

“Vi. Evening.”

“Hey. Work overran, sorry,” she grabs a desk from the stack and puts it down with ease. Caitlyn’s eyes trail along the muscles that flex with the action.

“That’s alright.”

“Are you okay?”

She puts a hand on her shoulder, and Caitlyn suddenly feels lightheaded.

“Mhm. I think I’m coming down with something. You should probably keep your distance.”

“Would you like me to make you some tea?”

The kindness of the offer shocks Caitlyn.

“Oh. No, I’m okay. Thank you,” she smiles shyly.

“You set out the chairs. I’ll move the tables.”

Caitlyn nods, and does as she says, if a little ashamed. Vi now thinks she is weak, great, and it’s not like she could see the rather toned muscles beneath Caitlyn’s shirt. She works out, as often as she can, and occasionally runs. She doesn’t know why what Vi thinks of her bothers her.

She has never cared about such superficial things before. Throughout school, she was a loner. People picked on her, and she eventually learnt not to care about their words. She was smart and pretty - her mother told her that they were just jealous schoolgirls, and she should pay no mind to them. So, that is what she did. She built a wall around her, and achieved the highest grades. Then she was flung into Catholic school, where she had to go through it again, but with a new wave of girls.

It felt different, somehow. She felt more alone. Until she found a friend.

They finish setting out the desks, and then the kids begin to arrive. Caitlyn watches from the front of the church, in awe over how much they seem to love Vi. She is so good with them. It makes her womb hurt.

She shakes the thought away and looks at the statue of Jesus with furrowed brows, as if he was the one to put the thought in her head. She moves to sit on the front bench, if only to tear her gaze away from Vi.

If God has a plan for everyone, why is he allowing Caitlyn to have such thoughts? Perhaps it is work of the devil, it must be. Just like all those summers ago, when she had given into the temptation of kissing-

“What are you doing?”

She looks to her side, where Vi is sliding into the bench, beside her.

“Nothing.”

“You’re terrible at lying.”

“Hm. Almost as if I’m a priest.”

“Surely that should mean you’re an amazing liar,” she smirks.

Caitlyn catches her eye and then looks to the front of the church, where she usually stands. A reluctant smile tugs at her lips.

“Ha ha.”

“These benches are really uncomfortable.”

“I’ll ask for extra padding just for you,” she jokes, voice laced with sarcasm.

“That’s so sweet, cupcake. My ass struggles to withstand-”

“You can’t say things like that in a church.”

Nor put those thoughts into my head, she thinks.

“Sorry. I’m sure Jesus will understand,” she flicks her head towards the statue, “Terrible statue, by the way. I’ll have nightmares about those toes.”

Caitlyn presses her lips together in an effort to stop her smile from widening further.

“Hey, sis.” The girl from before, with bright blue hair, rounds the front of the bench and looks at Vi, then to Caitlyn. “Father Kiramman. Nice church you’ve got here.”

“Thanks.”

“This is Jinx, my sister.” Vi introduces her with a sense of pride in her voice.

Jinx turns around and climbs the steps to the altar. Caitlyn springs to her feet.

“Woah.”

“You can’t-.”

She leans on the liturgy and crouches down below the altar, lifting the fair linen to look beneath it.

Caitlyn’s face flushes red and she lifts a hand, “Jinx, you can’t touch that.”

“Why not?”

She picks up the crucifix and lifts it into the air with a comically shocked expression, as if slaying a vampire.

“It’s sacred.”

“Jinx,” Vi stands up beside Caitlyn and steps towards the front of the altar, “Stop.”

“Fine. I was just checking it out,” she rolls her eyes and leaps back down to the floor, before trailing across the room to where the children sit. Caitlyn sighs and releases the tension in her shoulders, then she looks at Vi, who mouths a silent ‘sorry’ to her.

Vi follows her sister, and Caitlyn takes the opportunity to discreetly slip into her office.

She flops onto her her chair and rubs her fingers over her face. Her head hurts, and her nose feels horribly stuffy and hot.

From the drawer, she pulls out her phone and opens Instagram. She never uses the app, but she is curious about something.

She types in Vi’s name, and her profile comes up straight away. She has a few thousand followers, a stark contrast to Caitlyn’s 20. Her feed is full of videos of her in the gym - lifting weights, squatting and partaking in other work-out practises. She clicks a video of her doing pull-ups, and immediately regrets it. Her shirt rides up, revealing a stunning six-pack and a fair happy trail. The muscles on her thighs look hard, basically bulging out, and Caitlyn can’t help but wonder what they would feel like between-

The door opens, and the sudden action combined with her sweaty hands causes Caitlyn to accidentally fling her phone across the room. Thankfully, it lands face down, though the quiet music continues to play.

“Oh wh-.”

Vi moves to go to retrieve her phone, and Caitlyn darts across the room before she has the chance to reach it. She quickly locks it and stands up straight, spinning to face Vi.

“Okay.”

She giggles awkwardly, which makes Vi’s smile widen.

“I hope you weren’t watching anything sinful, Father Kiramman.”

Caitlyn jerks upright as if struck, eyes darting from Vi to the floor. “That’s ridiculous. Why would I—”

Vi tilts her head, watching with open amusement as Caitlyn fumbles over her words.

“I was joking,” she interrupts, her voice laced with quiet laughter. “But again, you’re a terrible liar.”

She feels the blush climb her neck furiously, and she knows that she can do nothing about it.

“I got bored out there,” she gestures to the church, and sits down. “Where’d you go?”

“I needed a minute. I feel awful.” She plops down into the chair beside Vi with little grace. “Are you still offering tea?”

“Sure,” Vi smiles, immediately turning towards the kettle.

Caitlyn watches her fingers pluck out two tea bags and place them each in a mug. She sees the flex of them, the smoothness of her skin. Caitlyn squeezes her hands together in front of her, trying to focus on anything else. The video plays over in her head. Those abs.

She clears her throat, suddenly finding the silence too uncomfortable to bear.

“So, what do you do?”

“I’m a personal trainer,” Vi pulls out a chair and her lips raise in a smirk, as if she can read Caitlyn.

It makes her nervous. She nods, still wringing her hands together.

When Vi enters Caitlyn’s office, she immediately registers the panic on her face. The phone flies across the room, nearly taking Vi’s eye out. At first, she wonders if something is wrong, and then she hears the faint, upbeat tune playing from her phone.

It is a song Vi used in one of her workout videos that is up on her Instagram. It is surely a coincidence that it is playing from Caitlyn’s phone.

But then she looks back at her face, and sees the rosy blush on her cheeks.

She pretends not to notice, as to not embarrass the poor woman further. She is learning that Caitlyn is extremely repressed, as are all priests, and she should not ridicule her for finding Vi attractive - plenty of people do. It takes one look at her Instagram comments to discover that.

Besides, it is a compliment coming from Caitlyn. She is stunning. Vi had found herself day dreaming about her throughout the week, and it had only pushed her to train harder in the gym. Caitlyn gives her a strange sense of motivation. She doesn’t know what it is, only that it definitely isn’t God. It is something more, something festering and waiting to blossom.

“It’s been super busy this week. I’ve got two new clients, and the guy refuses to build his legs. He just wants his arms to look buff. I told him he’ll look like a chicken.”

Caitlyn smiles, and Vi can’t help but smile back. Her smile is one of her favourite things about her; the little gap at the front of her teeth is pretty, and when she laughs her eyes glisten with the passion of a million fires.

The version of Vi that Caitlyn is managing to coax out is sickening, to say the least.

“How has your week been?”

“Busy,” she sits back in her chair, “I’ve been hosting more confessions and everyone seems to be sick and need annointing at the minute.”

“Is that why you’re ill?”

“Probably.”

“You push yourself too hard, Kiramman. Sorry, Father Kiramman. Am I allowed to ask what your actual name is? Or is that a sin?”

“My name is Caitlyn.”

“Caitlyn,” she tries the name in her mouth, and it rolls effortlessly of her tongue. She likes the name. “So, Father, what made you want to become a priest?”

Something flashes across Caitlyn’s eyes. Her pupils darken, and her gaze drops to her steaming cup of tea. Vi briefly wonders if she has overstepped - she thought that the question seemed innocent enough.

“I just… I was passionate about my faith. I wanted to share it and help people. What made you want to be a personal trainer?”

“I like to teach people about their bodies and push them to their limits. And it’s nice to look good. It makes you feel good.”

Caitlyn swallows. Vi sees the bob in her throat.

“I like having muscles, and I like being strong. It makes me feel… capable.”

“Hm,” she nods, though her attention seems to be elsewhere. “Do you want to play a game?”

When Caitlyn asks Vi if she wants to play a game, she is picturing something fun, and possibly even slightly sexual.

What she did not think she meant was Scrabble.

Vi is not terrible at Scrabble, but Caitlyn is amazing at it. When she puts ‘weed’ on the board for 8 points beside Caitlyn’s ‘cobwebs’ she is just about ready to flip the board.

“You picked this game because you’re good at it,” she groans, already accepting defeat.

“Correct.”

“It’s boring.”

“Only because you’re losing.”

“Correct,” she splutters, making no attempt of defending herself. “Next week, I’m bringing a game.”

She scrawls some numbers down on a piece of paper and then drops the pencil onto the table with a pleased look on her face.

“Okay. I win.”

“No shit.”

Caitlyn lifts a finger and points to the painting of Jesus, to which Vi rolls her eyes dramatically.

“Yeah yeah. Sorry Jesus,” she checks her phone, and then stands up, “I’ve got to go, the parents will be arriving soon.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Vi shoots her a look.

“No. I won’t do any preaching,” she mimes a zip being drawn across her mouth and follows her back out to the church hall.

Ten minutes later, Jinx helps them put everything away, and then Vi says her goodbyes to Caitlyn.

“I’ll see you next week.”

“Mhm, bye,” she nods, lifting a hand to wave her out. She looks so small when Vi looks back, as if the church is a gaping mouth that is waiting tol swallow her whole.

–

“Well, that was fine,” Jinx says as she throws her bag on the couch and sits down.

“Yeah,” Vi sits next to her, stretching out her arms.

“You’ve got that look about you,” she sneaks a sideways glance at Vi, her expression teetering on comically suspicious.

“What look?”

“Something’s stirring up here,” she taps the side of Vi’s head with her fingertip. “Oh God, are you in love? Who is it?”

“No, Jinx,” she scoffs.

“Wait… Is it the sexy priest?”

“What? Sexy?”

“Vi. Do not fall in love with the priest. Can you hear yourself?”

She crosses her legs and dramatically holds the sides of her face in her hands.

“I didn’t say I liked the priest!”

“You didn’t have to! It’s written all over your face.”

“Jinx!”

“They take a vow, you know. They don’t have sex! Especially not lesbian sex.”

Her fingers rise to her eyeline, mimicking a scissoring motion, prompting Vi to squeeze her eyes shut in horror.

“Oh please do not say lesbian sex,” she shoves her head into her hands and sighs. “She’s attractive, but I’m not in love with her.”

“Good. Because that would be a disaster.”

A disaster.

Right.

She looks back up at her sister, unease written across her face. She sucks in a breath, doing her best to fake a relaxed smirk.

“Anyway. How is Ekko?”

Jinx jumps up from the sofa and grabs her bag. “I gotta study. Night, sis!”

Vi chuckles to herself in the low light of the lounge, though the mirth does not reach her eyes.

She looks down at her knees and tugs at a loose thread on her jeans.

Jinx is right - if she lets herself like Caitlyn, it will only bring disaster. Caitlyn is beautiful, with the heart of an angel, but she is extremely off-limits.

But they can still be friends.

And having Caitlyn as a friend is infinitely better than not having her at all.

Chapter Text

In 7 days, God created the universe.

Light, firmament, plants, the sun and the moon, creatures. You know the rest.

In 7 days, Caitlyn has not created new life, but she has worked very hard. She has hardly even had a rest day.

She has continued her obsessive workload, following Marcus’ request to offer drop-in confessions during what little free time she had. Every evening, she comes home exhausted. She prays, showers and then goes to bed. But she has added one more step to her evening routine.

She checks Vi’s Instagram feed.

It is terrible of her.

She feels awful about it, but it is borderline addictive. She has committed to memory every picture, every caption, every tag; but she has not yet worked up the courage to press the little purple circle surrounding her profile picture. She may be a priest, but she knows how stories work, and that Vi will be able to see her incessant stalking.

She just looks so good. It’s hypnotising.

Whether she is curling small weights or describing what food she is making to reach her required protein intake, Caitlyn cannot tear her eyes away. Caitlyn even went out and bought a salad, Vi’s commentary on fibre, protein, nutrients on repeat in her head.

The soft glow of her phone screen illuminates her face every night as she lies in bed; her voice has a calming effect on her.

And now she is lifting tables and chairs whilst idly chatting to her, and her whole nervous system feels as though it is on fire. She has taken her jacket off to reveal only a tank top, which is annoyingly attractive - seriously, does she not own a normal T-shirt? She can see every ripple of muscle, and it is rather distracting.

She has decided that she wants to be friends with Vi, and she is going to make it happen. The strange feelings she gets in her gut whenever she sees the woman, or looks at her Instagram posts over and over again, is a message from God telling her to befriend the woman. She is sick of the loneliness that constantly wracks her body.

So, when the kids settle and Jinx arrives to supervise them, they go back into Caitlyn’s office and drink tea. It is only the second week of the club, but Caitlyn likes that they have made it their little routine.

Vi slams her tote bag onto the table and pulls out a box.

“This is the game I said I’d bring last week.”

“Adult Jenga?” She reads the name on the box outloud, attempting to sound as unimpressed as she possibly can.

“Yes. It’s easy, and we’re adults.”

“I don’t even know if I’m allowed to play this.”

“Show me the Bible verse permitting you from playing risque board games.”

Caitlyn gives her a deadpan look, one which Vi seems to find hilarious if the giddy look on her face is anything to go by.

She thinks back to school, to a party that she had left early after a group of girls kept calling her boring for not wanting to play spin the bottle with the boys.

“Fine. I’ll play your silly game.”

Vi’s face breaks out into a huge grin, as radiant as the sun’s rays, and Caitlyn’s chest suddenly feels like a warm afternoon with the sun on the rocks.

They build the tower together, and Caitlyn notices the little numbers that have been drawn onto the wooden blocks.

“Okay so. Most of the numbers are assigned to either a truth or a dare on this poster,” she flashes a piece of paper at Caitlyn, too quick for her to see, “We’ll only do the truths, because most of the dares are drinking related anyway. Some of them are random, as in, you can ask anything you like.”

“Got it.”

“I’ll go first,” Caitlyn watches as she delicately pulls out one of the blocks, “Okay. Number 6. What adolescent fantasy do you still masturbate to?”

“What? Vi-” Her cheeks burn red, eyelashes fluttering with embarrassment, “I don’t… Do that. I’m a priest.”

“Priests can masturbate. I googled it.”

“Why did you-. Okay. Well, yes, but we’re not supposed to. Not often at least.”

“When was the last time you masturbated?”

She asks with the kind of nonchalance that makes her cheeks burn even more fiercely. The blush reaches her ears, and she presses her fingers to her forehead as if trying to make herself shrink.

“I’m not answering that.”

She leans forward and picks out a block, ignoring the slight tremor of her hands.

“Have you ever had sex in a public space? Vi, I don’t want to know this. Do we have to play this game?”

“No. But I thought it would be fun,” she shrugs her shoulders, looking rather disappointed.

“Look, why don’t we just ask each other questions? We can think of stuff and just… Ask away.”

Her hand flurries into the air.

“Okay, okay,” she agrees, standing up to pack the game away, “And no, I haven’t had public sex.”

“Okay,” Caitlyn sighs, rolling her eyes. “Good for you.”

She slides the box back over the tower and shoves it into her bag.

“So, what do you want to ask me?”

Caitlyn thinks for a moment, really picking her brain. She wants to ask her so many things but in this moment, she cannot think of anything.

“Ask me something. I’m thinking.”

“Okay. How hard is celibacy?”

If looks could kill, Vi would be a pile of ash.

“It’s fine. I don’t find it particularly hard,” she narrows her eyes, “Would you be able to be celibate?”

“Is that your question?”

“Sure.”

“Hm,” she tilts her head, “Probably not, but I’d never choose to be anyway. What’s the point in denying myself what I want?”

“Shame. I really saw a life of priesthood in your near future.”

Vi snorts and looks down at her hands. “Do you ever have doubts?”

“Sometimes. Everyone does. But then I pray,” she rests her jaw on her hand, “Why did you start the club?”

“My house was always super crowded when I was growing up, and I had no space to study. I found it hard to concentrate. I did fine on my exams, but I know I could have done better. I didn’t want the same thing to happen with Jinx, so I decided to do something about it.”

Caitlyn’s eyes are soft as they look at Vi, filled with admiration.

“You’ve got a good heart.”

“Thanks.”

Her eyes dart to the floor, as if Caitlyn has managed to fluster her. She likes the feeling.

“What was your childhood like?”

She shifts in her seat and cringes as she says, “I grew up wealthy. Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault the system sucks,” she chuckles, “ask me something else.”

“How did you get that scar?” She points to her own upper lip, where the scar on Vi’s lies.

“Got beat up in prison. You should’ve seen the other guy.”

“You went to prison?”

“Hey, it’s my turn. Do you ever regret this life you chose?”

Caitlyn feels stumped for a moment. Her spine straightens, her jaw tightens.

“No,” she shakes her head, and she is not entirely sure whether she is telling the truth. Really, she does not know. She clears her throat.

“Why did you go to prison?”

“Do you think of me differently now you know I did time?”

“No. Never.”

“Hm. I stole. Robbed a house, technically. We had no money. I watched my dad work himself to exhaustion for not nearly enough. One day, my brother, Mylo, was diagnosed with scoliosis. We couldn’t afford the operation, so I tried to help. Ended up in jail for three years.”

“I’m sorry. That’s not fair,” Caitlyn leans forward and puts a hand on her bare forearm. Their eyes clack together like magnets.

“It happened,” she shrugs, voice soft. “What’s your next question?”

“Can we be friends?”

She blurts it out without thinking, and immediately regrets it. The embarrassment floods her veins. She silently curses herself for behaving like such a loser.

“We are friends, Caitlyn.”

There it is again - her name on Vi’s tongue. It sounds pleasant and decadent; a deserved satiation. Caitlyn wants to hear it over and over again.

“To prove it, I’ll even give you my number.” She holds her hand out, and Caitlyn shoves her phone into it without a second thought.

“Sorry,” she sighs, “I’ve just been so lonely lately.” She tries to pass it off as a joke, but it comes out shakily. The words stick in her throat.

“This seems like a lonely job,” she hands the phone back, with a new contact added: Vi. “If you feel lonely again, call me.”

“Thanks. I um… Haven’t had much time to see anyone lately, and my friends live two hours away.”

“Well, I live fifteen minutes away. Ten if I weave through traffic. The bike’s gotta be good for something.”

“You have a motorbike?”

“Yeah.”

And Caitlyn thinks she might die. Vi, who is already insanely hot, has a motorbike. Surely the devil sent her to tempt her. The apple that was planted for Eve, who never stood a chance.

“What are you doing tomorrow evening?”

“I have a mass to host.”

“After?”

“I usually go to bed at half nine.”

“This is why you have no social life,” Vi smirks teasingly, “Let's do something tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she looks up at the ceiling in thought, pushing down the simmering anxiety in her stomach at the prospect of actually going out with Vi, “I haven’t been to a bar in a while.”

“Are you allowed in them?”

“Yes. I can drink too. I’m not a troglodyte, Vi.”

She gives her a look as if to say ‘I wouldn’t be so sure.’

“Then let's go out tomorrow. Hey - do you want to see the bike?”

Caitlyn should say no, she should go inside and pray her spiraling thoughts away.

“Yes.”

She follows her outside, like a sailor being lured to their doom, and sees the shiny vehicle parked outside. It is nice - red and black with thick wheels. Some sort of Suzuki, according to Vi.

“Do you want a ride?”

“Oh. No. You won’t catch me on that thing. You know they’re death traps?”

“Heard it all before from my old man, Cupcake,” she laughs and shakes her head, “He had the same thing at my age.”

“He’s right.”

“One day I’ll get you on her.”

“Her. Right.”

And part of her wants to. There's a quiet voice hidden in the back of her mind telling her to be reckless, to have fun. She pushes it away.

Caitlyn looks up to the stars and folds her arms, “I might go home. I have a bunch of emails to reply to, and some paperwork to finish for your club.”

“Where do you live?”

“There,” she points towards the small house beside the church, with a singular light on.

“Convenient.”

“It’s the rectory. Priests basically get given a house that’s next to the church when we get ordained. Perks of the job, I guess.”

“Huh. Looks cosy. You live by yourself?”

“I have a cat. Do you?”

“Have a cat?”

“Live alone.”

“No. I live with my sister, two brothers and my dad. There’s a bunch of us. I’m adopted.”

“Hm. That sounds nice.”

“Do your parents live close?”

“Erm… No. Two hours away,” she looks down at her feet, linking her thumbs together like chainmail. “I don’t see them much.”

“Hm,” she stuffs her hands into her pockets and rocks her weight onto her tiptoes, “I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”

Caitlyn scoffs and shoots her a side eye, but she can’t help the smile that spreads across her lips.

“So am I,” she nods shyly.

“Priest hermit goes outside.”

“Right, okay,” she gasps, grinning. She playfully pushes Vi’s shoulder. “I’m going inside now.”

She steps away from Vi and turns around, sticking her tongue out.

“Back to your shell.”

“Can’t hear you!”

She crosses the path to stand in front of her door, and when she turns around, Vi is still watching her. Caitlyn pushes the key into the slot and closes her eyes, stupid grin still plastering her face.

As she opens the door, she puts one hand on her chest where a pool of embers softly glows, emitting a constant heat that she doesn’t exactly hate.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn has not been to a bar in a year.

Last time she had stepped foot in one, she had been with Jayce and Mel. They came to visit her and had ended up dragging her out for drinks. It was a fun night, but Caitlyn couldn’t help but feel like a major third wheel.

She has no idea what to wear.

She stands in her room, in just a pair of old underwear and a bra that’s obviously made to be practical and not sexy at all, sorting through her wardrobe for anything that calls to her. Most of her clothes are black and intended for work.

It takes her ten minutes to decide on a simple black turtleneck and trousers to match. It’s not exactly out of her comfort zone. Whilst it is not mandatory, she keeps her clerical collar on. She needs to keep a clear head, and try to close off these immature desires.

She wears her hair down; it falls to just below her shoulders, and laces up a pair of Dr Martens. With the late spring warmth setting in, she decides against a jacket, and steps out of the house to catch the bus.

The bar is a quaint little building, with neon lights outside and a large sign that reads ‘The Last Drop.’ A group of men stand outside smoking cigarettes. She walks past them and nods in greeting, to which she receives a few raised eyebrows.

Vi is at the bar, talking to a large man who is polishing a glass. She looks at her jacket; one she has yet seen, with two wolfish creatures snarling in front of a splotch of red.

“Caitlyn!” Her face lights up when she approaches, and Caitlyn feels those pesky butterflies in her stomach emerge from their cocoons. “This is my dad, Vander.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Father Kiramman.”

His voice is gruff, though his eyes glimmer with shades of tenderness.

“Please, Caitlyn is fine.”

She usually prefers people to call her Father Kiramman, but she likes the way Vi says her name, so she decided to allow her family to call her Caitlyn too.

“What can I get you?”

“A gin and tonic, please.”

She pulls out her card to pay, to which Vi puts a hand on her arm.

“My dad isn’t gonna charge you.”

“Ah. That’s why you took me here.”

“Of course,” she shoots her a wink, which makes her unreasonably flustered, and she has to take a breath and silently chastise herself for yearning so pathetically.

Vi takes them over to a table in the corner of the room, where they sit opposite each other.

“I still can’t believe you can drink.”

“Jesus famously turned water into wine. It would be quite hypocritical of him to forbid alcohol.”

“Oh and Catholicism isn’t hypocritical?”

She raises her eyebrows in a wordless challenge, eyes twinkling in that humorous way. Caitlyn scoffs.

“You’re just dying to tell me your critiques, aren’t you? Go on. I’ll allow it.”

Her fingers drum against the table.

“Where the fuck are dinosaurs in Genesis?”

At that, Caitlyn bursts out laughing. Her whole body shakes with amusement, and she realises that it has been too long since she has laughed like this - entirely genuine and unrestrained. She grips the table for support and leans forward as she shakes her head, trying to pull herself out of it.

“Okay. Yeah,” she nods, still grinning through watery eyes.

“And you’re telling me all of the animals on the Ark didn’t create a crazy case of ammonia poisoning?”

Vi tilts into her space, smiling brightly.

“It’s not literal. It’s poetry. It’s reason.”

“It’s bullshit, Caitlyn. You’re too smart not to see that.”

And she wants to say you think I’m smart? Her heart leaps happily at the comment.

“It’s nice. It’s an explanation for things that we can’t comprehend.”

“It’s science.”

“You sound like Jayce,” she groans, putting a hand over her face.

“That your boyfriend?”

“One of them. I have ten.”

“Ten boyfriends?” Vi leans back in her seat, “That’s a lot of work. I’m surprised your hair isn’t grey.”

Caitlyn laughs again, and her cheeks ache from smiling so much. She feels ever so happy. The giddiness bubbles up her throat and warms her blood.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty five,” she says, watching as Vi’s eyes drop to the gap in her teeth.

“Huh. I’m twenty four. How did you meet your ten boyfriends at such a young age?”

“Oh shut up,” she giggles. “I don’t feel young.”

Vi hums at that, and looks at her as if she’s not sure what she can and can’t say.

“What’s Vi short for?”

“Violet,” she answers.

“That’s a pretty name. I like it.”

“Thanks,” she stares at her and rests her face on her hand. The intensity of her gaze somewhat frightens Caitlyn, and she tries not to show it. “Do you want to play pool?”

“I’ve never played.”

“That’s okay. I’ll go easy on you.”

She stands up and holds her arm out, as if waiting for Caitlyn to take it.

She thinks for a moment - she could really embarrass herself here, in front of Vi. Or, even worse, she could start to like her even more than she already does. That could be a disaster.

She takes her arm anyway.

The cue feels strange in her hands, and she is not entirely sure how to hold it. Vi rubs some chalk onto the tip of it, and then lays out the balls in a triangle. She knows the general premise of the game, of course, but she has never actually played. She doesn’t even know how to hit the ball properly.

Vi leans over the table and looks up at Caitlyn through smoky eyelids.

She gulps.

She looks hot.

She says something, but the sound is muffled in Caitlyn’s ears by the sound of her mind screaming ohmyjesusshesbloodygorgeous, and then she hits the ball with a satisfying thwack.

Caitlyn tries to do the same, but fails miserably. The white ball gently knocks another, barely moving it.

“See? I’m terrible.”

“It could’ve been worse. Watch this.”

Vi proceeds to pot three balls in a row, and Caitlyn rolls her eyes at the clear attempt at showing off. She has half a mind to refuse to play.

“Look,” she walks around Caitlyn and leans down to the table beside her. “May I?”

Caitlyn nods, and she moves her body so that she is behind her. She practically bends her over the pool table, causing her eyes to widen suddenly in alarm. She puts her hand on her forearm to position her hands in the correct place, and the proximity allows Caitlyn to smell the musk of Vi’s perfume. Sandalwood and something else she can’t name. Something inexplicably Vi.

Caitlyn does not think about the way her hips press into her, does not think about how her broad shoulders swallow her figure, nor the hard muscles of her thigh as she moves to her side, keeping a steady hand on her back.

It’s all too much. A warm feeling spreads all over her body and dips between her legs. It’s a pleasant sensation, but then it reaches her head, and she feels like God’s judgement is piercing her skin.

She looks at Vi, who is focused on Caitlyn’s hands, and she feels her mouth water. It is wrong. She should not want this. She should not find herself silently pleading for Vi to give her more, to keep her hands on her for as long as she can.

She hits the ball, and it clashes into another, sending it straight into one of the pockets.

“See?”

Caitlyn laughs and tries again. The absence of Vi’s hands on her makes her body ache, and she almost wants to act useless again just to feel those hands on her.

Intent. As a priest, she is not allowed to do anything with sinful intentions. Her thoughts are running away with her.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

She tries to dart to the bathroom as casually as she can, as to not worry Vi.

Hurriedly, she pushes the door open and braces her sweaty hands on the cold sink, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She takes deep breaths and locks eyes with her reflection.

“Stop this,” she whispers, before glancing at the bottom of the cubicle doors to make sure she is alone.

She looks to the grimy ceiling, as if she is looking up at the face of God, and her shoulders fall slack.

She needs to snap out of this. She has taken vows and promised herself to this life. She has maken a promise to the Lord, and she must honour that. She can be friends with Vi, but she needs to get a hold of her emotions. And her hormones.

Even if that does mean blocking out thoughts of Vi’s hands exploring her body.

Cold water runs over her hands, and then with a final deep breath, she returns to the pool table.

“You okay?” Vi asks, still holding the cue in her hands.

“Yeah.”

She takes her second shot, which goes surprisingly well. Another ball rolls into the socket, and then she misses the next one.

Vi takes her turn, and they keep playing until Vi marginally wins. She didn’t fail as miserably as she thought she would.

“I better go and catch the bus,” Caitlyn says when they finish the game. Vi looks at her with a sliver of disappointment, but nods her head.

“Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Alright. Thanks for tonight, Vi.”

“Any time, princess,” she winks.

Caitlyn looks at the floor and quietly clears her throat. She opens her mouth to say something, but something about Vi’s presence numbs her senses, and her brain short circuits.

“Bye now.”

—

Vi’s hips. Vi’s thighs. Vi’s lips. Vi’s tongue.

Okay.

These thoughts are not holy.

She closes her eyes, wrapped in her soft bed sheets and silk pyjamas. Her fingers flex impatiently by her side.

Vi’s abs. The waistband of her boxers.

Nope. Closing her eyes makes it worse.

She leans over to her bedside and picks up her phone. It is eleven. She is usually fast asleep by now, but she feels no urge to sleep. Her mind races with thoughts, all ending in sin.

She feels an uncomfortable sensation gather between her legs. A need to touch. To feel. Her pajamas feel too tight against her skin.

A hand slips below her waistband, not with an intent to do anything, exactly, but to rest there. She feels the soft curls of her hair and looks up at the ceiling.

She does not remember the last time she masturbated. It must have been before she had taken her vows, when she was still training for priesthood. She doesn't feel the need to.

But it’s different now.

It’s a feeling of discomfort.

One in which she is technically allowed to relieve. She is not exactly supposed to, and definitely not encouraged to, but she could…

She shakes her head and unlocks her phone, meaning to innocently scroll for a while in hopes that it would make her more tired, but before she knows it, she is staring at Vi’s account.

She clicks on a post of her lifting weights. The way her muscles flex with each movement hypnotizes her. She picks up a different weight, and Caitlyn squints at the veins on her hands.

When she scrolls to the next post, her eyes widen and her lips part with a silent gasp. Vi is lifting weights with her hips, her feet are planted on the ground and her ass is pushing up into the air before lowering back down.

She feels her mouth go dry, and her vagina actually throbs. She thinks about what it would feel like to straddle those hips, to feel her fingers pushing into her-

“Jesus,” she whispers, before glancing at the crucifix that hangs above her door. She looks back to the video, at Vi’s focused face, and then she fucking grunts. The sound is quiet but it shoots straight to Caitlyn’s core.

Caitlyn’s lips part with a soft exhale of breath.

Her hand moves lower, until a single finger dips between her folds, feeling the build up of moisture there. She bites her lip at how wet she feels, and how sensitive her clit is as her middle finger drags across it.

She stops. She shakes her head.

Her hand snakes back up her body as if she has been scalded.

She slams the phone back onto the table, and rips the sheets from her body before marching over to the drawer of her dresser. She pulls out her rosary beads and wraps them around her fist, before kneeling onto her rug and praying away her sin.

Chapter Text

Vi is not someone who usually finds herself being ignored.

If anything, she tends to be the ignorer, but she is not usually on the receiving end.

If she is busy with her clients, or if a girl asks for her number and she does not have the heart to say no, texts will stay in her inbox, unread.

Never in a million years did she think she would be upset because she is being ignored by a priest, of all people. Nor did she think she would ever have a crush on a priest. A beautiful, kind priest who has the eyes of diamonds and the body of sin.

And really, she should not be staring at her body, or thinking about what lies beneath those holy robes, but who can blame her? She’s hot.

On Friday night, Caitlyn had texted ‘Thanks for tonight, just got home,’ to which Vi had said ‘any time, angel. I'll see you soon.’

By midday on Saturday, Vi had texted her again. She had gone shopping, and saw a battered Bible in one of the charity shops, and something had drawn her to buy it. She saw it as a way of impressing Caitlyn.

She opened it to a random page, and then took a selfie with it, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. She sent it to Caitlyn accompanied by the caption ‘doing some light reading’ expecting a humoured response, but instead, she was met with aching silence.

Caitlyn stays on her mind all day, and then it is Sunday, and she still hasn’t heard anything from her. She thinks she might be suffering from withdrawal symptoms.

Her mind starts to jump to conclusions. What if she doesn’t want to be Vi’s friend anymore? What if she had made her uncomfortable on Friday? Oh shit. It could be that. The thought of it makes her heart sink.

She had been close to Caitlyn in the evening, physically, but she hadn’t done it with any lewd intentions.

She throws on a jacket and jumps onto her motorbike.

Sunday masses are apparently long and boring, so she waits outside until the current one is finished instead of interrupting. She mindlessly scrolls on her phone, looking up at the doors every now and again to see if they will open.

After twenty minutes, they do open, and Vi manages to get a peak of Caitlyn, in her green and white vestments. She looks beautiful, though she can only see half of her face as she bids people goodbye.

Just as the doors are about to shut, she steps inside.

“Vi.”

“Hey. I just wanted to stop by and make sure you’re alright. I think I overstepped on Friday. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and I’m really sorry if I did.”

“What? No! No. You didn’t,” she shakes her head, hands joined together in front of her. Strands of hair frame the soft scowl on her face, and her lips part enough for Vi to see the gap in her front teeth. “Sorry. I’ve been super busy. You didn’t do anything wrong, don’t worry. I should’ve replied to you. Do you… Um.”

Her chest rises and falls with her quick breaths as she says, “I’ve just finished my last Sunday mass of the day, so I’ve got a bit of free time. What are you doing now?”

“Not much,” Vi says, looking up at the ceiling and trying to think of something to say. She does not want Caitlyn to think she has no life, but she cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes please - bless me with your time.’ Instead, she settles on a casual, “I’m around for a bit.”

“Good. Shall we?”

What Vi does not expect is for Caitlyn to lead her to her actual house, this time, instead of the dull little office in the church.

She opens the door, all while Vi stares at the gentle sway of her ponytail. She feels like she is being lured by a siren, completely encapsulated by her beauty.

She nearly falls over when she steps instead.

“Jesus!” She yells, looking down at her feet, where a black cat is winding between her legs.

“No. That’s Geppetto. Jesus is there,” Caitlyn points at the Crucifix above the door, grinning.

She looks damn proud of herself for that joke, so Vi lets herself laugh at it as she leans down to scoop the cat into her arms.

“Geppetto? Like the carpenter from Pinocchio?”

“Yes. I liked the name. She’s petal when she’s being cute and little evil cretin when she’s not.”

“You sweet little thing,” Vi coos, stroking her head gently. Geppetto purrs loudly, eyes half closed.

“She likes you. She’s very picky about who she lets hold her,” Caitlyn steps forward and scratches her ears, “She hates men.”

“We have that in common, Geppetto.”

Vi looks at Caitlyn, who seems so close to her. She can see the pull of skin where her small smile shapes her honeyed lips. Her eyes are beautiful shimmering pinpricks of light, gazing adoringly at the cat like she’s her own child.

“I’m going to get cat hairs on this,” she gestures to her robe.

“I like it.”

“You do?”

“Yes. It looks good on you.”

She thinks she sees Caitlyn blush at the compliment, which only stokes her desire to flirt with the woman. It is a cute sight, one that coddles her heart and wraps it in warmth.

“Seriously. It’s doing it for me.”

“Shut up,” she rolls her eyes, but does nothing to conceal the smile that lights up on her face. She lifts the vestment over her head, and the bottom of her black shirt rides up as she does so, revealing a small strip of skin.

Vi cannot tear her eyes away. It’s about the most holy she has felt in her lifetime. It’s pathetic, the way she’s swooning over an inch of Caitlyn’s lower back, but she longs for more. Her fingers burn with a need to touch, to hold her close and feel.

She hangs the robe up, and the shirt falls back down. Vi finds herself cursing gravity.

“Do you want a drink? I have G&T’s. They were 2 for 1.”

“Sure.”

She follows Caitlyn through to the kitchen - a cosy, low-lit space with a tiffany lamp on the side. She opens the fridge, which is noticeably barren, and pulls out two cans, before leading Vi to the lounge.

Caitlyn unceremoniously slumps onto a deep velvet green couch, and Vi hears the tsh of a can opening while she looks upon a framed picture of a much younger Caitlyn, and who she assumes to be her parents.

Her mother is tall, the double of Caitlyn. She has dark hair and a small smile on her face. One hand rests on Caitlyn’s shoulder, who is holding some sort of trophy. Her father has kind eyes that beam with pride.

“What’s the trophy for?”

“Shooting.”

“What?” Vi smiles and sits beside her on the couch, leaning forward to grab the G&T.

“I used to shoot when I was younger. I was the top marksman of my area. I won first place in that competition.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“I moved away when I was 16 and I became busy with my studies. Then I found this life.”

“How come you moved?”

“My mother was presented with a better job opportunity in a different area,” she shrugs.

“What does she do?”

“Politics,” she takes a hearty gulp of gin. Vi senses a change within her, some kind of fight or flight response. It is confusing, but she doesn’t want to pry.

“What’s your favourite food?”

Caitlyn’s voice raises a few octaves, as though she is panicking.

“Hm,” Vi looks away, deep in thought, “I eat anything. I love burgers. Smash burgers,” she points a finger at Caitlyn, “Have you been to Jericho’s?”

“No.”

“Oh my God. Forgive the name in vain, but the food is so good. I’ll have to take you. My parents used to take me and Jinx when we were little. We would make such a mess, I swear we were part ketchup by the time we’d finish. My mom would wipe our faces with the napkins and call us her little gremlins,” she chuckles, eyes sparkling with the fond memory.

“What happened to them?”

She shifts in her seat, suddenly aware of how sweaty her hands are. Something about Caitlyn regulates her and she is able to speak.

“They died when I was eight. Jinx was four. One night, there was a fire in the building they worked in. The police blamed it on faulty infrastructure, but I still think it was arson. The place was failing, and their boss was a crook. I tried for years to get some sort of justice for them, but it never came.”

She shakes her head, fists clenched in her lap. Her grey eyes are watery, and Caitlyn watches as she tries to blink away the tears.

Slowly, she reaches a hand across to Vi’s, and rests it on her wrist. The warmth enveloped her, like a fist gently wrapping around her heart; a fragile bird in a pair of tender hands.

“I’m sorry for your loss. You should… Talk to them. Out loud. It helps.”

Vi lifts her head to meet Caitlyn’s eyes, who quickly glances away.

“I’m not trying to preach to you, but would you like to light a candle in the church in memory of them?”

Caitlyn’s smile is kind, understanding.

“Okay.”

She stands up, takes a breath, then extends her hand to Vi. She takes it, and allows herself to be led away from the house and back into the church.

Caitlyn drops her hand to pull out a box of matches when they near the front, where the table of candles is splayed out. She strikes it against the lighting strip and then holds the flame out to Vi.

She leans forward and lights two candles, then blows out the match.

“What do I do now?”

“We can sit down, and you can just… reflect.”

She nods solemnly.

They sit beside each other on the front bench. Caitlyn joins her hands together in her lap, and Vi mirrors the gesture.

“Close your eyes.”

Vi does as she says.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”

Her voice is shaky with the threat of tears.

“You can speak aloud, or in your head to them. You can tell them about your day, or what you're thinking, or for advice.”

She takes a deep breath and shuts her eyes, willing the cries to stay hidden.

I miss you, mom and dad.

Do you see me?

Jinx misses you too. She doesn’t go by Powder anymore. She’s studying for her degree. You’d be so proud of her. And I’m pretty sure she’s dating Ekko, but she won’t tell me. You know how she is.

Her heart feels heavy in her chest, like an anchor plummeting to the ground.

“My mother was so beautiful.”

She opens her eyes to meet her blue gaze.

“And my father loved her so much. Their love was… Powerful. I felt like it surrounded us. Held us, in a way. My mom loved to dance. She’d always get us to dance with her. It was stupid, but we were all so happy, back then. I felt like nothing could ever hurt us, like I was untouchable, because I had them.”

She takes an unsteady breath, trying to cut through the grief holding her by the throat.

“I never thought I’d lose them. I still remember the day we were told. Jinx didn’t understand. She thought they would come home in the morning.”

A quick sigh escapes her lips.

“We stayed with Vander - he was a family friend. He made a promise to my mother. He said he’d do everything in his power to protect us. He adopted us as soon as it happened.”

A single tear drops into her lap. Vi desperately wipes her eyes.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Caitlyn says, and her voice is so gentle, it makes Vi want to cry even more. “What was her name?”

“Felicia.”

Caitlyn nods and looks up above, as if saying a silent prayer for her.

“I need a drink,” Vi sighs, rubbing her hands up her legs and blinking rapidly.

“Those gins won’t finish themselves,” she nudges her shoulder into Vi’s, prompting a watery chuckle from her.

A small smile tugs at Vi’s lips as she looks at the woman, who quickly stands up and juts her head in the direction of her house.

She looks beautiful, in the low candlelight, like a divine sculpture of the old romantics. Her skin glows, cheekbones high and sharp. Her eyes shine the way the ocean churns, in all her cerulean glory.

Vi stands from the bench, body feeling as though an invisible string is drawing her to Caitlyn and commanding her to follow her footsteps towards the little lounge where their unfinished drinks sit.

Chapter Text

“I absolutely-fucking told you so.”

Caitlyn’s cheeks blush a furious pink, and a dull ache pinches them from the effort of smiling so much.

“What on earth are you doing?”

Her legs straddle the back of Vi’s motorbike, thighs squeezing the metal for dear life as though afraid she might fall off.

The thing isn’t even moving, yet.

Vi stands in front of her, uncontrollably laughing with her phone pointed at her.

“I need to capture this. It’s for the history books.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and huffs, clearly unimpressed.

“Come on, Cait. You look hot.”

She clicks her tongue and shakes her head at Vi, who is watching her through the phone camera.

“Smile.”

She plasters the fakest smile she can muster on her face before rolling her eyes.

Vi approaches her, phone held out to Caitlyn.

“See? Hot.”

Her eyes scan the picture. She looks silly.

“Do not put that online.”

“You sound like a dinosaur,” she chuckles and leans behind Caitlyn, pocketing her phone, “online.”

Then, she thrusts a large helmet into her hands.

“Safety first.”

“And you?”

“I don’t need one. I’m a professional. And I only have one, so.”

“I don’t care if you’re Lewis Hamilton. You should wear one. Jockeys wear them, and they’re professionals.”

“Jockeys ride horses,” she holds her hands out, brows furrowed.

“Yes, and this is ten times more dangerous.”

“Arguably,” she tilts her head, “The bike won’t kick you,” she pauses, lips curling into a shit-eating grin, “Were you a horse girl, cupcake?”

“I was no such thing.”

“You were. Admit it.”

“I may have been somewhat of a horse-rider on occasion.”

She laughs and shakes her head, and the noise sounds like music to Caitlyn’s ears. She pulls the helmet over her head to hide her blush.

Vi puts one hand on the top of her helmet and flicks the visor up.

“Do you want my jacket?”

She shakes her head, knowing any effort of speaking will come out as a muffled murmur.

She likes the idea of wearing Vi’s jacket, inhaling her scent and feeling held by her, but she doesn’t want to leave her completely exposed.

“Hold on tight, princess,” she says, just in time to block the eye roll with the visor as she pulls it back down.

She swings one leg over the bike, and then hops into the saddle. With a final glance over her shoulder which is met with a firm nod from Vi, the machine roars into life, buzzing with energy. Caitlyn’s hands fly to Vi’s waist and she bites the inside of her cheek.

They have both decided to cook a chilli for the kids tonight, since lots of them have spent the day partaking in mock exams, and they want to reward them for their efforts, and the most efficient way of getting to and from the supermarket quickly is by using Vi’s motorbike, seeing as though her car is still at the garage for a wheel replacement.

And, she kind of wants to. But she will not give Vi the satisfaction of telling her this.

Vi is ecstatic.

It pulls forward, and Caitlyn feels her body slide in the seat so that her front is resting against Vi’s back. She quickly pushes herself back onto the small seat behind her.

Her eyes fixate on the way the wind plays with Vi’s hair as they drive onto the road, sending the pink strands swirling into the air with a rhythmic sort of grace.

The vision in front of her is slightly tinted due to the visor, making everything seem slightly more saturated. Vi’s neck looks tanned, though still annoying muscular. Baby hairs that look soft to the touch cling to her skin.

They turn a corner, and Caitlyn nearly squeals at the feeling, but after another two, she learns to lean into the movement.

She thinks she is almost getting the hang of it when a pair of gloved hands rev the gears and she jolts forward again, arms tightening instinctively around Vi’s leather-clad waist.

Vi briefly places a hand on Caitlyn’s bare wrist and a quiet feeling of reassurance settles upon her.

The feeling of her arms bracketing Vi’s waist is something she could get used to. She secures them further around her, just to feel the hard muscles of her abs. The helmet makes it awkward, but Vi doesn’t seem to mind the occasional nudge of plastic against her back.

They turn another corner, and Vi looks to the side. Caitlyn studies the slant of her nose - she looks like some sort of sculpture and for a moment, she finds herself pitying the greats; Michaelangelo, Praxiteles, Donatello, for they never had the chance to carve this masterpiece of a woman.

She squeezes her eyes shut, cursing herself for letting her thoughts run away with her, and then they are at the supermarket.

“Is that even a parking space?”

She asks as she carefully pulls the helmet over her head and shakes her hair out.

Vi has lodged the bike between a car and a bollard.

“Sure. How was the ride?”

“It felt very unsafe,” she sucks in a breath before admitting, “I didn’t hate it.”

Vi smiles, so clearly pleased with herself, and they start to buy everything that they have written down for the food.

It is nice, trailing the aisles by Vi’s side as the sun shines through the shop windows. Vi holds the basket on her arm, and Caitlyn places the things neatly into it, as if it’s a game of Tetris.

And then there’s the challenge of getting everything home. Caitlyn ends up balancing the shopping bag in her lap, which means she regretfully can’t squish herself against Vi and squeeze her death, but she still makes an effort to hold on tight.

Vi insists on carrying it inside for Caitlyn, which earns her a hefty eyeroll, and then they start to cook. They put on some music, and work in comfortable silence. Vi chops vegetables while Caitlyn begins to brown the meat.

She feels happy. The kitchen is warm, the sun illuminates the space and the outside sky is radiantly blue, as if finally giving way to the beginning of summer. Geppetto sleeps soundly in a beam of sunlight, and Vi is by her side, humming quietly to the music. The sound is beautiful, and she stops what she is doing when she realises what she is hearing.

Her hands work diligently with the knife, fingers focused. Slender veins are slightly visible under her skin and Caitlyn marvels over the smoothness of them.

She leans over and slides the onions into the pan, catching Caitlyn’s eye as she does so. She finds herself flustered, and quickly shifts her attention back to stirring the food.

When Vi begins to sing along to the melodic song, voice barely above a whisper, she feels her cheeks brighten with a small smile. She can’t control it, but she decides to give into this bliss she has found herself surrounded by.

“What?”

“Hm?” Caitlyn blinks out of her thoughts.

“You’re smiling to yourself.”

“Sorry,” she chuckles.

“Don’t apologise. I like your smile.”

“Really?”

She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Mhm.”

Vi slides the rest of the vegetables into the pan, and as she passes Caitlyn, a hand touches her lower back. She shimmies past her to get to the sink, but Caitlyn feels frozen by the touch. Her hand slides away, and her throat goes dry. She feels heat flush her cheeks, and spread throughout her body like wildfire.

Again, she meets her eyes from across the room, and she can’t help but laugh: a light, breathy sound. Vi does the same, and Caitlyn shakes her head and returns her focus to the food, not caring to get rid of the carefree smile painting her face.

—

The food goes down a treat.

It is delicious. Possibly the best Vi has ever made.

She makes the dish at home often, so that her whole family can enjoy it and eat together. The idea to make it at the club comes naturally, and Caitlyn is more than happy to help.

Cooking with her feels like a blessing. They flit around each other in the small space of the kitchen easily, and they don’t even have to speak to work well as a team. It is as if they have some sort of telepathy.

So, when the time comes for the kids to eat, they love it. Vi and Caitlyn have their share too, and they eat together in the office, chatting about work and their favourite films.

(Caitlyn’s taste is awful. Really, Vi needs to change that).

She laughs at the thought of getting her to watch But I’m A Cheerleader, one of Vi’s favourites.

A knock raps at the door, and then it swings open before Caitlyn has a chance to tell them to come in.

“Father Kiramman.”

A tall, Asian man with comically large eyebrows enters the room and seriously, Vi cannot stop staring. They’re like angry little slugs-

“And?”

“Oh. Vi.”

She gives a small wave to him, chasing the thoughts of slugs away.

“Your Excellency.”

Caitlyn stands from her chair, and Vi briefly wonders if she should stand too.

“Can I have a word?”

“Yes.”

She looks at Vi, and tilts her head towards the door. With a sigh, Vi excuses herself from the room, taking both of the empty bowls with her. She briefly thinks about secretly listening in, but decides to go and see what her sister is doing instead.

“Hey.”

She pulls the bottom of one of her plaits, prompting Jinx to turn in her chair and glare at Vi. She is sitting beside a young girl, helping her with some sort of maths equation.

“What’s up? You come to offer me a lift home? Or are you hanging out with your priest again?”

“No. She’s holding confessions.”

“Ooo. I might drop in.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Why not? Maybe it will save me from going to hell.”

“Pfft. I think you and I have passed the point of saving.”

Jinx laughs at that, and Vi decides to leave her to teach. She walks around the church, hands stuffed in her pockets until the office door opens and the man leaves. Quickly, she crosses the room and sinks back into the chair opposite Caitlyn, who is writing something down on a piece of paper.

“Was that the annoying boss?”

“Yes. The Bishop.”

“What did he want?”

“Oh, you know. The general check-ins, and he’s going to Rome in a couple of weeks. Apparently I desperately needed to know.”

“Rome sounds nice.”

“It’s pretty, and the food is great, but I’ve only ever been there for work.”

Vi’s next train of thought is crazy. She almost says that they should go together, but she stops herself. That would be insane. Instead, she starts talking about a gigantic pizza she once forced herself to eat just to prove Mylo wrong, and Caitlyn tells her more about Jayce Tallis, who Vi would quite like to meet.

Thirty minutes later, Vi discovers that Jinx was being very serious when she said that she was going to attend confession. She stands outside of her booth, closer than what is perhaps necessary, to hear what she has to say.

“So I bought some fake Airpods and some real Airpods, and I put the fake ones in the real case, then sent them back to the store saying they didn’t fit my ears and I got a full refund. I basically got Airpods for 20 dollars, which I thought was genius, but now I feel a little bad about it. Anyways, I felt like I needed to say this so I don’t go to hell or whatever. Psht.”

“Okay. Say a Hail Mary.”

Caitlyn’s voice is smooth, even through the wood that stands between them.

“I don’t know that one.”

“Our Father?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Jinx.”

“Hey! This is supposed to be anonymous, lady.”

The structure creaks as Caitlyn stands up and opens the door, and Jinx copies her movements.

“So sweet that you know my voice,” Jinx winks, leaping onto the floor.

“Eavesdropping on confession? That’s pretty sinful.”

She eyes Vi, though her voice contains no trace of malice, only mirth.

“Perv,” Jinx shoves Vi’s shoulder as she begins walking towards the exit, “I’ll wait by the bike! Don’t take too long.” Her voice is far too loud to be acceptable in a church, but Caitlyn shrugs her shoulders, letting it slide.

“Anything you’d like to confess, Violet?”

The way she says her name lingers in the air like a lover's perfume, slow and deliberate. Her pulse stutters, and she feels herself sway slightly in the coolness of the church.

Oh - there is so much.

“No,” she decides.

“Well, I’ll talk to you later,” she says it like it’s a question, like Vi isn’t burning to spend all of her time speaking to Caitlyn, and getting to know the wonderful woman she is.

“See you round, Cupcake.”

Chapter Text

Caitlyn wakes up in a brilliant mood.

Yesterday was amazing, and all she wants to do is spend more time with Vi. Vi who had called her hot and said that she liked her smile. She makes Caitlyn happier than she has felt in far too long. And, to top it all off, she has finally managed to wrangle a rest day.

She decides she wants to have a slow day. One that will properly revive her, and perhaps a certain butch can grace her with her presence at some point. It is almost annoying how badly she wants to see her.

She pulls on a baggy T shirt and cotton shorts, and pads into the kitchen. The wooden floor has been heated by the sun, who lazily spreads her rays over the expanse of the space. She opens a window, and feels warm air kiss her fingertips.

The small rectory garden blooms with flowers that she had spent hours planting. A large bumblebee finds its home in the foxglove beside her window before moving onto the violets below.

For breakfast, she makes scrambled eggs. She slides her plate onto the table, and pours out a bowl of food for Geppetto before sitting at the table. She picks up her phone and scrolls through her texts with Vi from the previous night.

Vi: whats up chef x

Caitlyn: hello :) i thought i was one of those boy racers now

Vi: boy racer / chef

Tomato tomato

Caitlyn: hehe

Goodnight vi

Vi: It’s half nine!

Oh wait

Okay

Goodnight i guess

Caitlyn: xx

Her feet swing from her chair and she giggles at the messages. She has not yet addressed the full blown crush she has on the woman. It is normal. It is okay. This does not have to warrant a complete breakdown. She lets herself have this, because Vi makes her happy, and she has almost forgotten what that feels like.

It is nice to have a little crush. Vi motivates Caitlyn. She is able to think of her pretty face while she goes about her busy schedule - it is motivating. It is not like anything will come of it. That would be impossible.

The air shifts, as though there is something missing.

Her eyes fall onto the untouched bowl in the corner of the room. She shoves some eggs into her mouth before carefully scanning the space. The cat tower is empty. There are no paws on the kitchen counters, no heap of softness in her lap. And the sunbeam that stretches across the floor blankets no ball of black mass.

She swallows her food as a sense of unease floods her mind.

“Geppetto?” She calls, placing her fork down.

“Petal?”

She stands up, and the chair legs scrape loudly against the floor. The pace of her heart snowballs into rapid-fire flutters.

“Geppetto? Sweetheart?”

She feels worry stir her stomach like the beginning of a tsunami.

“Geppetto! Come here.”

She waits, straining her ears for the sound of the little bell on her collar, or the soft pattering of paws on wood. There is no mew, no high-pitched squeak.

She runs upstairs, checking her bed, the bookcase, the bathroom, no nook or cranny goes untouched, and then she does the same with downstairs, still calling her name like a stuck record.

Briefly, she pauses her frantic rushing to clasp her hands together and pray. “Lord, please. Help me.”

She opens and closes cupboards. Her breaths turn ragged, and her heart is beating so fast she thinks it is going to combust. The panic rises in her throat, and she feels close to throwing up as the acids in her stomach bubble unhappily.

“Geppetto, darling. Fuck!”

She slams a chair into the table and bites her thumbnail, then pushes her fist onto the surface. Tears begin to flow, and the crying just makes her angrier. It’s hard to see through her waterlogged eyes.

She wants to turn the whole house upside down, to smash things and to scream.

With one final call of her name, she grabs her phone from in front of her.

“Vi,” she blubbers, one hand on her forehead.

“Cait? What’s wrong?” Vi’s voice is tinny and panicked on the other end of the line.

“Geppetto’s gone. I don’t know where she is.”

“What? She’s not in the cupboards?”

“No. I can’t find her anywhere and she hasn’t eaten her breakfast. I’m freaking out.”

“Wait there. I’m coming over.”

There is a distant jangle of keys, and then the line goes flat.

Caitlyn slumps into the chair, head falling into her arms as she cries.

–

The sight of Caitlyn crying coaxes a feeling akin to being stabbed repeatedly in the heart from Vi.

She takes her into her arms, grip firm around her as her shirt dampens at the collision of tears on her shoulder.

“We’ll find her,” she strokes her hair gently, briefly stunned by how soft her hair is beneath her touch. “Come on.”

She pulls back and interlocks her fingers with Caitlyn’s before pulling her out of the house.

They knock on neighbours doors, still clinging to each other as they ask them if they have seen the little cat. It comes to no avail, except for gathering a couple who are willing to help with their search. Caitlyn is strangely quiet, and it unnerves Vi. She wants to tell her that it will all be okay, that they will definitely find her, but she doesn’t know that for sure. The best thing she can do is try.

The group comes to a corner, and Vi steps forward and stops in front of them.

“We need to split up. You, search that way. Knock on doors, ask people to search their sheds.”

She points at one of the neighbours, a young woman with blonde hair and then aims her finger at the man beside her.

“You, other way. Do the same. Check the bushes, the trees. Everywhere.”

Her eyes soften when they land on Caitlyn.

“Caitlyn, search behind your house and inside of the church. She can’t have gone far. I’ll take the park. Any updates, we text, okay? Keep your ringers on.”

The couple nod and begin to walk in opposite directions, constantly calling out her name. Caitlyn stays still. Vi steps forward and brings a hand up to her face.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?”

She nods, blue eyes swimming with emotion. Her bottom lip sticks out adorably and Vi longs to kiss away the pout on her face.

“I can’t lose her.”

“I know, baby. We’ll find her. I won’t stop looking, okay?”

“Okay.”

Vi drops her hand and spins on her heel.

“Vi.”

Caitlyn’s hand wraps around her wrist. She turns around.

“Thank you.”

Vi nods to her, and lifts the back of her hand to her lips to plant a soft kiss there, before heading towards the park.

Her heart skips a little as she walks.

For the entirety of the walk, she thinks of Caitlyn. She needs to get this cat back to her, she has seen how much she loves the little ball of fur. And she really likes Caitlyn. She would hate for anything bad to happen to her. She deserves only the best of things.

Vi likes Caitlyn.

She likes her a lot. Too much.

She knows it is wrong. It will end in tears. Her sister had warned her against this very situation, but she still let it happen.

Only she didn’t let it. It tumbled and tripped over her like the inevitable death of Achilles, always there, written into the stars from the very beginning. Perhaps she was destined to meet Caitlyn, to get her heart broken and ripped into a million pieces by her. So much for life lessons.

She has surely had enough of those.

Priests cannot have relationships. There is no exception; she has read endless articles and stupid online threads. Caitlyn can’t be with her. Yet something keeps drawing her closer, pulling her in like a moth drawn to a flame.

And it can’t hurt to lose herself in the heaven of Caitlyn’s cerulean eyes for a while longer.

“Geppetto!” She calls, hands cupped around her mouth to accentuate the sound. “Little shit.”

She has grown fond of the cat, not just as an extension of Caitlyn, and it is nice that she likes her back. She likes to think of it as some sort of metaphor for Caitlyn’s non-existent love for Vi. It won’t happen. She needs to get over this.

A meow snaps her out of her thoughts.

Her eyes dart up to the spindly tree beside her.

“Geppetto!”

There, clawing onto the barely-living branches, is Geppetto. She meows again, eyes frightened, as if she hadn’t put herself in this very situation.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Immediately, Vi begins to climb the tree, using her arms to pull herself up. A branch snaps between her foot, just in time for her to lunge forward and grab the cat from her perch, who mewls loudly and digs her sharp nails into her wrist. She expertly descends onto the grass, pulling her into her safe hold.

“You can’t do that, Geppetto. Your mom was worried sick. It made me very sad, because I like your mom very much, but that stays between us, okay?”

She pounces up at her face and licks her cheek, happily meowing at Vi. She laughs and pulls her phone out, balancing her with one arm. A few drops of blood bead at her wrist, which earns Geppetto a muted glare.

Vi: got her. tell the others. be back in 10 x

She slides it back into her pocket as she feels the phone buzz a few times. She secures Geppetto in her arms and gives her one final head scratch before heading to Caitlyn’s.

“Oh Geppetto!”

The door swings open before Vi has even stepped onto the threshold of Caitlyn’s house, and she scoops the cat into her arms, lavishing her with kisses.

Vi never thought she would be jealous of a cat. There’s a first time for everything, she guesses.

“She was up a tree. Why the fuck do cats do that? Like seriously-”

Caitlyn kisses her cheek.

Vi’s eyes widen. Her cheeks flush pink in an embarrassing way that will absolutely ruin her reputation, so she ducks her head with a smile, desperately hiding her shy eyes.

“Thank you, Vi.”

She lowers Geppetto to the ground, and she scurries inside.

“Don’t mention it,” she shrugs, feigning nonchalance.

“Do you want to come inside?”

“Okay, but not for long. I stood up a client.”

“You did what?”

“This was more important.”

Caitlyn’s eyes sparkle, and she smiles. Vi swoons. She will never get tired of her smile. Her cute tooth gap peaks through her lips, and a strand of hair falls from her ponytail into her face.

“Come on.”

Vi wordlessly follows her inside.

She is pleased to discover that Caitlyn has bought beer for them, so they crack open two bottles, not caring that it has only just turned 12, and they sit on the sofa, bodies pressed close together. Geppetto cuddles into Caitlyn’s lap, and Vi pets her head. They both rest their heads on the back of the sofa, staring at the ceiling. Their bodies are pressed together, like two pieces of a jigsaw.

“I can’t believe you got here so fast. You came within like… Ten minutes.”

“I told you. Ten minutes if I put my foot down.”

“Did you drive dangerously?”

Caitlyn’s head lolls to the side, and Vi meets her impossibly soft gaze. “That’s none of your concern.”

“Vi.”

She can’t help but look at her lips for a fraction of a second and hope that Caitlyn doesn’t notice.

“I’m glad we found her.”

Caitlyn lifts her head to look down at Geppetto, who is sleeping soundly after a traumatic morning, “Yeah.”

Her eyes drop to Vi’s hands that are folded in her lap. She takes the injured hand into her own and brings it up to her face, inspecting the red dots.

“What happened to your wrist?”

“Your little devil did this when I saved her from the tree.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not too badly,” she shakes her head, pretending that her skin where Caitlyn is touching her isn’t on fire. She skims her thumb over the scabs that have formed and kisses the skin gently before slowly lowering her hand back down.

She leans back again, and Vi studies her face. She is the prettiest person she has ever seen. To Vi, looking at her is like looking at a painting that she believes was made for her. The message translates perfectly and plays at the strings of Vi’s heart.

“Maybe I should have gone to confession last night.”

“Technically, you can confess anywhere. As long as it’s in private.”

Again, their eyes jump and splutter across the string between them until they come together.

“Is there something you would like to confess?”

Vi bites her lip.

She could drown in those eyes, she thinks.

What are you doing, Vi?

She fixes her eyes forward, away from Caitlyn. She shakes her head.

She feels the warmth of Caitlyn’s hand on the crook of her elbow. She folds her hand on top of hers, and gives her a sad smile.

“I’ve got to go back to work.”

“Okay.”

She looks down at Geppetto and leans over to kiss her head. She stirs slightly, but does not wake.

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Later that evening, when Vi is tucked up in bed watching a sad movie and thinking about Caitlyn, her phone pings. She opens the text, to see a picture of her cuddling Geppetto to her chest. Her big blue eyes look at the camera. Vi puts a fist on her heart, squeezing her eyes shut with the sinking feeling that she is doomed. She would do anything for this woman.

And there it is again. A new feeling; jealousy. Of a cat.

Chapter Text

There’s that blissful few seconds when you wake up and the sun streams onto your bed, and everything feels right.

Caitlyn stirs, and her hand extends over the sheets, searching for Geppetto to make sure she hasn’t decided to climb any trees during the night. Her green eyes watch Caitlyn as she stirs awake.

She feels well-rested for once, and her head is no longer the whirlwind of emotions it was yesterday. It has settled from a raging sea to easy waters.

When she stretches her arms above her head and straightens her long legs, a certain warmth creeps up her body.

And then she remembers. She pushes herself up as if recalling something awful.

Her hand tangled in pink hair. A tongue working at her clit, a pair of strong hands holding her legs apart. Bliss. The curling of fingers. Wet. Lots of it. Moans and gasps. Hips rocking up into her mouth. Grey eyes full of lust looking up to meet her own.

She drags a hand over her flushed face and looks at Geppetto, who gives her a look as if to say ‘figure it out yourself, lady’ before leaping off the bed with a sassy swish of her tail. She lets her body drop back onto the mattress with a frustrated groan.

She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and closes her eyes.

Vi. Vi. Vi. Calling out her name. Overwhelming pleasure washing over her.

“Oh, baby.”

She all but melts at the memory of that damned name. She was too caught up in concern to let herself react when Vi had said it so loosely just two days ago. She wants to hear it again and again, whispered into every inch of her body like a prayer.

The ache between her legs borders on uncomfortable. She could take care of it. She’s actually heard it’s healthy to start your day with an orgasm.

But not for priests. Not for her.

Begrudgingly, she pushes the feeling away and rolls onto her side. She checks her phone and sees that it is time to get up for morning mass. There is no time to dwell on this fantasy that her mind has conjured. She tells herself that it is silly and that she needs to get over it.

The dream does not leave her mind throughout the whole service, and when she quotes Ruth 3:9, “spread thy skirt” holds an entirely different meaning to what is intended in her mind. She thinks about wearing a short skirt and having Vi bunch it up to her waist, hand slipping up her thighs. Perhaps she could even bend her over a pool table again.

Her smooth voice stays fixed in her head, constantly replaying one word - baby.

She curses herself and does her best to block the thoughts and focus on prayer.

Her mind sinks straight to thoughts of Vi on her knees.

Her brows furrow and blue eyes shoot daggers at the innocent but ugly statue of Jesus.

Maybe she should have masturbated. Perhaps it would have helped ease these thoughts.

She steps outside for some air after the congregation has left and thinks about texting Vi, but in her current state of arousal, she doesn’t trust herself.

Instead, she calls Jayce.

“Hey, sprout!”

“Jayce. Hi. I’ve missed your voice.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” She presses her fingers to her forehead, “Sorry. Are you busy?”

“No. I always have time to talk to you. What’s going on? Finally decided that the Big Bang makes sense?”

“Haha. Very funny,” she deadpans, “I just… I’ve made a friend.”

She lightly taps her forehead for letting herself sound so stupid.

“That’s good…”

“Yeah. Her name is Vi.” She lowers her voice, afraid someone might hear. “But like… I’m having bad thoughts.”

“Oh no. Do you want to kill her?”

“Sometimes,” She snorts, “Not like that. She’s… Great.”

“Wait. Do you like like her?”

“I don’t know.”

Liar.

“I think so, Jayce,” her voice is quiet. “I really do.”

“I have no words.”

“Say something. I don’t know what to do.”

Her voice sounds strained as she tries to straighten her posture in an effort to stop panicking.

“What do you like about her?”

“Everything. She’s kind. She’s a genuinely good person, like, not just faking it. And I like that she is authentically her. She’s very gay. She’s funny. She’s hot. God, she’s so hot. Very built. Actually, she could beat you in a fight.”

She ignores the tinny scoff of protest.

“She makes me feel safe. Like… The little girl I used to be is safe, and I can be myself around her. I don’t have to be someone I’m not.”

The line goes quiet.

“I’m scared. I can’t have this,” she whispers.

“Can’t you?”

“What are you saying?”

“You can leave the church.”

“I can’t do that, Jayce. I can’t.”

“Think about it.”

“I am. I can’t do it,” she shakes her head, as if he can see her, “This is my life. I’m sworn to it. I like it.”

“Okay, Cait. It’ll be okay.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to come over? For the weekend? It’s pretty crazy here but I can do some reshuffling-”

“No. It’s okay. I have lots of work to do.”

“Okay, sprout. I love you.”

“I love you, Jayce. Thanks. For the talk.”

“If you need me, I’ll be there. Say the word.”

“And my soul shall be healed,” she laughs, finishing the religious reference. “Bye, Jayce.”

“Bye.”

She ends the call and slips her phone into her pocket. She stares at the folded robe that covers her knees for a second. The breeze blows her hair across her face. She stands up, and heads back into the church.

As a child, she played the piano.

She would practice every day. At first, she enjoyed it. She liked the sounds her fingers made when they pressed the keys in the right ways.

But then came the pressure. Her mother pushed her to practise more and more. She wanted her to compete, to play in grand performances. She was good at performing, and staying composed as she played in front of an audience, but that did not eliminate her nerves, nor the need to be the best, to be better than everyone else. She wanted to make her parents proud.

When she wasn’t studying for school, she was playing the piano. She had no time for friends. The girls she spent time with at piano school were her competitors. It took over her life, until she told her mother that enough was enough. She accepted her refusal graciously, but young Caitlyn could not help but feel like a letdown.

She likes to play the piano in the church from time to time.

Her fingers press into the cold keys, slowly, without the need to perform crushing her shoulders. She closes her eyes, and loses herself to the rhythm.

–

Caitlyn is unreal.

As Vi leans against a pillar at the front of the church, face shrouded in shadows, she feels herself plummet and fall impossibly harder for her like a fallen angel. Or Icarus, perhaps, who flew too close to the sun. Caitlyn has been sent from above. It is the only explanation for this woman. This perfection.

She plays the piano like it is something precious, capable of breaking beneath her tender touch. It carries weight, she can see it in her half-closed eyes, her parted lips that occasionally move to mime words. Her hands glide over the keys, commanding the piano and her body moves with the rhythm. It picks up pace and slows down. Vi feels transfixed. Her feet stay planted on the ground, careful not to disrupt this serenity.

The low light casts an ethereal glow over her high cheekbones, catching in the sea waves of her hair.

She looks lovely.

Her fingers slow, and she takes a breath, rolling her shoulders back to straighten her posture. Her face looks to the side, allowing Vi the blessed sight of her pretty nose.

“Vi.”

She steps forward, heart racing in her chest with the feeling of being caught.

She turns fully to look at Vi. She looks even more celestial like this.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” she swallows, and Vi sees the lump in her throat.

“You play beautifully.”

Caitlyn stands when Vi nears her, and her hands form a chain in front of her. She picks the skin at her nails.

“Thank you.”

She takes a breath, and tries her hardest to push down her simmering feelings.

“I don’t have any clients today. Would you like to go for a walk? Or anything, really.”

She drops her hands, “I’d love to, but I have a prison ministry today.”

“Prison ministry?”

“Yeah. Visiting people in prison, basically. But um… You can come, if you want. You don’t have to.”

“Sure,” she nods.

She would shovel shit if it meant getting to spend time with Caitlyn.

“I can drive us. I know you’ve been dying to give her another go.”

“Strong choice of words.”

“Is that a yes?”

“I can’t be seen arriving at the prison on the back of a motorbike, Violet,” She passes her with a small smile, “You can be my passenger princess.”

Vi laughs at her words, trying to act like they are not affecting her at all. The stupid phrase has her skin feeling irritatingly hot and her blood pressure increasing.

With a bemused shake of her head, she follows her out of the church and slides into the passenger seat of her car.

They are met by security after they enter multiple gates where Caitlyn has to identify herself, and the familiarity of the building makes Vi feel uneasy. She feels her hands sweat.

Just as they are about to go through the scanners, Vi stops. Her face is pale.

“Are you alright?”

Caitlyn asks the question quietly, careful not to draw attention to her.

“Mhm,” she nods, entirely unconvincing.

Caitlyn steps towards her and takes her hand into her own, “I’m here. We can do this together.”

Her skin feels impossibly soft, and the warmth of her is a welcome comfort.

Vi touches her wrist with her spare hand and gives her an appreciative nod, and then they pass security.

It’s not the prison Vi had gone to, but it’s a similar layout. The corridors are barren, with a faint smell of disinfectant lingering in the stale air. She keeps her head down, trying to push away the feeling of dread coursing through her blood.

They’re led to a solitary room, where they sit down while the guard fetches the officer.

Vi closes her eyes and takes a deep, shaky breath.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to come here.”

“No. It’s okay. I knew what I was getting myself into. This was my decision.”

“I feel bad.”

“Don’t,” Vi leans forward in her seat, meeting Caitlyn’s gaze to discover a face riddled with guilt, emphasised by the slight twist in her wonderfully kissable lips.

“Caitlyn.”

She cocks a brow at the priest, which is met with a stubborn eye roll.

“Fine. But we can leave at any time.”

“Yes, Father Kiramman.”

Caitlyn narrows her eyes wickedly at Vi.

“What? Everyone calls you it.”

“I know.”

“But…”

“It’s different when you say it,” she shrugs, averting her gaze to the floor.

“Is it sexy?”

She leans forward, elbows resting on her spread knees as she prods Caitlyn’s thigh with her pointer finger, suddenly delighted at the vibrant hue of pink that begins to spread across her perfect cheeks.

She does not miss the way those blue eyes drop to her lips with a dulcet intake of breath.

The door swings open, revealing a woman in prison slacks.

“Father Kiramman.”

“Hello, Samantha.”

She sits in the seat opposite them, and shoots a questioning look towards Vi.

“This is Vi, my friend. Is it okay with you if she sits with us in this session?”

“Sure.”

And then, Caitlyn starts asking about her family. It is clear that they have built some kind of relationship - she tells her about her daughter who came to visit, and how grown up she looks, and how she can’t wait to spend time with her when he gets out in a year's time. Caitlyn truly listens while Vi tries to blend into the background.

Others come into the room, all chatting about different things with Caitlyn. She offers guidance only when they ask. Some of them don’t ask, they just want someone wise to talk to.

Vi sympathises with the feeling.

Maybe if she had someone like Caitlyn when she was behind bars, she wouldn’t have picked fights with the walls and girls who thought it was clever to beat up the new inmates.

A young woman, probably only a few years younger than them, enters the room. She looks shy. Her hair is dark purple, matching the mottled bruise beneath her eye. Vi’s posture straightens.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Father Kiramman. This is Vi.”

The girl looks at Vi. There’s a familiar look in her eyes. A caged animal.

It’s like looking into a mirror and seeing her 18-year-old self.

“What’s your name?”

“M… Margot. I’m not religious, by the way.”

“That’s okay.”

“I actually think it’s a bunch of bullshit.”

“So does my friend here,” Caitlyn tilts her head towards Vi.

Vi shrugs as she says, “There’s a lot of plotholes.”

Margot laughs quietly.

“How long do you have left of your sentence?” Vi asks.

“I’m doing two years. I’ve only been here a month.”

“Hm. I did three.”

“You did time?”

“Breaking and entering.”

“Same. Accomplice.”

Her smile is bittersweet. Vi mirrors it.

“Does it get better?”

“Yeah,” Vi nods, glancing at Caitlyn. “It really does. Just… hold on.”

“What if I have no one out there?”

“You’ll find someone.”

“Everyone feels lonely at times, Margot,” Caitlyn begins, “But you can always connect with people. If there’s no one in here you get one with, then there definitely will be on the outside.”

“It’s worth the wait,” Vi smiles, eyes twinkling at Caitlyn.

A small smile plays at Caitlyn’s lips, and she shyly meets Vi’s gaze.

“Are you two boning?”

“What?” Caitlyn’s eyes widen in shock. “No.”

“We’re good friends,” Vi explains, not bothering to hide the humour in her voice.

“Is that what they call it these days? I had a good friend once,” the girl says, an impish grin spreading across her features. Vi likes her smile, it suits her.

The three of them laugh together, and the rest of the meeting is filled with easy jokes. Margot says she wants to see the two of them again, and then they are finished and left alone in the room.

“Would you like to head back to mine? I was thinking we could finish those beers off?”

Caitlyn stands up and shrugs her jacket on, looking at Vi expectantly, who does well to hide her excitement at the prospect.

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

Chapter Text

In the Catholic church, priests can do many things as long as their intentions are pure.

Among these are drinking and going to bars.

There are things they can’t do, of course, because they are bound by doctrine and church law. Marriage, sex, breaking the seal of confession.

And as Caitlyn sits beside Vi in her little kitchen, her intentions are hazy. She tries to keep her mind from wandering. She had intended to form a friendship with Vi, and now she is acting on that, revelling in the benefits.

She likes Vi. More than she should. It makes her feel good.

And she is awfully attractive.

So yes, her intentions are blurred.

The ends of the beer bottles clink together.

‘Finishing the beers’ has turned into taking a long walk around Caitlyn’s neighbourhood and buying, in Caitlyn’s opinion, the best takeout the area has to offer.

“I thought you were great today.”

“What?” Caitlyn giggles.

“Just… The way you listened to them. They needed that.”

“Would you have benefited from something like that?”

“A hot older woman giving me guidance? Yes.”

“I’m not even a year older than you.”

Vi wiggles her eyebrows at Caitlyn suggestively before taking a sip from the beer bottle. Caitlyn watches how her jaw flexes with the movement, veins in her neck so prominent.

“Point still stands. You’re a good person, Caitlyn.”

It’s your mother.

Her ears ring.

“Thanks,” she says, voice strangely timid as she attempts to clear her throat. “I still feel bad for putting you in that position. It wasn’t fair on you.”

“Caitlyn. If I thought I couldn’t handle it, I wouldn’t have come. Stop beating yourself up over my little wobble.”

“Don’t call it that. I don’t know what you went through, but you don’t have to reduce your near panic attack to a little wobble.”

Vi plays with the neck of her beer bottle, tugging on the label absent-mindedly.

“Do you want to know what I went through?”

“Yes,” she blinks, straightening herself up. “If you’d like to tell me.”

Vi sucks in a sharp breath.

“It was… Shit. I was eighteen when I was incarcerated. And I was fucking terrified.”

She says it humorously, but Caitlyn’s face remains stoic. The image of a younger Vi, scared and alone, is not funny at all. It is strange how she wishes she could have protected her. Like part of her yearns to know Vi when she was younger. Perhaps they could have been friends.

“At first, it was so lonely. I spent every night crying until my bunk mate threatened to stab me if I didn’t shut up.”

She feels anger, next, and a strong sense of resentment for the woman who had threatened her.

“I told myself to grow up. I started going to the prison gym and I even made a few friends. But there were enemies, too. Petty bitches who’d beat up new inmates who didn’t know how to defend themselves. One day, a girl came in, and she reminded me so much of Jinx. The next time I saw her, her face had been beaten to a pulp. She didn’t do anything to them. I confronted them, and it got ugly.”

Her eyes gloss over as if she is reliving the memory, and Caitlyn longs to reach out to her.

“A guard beat the shit out of me. I thought I was going to die. He had some sort of deal with the girl I hit. I tried to take my anger out on the wall from there, instead of the bullies. The bricks didn’t fight back. Or have weird relations with the guards.”

She sighs, and Caitlyn watches the tension from her shoulders resign with the breath.

“I’m not proud of what I did. But I wanted to survive. I had a family to look after. I promised Jinx I’d come back. That place changed me.”

She doesn’t meet Caitlyn’s eyes. Her heart aches at the shame scrawled across her face.

“It made me into something terrible.”

“You’re not terrible, Vi. You were eighteen. You were still a teenager, for God’s sake.”

She lifts an eyebrow at her words, finally looking into her earnest eyes.

“I think you’re a great person and if you’re not proud, then I am.”

“Cait-”

“I’m serious. You’ve been through hell and yet here you are. You didn’t let the harshness of your experiences change the goodness in your heart.”

She reaches across the table for her hand and feels Vi’s gentle squeeze.

“I’m proud of you.”

Her words come out as jumped up sniffles and she lifts a hand to her face to hide away.

“I’m very glad that we’re friends. I’ve got a lot to learn from you.”

“You? From me?” She chuckles, eyes glistening with awe.

Caitlyn simply nods, hoping that she can see the adoration pouring from her soul.

“Let’s do something. Anything you want to do.”

“Are you still trying to make up for taking me to a prison?”

“Is it so unbelievable that I want to spend time with my best friend?”

Her eyes widen at the words that accidentally slip out, and she withdraws her hand to straighten her spine.

“Best friend, huh?”

“Oh God,” she shrinks in on herself, completely at the mercy of the wild blush on her cheeks.

“God can’t save you now, best friend.”

“Shut up.”

She drops her face into her hands and prays to disappear into thin air.

“What would you like to do?”

“It’s your choice.”

“Museum.”

“You want to go to a museum?” Caitlyn raises her head in suspicion.

“Maybe,” she turns her head to the side, glancing at her through her peripheral vision.

“Are you saying that because you know that’s what I want to do?”

“Jesus!” Vi sighs, leaning back in her seat, “Can you read everyone’s mind? Does that come with bestowing the presence of God or whatever?”

“Just yours.”

Caitlyn smiles, and they share silence like a warm blanket on a cold night.

“We’ll go to a museum. I’ll find one with naked ladies in it for me and some Jesus stuff for you, and I’ll text you the address. Saturday?”

“Yep,” Caitlyn nods, pulling out her phone to double-check that no events are happening on that day. “Saturday.”

—

They stand shoulder to shoulder in a large room with a lot of oil paintings of men in robes and women with their breasts out. An old couple are in the corner, murmuring and looking thoughtful while they read the plaques next to each painting.

“I like this one.”

Vi points to the painting in front of her, picturing two women with their arms around each other and lips joined in a kiss. Their bodies are partially covered by a bedsheet, but it is obvious that they are naked.

“What do you think?” Vi asks, genuinely curious and absolutely not trying to figure out if the priest is at all homosexual.

“It’s sweet,” she says simply, her face betraying no hint of readable emotion. “I like it.” She crosses her arms over her chest and begins walking towards the other paintings.

Vi lets her eyes linger on the women before catching up to Caitlyn, who she finds studying a painting of two men standing close, looking into each other’s eyes. Vi reads the title - something about tribute money - and skips over the rest of the words.

“That looks pretty gay. Serious bedroom eyes.”

“That’s Jesus,” Caitlyn tuts.

“Oh? Checks out.”

“What?” Caitlyn scoffs. “Humour me.”

“Okay, Father, but you’ve been warned.”

Caitlyn rolls her eyes and nods her head for her to go on.

“Jesus hung out with social rejects, prostitutes, homosexuals, yes?”

“Yes.”

“And his disciples were all men?”

“Yep.”

“So, amongst all of that homosexuality, you’re trying to tell me that he didn’t at least experiment with another guy? I mean, come on, everyone probably wanted to have a piece of that. Imagine topping Jesus Christ. You wouldn’t be able to help but feel insanely powerful.”

“Right,” She snorts, stifling laughter with her slender fingers, “I can’t believe you just said ‘topping Jesus Christ.’”

She glances at the completely oblivious old couple, who are still staring at the same painting.

“I only speak the truth, Kiramman.”

“Oh, I can see that. I’m sure you’d love to top Jesus.”

“Don’t be jealous, cupcake.”

Caitlyn stirs at the comment. Vi can see the flush on her face, which is amplified by the natural light of the museum. It is delightful.

“And I wouldn’t, actually, unless he was a woman. Then I’d have to consider it.”

“How do I tap out of this conversation?”

Vi laughs quietly, and they begin walking into the other room. She quietly mumbles further about how religion is insanely hypocritical for launching the whole Jesus act and saying that it was for the good of humankind.

“Because, hey, I didn’t ask for Jesus to die so that my sin would be absolved. I like sinning-”

She stops in her tracks and gasps at the sight of powder-blue braids. In an instant, she has managed to pull Caitlyn behind a velvet red curtain, leaving hardly an inch of space between them.

“What-”

Her hand shoots up to Caitlyn’s mouth to cover it, her eyes wide and imploring. She looks down at their feet and sees that the length of the curtain stops at their ankles, and then she climbs onto the fragile-looking chair, pulling Caitlyn’s hands to urge her up.

She frantically waves at her and shakes her head, but Vi ignores it and drags her up so that their bodies are flush together. Caitlyn feels so soft against her, and Vi can’t help but drop her eyes to her chest before silently chastising herself. She always looks so damn good in her monotonous black clothes and that silly white collar.

The back of the golden chair rocks, and Vi shifts her weight to stop it from toppling over, and then her hand snakes around Caitlyn’s waist when her foot nearly slips from the cushion.

And, Jesus, her waist is tiny. She does not see much of her figure, always shrouded by those robes and shirts, and she feels suddenly lightheaded at the discovery. It feels like her waist was made to be held by Vi, whose arm wraps around it with a serpent-like smoothness.

“This thing is going to fall!” Caitlyn whispers, “What on earth are you doing?”

“My sister is out there with her boyfriend. Sh!”

She strains her ears to hear the hushed conversation Jinx is having with Ekko, but she can’t quite make out the words.

“You shush.”

Caitlyn looks rather beautiful like this - slightly flushed and full of a simmering sort of vexation. The proximity of their bodies has Vi raising a smug eyebrow until she remembers their situation.

“Cait! Quiet,” she hisses, feeling a soft hand on her bicep.

“Violet. This is not a situation I would like to be in.”

“Sh!”

“That is rude!”

“I can’t hear-”

She leans further, desperately trying to jut her ear out to hear what it is they are talking about, and immediately regrets the decision to change positions.

The weight of her foot flips the entire chair, sending the two of them toppling into the curtain. Vi tries to grab it in some futile attempt at stopping the fall but instead ends up ripping it from its railing.

They hit the hard ground in a tangle of limbs, and the stupidly heavy curtain lies across them.

“Vi?”

Her sister pulls the material off their bodies, ruffling Vi’s hair in the process. Confused, she looks between the two women as if trying to figure out what is going on.

Vi glances at Caitlyn, who seems sincerely angry, and she cringes inwardly at herself.

“Hey Jinx,” she tries to smile, and then looks at Ekko, “Little man!”

“Hey, Vi,” he grins, but the smile does not quite reach his eyes.

“Oi!” Two burly men rush over, clad in tailored suits, and Vi immediately leaps to her feet, grabbing Caitlyn’s hands and pulling her up.

She doesn’t let go as she darts through the maze-like rooms, ignoring Caitlyn’s protests and the angry-sounding men who have not stopped chasing them.

They finally reach the front doors, and then they dart down the steps, not stopping until they have run down two streets and ducked into a little cafe. They try to act normal as they are shown to a table in the back garden, where they are sure the security guards won’t find them.

“They do shakshuka!”

“Vi,” Caitlyn sighs, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry,” She gulps. “Are you hurt?”

All trace of amusement has disappeared from her voice to be replaced with genuine worry.

“I don’t know. My hip hurts.”

She rubs the skin over her trousers, wincing as she does so, and then she looks around the quaint garden.

“Can you check it?”

“Yeah.”

She pushes past the sudden dryness in her throat and stands, holding Caitlyn’s elbow as she rises and unzips her trousers. She pulls the waistband down to her hip, and Vi tries to ignore the strip of black underwear on show.

The bruise is ugly. Purples and blues fade to black, only to be outlined by a tinge of green skin. It looks sore, and the sight of it causes a strong feeling of guilt to wrap its fist around Vi’s neck.

Without thinking, her thumb traces over it, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain from Caitlyn.

“Sorry.” She withdraws her hand and stands upright. “It’s not… Great.”

“Ah,” she nods, pulling her trousers back up and plopping onto the bench. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I landed on my ass.”

She fidgets with her fingers.

“I’m really sorry, Caitlyn.”

Vi shuffles on the spot awkwardly as if waiting to be dismissed by her.

“It’s okay. It was actually quite fun.”

“What?”

Her brows arch in a mixture of confusion and surprise.

“It’s just a bruise. I had fun. I’ve never… Done anything like that.”

“Taken down a museum curtain?”

Caitlyn laughs, and the sound relaxes something inside of Vi, finally allowing her to sit back down opposite her.

“Just… Caused a raucous. Ran from security.” She shrugs, “I had fun. Thank you.”

“I don’t think you should be thanking me.”

“Stop worrying. How about you treat me to lunch, and I’ll get the next one?”

Vi lets go of a relieved breath she didn’t even know she was holding. Caitlyn still wants to hang out with her. They’re still friends.

“Okay. Yes.”

“Tell me about your sister’s mystery man.”

“His name is Ekko…”

She tells Caitlyn all about Ekko and Jinx. How he is a childhood friend, but she suspects that they are something more. However, despite her constant questioning, Jinx won’t tell her anything about them.

Caitlyn says that she will tell her when she is ready in that annoyingly wise priestly way that she gives advice, but Vi can’t help but drink it in, grateful for her emotional intelligence.

Speaking to her is always so refreshing, and there is nowhere else she would rather be than here, in this little cafe with Caitlyn, eating shakshuka in the early afternoon sun after being banned from a museum.

Chapter Text

“Caitlyn.”

“What?”

Caitlyn clicks the loudspeaker button on her phone and rests it on the cabinet near the door as she shrugs the white and green robes from her shoulders. Vi’s face fills the screen. Caitlyn glances at the picture again and smiles to herself.

“Let’s go out tonight. After the study club.”

“Must we?” She groans, but her heart secretly soars. The very thought of getting to go out with Vi again alights something deep inside of her.

“Yes. There’s a bar on the East side of town I’d like to take you to. You’d love it.”

“What’s it called?”

“You’re going to look it up.”

“Well, it has to have at least four point three stars on Google reviews.”

“Caitlyn. It sells good beer, and it’s a lesbian bar. What’s not to love?”

“Vi,” she picks up her phone and walks into the kitchen, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why? Are you not allowed?”

She drums her fingers along the counter and puts two pieces of bread in her toaster.

“I guess I am. But it doesn’t feel right.”

A low whistling sound filters through the speaker.

“Didn’t pin you as a homophobe, Caitlyn.”

“Vi. I didn’t mean it like that.”

She turns around and picks up the phone, as if Vi can see her.

“I know. I’m kidding.”

“It’s just… A priest in a lesbian bar…”

“I think it will be fun, but we don’t have to. I’d like you to come, though.”

“Ugh,” she groans, dramatically throwing her head back to look at the ceiling, “Fine. I will.”

“Yes!” Vi cheers. “Wear something nice for me. We can get the bus together from yours.”

“I’m not wearing something nice to the study club. You can come over after and I’ll get ready then.”

“Even better.” There’s a slight groaning sound and then a rustle of sheets. “Right. I need to get up. I’ll see you later.”

“You’re not up yet?” She glances at the time to see that it’s already 10 am. She has already finished her morning mass service and plans to go for a run before beginning her community outreach.

“My first client is at eleven. I’ve got time. Hey - why don’t you come by the gym if you’re not too busy today?”

“I’m awfully busy, thanks.”

“I can show you some stretches, at least.”

And the thought of Vi stretching Caitlyn is awfully tempting, but it is thoughts like these that she needs to practise wrangling under control. She cannot be with Vi in a lesbian bar if she is thinking about her in such lewd ways.

“Maybe one day, but I am actually busy today. I’ll see you later, Violet.”

“Ugh. I tried. Bye.”

–

The day drags on far too slowly, and Vi can only think about Caitlyn. Throughout each client, each workout, one woman is on her mind. She thinks about what she’s going to wear, what Caitlyn will wear, whether she will wear that cursed collar.

She has been doing an awful lot of research lately. Her search history is worrying, really, but she has found out that priests do not have to wear their clerical collar when they are not working, but it is generally advised. She had worn it last time they had gone out, to The Last Drop, but something about tonight feels different. Something in Vi’s chest buzzes in anticipation.

Vi decides on her beige trousers and a well-fitting, dark green T-shirt that manages to show the waistband of her boxers if she stretches enough. She folds the sleeves up to show off the muscles she had spent nearly two hours working on earlier, and then she smoothes some gel through her hair to give it extra volume.

She stacks rings onto her fingers, all are silver, some are etched with intricate patterns. She lifts her hand up and narrows her eyes, noting the way they draw attention to the graceful lines of her hands. She hopes Caitlyn will appreciate the slight elegance of them, accentuated by her jewellery.

With a few sprays of perfume, she pulls the front door of the apartment open.

“You going on a date after your little club?”

Mylo walks out of the kitchen with a giant tub of yoghurt in his hand.

“No.”

“That’s your date shirt. And those trousers you spent too much money on and are all cagey about wearing.”

“Pfft. This old thing?” She pulls her shirt away from her skin. “I’m just seeing a friend.”

“She hot?”

“Maybe. It’s none of your business.”

She studies her reflection in the mirror and flicks her hair back.

“Everything is my business.”

“Get a job, Mylo,” she grunts, attempting to be as nonchalant as possible, before stepping outside and clambering down the stairs.

The bus to Caitlyn’s house is quiet, which gives her worries time to simmer in her stomach. Part of her feels like she should not have pushed Caitlyn to come tonight, but there is something she desperately needs to know. Is the woman a lesbian?

She’s had her suspicions. Something about her just screams sapphic, but she is also a priest. And priests cannot be homosexuals.

She needs to know if she actually has a chance with Caitlyn. Sometimes, she looks at Vi like she hung the moon. Caitlyn is impossible not to adore. Is it possible to hang out with somebody like her without falling in love? She tries not to dwell on this; she already knows the answer, but doesn’t want to entertain the chance that she might already be in love with the priest.

Because that would be crazy.

Right?

—

They spend the better half of the study club drinking in Caitlyn’s lounge and listening to music.

Geppetto is having a marvelous time, leaping from woman to woman to lavish in their attention. When Caitlyn gets tired of petting her, she jumps to Vi, and when Vi stops running her fingers over her black fur, she bats at her hand with displeasure.

Two drinks in, they get up to dismiss the children and exchange pleasantries with the parents before returning to the comfort of the sofa.

“Right. I better get ready.”

“You’re not going out like that?” Vi smirks, gesturing to her usual priestly clothes.

Caitlyn flashes her a sarcastic smile and playfully pulls a strand of her hair as she passes her to head upstairs.

Her heart is racing. Something about the way Vi looks tonight is enchanting, and she is doing a terrible job of controlling her wild thoughts.

She tells herself that it’s her hormones. It’s a natural reaction to ovulation.

And to Vi’s shirt, which had sent Caitlyn spiralling into near dizziness when she had reached up to the top of the fridge, giving her a brilliant display of the very bottom of her back tattoo and the waistband of her boxers.

She had to stop herself from audibly moaning at the sight.

While she is not usually a person who wears makeup, she applies a light layer of concealer and some winged eyeliner.

She flicks through her wardrobe three times before pulling out some clothes that are not her work clothes and holding them up to the light. Her wardrobe is made up of dark shades: greys, black and browns. She does not own anything bright or fitting for a night out in a lesbian bar.

Instead, she decides on a short-sleeved, black button-up and a long, dark skirt adorned with delicate little flowers. She keeps her crucifix necklace on but lays the clerical collar to rest in her bedside drawer.

While not really knowing how the things work, she takes a curling iron to her hair and hopes for the best, casting little ringlets into the ends of her hair until she decides that it looks good. She slots some dark blue and gold earrings into her earlobes and swipes her hair back with her hand before spritzing some floral perfume onto her pulse points.

The bag she picks out lies untouched in the back of her wardrobe. It’s an over-the-shoulder, black leather bag with white stitching over it. It is a very old gift from her mother that she has hardly used due to the fear of ruining it.

She had wanted the stupidly expensive bag for months. She had begged and pleaded for it, and her mother had always said no, until she found it neatly wrapped beside her bed on her birthday.

With a sad smile, she pulls the strap over her shoulder and smoothes her hand over the leather.

Finally, she applies a tinted lip gloss, one which Mel had bought her for Christmas. The woman has impeccable taste - it gives her lips a natural shine without feeling too sticky.

She looks at herself in the full-length mirror, biting her lip with nerves. Admittedly, she looks good. But it feels like too much.

Her hand hovers over the doorknob.

She takes a deep breath and heads downstairs.

Anxiety swims in her stomach as she holds the bannister. She is not sure what she is so nervous about, but it is making her feel nauseous.

Vi’s eyes say it all.

She stands, as one would for royalty, and her mouth falls open to speak, but no words form.

All of her worries fade away.

“Woah,” she sighs, clearly breathless.

Vi always looks so sure of herself, so unfazed and charming, that it is hard to imagine her rendered so speechless under her gaze, and yet here she stands, in the middle of Caitlyn’s living room, looking at her the way the sun looks at the moon.

“You-”

Her smile is mesmerising.

Caitlyn can’t help but mirror it.

“You look beautiful.”

Vi steps forward until she is within arms reach.

“Thanks. This skirt is so old. And I don’t own anything that isn’t black.”

“I like it.”

Her fingers brush over the material, an absentminded action, but Caitlyn’s abdomen burns at the featherlight touch. The room begins to feel strangely hot.

“Do you want to go now?”

Caitlyn’s eyes drop to her lips and her breathing quickens at an alarming rate.

“Mhm,” she nods, snapping herself out of her thoughts.

“My lady.”

Vi extends her arm for Caitlyn to take, and if she brushes a hand over her dreamy bicep as she accepts it, it is a complete accident.

—

They sit beside each other on the bus, legs flush together. Caitlyn’s eyes stay fixed on the window, watching the houses blur together as they are driven through the town centre. Vi tries not to stare at her, but it is impossible. She has only ever seen her in work clothes; seeing her natural state feels like a blessing from God.

She looks effortlessly stunning.

Vi is doomed.

Vi pulls out her phone and a pair of wired earphones, then plugs them in. She offers one of the headphones to Caitlyn, who accepts it and slots it into her ear.

A song begins to play, and they both smile at each other before Vi fixes her eyes to the front and Caitlyn goes back to looking out of the window. Her knee taps against the floor with the gentle rhythm of the song.

I see the signs of a lifetime - you ‘till I die.

The bus is warm and sticky, even shrouded by dusk, but the open window provides a welcome breeze that rustles through Vi’s hair and awakens their perfumes.

And I’m swiftly out, Irish goodbye.

The scents seem to mingle until Vi can pick out heavenly, floral notes and something deeper, something so wonderfully Caitlyn that she longs to drink in, to consume like a woman starved.

What if it’s not meant for me - love.

Vi looks down at her hand, which is so close to Caitlyn’s. It rests on her knee, mirroring the exact way Caitlyn is sitting, knees just slightly parted. She looks up again, and takes a quick yet hidden breath. She slides her hand to the side so that her little finger touches Caitlyn’s.

The air to her lungs cuts off.

Caitlyn’s skin is soft and warm against her. She makes no effort to move her hand, even when two of Vi’s fingers overlap with Caitlyn’s.

Her heart thumps in her chest, and she listens intently, hoping for instruction from the clear rhythm. Warm embers there spark until they have grown into a full-blown wildfire.

She wants to flip her palm and interlace their fingers, but she can’t quite work up the courage. Instead, she lets herself bask in their infinitesimal touch, trying to push past the frantic nerves buzzing around in her stomach.

They do not risk a single glance at each other until they exit the bus.

They walk in silence for around ten minutes until they reach a nondescript building with an orange, white and purple flag hanging beside the dingy door. Vi glances at a nervous Caitlyn. She nods.

Side by side, they step into the building.

Vi greets the bartender, a woman called Gert, with whom she has formed a friendship over the years, and she measures out two glasses of cheap wine for them. Caitlyn grips the glass and takes a gulp, and Vi chuckles at her vice-like grip on the stem.

She follows her eye line, to where an older couple of butch lesbians spin each other on the dancefloor. Vi smiles at the sight of them, at the palpable joy and love they share with one another.

Caitlyn’s whole body is tense. She can see it in the stiffness of her jaw, her frozen hands that stay fixed by her side.

“Do you want to sit down?”

“Yeah.”

They find a table in the corner of the bar and perch on the high seats. Caitlyn keeps scanning the room, eyes sweeping over the small crowds who idly chatter amongst themselves.

“You need to chill, cupcake.”

She nods gingerly, still playing with the glass.

“You’re so tense. You’re not going to contract a disease just by being here.”

Caitlyn glares at her.

“I don’t think I should be here.”

“Caitlyn. What are you scared of?”

What are you running from?

“What if someone I know sees me?”

“It’s just us here, okay?” She reaches across the table for her hand. “Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Okay,” she sighs, lips curling into disgust as she finishes her wine.

“Dance with me.”

“Vi.”

Vi stands up and drains her glass before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The stuff is putrid, but it does its job. There is warmth in her bones, and the faint glow of false confidence begins to show its skin.

“Cait. We’ll leave room for Jesus.”

“I can’t.”

“Sure you can.”

“No. I mean, I can’t dance. I’ve never done it.”

“Then copy me.”

She extends her hand.

“Do you trust me?”

Caitlyn studies her textured skin, her large fingers, the faint callouses.

With a shaky breath, she slides her hand into Vi’s palm, and their eyes join together like two pieces of a jigsaw.

“Yes.”

Chapter Text

She is a fish out of water.

Vi’s body moves effortlessly to the music, eyes fixed on a very embarrassed Caitlyn, who just keeps her feet fixed on the ground and awkwardly sways her shoulders.

Caitlyn, it’s your mother.

Her mind is hazy. Her eyes drag over the ground, and then to Vi.

The music is loud, and she feels too hot, like she needs to climb out of her own skin.

She leans forward and touches Vi’s wrist, a simple gesture which Vi immediately understands. Anyone else would require Caitlyn to verbalise the thought, but Vi just gets it.

Her legs carry her back to the bar, where she can finally breathe again. She sits on the stool, eyes finding Vi, always Vi, who is still in the centre of the dance floor.

Through the mass of bodies on the dance floor, blue eyes meet grey, and Vi rolls her neck as her body moves. She flexes her jaw, and Caitlyn feels the movement in her abdomen, settling somewhere between her legs.

She pulls her eyes away and orders another glass of wine.

When she looks back over to her, she is still dancing, but she is not looking at Caitlyn.

She takes the opportunity to openly ogle at her. Her body moves like water, with such grace. She looks beautiful. The soft club lights cast a pink glow over her, both softening and accentuating her harsh features.

“Handsome, isn’t she?”

The bartender from earlier, Gert, is a young, muscular woman with piercings and vibrant eyeshadow. She picks up a glass and polishes it with a cloth.

Caitlyn tries to smile, though it doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

“She won’t have anyone, though. There would be a queue of women out of this door if she was willing to give someone a chance. Her heart is locked away.”

She shuffles uncomfortably in the small bar stool, looking back to Vi.

She watches as a woman, slightly older than Vi, greets her with a firm hold on her tattooed bicep. She is attractive, with short, red hair and fair skin. Her low-cut top traces the outline of her body, a perfect hourglass shape. The outfit does not leave much to imagination, but Caitlyn tries to leave the judging to the Man Above.

An uncomfortable bout of jealousy begins to uncurl in her stomach, and she cannot do anything to suppress it.

She should not be jealous. Vi is not hers. She can do what she wants.

But it all feels so wrong.

Vi looks at Caitlyn, a smirk playing at her lips. The other woman’s gaze follows and her eyes meet Caitlyn’s. She flushes and looks away, busying herself with the stem of her wine glass. She takes a hefty gulp, and when she looks back, she is delighted to see the absence of the red haired woman.

She orders two shots of something strong, she isn’t entirely sure what, and finishes her wine before cutting through the dance floor to where Vi is.

Their fingers brush together as she accepts the shot, eyes unmoving as she tosses her head back to slide the gross liquid down her throat.

–

The music thrums through the dancefloor, its quick beat vibrating the floor as neon lights flicker over the small crowd. Women, all different but united under one facet of the same community dance and laugh together, letting their shared joy flow free.

In the midst of it all, Caitlyn lets herself be spinned under Vi’s hand, her quiet laughter reaching the ears of Vi, who chuckles as she nearly tumbles over. Vi watches her blue hair transform to vibrant shades of pink and gold as the strobe lights bounce around the room. Her eyes are brimming with longing, but Caitlyn does not let herself run away from it. Instead, she basks in it, like the quiet sunlight streaming through the church’s windows on a winter morning.

Caitlyn lets go of her worries when she realises that nobody is watching her. There isn’t one person in the bar who is thinking about how terrible Caitlyn Kiramman looks on a dancefloor. So, she closes her eyes and listens to the music, allowing her body to sway and jump to the lively beat.

They bounce and turn in sync, always returning back to each other. Caitlyn lifts her hands into the air and Vi watches, as if her swaying arms are something excellent. She rocks her hips dramatically and rolls her wrists, giggles bubbling to the surface. Vi mirrors the movement as she grins widely, squeezing her eyes shut with joy.

Her skirt gracefully soars around her and something unspoken between them commands their bodies to narrowly pass each other, bright eyes fixed together.

Vi spins on the spot and almost falls into one of the couples dancing beside them before Caitlyn grabs her hand and pulls her closer, sliding her hands up her shoulders and moving in perfect rhythm.

Vi’s gaze drops to her lips, she is sure of it, and she recognises the familiar flutters in her stomach. Heat rises to her cheeks, and she thinks about pulling away, but then Vi spins her in her arms. She unravels and her back is pressed flush to Vi’s front, hands still joined. Her lips part, and she meets Vi’s gaze.

Her mouth opens, probably to make a crude joke about leaving room for Jesus, but Caitlyn beats her to it and presses further into her so that her ass grinds into her front. Vi takes a sharp intake of breath, looking as if she is about to whine when Caitlyn steps away to dance as if nothing happened.

She shouldn’t be doing this. It is not right.

But it feels so damn good.

And she feels completely free, weightless. She is air. Infinite.

The bemused look on Vi’s face is completely worth it.

She laughs, again lifting her hands in the air. Vi swallows. She moves to the beat of the song and sensually sways. A glance over her shoulder reveals that Vi is watching exactly where she wants her. She runs her hands through the hair, and then turns on her heel.

She dances back towards Vi.

“You okay?”

She puts her hands on her shoulders, feeling the hardness of muscle there.

“You’ve got moves, cupcake.”

“Thanks.”

“What happened to not being able to dance?”

“I’m full of surprises.”

“No shit.”

Vi chuckles and strong arms wrap around her waist as the song fades into a slow, dreamy tempo. Caitlyn looks at the couples around them, who are holding each other close and swaying as the music lulls them.

She steps closer and feels one of Vi’s hands snaking up her back, her touch lingering in a way that makes her breath hitch. She tucks her head into her neck, closing her eyes and holding onto the back of her neck. Vi hums into her space, cheek resting on the side of her head. They fit together so perfectly - it makes her chest ache.

She lets her eyes slip shut, not wanting to think about the complexities working between them. She doesn’t want to think about anything other than Vi’s warm arms around her.

She’d like to live in this moment, ideally.

She moves her head so that she is looking into Vi’s eyes, losing herself. Her lips look so soft, so kissable.

Her lids slide half-shut and her body commands her to lean in, to meet Vi in the middle.

I’m sorry Cait. She’s gone.

You better beg the Lord for forgiveness, Caitlyn.

May God who has begun the good work in you bring it to fulfillment.

She steps back, movement sudden enough to shock Vi, and she looks into her eyes. There is so much love there, and Caitlyn is terrified. She feels it inside of herself, and it cannot be good. None of this is good.

Quickly, she beelines towards the side door of the bar, keeping her eyes fixed on the ground. She cannot stomach looking back and seeing the hurt in those grey eyes she has come to love.

She throws her whole body weight into the door, and the night air is immediately upon her, washing over her skin in an useless attempt at calming her down.

Her back meets the wall and she heaves for breath.

“Cait.”

The door swings open and Vi’s steps assault the walkway.

“What’s going on?”

Before she can stop it, tears begin streaming down her face and she is gulping air. Vi steps towards her and throws her arms around her, pulling her in so that her cries are muffled by her shoulder. Caitlyn melts into her touch, desperate to catch her breath and stop these childish sobs.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

A few minutes later, she is nothing more than a sniffling mess.

“What happened?”

Vi cradles her face, wiping her tears with her thumbs.

“It… It was too much. I can’t be around those people.”

She drops her hands as if scorned.

And Caitlyn thinks - yes. That’s more like it. Caitlyn is nothing more than the dirt under her shoe. She doesn’t deserve to be held with such tenderness.

“Caitlyn.”

Her face is pale. She looks betrayed.

“I am those people.”

Her next words are so hushed Vi can’t hear them. Caitlyn’s hand comes up to her eyes, blocking her mouth.

“So am I.”

“What?”

“So am I, Vi.”

She can hardly look at her. She feels broken. A shell of a woman.

“I’m a lesbian. Never in my life have I been interested in men. And I hate it. It corrupts me. I shouldn’t be this way. Homosexuality is condemned. People tell themselves it’s not, but it is. It’s right there. It’s a sin.”

Vi shakes her head.

“I’m going to hell.”

Her lower lip wobbles.

“No.”

“It’s written in scripture.”

“I don’t care what that damned scripture says. Lesbianism is beautiful, Caitlyn. It’s what makes our hearts beat. It’s tender and soft and no one else in the world understands it except us. No one can ever understand it. It’s a blessing.”

Caitlyn closes her eyes and sobs. Vi picks up her hand as if it’s something fragile.

“And I’m glad that you’re this way. It makes you who you are.”

She looks up at her through sodden eyelashes. Her eyes are red rimmed from crying.

“I don’t even know who that is, anymore. Who the fuck am I?”

“You’re Caitlyn Kiramman. You’re beautiful, kind, clever, funny without meaning to be. You’re amazing. And this,” she gestures towards the door before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Makes you even more beautiful.”

Caitlyn’s hand finds its way into the back of Vi’s hair, and Vi’s hand holds her face carefully. Her gaze drops to her parted lips.

Fuck it.

She cannot do this any more. There is a dam somewhere inside of her that is waiting to burst.

She doesn’t know who closes the gap between them but Caitlyn’s lips are suddenly on Vi’s. She holds her there for a second, as if trying to freeze time.

And their eyes open for the briefest second as they stop for breath, speaking without the need for words.

Then comes the crash.

The collapse of Babylon.

They rush in, weeks of pent up emotion and lingering touches spilling into each other’s mouths.

Her lips are soft like flower petals, and then their bodies and mouths are moving in one synchronized dance that only they know the rhythm to. The warmth flows down Caitlyn’s throat and through her blood. She feels a hand between her hip and her lowest rip, and her body burns pleasantly at the touch. A soft sigh of relief is swallowed up by Vi. Her lips are hungry, chasing her touch.

Her knuckles graze bricks when Vi’s back hits the wall but she ignores the sting, instead chasing Vi’s mouth as if willing to let herself be consumed entirely by her. Her hand smooths over her collar and tangles into pink hair. She lets her fingers brush over the shaved side of Vi’s head, earning a soft sigh from her.

Hips clash together and Caitlyn pulls Vi impossibly closer, using her pelvis to pin her to the wall as if searching for some sort of friction. Vi’s fingertips slip under her shirt, resting on the soft skin of her waist and not daring to venture any higher.

And Caitlyn feels it. That pulse of electricity that runs through her blood and controls the pace of her beating heart. She listens to it now, and feels the way Vi plays at the strings there with reverent fingertips that skim over her hips.

It is quickly replaced by dread. Dark and looming. Her hands feel cold, like her blood circulation has been cut off. It spreads all over her body like a disease.

Sinner.

You’re a sinner. Repent. For your own sake.

She gasps and steps back. Vi looks confused.

Quick breaths draw in and out of her mouth, and her lips are slightly swollen from where Caitlyn had kissed her. There is pain behind her eyes that she has caused. The sting of rejection. The unspoken plea for her to stay.

She hates herself for this.

She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. She does not have the strength for it.

Instead, she delicately presses two fingers to her lips, where Vi had just kissed her, and begins to run away.

She runs until her lungs scream at her to stop, until she nearly knocks a man over. He yells at her, and all she can think about is how Vi would have punched him for that as she keeps running. Her hair trails behind her, carried by the wind, and she cannot stop crying. Her face shines in the moonlight with the trace of tears and she feels the phone in her pocket ringing.

Her aching feet slow down as she pulls the phone out of her pocket. It’s Vi. Her beautiful, precious Vi.

The sobs encompass her entire body, dampening the bright screen of her phone.

She presses the red button.

Chapter Text

She practically falls through her front door when she gets home, still a shaking mess. She silences her phone, ignoring the texts and missed calls from Vi, and throws it into the bowl where her keys sit before racing up the stairs.

Frantically, she grabs the clerical collar from her bedside dresser and pulls it too tight around her neck, causing angry little red lines to form on her skin. Her knees harshly hit the wooden floor and she wraps her rosary beads around her fingers as if trying to fix them together.

A quiet, strangled noise leaps from her throat. Part sob, part scream.

Geppetto’s little head perks up from the bed, and she lets out a worried mewl. Caitlyn grits her teeth together and ignores it.

Guilt spreads across her body, smouldering her lungs like thick smoke.

The cat stops in front of her, dipping her head to look at Caitlyn’s distraught face.

“Not now, sweet girl,” She cries, shaking her head. She seems to understand. With another saddened meow, she turns towards the door and slips through the slither of it she has left open.

The taste of Vi’s lips. Hands holding her waist.

She squeezes her eyes shut hard enough to see white splotches behind her lids and prays. She begs for forgiveness.

Repent. Repent.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”

She does not deserve anything good. She does not get to have that.

“I don’t deserve your mercy, but I beg for it anyway.”

Her knees begin to ache and redden under her weight, but she just presses into the ground harder, using the pain as punishment.

She cannot go to work tomorrow. She can’t face the church, or the parishioners that she has failed so terribly.

She’s a disgusting sinner. Far from righteous.

She pushes herself up and jogs downstairs to retrieve her phone.

Vi: Caitlyn, I’m sorry

Can we talk about this? I don’t want to lose you

Please be okay

She swipes the notifications away and clicks on her chat with Marcus, before sending him a text saying that she is feeling under the weather so she will not be able to host mass in the morning. If he asks for more details, she’ll blame it on her period. Men always get weird discussing that subject.

Her phone buzzes in her hand. Vi’s contact fills her screen. Her beautiful face.

The picture she has set as her contact photo is from museumgate, as they have named it. Vi is smiling, hair slightly ruffled as she looks into the camera with an iced coffee in her hand.

She looks so happy. So caught up in the bright hopes of the day.

Vi, who she can never see again.

Her best friend.

Her thumb hovers over the button to accept the call. She wants to hear her, to be soothed by her soft laughter and heavenly voice.

She declines it and slams her phone back down onto the varnished surface.

The hard floor welcomes her as she returns to prayer.

—

Her face feels swollen when she wakes, skin under her eyes visibly puffy from crying all night. She has barely slept, constantly waking up in fits of tears with a burning need to repent.

Her hair is a tangled mess, sticking to her damp face. She does not get out of bed until she has cried another river of tears and Geppetto’s little paws are standing on her chest, practically screaming in her face for the woman to feed her.

She walks downstairs to prepare her food and just as she reaches down to scratch her back, there is a knock at her door. She checks her appearance in the mirror and notices the deep bags under her eyes paired with her greasy skin. She looks haggard.

She thinks about ignoring it, but then comes a more insistent knock.

Through the peephole, she sees Marcus in a purple cassock.

Her eyes widen, and she uses her fingertips to flatten her hair as much as she can. She looks far too casual to be seen by her boss, in just a black hoodie and jogging bottoms, but she opens the door anyway.

“Father Kiramman. You-”

“Your Excellency,” she says, voice raspy.

“Are you… Alright?”

“Could be better. How was the service?”

“It was fine. I came to check in. And present you with an opportunity.”

She raises her eyebrows in curiosity and folds her arms across her chest.

“My daughter is unwell, and as you know, I am due to fly to Rome next week. I would like you to go in my place. I believe that you could benefit greatly from this trip.”

“Oh. I-”

Caitlyn has been to Rome multiple times for her job, and it could be nice. It is lovely this time of year.

And it will put more distance between her and Vi. This is what she needs. To help herself heal from this sin. It is the perfect place to strengthen her faith.

“Only if you are well enough, of course. But I do need a decision now.”

“Now? Oh.” She shuffles on her feet, thinking it over for a few seconds. There is nothing stopping her. “I’d be honoured, Your Excellency.”

She tries her best to fake a smile, but it comes across as entirely disingenuous.

“Good. You will be visiting the Vatican for their next meeting. It’s an excellent opportunity. You will have time to visit other religious sites when you are there.”

“Thank you,” she nods.

“I’ll forward you the details. Get well soon, Father. You look as though you need to rest.”

Caitlyn closes the door behind him and takes a huge breath of air.

Immediately, she climbs back into bed.

–

Vi has never been so worried. Her thoughts spiral to the point where she feels about ready to throw up her emotions, and she nearly drops a barbell on her foot due to her lack of concentration.

She knows Caitlyn. She knows the guilt of that night will be eating her alive.

She takes as much stress as she can out on the punching bag, throwing punches and kicks at it until she can’t feel her arms.

It has been two days since she had kissed Caitlyn. Since Caitlyn had kissed her back, and she has not heard a word from her.

She has messaged and called, all to no avail. She even considered dropping by her house, but it felt like too much, so she is faced with no choice but to let her push her away.

She just does not expect to miss her this much. Even as a friend. She would give anything to have her back in her life.

She needs to know she is okay. That she is eating. That she is safe.

So, when she finishes work, she showers and drives straight to the church.

She opens the doors with no sense of tranquility, feet carrying her straight to the little office she has come to know so well.

She needs to see her. She needs to.

She pushes open the door without knocking.

She stumbles.

Not Caitlyn.

Marcus.

An involuntary sneer spreads across her face at the sight of him filling out paperwork, sitting far too comfortably in Caitlyn’s chair.

Her heart thumps in her chest, racing wildly with a thousand terrible possibilities.

“Ah - Vi, isn’t it?”

She wastes no time.

“Where’s Caitlyn?”

He quirks an ugly brow at her.

“I think you mean Father Kiramman.”

“Yes. Father Kiramman. Where is she?”

“I cannot discuss private matters with you. If she hasn’t told you, I take it that the two of you are no longer so… friendly with each other. Take it as a sign from the powers at be.”

“Oh please,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, “You don’t have to keep up the morally righteous act with me. Just tell me what’s wrong with her.”

“She’s sick,” he spits, “No doubt from mingling with the likes of you.”

“The likes of me?”

She laughs, but the sound is entirely devoid of humour.

“Lesbians, you mean?”

His face darkens.

“God does not favour you. You’re choosing to live a life of sin.”

“God can go fuck himself.”

“How dare you?” In a state of fury, he rises to his feet. “You are no longer welcome in this church. Get out.”

“Fine!”

She clenches her fists by her side and briefly thinks about spitting on him, but she’s done enough. She turns around and slams the door so hard she thinks the small strip of glass at the top might shatter with the impact.

She marches over to her bike and climbs into the seat. Through the reflection of the visor, she sees her own face, stained by anger and looking up at her disapprovingly. Quickly, she flicks the visor up so that she disappears.

A light flicks off from inside of Caitlyn’s house.

Vi’s eyes go wide, immediately locking onto the lounge.

Her lips part. She needs to see her.

She has crossed the road before she has time to overthink it, ignoring the drops of rain that have begun to fall from the sky, and then she is standing in the warmth of Caitlyn’s doorway. She knocks on the door, and hears no movement. She tries again.

“Caitlyn. Please open the door.”

Another knock.

“I’m sorry about… What happened.”

She rests her head against the fogged glass and lowers her voice.

“I miss you.”

Footsteps.

Quickly, she runs a hand through her hair and straightens her jacket.

Caitlyn’s lips part at the sight of Vi - she looks breathless. She wears casual clothes, and there are bags under her eyes, but she is still the prettiest person Vi has ever seen.

Her heart flips in her chest, racing at the sight in front of her. It screams at her to say so many things. To tell her that she’s missed her awfully, that she longs to see her again, that she cannot stand to be without her.

Instead, all that she can bring herself to say is:

“Hi.”

“Vi.” Caitlyn’s sad eyes fall to their feet.

An uncomfortable silence settles between them.

“You haven’t been in the church.”

She shakes her head sadly.

The sun begins to set, casting a hue of orange over her face. It allows Vi to see the puffiness of her face and the heartbreaking lack of light in her eyes.

She longs to hold her.

“I… I can’t do this,” She starts.

Vi feels the ground shift beneath her.

“This thing between us. I can’t. I can’t have these kinds of relations. The church forbids it.”

Her heart breaks. She feels it crack in her chest, right down the middle. She wants to throw it up and shove it into Caitlyn’s palms.

“Caitlyn. Why won’t you let yourself be happy?”

Her lips are downcast, eyes pleading.

“I’m not… I’m not allowed this.”

She finally meets her eyes, and Vi sees tears threatening to push through. She looks confused, so torn between the two lives that have been thrust in front of her.

“Yes you are,” she tries, voice desperate and strained. “You are.”

She steps forward and takes Caitlyn’s hand into her own, only for it to be promptly dropped.

“I’m sorry. I can’t see you anymore.”

“Cait.”

“Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

Vi thinks she sees a tear fall down her face as the door shuts in her face, shrouding her delicate features in shadows before she is out of sight completely.

Her forehead falls forward against it with a thunk. She thinks she can faintly see the outline of Caitlyn, pressed up against the other side. Her hand rests on the wood as she begins to cry.

“Caitlyn.” Her voice is a soft prayer.

Her fingers clench into a fist and slide down the door frame.

The rain picks up behind her, along with the roaring ache in her heart. She wants to try this all again, to beg for Caitlyn’s friendship. But she knows that the decision has been made.

She’s never going to see again. This woman who changed her life will be but a ghost in her memories.

With a final nod of acceptance, she turns around and steps out into the pouring rain. Her hair flattens against her skull as water drips down her face, mingling with the salt tears.

Her fists clench by her sides, face scrunched up with an amalgamation of sadness and anger. Anger at this belief to which Caitlyn has subscribed which is demanding from her all the good in the world. She wants to break her free from the shackles of it all.

And sadness because she has lost one of the most important people in her life. Through the brief time that they have known each other, Caitlyn quickly became her best friend. Not to mention the whirlwind of emotions the priest brings out of her. Ultimately, she makes her a better person.

Now she is gone. And Vi is worse off for it.

With one final glance at the house, she pulls her helmet over her head and kicks her bike into gear before speeding off, tyres screeching against the wet tarmac.

Chapter Text

She runs.

She runs until she can feel a satisfying burn in her lungs.

She runs because she doesn’t know what else to do.

Caitlyn’s feet assault the pavement of the small park. She loops around it again, but this time she exits through the second gate.

She keeps running. She passes cars and houses and tall trees. She runs up a dirt track that makes her thighs ache from the incline, yet her legs keep carrying her forward. She has run this route countless times; it always leads her to the same place.

The bench comes into view not ten minutes later - it’s varnished oak, with a small plaque in the middle.

CASSANDRA KIRAMMAN

Her strength inspired. Her wisdom guided. Her love endures in our hearts forever.

As always, she sits on the right side, draping her arm over the back, just above the plaque.

“Hi mum,” she sighs, trying to catch her breath.

The view of the city in front of her is lovely. It was one of her mother’s favourite spots.

Cassandra used to take Caitlyn here when she was younger. She had an office in the area which she occasionally had to go to, and when she did, she would make sure to ask her daughter if she wanted to accompany her on the trip.

She secretly adored being doted upon by her mother’s coworkers.

Not to mention how cool she found it to be able to see the positive impact her mother was making through her political career.

It’s ironic that Caitlyn would eventually end up moving there, not far from where Cassandra’s bench is. Perhaps she spent her whole life trying to fill the hole she left after the accident.

In a way, she’s been chasing after her since.

A dog and a bone.

“I need your help. I met someone.”

She closes her eyes and smoothes her thumb over the polished wood.

“But I can’t have her. And I hurt her, mum.”

Something inside of her tells her to lie down, so that is what she does. Perhaps it is the fatigue or the minor sunstroke from running without water.

She curls in on herself, clutching at the bench like her mother is really there.

They never hugged much when she was alive, but how Caitlyn yearns to be held by her now.

“I don’t know what to do. I wish you were here.”

She was such a wise woman. If she was still alive, she knows that her guidance would be invaluable. But she only has herself now.

“I’m sorry.”

A gentle breeze blows a few strands of hair into her face, and she almost hears her mother’s laughter catch in the wind. She feels like a little girl again, scraping her knees and crying to her.

“I’ll kiss it better, darling. Look.”

She bends down to where Caitlyn sits on the floor. From her hair the leaves fall.

A kiss for each knee.

Caitlyn sniffles. Her eyes are big and blue, looking up at her hero, her mother.

“Thank you, mummy.”

“It’s all alright now, Caitlyn.”

Her little arms reach up, higher than God. Cassandra picks her up as if she weighs nothing and pushes the stray hairs away from her face.

“My precious girl. Aren’t you so very brave?”

“But I’m crying. I’m not brave.”

“Yes you are. The most important thing is that you got back up. You’re on your feet, aren’t you?”

Caitlyn nods.

“Do you want to go and play with the other children?”

“No. I’m sleepy.”

“Well then. We shall go home.”

“Mhm.” She leans her head into her shoulder. Safe. Her tears ease as she mumbles a quiet “take me home” into her olive skin.

A single tear drops onto the grass below her and she turns towards the back of the bench.

“I miss you.”

The most important thing is that you got back up.

Her eyes squeeze shut as she wills her soul to be sent back in time, to when things were much simpler.

Get up.

With a huff, she swings her feet off the bench and stands. She traces the letters of the bench with her fingertips before turning around and continuing on her run.

Instead of heading home, she jogs down the side of the canal, towards the gym.

Vi’s work.

She’s hardly even conscious of the fact that her body has taken her here, to where Vi is. She slows to a walk and looks through the large, glass windows.

When she sees her, she hiccups.

The light seems to surround her as though she is an angel.

She is explaining something to a client; a man, slightly shorter than her with brown hair. She looks beautiful.

Caitlyn’s tongue wets her lips.

She wants to go in. To apologise for hurting her. To have her best friend back.

But she can’t.

You’re a sinner.

There’s something unnamed pulling her towards Vi. Yelling at her to say something.

She turns and walks away.

—

Vi has always been a woman of habit.

When she was a young girl, she would suck her thumb and pick at her scabs. She moved on to picking at her nails; pulling back loose skin until it turned pink and bled. She did this especially when she was scared.

In her teenage years, she fought people. If anyone was to even look at her siblings funny, she would give them trouble. One day, Vander sat her down and gave her a firm talking to. Her outbursts lessened, and she learnt to control her anger.

Now, she has one particularly terrible habit.

She drinks away her sorrows.

If she is particularly upset about something, she will drink until she forgets it. Until she can feel something other than the paralysing sadness that holds her body in a vice-like grip. It never works.

She just ends up feeling worse, and having to rely on her family member’s to help her out of it. It’s nearly always Jinx.

So, as she slouches in the barstool of the same bar she and Caitlyn had gone to just five nights ago, she can feel the room violently spin around her.

“Another shot.”

“Vi.”

She looks up at Gert, who has her hands on her hips.

“You’ve had enough.”

“No. No, no, no,” she splutters, straightening herself up in an attempt to look sober, “Legally, you have to serve me a drink. Shot!”

“Oh we’re talking about legalities now? Legally, I can’t serve you anymore alcohol whilst you’re shit-faced.”

“I’m not shit-faced! I have a pretty face. Caitlyn thinks I have a pretty face... I think.”

Her words are slurred and awkward in her mouth. She nearly sends a glass flying off the bar with her hands, but Gert manages to grab it just in time and hide it away from her.

“Vi. Go home.”

“No. I’m not finished,” she whines, bottom lip sticking out in a ridiculous pout.

“You can barely talk! I’m calling Jinx.”

And, Jesus, Gert is great at the best of times, but it is a pain in Vi’s ass that she happens to be friends with her sister. Every wrong move is fed back to Jinx, curating an intense line of questioning that is hammered into Vi’s face each time she gets home from the only lesbian bar in the city.

With a dramatic sigh, she lowers her face onto the cold bar top.

“Call Caitlyn.”

“The priest?”

“Yes. No. Yes.”

She moves her face to the side so that her cheek is squished, smudging her mascara.

“I don’t know.”

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and slams it onto the surface.

“I’m going to sleep.”

“For fucks sake.”

The music hums in her ears until it all fades together, mixing like an abundance of watercolours on a canvas. The world turns black.

—

Hands on her shoulders.

Her voice.

Fucking hallucinations? Seriously?

Chatter. She doesn’t know what they’re saying.

A car door closes.

—

Caitlyn Kiramman is not a woman who sulks - this is what she tells herself.

Sitting in her lounge and pouting into a tub of ice cream in the comfiest clothes she can find is not sulking. It just looks a lot like it.

Her eyes stay fixed on the TV screen, though she has no idea what is actually happening in the trashy programme. Her mind is far too preoccupied.

The sound of her phone ringing causes her to jump in her seat, and the caller only heightens her nerves.

Vi. She shouldn’t answer.

But something is wrong. She doesn’t know how she knows, but she does. It’s an intrinsic feeling in the marrow of her bones. Her whole body screams at her to answer.

What she does not expect to hear is another woman’s voice. It’s familiar - she recognises her from somewhere, but she can’t quite place it.

As she processes what is being said to her, she feels her blood turn to ice.

She drops the metal spoon onto the floor, rushing through her lounge, only realising she is still holding the empty ice cream tub in her hand when she reaches her car. She tosses it into the footwell on the passenger's side and slams her foot on the accelerator.

—

“Vi?”

Her hand is warm over Vi’s. She feels the touch even through her state of vacillating consciousness.

“Cait?”

Grey eyes flutter open.

“Oh, Jesus.”

Caitlyn is driving. Vi is in the passenger seat.

She’s not really here.

“Are you- Oh my God.” She bolts upright, clutching at her stomach. “I’m gonna be-”

“Tub! There!” Caitlyn panics, pointing at her feet.

Vi leans down and picks it up just as a wave of vomit hurls out of her mouth and straight into the tub.

It smells of cookie dough.

“-This Ben and Jerries?”

Caitlyn nods, so clearly trying to keep her eyes fixed on the road ahead but dragging them to Vi.

“Eyes on the road,” she murmurs, eyes half-closed. “Hands on the wheel.”

“How much have you had to drink, Violet?”

“I may have had-”

Another wretch as the contents of her stomach empty into the alarmingly full container.

“A few glasses.”

“Fucking hell,” Caitlyn swears, and the words sound so foreign in her mouth.

It makes the nausea worse.

Is she angry?

Her eyes prick with tears.

“I’m sorry.”

“What? No. Don’t say that. You’re okay.”

Caitlyn touches her fingers to her forehead, leaning against the window.

“Caitlyn,” she cries, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I’ve been banned from your church.”

“I know.”

“I’ll never see you again.”

“You will, Vi.”

Caitlyn is getting upset.

Vi has caused it.

She wants to get out of the car. She wants to leave her alone, never to hurt her again.

“Can I get out?”

“Yeah. Just wait a second.”

She watches as Caitlyn pushes the indicator and manoeuvres the car to the side of the road. She turns off the engine and helps Vi out of the seat.

The night air is sickeningly warm.

She nearly falls over, but Caitlyn’s hands steady her and help her to a small hill at the roadside where she sits down.

Immediately, she opens her legs and throws up onto the grass between them.

Caitlyn’s hands.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” Caitlyn pleads, rubbing circles over her back.

“Okay.”

As she lies back and looks at the stars, she feels awful.

She has dragged Caitlyn out here to pick her up, and Caitlyn doesn’t even like her. She had made it clear that she didn’t want to see her again, and this is what she does.

She’s made such a mess of things.

“Thank you.” She moves to stand up, and Caitlyn is right by her side, practically holding her up. “I’m going to go home now.”

“Vi.”

“-S alright, Cait. It’s alright. I’ll… I’ll be alright. Thanks for the lift.”

“Violet, stop.”

Her hands frame her shoulders.

She’s crying.

Vi hates herself.

She turns around and steps towards the pathway alongside the road.

Caitlyn grabs her hand.

“I’m not going to let you walk home like this. Get in the car.”

Vi shakes her head.

“Vi. Please,” she sniffles, “I’ll text your sister. It’s going to be okay. Just… Just get in the car.”

“Will it make you happy?”

“So happy,” she shakes her head and closes her eyes to hide the pain behind them.

She would do anything to make her happy.

Very well, then.

Vi nods and Caitlyn helps her back into the passenger seat before removing her phone from her back pocket.

“What’s your password?”

“One. Two... three… four.”

Caitlyn punches in the numbers and Vi watches her, concerned.

The look on her face is heartbreaking.

“Never become a spy.”

Vi’s chuckle is watery. She can’t keep her head up.

She falls asleep instantly.

—

As Caitlyn gets into the car, she unlocks Vi’s phone to text her sister.

Her world falls apart.

Her home screen is a picture of the two of them in the museum toilets. Vi smirks at the camera in the mirror whilst Caitlyn fixes her ponytail, face scrunched up into a small smile.

She tries to hold back the sobs, but it is no use. She covers her mouth with her hand as she cries.

Vi is fast asleep next to her, completely oblivious.

The next punch in the ribs comes when she scrolls past her contact.

Caitlyn❤️

No one else has a heart beside their name.

The picture is Caitlyn on that damned motorbike.

She pushes through the tears, hardly able to read Jinx’s name through her waterlogged eyes.

Hi. It’s Caitlyn. Hope I’m not waking you. I have Vi here - she’s in a bit of a state. Can you send me your address? I’m in the area.

She wipes her eyes. Jinx’s reply comes instantly.

On my way to yours.

She flicks the ignition on and smoothes her hand through Vi’s hair.

“Oh, Vi,” she whispers, closing her eyes. “Why did you have to make me love you so much?”

—

The drive is silent save for Vi’s soft breathing.

She can’t stop glancing over at her. Watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the occasional flutter of eyelashes.

Caitlyn’s chest aches.

She did this to Vi. She’s nothing but bad news.

Perhaps Vi would be better off if she had never met Caitlyn.

When they pull up to the block of apartments, it doesn’t take Vi long to wake up.

“Cait?”

“I’m here.”

She looks away from the gentle glow of flats to where Vi is sitting.

“Let’s get you inside.”

She moves to take off her seatbelt. Vi’s fingers graze her hand.

“Did I do something wrong? Before this, I mean?”

She gestures to herself as if she is trash on the ground. As if she isn’t the most important person in the universe to Caitlyn.

“No.”

She shakes her head, feeling the threat of tears sting the back of her throat again.

“No. I’m sorry. I bet you wish you never met me.”

Vi sighs, mouth quirked as if to laugh at a joke.

“You have no idea how untrue that is.”

The tears reach Caitlyn’s lips and seep through, letting her taste the saltiness of them.

“I just… Want to know what I did.”

“You did nothing wrong,” Caitlyn shakes her head, “You could never, Violet. I’m sorry I couldn’t be who you wanted me to be.”

“This is all I want you to be.”

Vi leans forward, wiping the tears away from Caitlyn’s cheeks with her thumb. Caitlyn can’t help but lean into the touch.

“It’s not.” She unbuckles her belt and moves to step out of the car.

It’s not.

She tries to ignore the effect Vi’s touch on her shoulder has on her as she helps her out of the seat and to the front door of her apartment.

She tries to ignore the love pouring from Vi’s eyes as she hobbles up the stairs.

She wants to push it back in. She’s wasting it.

Jinx meets them on the stairs, wrapping Vi’s other arm around her shoulder.

She gives Caitlyn a knowing look, and then a nod.

“I’ve got it from here. Thank you, Father.”

Caitlyn doesn’t reply, she just gently takes Vi’s arm away from her and marches back towards the car, desperately trying to block the tears until she is back in her vehicle.

They come like a sudden tidal wave, and as she watches a light flicker in the top corner of the building, she prays to God that Vi will be okay.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn has not been this unhappy since that dreaded day.

It’s your mother.

Back then, she hadn’t stopped crying for three whole days. She didn’t attend school for two weeks, and when she had gone back, people were strangely nice to her. She hated it. She found herself missing the disgusting comments, the occasional ‘prank’ from the other girls, like when they had taken a pair of scissors and cut her hair in class. She still remembers the sound of it. The quiet gasps and giggles from behind her as she worriedly grabbed at the part they had cut in a jagged line.

She can barely find the energy to shower. She skips meals because she cannot bring herself to cook anything or make the dreaded journey to the shop. She forgets to do her laundry. She has nightmares.

The nightmares are terrible. She thought that she had passed the phase of seeing her mother’s lifeless eyes and harrowing screams in her sleep, but they’re even more prominent now. They all end with pits of fire and flashes of hatred.

Each night, she cries into Geppetto’s soft fur, wishing she was holding Vi, wishing it was Vi who holds her as she trembles in the dead of night.

She thinks about texting her. She wants to know she is okay after what happened.

Her heart aches, and she realises that she must be experiencing some sort of heartbreak amongst everything else. She didn’t know it could be so physical, her heart splintering into a million pieces. It’s the heaviness that shocks her. She can’t move because her heart is weighing her down like a huge, useless rock inside of her chest.

On Wednesday, she orders food from Jericho’s.

It tastes delicious, and it is absolutely dripping in grease and ounces of cheese that looks like it was made in a nuclear lab. She cannot help but cry when she tastes it. She was meant to visit Jericho's with Vi. She had wanted to take her.

So, she sits in her lounge with her cat, crying into a burger.

She has prayed excessively. Her evening prayers have turned into pleas for forgiveness. She may as well hammer the nails in herself, at this point.

As she sits in the church that evening, she finds herself asking for guidance from God.

She feels guilty about so many things, including the cruel way in which she abandoned Vi. She had kissed her, and then cast her away to never see her again. And she liked that kiss. She should not have liked it, but she did, and the stained, dirty part of her longs to do it again.

Vi has only been good to her. Amazing, in fact. Caitlyn remembers when she had lost Geppetto, and she thought the world was ending, only to open her door and see Vi carrying her home. She had wanted to kiss her so badly that day. She was had turned up like some butch knight in shining armour.

And Caitlyn had taken her love, screwed it up and thrown it back in her face.

She had been so upset. She had looked so broken, barely able to keep her eyes open when Caitlyn and Gurt had put her into the car. She had done that to her, poisoning every part of her body like a festerting disease.

Did I do something wrong?

Her heart aches.

She could never do anything wrong. Vi is perfect. Caitlyn is the one who is tainting her.

She flicks open the Bible in front of her to Proverbs, where it says, "Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to do it. Do not say to your neighbor, 'Go, and come again, tomorrow I will give it'—when you have it with you."

She feels as though she is stuck in a state of purgatory. She is chewing Vi up. She is hurting her terribly.

The least she deserves is closure, so that is what she will give her.

They cannot be friends, but she deserves an explanation as to why Caitlyn’s mind is so fractured. As to why she is being so cruel.

As to why they can never see each other again. Vi will understand. She’ll leave her alone. She’ll get over it, over her. She will find someone far better than Caitlyn, who won’t act as a liability in her life.

Caitlyn, on the other hand, will never forget her.

When she knows what she did, Vi will run. Caitlyn wants her to run.

–

On Thursday, Caitlyn paces up and down the front of the Church until she is dizzy.

Each time she glances at Jinx, she is staring right at her. There is a sense of worry, or pity, in her eyes. Caitlyn hates it.

Finally, she stops picking at her hands and crosses the room to where Jinx sits beside a young, brown haired girl.

“Father. Are you okay?”

“I’m… Where’s Vi?”

“At home.”

Duh. She’s banned from the church. Where else would she be?

“Oh. Yes. Of course.”

A look of understanding washes over Jinx’s face, and she looks at the little girl beside her with a sympathetic glance.

“Look, toots, she’s picking me up at eight. You can catch her then if you’re quick.”

“Okay. Eight. Yes.”

She shifts her weight onto her tiptoes and gives a curt nod to Jinx before letting herself have a mini melt down in her office.

The time passes by excruciatingly slowly.

As soon as the clock strikes eight, she beelines towards the church doors.

Just as she steps outside, Vi takes off her motorbike helmet and shakes her hair out.

Caitlyn’s throat dries up. She looks Godly. All of those nights spent praying have done nothing to absolve her attraction to the woman.

She looks up to where Caitlyn stands, in front of the Church, and her gaze softens immediately. Caitlyn finds herself melting within those eyes.

She juts her head towards the doors. Vi seems to get it. She lifts her leg over the bike and begins walking towards her. She turns before she is too close. She needs to maintain her concentration.

As she approaches the space of the office, listening to the clack of Vi’s boots behind her, anxiety smothers her body. She feels suffocated by it. Her palms are sweaty and her chest is tight.

When they are behind the closed door, she finally turns to face her. Caitlyn’s breath catches in her throat. She has missed her so much. She doesn’t look real.

Her hair falls perfectly. Her makeup is pristine, a stark contrast to the way she looked a couple of nights ago, passed out in the passenger seat of Caitlyn’s car.

“Violet,” she breathes, openly staring at the woman.

“Father Kiramman.”

The formal name carries no hint of the suggestion it used to. Now, it just stings.

“I owe you an explanation, I think.”

She does not meet her eyes. She runs a hand through her hair and inhales deeply, using the table to support her weight.

“Is this… Look. I’m sorry about the other night. We can just forget it happened.” Vi’s voice wobbles.

“Is that you want?”

The shake of her head is hardly perceptible.

“Caitlyn,” she shuts her eyes, “I want you back in my life.”

“You don’t… Know anything about me, Vi.”

“Then tell me.”

Her voice is imploring. Desperate.

“I want to know everything.”

This is what she was afraid of.

She’s been backed into a corner crafted by her own hand.

“Okay.”

She pushes herself up and nods, digging her nails into her palm in an attempt to calm her frantic nerves.

This is what she had intended to do in the first place, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that it is terrifying, and under the weight of Vi’s gaze, she feels like she might collapse.

She wants to know everything.

From the start, then.

“When I was sixteen I was sent to Catholic school after my family relocated.”

The beginning of the story already starts to coax uncomfortable memories of her past, which she has tried to bury for so long. The thoughts cause a drought in her mouth.

“It was the best school in the area, so naturally, my parents decided to send me to that one. I didn’t like it. I had no friends. I didn’t fit in. I didn’t know what to do during mass or confession.”

She takes a breath to steady herself.

“And then I made a friend.”

A lump forms in her throat. She swallows past it, not able to push away the embarrassing tremor in her voice.

“We became really close, hung out all the time, studied together. One day, we kissed, and we liked it, so we did it again.”

She wrings her fingers together, feeling a nauseating weight in her stomach.

“A week later, she felt guilty about it. She told the school priest, who told her parents. She didn’t tell them that it was me she kissed, but people suspected it and they despised me for it. She told me that I was a dirty sinner who needed to pray for forgiveness. Said I was going to hell.”

She closes her eyes, trying to control her erratic heartbeat.

Vi’s expression softens.

“I believed her, and I was terrified that she would tell people that it was me who had kissed her. If her parents found out that it was me… It could have been bad. The other girls at school bullied me, and the whole situation just gave them more of a reason to. They called me all kinds of names. I… I demanded that my mother move me to a different school.”

Her voice breaks as she balances on the precipice of tears. She meets Vi’s gaze and nearly crumbles at the sheer understanding on her face.

“She refused. She said it would be good for me to continue going there, that it would affect my grades if I moved. I told her that she didn’t care for my happiness, and she only forced me to go there so that it would look good for her campaign. I told her…”

She sniffles sadly. Her eyes shut and she shakes her head, as if trying to push down the terrible memory.

“I said that she was an awful mother, and that I wished she was dead.”

She begins to cry and fidget with the edge of her nails.

“She was so upset and she didn’t want me to see her cry so she got in her car and drove away… I got a call from my father a few hours later.”

Her trembling hands raise to her face and she sobs.

“A drunk driver crashed into her. She died instantly. My father saw her body. He was working at the hospital when she was brought in. They said she was barely recognisable. And it was all my fault.”

“Cait-”

She raises her hand to stop her and then clutches at her collar, using it as a grounding point.

“After that, I kept my head down at school. I involved myself in Catholicism. I felt so fucking guilty, it ate me alive. And she wasn’t there to guide me. She left a huge hole which I tried to fill with a life dedicated to this faith. I wanted to make it up to her, to be the perfect daughter she always wanted me to be. She was a good woman, and I hoped to be even a third of the person she was.”

She shrugs her shoulders.

“It never happened. I just became… This.”

“Caitlyn,” Vi steps forward, into her space, “None of that was your fault.”

The pad of her thumb swipes across her cheek delicately, brushing away the tears.

She touches her like she is ash that will fall apart at the lightest of contact.

“You’re perfect. Oh, come here.”

Caitlyn practically falls into her, wrapping her arms around her strong build and sobbing into her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that.” She cradles the back of her head, gently swaying her in her arms.

“I did.”

“No you didn’t.” Vi pulls backwards, hands framing Caitlyn’s face so that she can see the honesty shining from her eyes. “Please. Believe me. I’d spend every day convincing you that you only deserve the best if you let me.”

The words stir within her heart.

“Do you still like me? After all of that?”

She looks at her through glossy eyes and a hundred layers of pain.

“Of course I do.”

Caitlyn shudders in her arms, hugging her tighter to her chest.

“You can have anyone. Why me?”

There’s a pause. A strong hand runs up Caitlyn’s spine and stops at the base of her neck. Her fingers smooth over the soft hairs there, and Caitlyn sighs at the feeling, finally able to regain control over her cries.

“Because I’ve never felt like this before. I feel like I knew you before I even met you. Like every little thing I have ever done has led me to this, to you.”

Caitlyn straightens and finds the strength to meet her eyes. Her shuddering hands find the sides of her face, fitting perfectly into place.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Her voice is a broken whisper, reaching Vi’s ears like a gentle breeze from an open window.

“What do you want to do?”

She doesn’t hesitate as she says, “Kiss you.”

“Then kiss me.”

She leans in and sunlight graces her lips. Her tears mingle between their mouths and Vi kisses her softly, with such reverence Caitlyn thinks she might melt like candle wax.

It is entirely different to the moment they had shared at the lesbian bar; all grasping hands and desperate mouths. This is filled with tenderness, with something tiptoeing on the precipice of a cliff edge that Caitlyn is too afraid to name.

They kiss like old lovers reunited after an eternity spent apart. Their touches are featherlight as they cradle each other’s bodies, arms encompassing each other’s backs, trying to pull the other closer.

It feels right, even though it isn’t. Her mind and her heart scream at her, pulling in opposite directions. It is tearing her apart.

The tears don’t stop. Vi pulls back to place two kisses on either side of her cheeks, kissing the tear tracks.

“You’re a very pretty crier, cupcake.”

A quick breath escapes her lips, and she kisses her again before glancing at the clock.

“I need to get ready for confession. I’m not running away, this time. I just… I don’t know Vi. I don’t know. I feel like I need someone to tell me what to do.”

She stays wrapped in strong arms, longing to never be let go.

“Isn’t that what God is for?”

“He’s not responding.”

“Typical,” Vi tuts.

Caitlyn manages a small smile, and she kisses Vi again, hand sliding down to squeeze Vi’s. “Okay. I’ll… I don’t know,” her brows furrow, and she looks like she is about to cry again. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Vi pushes herself onto her tiptoes and plants the gentlest of kisses onto Caitlyn’s forehead.

Careful fingers run through Vi’s pink hair, and she traces the skin of her ear before slowly pulling away.

“I’m not running.”

Vi nods at her, allowing her to turn around and step out of the office.

As she makes her way to the secluded corner of the church where confessionals are held, she feels the beat of her heart finally regulate to a pace parallel to the steady thrum of Vi’s.

Chapter Text

She gets the first confession over with quickly. It is a kid who lied to his mother. Easy. God will forgive him.

Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

But will God forgive her?

She cannot stop the question from whirring around her head. It is deafening. It makes her ache. It makes her feel weak.

She has sinned and repented, only to sin again. What if the sin makes her happy? She has tried crying and confessing to God, but the conversations are always so one-sided. She longs for a voice to reply, to tell her what to do about all of this.

Ultimately, she is left with nothing but her own voice. This is her decision to make.

The wooden door of the booth creaks open, and she tips her head against the back wall, eyes closed.

She is exhausted. She wants nothing more than to climb into her bed with her cat and forget about the world for five minutes.

Sandalwood.

Vi.

She sits up straight, suddenly breathless as a fresh burst of life surges through her veins.

“What do I say?”

Her voice is honey whiskey in Caitlyn’s ears.

Her lips part as she tries to form words.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It is… Have you ever been to confession before?”

“No. But you’re assuming.”

“Okay. Just say that. Then say your sins.”

“-Kay. Father, Son, Holy Spirit. Amen. Do I do the lip thing?”

“The lip thing? Do you mean the sign of the cross? Yes.”

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned... There’s seven of those, right?”

“There’s more than seven sins, Vi.”

“You’re not supposed to know it’s me.”

Vi’s voice is soft and as soothing as it’s always been.

“Tell me those seven sins you Bible bashers go on about.”

Her eyes wander to the latticed opening between them. She can picture Vi perfectly - the way she is sitting, the slight curve of her lips, the glint in her eye.

“Pride, lust, gluttony, greed, wrath, sloth and envy,” She supplies.

“Hm. Okay. I’ve done all of those.”

She can’t help the breathless laugh that slips past her lips.

“Gluttony…I drink too much when I’m sad. It’s a terrible way of coping, I know. But I’m bad at handling my emotions. I’m working on it, Father. No judging, please.”

“That’s God’s job, not mine. Judge not, that you be not judged.”

“Okay.” She can hear the smile in her voice. “Pride. Pfft. Maybe I post too many selfies on Instagram.”

“I like your selfies.”

She doesn’t know why she says it, but the words are out as quickly as she thinks them, and she does not regret it.

“I know you do. You liked a post from two years ago.”

“What?”

She bolts upright, eyes growing as wide as a deer caught in headlights.

“I didn’t want to say anything before.”

And, God, her voice is painfully smug.

“You have nothing on your account. You should post that photo I took of you on my bike. I think you look beautiful in it.”

She can feel the blush rise up her cheeks, even as she squeezes her eyes shut in an attempt to repress it.

“Sloth - I sleep in late sometimes. I haven’t been very motivated recently.”

Caitlyn sympathises with the feeling.

“I guess I envy God. Only because the most amazing person I have ever met loves him, and I’m jealous that he gets to be blessed with that. But I also feel wrath towards him. Because he has her caught up in this belief that she will be punished if she lets herself be happy. If she lets herself fall in love as hard as I have. I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did, and I don’t exactly hate the feeling.”

She hears the soft thunk of her body hitting the thin piece of wood between them.

“Part of me thinks I must have spent my whole life loving her. Which begs the question of whether God made me, us, this way. What if he made us for each other? Like, if all of that Garden of Eden shit is true, he must have made us together, from the same pile of ash, with the same breath of air. Because I have never felt this way.”

The passion in her voice is palpable. Caitlyn leans against the wood, mirroring the exact way Vi is sitting.

Truthfully, she feels the same - Before I formed you in the womb I knew you. God must have written this in from the start. Maybe he tied them together at some ill attempt at humour, or maybe he had meant for them to find each other. To make each other happy.

Then why did he throw so much in the way?

“And that’s crazy, right? She has me questioning religion, which fundamentally I hate. I’m not a believer, Father, but she is too perfect not to have been handcrafted by some higher being. She smiles and there’s these moments where I wonder if perhaps David did kill the Goliath with a slingshot or whatever the fuck it was, because she is… Art. Perfection like you’ve never seen it.”

A breath of air. Almost wistful.

“And… Lust. God.”

She sighs. It’s a headier sound.

“She’s always on my mind. I want her in ways that would give rise to a new sin. That ties into greed, because once I have her, I fear I will never have enough. I’ll want her every minute of every day. I’d devote my life to worshipping her.”

Caitlyn pulls her bottom lip into her mouth and closes her eyes, not even trying to stop her reeling mind that replays the memory of Vi’s touches. Their hips clashing together. Vi’s hands on her waist.

“So those are my sins. I don’t want to be absolved from them, but give me guidance, Father. What am I to do?”

Caitlyn takes a sharp breath. This is her job. She must provide her with guidance.

But she cannot form the words.

For the first time, she has no idea what to say.

The bench creaks beneath her as she stands and pushes the door open. Her hands shake with the need to show Vi. She cannot offer her words, but she can at least try to show her.

Unsteady legs carry her, the decision already made somewhere between her heart and her head.

She pulls the thin door outwards, letting the slow light of the church settle across Vi’s delicate features. Her eyes are soft, simmering with an unnamed intensity and her lips fall apart just slightly at the sight of Caitlyn, whose pupils are blown wildly. Stray hairs fall from her ponytail and into her face, framing the desire that is scrawled across her skin.

The space is cramped as she steps inside and looks down at Vi, who doesn’t dare look away.

A delicate pair of hands tentatively trace the side of her jaw before settling on her cheek. She brushes a thumb over her lip and the way Vi’s mouth parts further with the motion awakens a psalm of longing deep inside of her.

Quickly, Vi grips her wrist and pulls. The action sends her hurtling forward so that her face is just inches away from Vi’s. They breathe into each other’s waiting mouths, and the action feels deadly sinful, but she can’t bring herself to care at this moment. Not when Vi’s eyes are darkening by the second, completely lost in the cerulean of Caitlyn’s.

Their eyelids grow heavy until they are shut and their mouths are sensually pressed together, still parted in desperation. She licks inside of Vi’s mouth and the moan she earns is delicious.

Their tongues meet, unhurried, and they linger there for a second before starting the dance of a deep kiss.

They push and pull until Vi’s hands grip Caitlyn’s hips and urge her onto her lap, not breaking apart as she lifts her knees and plants them on the bench. The movement causes a loud thunk against the wood and the two of them suddenly startle.

Caitlyn bites her lip and giggles at Vi’s alarmed expression, and then Vi is laughing with her before rushing in to kissing her like the world will flood again if she doesn’t, and Caitlyn allows herself to fall into it like an angel, feeling Vi’s hands roam from the expanse of her back to the tip of her spine.

Again, their tongues touch, and their moans synchronize in the holiest of hymns.

Her hips lift from the bench, knocking up into Caitlyn’s. She gasps at the feeling and tugs her hair, earning a devilish grin from Vi. She doesn’t want this to stop. The pleasure courses through her, alighting flames in her gut. She wants to be touched. She needs it the way a prayer aches to be answered.

Vi’s hand slips to her thigh, so close to where she wants to feel her. She grinds down onto her lap, whimpering helplessly, chasing her thumb that is hovering near the seam of her trousers.

“Caitlyn,” Vi whispers, and the way she says her name like a prayer just urges her on even more. She trails her lips to her ear, feeding her with starved whines.

Understanding, Vi guides her leg so that she is sitting on one thigh, and the instant contact is magic.

Her hips move on their own accord. She thrusts them forward, moaning deeply in Vi’s ear at the friction. Her eyes shut and she sighs at the pleasure. She has never felt anything like this before. It is a sacrament.

“Vi.”

“Hm. Baby,” she gasps, urging her forward with a strong hand on her hip. She moves, and she can feel a damp patch in her underwear forming, one which she is sure will leak through her trousers and onto Vi if she keeps up this frantic bucking.

Her fingers skirt over her clerical collar, suddenly too tight around her neck. She wants to rip it off, to have Vi’s hands and lips on her where it lies.

But then Vi flexes the muscles of her leg beneath her and the feeling of it causes her body to grow weak and her head to clumsily fall forward into her shoulder. She uses a hand to steady herself, purposefully moving it to Vi’s breast and gripping firmly.

Vi groans at the contact and pushes her chest up into her palm, searching for more.

“Is that good?”

She straightens her spine so she can see the pleasure washing over Vi’s face like holy water. It is an image she wishes to preserve in the form of a statue and worship like a madman.

Instead of answering, she mirrors the action, squeezing her breast lightly through her shirt. Caitlyn whines, tipping her head back in pleasure. Vi takes the bare expanse of skin like a sacrifice, lavishing her neck with kisses and gentle bites.

It’s a new sensation, one she doesn't expect to feel so good. She could get addicted to this, she thinks, as she lightly scratches the shaved part of Vi’s scalp, encouraging her to keep sucking at her skin. She nips her pulse point, and Caitlyn’s eyes roll to the back of her head.

When she looks down at Vi, her lips are flushed and her eyes are blown seductively. She touches a thumb to her soft lip, where she has just kissed her.

“Pretty girl,” Caitlyn whispers as she pushes the pad of her thumb into her mouth, feeling the wet firmness of her tongue and imagining what it would feel like pressed against her clit.

She gently bites down on her finger. Caitlyn leans forward, resting her forehead against Vi’s as if the action will prevent them from breaking loose forever.

She removes her finger and replaces it with the soft yet insistent press of lips. She does not wish to stop kissing her - she is her breath of life.

“Ow. Cramp,” Vi winces, lightly tapping her leg to ease up. She stands to give her room to stretch and rub at her calf. Vi looks up at her as if just realising where they are.

They laugh together at the absurdity of it.

And then Vi notices the small patch of wetness on her grey trousers. Caitlyn flushes at the revelation, feeling the redness reach the tips of her ears. She thinks about apologising, but as she moves to speak, Vi runs a slow finger over it.

Caitlyn watches amorously. She brings the finger to her tongue, closes her lips, and sucks, all while their eyes stay fixed on one another.

The sight causes desire to coil within her, hot as incense curling towards the heavens. She cannot keep her lips away from Vi’s any longer. She wants to taste her again, but she does not have time to climb back into her lap before Vi pushes them up and out of the small space until Caitlyn’s back is flush against the cool wall of the church.

Wanting hands untuck Caitlyn’s shirt and dip under the material, settling on the warm skin of her waist. When Vi shoves her face into the crook of her neck and bites down, she cries out so loudly that it echoes around the church.

The Jesus statue finds itself in her line of sight.

“That statue is so ugly,” she pants, dipping a hand to the curve of Vi’s ass.

“Don’t bring Jesus into this.”

Vi presses her thigh between Caitlyn’s legs and she hums, not wasting a second before grinding down to feel that bliss again. Her eyes roll back and she bites her lip, thrusting forward to chase the friction.

“Can I touch your tits?”

Her mind spirals with a thousand variations of Fuckingyesabsolutelyyes.

“Yes,” She nods, trying to keep her cool, but the effort is futile. When Vi’s hands greedily grab at her bra-clad breasts, she finds herself cursing the clothes between them. She wants to be completely naked, at the mercy of Vi.

In an attempt to pull herself together, she dips a hand under her tight-fitting top and glides upwards over the hardness of muscle, until she is at the heavenly softness of her breast.

“Holy shit,” Caitlyn curses at the revelation that Vi is braless.

She has Vi’s entire tit in her hand. She thinks that somewhere along the way, she must have died and gone to heaven.

An experimental thumb swipes over her nipple, and Vi gasps, jutting her hips forward and pushing her leg further into Caitlyn’s crotch. Hills of fire are building within her.

The pleasure causes her brain to short circuit. A fuze blows.

“I’m going to Rome.”

“What?”

Vi nearly completely detaches from her; she straightens up, removing her mouth from her neck and her hands from her skin. She settles them on her waist, over her the safety of her clothes.

They both look wrecked. Their chests heave and Caitlyn’s hair is a mess. Somehow, Vi’s still manages to fall with it’s usual grace.

“I’m going to Rome tomorrow. Marcus asked me to go in his stead. He says it will strengthen my faith.”

“You do realise you’re saying this whilst holding my entire left tit, yes?”

Caitlyn’s eyes widen and she awkwardly removes her hand from Vi’s body, settling it instead on her forearm.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise for touching my tits, Father,” Vi grins, and Caitlyn has to stop herself from leaning in to kiss the stupid smile off her face. “You’re really going away tomorrow?”

“Yes. Sorry,” she says tentatively. “But I think this will be good. I need time to collate my thoughts. All I know is I can’t go another day without having you in my life, Vi. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Vi softens and breathes a soft sigh of relief.

“How long will you be gone for?”

“Four days. I haven’t even packed.”

“I can help you.”

“You’ll distract me,” she rolls her eyes playfully, “I don’t think I’d be able to keep my hands off you.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Vi,” she giggles, “We can’t have sex.”

Her heart leaps into her throat and she feels her knees grow weak at her own words.

“Ever?”

“I mean tonight.”

“I’ll accept that,” she impishly chuckles. Caitlyn feels about ready to jump her bones in the low candlelight of the church.

She has never had sex with anyone, and the thought makes her nervous. But it is Vi, and she trusts her with her whole life. She still has to decide whether she wants to do this, though. If she has sex with Vi, there is no turning back. She will never be able to step foot in a church as a priest again. Maybe as anything.

Rome will give her the space and time she needs. She can visit the Trevi fountain and yearn for Vi, or realise that she is better off without her.

She highly doubts the latter will happen.

"Shit!"

Apologetically, she glances at the Jesus statue. "Will you feed Geppetto? It saves having Marcus snoop around while I'm gone."

"Sure."

Caitlyn wraps her arms around her shoulders, and Vi tenderly holds her face.

“I’ll miss you. I feel like I just got you back.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Caitlyn says, voice so soft it’s a whisper, “but I’ll text you, and I’ll be counting down the minutes until I get to see you again.”

“Enjoy Rome. Think of me.”

“It’s impossible not to.”

Caitlyn leans forward and captures her lips again. Now she has started, she never wants to stop kissing her. She briefly thinks about staying, cancelling the trip and spending the time wrapped up in Vi’s arms instead, but she knows this is what she needs.

So, as Caitlyn pulls out her suitcase and begins packing her clothes, she decides to thank God in her prayers for bringing such a wonderful woman into her life, and for the first time in two weeks, she manages to fall asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow after sending a final ‘goodnight’ text to Vi.

Chapter Text

Vi has never understood how the phrase ‘over the moon’ collates with extreme happiness. She did not see how being high up in space correlates to being happy at all. There’s no oxygen in space, and it seems rather scary, to be honest.

But now, as she manages to break her personal lifting record, she understands.

She feels like she could reach the fucking stars.

She feels like she can do anything - Caitlyn had kissed her. Kissed her, pressed against her, felt her.

She knows how Caitlyn’s palm feels encompassing her tit, she knows what sweet sounds she makes when she’s thrusting her hips onto her thigh. The feeling of her tongue against her own was heavenly, and she only craves it more with each passing minute.

The memory is still so fresh in her mind, it sends warm shivers through her body. .

She had decided to go to the gym this morning in an effort to relieve the frustrations that managed to linger despite the three orgasms she had given herself the previous night.

It hadn't worked. She needs Caitlyn like a sinner needs salvation. She won’t rest until she’s had her, which is rather difficult thanks to the fact that Caitlyn is currently on a plane to Rome. Now she must be without her for four excruciating days.

She squeezes her eyes shut at that painful reminder before glancing at her phone. Still no text. She had said that she would message Vi when the plane lands.

They had called last night and talked about nothing and everything for an hour before saying heartfelt good nights to each other, and Vi was ready to drift asleep with a heart full of hope when she received a notification.

Caitlyn had given in and followed her Instagram, which to Vi’s delight, she had updated by replacing the usual grey silhouette of her default profile picture to the photo of her smiling on the back of Vi’s motorbike. She had swiped onto her photo album and drank in the photos of Caitlyn until the gentle tug of sleep became impossible to resist.

Her dreams were filled with cobalt hair and slender fingers.

Instead of using her useless yearning as further motivation, she finishes her workout and drives straight to Caitlyn’s house.

It is far too empty without Caitlyn’s warm presence there, and she tries not to get too distracted as she pets the little ball of fur. Geppetto gives her a grateful meow and brushes against her legs.

“You miss your mom, huh?”

She crouches down and scratches her head, smiling as the cat nudges into her palm.

“So do I, sweet girl.”

—

“There you are!”

Her sister springs up from the couch and jumps in front of Vi, who is focused on texting Caitlyn, as soon as she steps through the door.

Her flight has finally landed. She smiles as Caitlyn tells her about a man who she elbowed awake after he had fallen asleep on her shoulder.

She glances up at her sister to see her twitch with annoyance.

“What’s up, Jinx?”

“What’s up? I had to get the bus home last night.”

“Oh shit.”

She cringes inwardly at herself, trying to give Jinx her most apologetic stare possible.

“Yeah. I went to go see what was taking you so long and I heard… noises from the confessional. Did you fuck her in there? I didn’t even think there was enough room-”

“Oh my God, Jinx, no.”

She can hardly meet her sister’s intrigued gaze, already feeling a blush crawl across her cheeks.

“What?”

Both of them look to the hallway, to where Vander is peeking out of his room, looking completely bewildered.

Jinx laughs awkwardly and Vi covers her face, painfully embarrassed.

“Not discussing this with either of you. Bye!” Vi walks into the bathroom and locks the door behind her with a sigh.

“Priest fucker!” Jinx yells, voice full of humour.

Vi turns the music up on her phone and steps under the hot stream of water, willing herself to not think about the fact that her sister had heard her making out with Caitlyn.

Instead, she replays the memory, as she has been doing for the past twelve hours.

She is horrendously smitten for the woman, and it is insane how much she misses her already.

She just hopes that Caitlyn won’t have some sort of epiphany in Rome and decide that Vi is not for her. It is a very real outcome, one which she should prepare herself for, but she cannot fathom it.

They had both been dastardly upset without each other.

But that does not mean that Caitlyn won’t leave her. A lot is at stake here. If this gets out, she will lose her job.

She pushes the thoughts away when she steps out of the shower, noticing how toned her muscles look in the slightly fogged up mirror.

Actually, they look really good.

She ties the towel around her waist and reaches for her phone, then spins around so that the reflection of her back is perfectly framed in the mirror. With one hand, she holds the back of her neck, flexing her biceps, and uses the other to take a picture.

Her tattoo is on full display, dancing gracefully over her hardened muscles.

She opens up her texts with Caitlyn and sends it without so much as a warning.

—

Rome turns out to be very lovely in the early summer heat. There aren’t an overwhelming amount of tourists and the temperature hasn’t reached that full on stickiness that keeps your clothes damp and your forehead sweating yet.

She takes a rickety old bus to the simple monastery Marcus has booked for her.

She’s stayed in them before; they’re quiet and cheap, though not exactly luxury. Still, she finds them to be lovely places to stay in whenever she is here.

Trying to ignore the exhaustion creeping into her bones, she pulls her suitcase over the uneven cobbles and wheels it through the stone entranceway to where an old nun sits behind a desk.

“Hello. I’d like to check in,” she says, pushing her hair away from her face.

“Name?”

The nun regards her with a quick glance towards her clerical collar.

“Caitlyn Kiramman, but it might be under Marcus.”

She slowly runs her bony finger down a paper list, peering down through her spectacles.

“Hm. Can’t find it. Do you have that little code?”

Her voice is nasally, a result of her old age. And seriously, she looks like a skeleton. She must be at least 80. Caitlyn starts to rethink the entire retirement process of nuns.

“It may be in your electronic mail.”

“Ah. Yes.”

Caitlyn furrows through her shoulder bag to retrieve her phone. She pulls up the email that Marcus had forwarded to her and turns the screen around to show the nun.

The nun very clearly squints at the top of her screen, which Caitlyn finds strange, since she thought she had placed the code in the centre, so that she would be able to find it quickly through her old eyes.

“Vix? What is that?”

“What?”

Caitlyn startles and pulls her phone back towards her, where a message from Vi quickly disappears from her notifications. She opens the image to see the expanse of her muscular back. Her face flushes red and the view goes straight to her gut, but she pushes away the sinful thoughts that flood her mind.

“Was that someone’s back?”

“Um. It’s a…”

She taps her thigh, swallowing down the nerves. She’s a terrible liar, Vi had said it herself, but still, she searches for anything, hoping her eyes will land on something that will feed her story.

A painting of the Virgin Mary.

“It’s a reference photo. For a drawing that I’m doing.”

The nun regards her, brows furrowed suspiciously until her brown eyes widen with interest.

“You’re an artist? Why, show me some of your works dear.”

“I… I don’t have them on me, but yes, I’m an artist. I draw… Things. Anatomy! I guess.”

She fidgets with her hands, hoping that the flailing will somewhat make her story more believable.

The nun nods and shuffles through some piles of paper on her desk.

“You’re in room 16. Curfew is 11 pm. Quiet times are between 8pm and 8am. Breakfast is served at 7am, and services are held at 9am and 7pm.”

Yes - she’s bought it!

“Thank you, sister,” Caitlyn smiles, not bothering to keep the tinge of arrogance out of her voice.

She glances at her bag, where her phone is.

“And may I remind you, Father Kiramman, that no inappropriate behaviour is permitted in this house. No self-pleasure, and certainly no guests.”

Oh.

“Got it,” she squeaks as she takes the key, not even attempting to hide the blush that reaches her ears as she wheels her suitcase down the cool hallway.

Her bedroom is small and simple, with a single bed in the centre of the back wall, a desk, a wardrobe and an open window with a silk curtain. The afternoon breeze causes the material to sway in the wind, an open invitation to sit and watch the world go by.

People on the streets below pad across the cobblestone, laughing at each other in the bright afternoon light.

Her mind goes straight to thoughts of Vi.

She has a choice to make.

A very important, life changing choice.

For the first time in her life, she is considering leaving the church. She feels terrible for even thinking about it, but Vi has changed her. She feels like she has undergone some sort of transformation, like the resurrection of Christ.

And okay, it is not great of her to compare herself to Jesus considering her line of work, but she thinks he’d understand.

She doesn’t even know what she would do if she wasn’t a priest. When she was younger, she had wild dreams. She wanted to act, to fight, to be a lawyer, a soldier. There’s so many possibilities, but there is only one thing she is sure about: Vi.

Her entire world will be turned on his axis if she follows through with this.

With a small shake of her head, she stands up to reach for her phone.

Immediately, she opens the picture that Vi had sent her. A pool of heat rushes to her stomach and down further. She has to sit down on the bed in order to process it.

Caitlyn: Oh my god.

She types, biting her bottom lip.

Caitlyn: The nun on the desk just told me that no inappropriate behaviour is allowed in this monastery but I am thinking very inappropriate thoughts!!!

Vi x: Oh yeah? and what would they be?

Caitlyn giggles and takes a picture of the crucifix that hangs menacingly above her bed.

Caitlyn: This is very off putting.

Vi x: Are they all nuns there?

Caitlyn: Yep

Vi x: Do you have inappropriate thoughts about the nuns, too?

Caitlyn: I am blocking you.

She laughs at her phone and tosses it onto the bed, trying to focus on unpacking her suitcase. She thinks about how nice it would be to have Vi with her - they could walk the streets of Rome, hand in hand, and eat expensive ice cream in little Italian plazas. It sends a pang of yearning to her heart. She wishes to be near her.

Her stomach rumbles just as she finishes folding away her shirts and she decides to give in to its demands. The afternoon heat settles over her skin as she steps outside, heading straight for a nearby cafe situated beside some gift shops.

She picks up a pair of leather biking gloves for Vi and a journal for herself before taking a walk just outside of the city. There, she comes across a beautiful meadow where wildflowers of different colours bloom gracefully and fruit trees whisper in the wind.

She walks through the tall grass and spends hours picking flowers and getting lost in her own thoughts.

After a long stroll, she sits beneath a tree, watching her long, white skirt ripple in the wind. She pulls the journal she had bought out of her tote bag and begins to write absentmindedly.

Before she knows it, she has formed somewhat of a letter. She tucks it away and leans forward to run a hand through the flowers in front of her.

She takes a bunch of violets in her hand and lifts them to her nose, finding comfort in the sweet smell. They are almost as pretty as her Violet, but not quite. Nothing comes close.

With a wistful breath, she places them on her stomach and calls Vi.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Cait. You okay?”

“Mhm. Wanted to hear your voice.”

She scrunches her nose up and smiles at her own swooning.

“Hm,” Vi hums, “Have you had a good day?”

“Yes. I’m in a meadow. It’s very pretty, though I wish you were here with me.”

“You’re too sweet, cupcake. I’ve been thinking of you all day. I broke my lifting record.”

“Well done,” Caitlyn smiles, genuine pride shining through her voice.

“Oh my God. Jinx heard us in the confessional.”

“What?”

“I completely forgot that she was waiting for a lift,” she cackles, “she had to get the bus. Didn’t want to disturb us.”

“Jesus,” Caitlyn groans. “I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear that the nun on the front desk saw your little photo earlier.”

“No way! Did she like it?”

“I think she did, actually.”

“Did you?”

“Oh yes.”

Something stirs within her gut. She traces the violets over her stomach with her fingertip.

“Very hot.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Vi?”

“Mhm?”

“I really want to kiss you.”

She closes her eyes, trying desperately to picture Vi beside her.

Under the sun, she imagines pink strands rustling in the breeze. She imagines her hand intertwined with Caitlyn’s as they look at each other as though they are the only two people to exist.

She doesn’t know how she can live at peace without Vi next to her now that she knows how her lips feel against hers.

“So do I,” she sighs. “Can you just come home?”

Home.

To where Vi is.

“Soon.”

“I might die.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Caitlyn tuts.

“Seriously, I’m having withdrawals already. I think there’s a rash on my neck and my hands are shaking…”

Caitlyn laughs loudly, feeling her worries float away into the warm air, and the sound of Vi’s giggles through the phone just adds to the happiness she is feeling. It is everything.

“Okay. I’m going to go now. I’ll text you.”

“Alright, Caitlyn. Talk to you later.”

“See you, Vi.”

When she hangs up the call, she places her fist over the pool of embers in her heart that only seem to grow.

Chapter Text

On the second night, Caitlyn sleeps terribly.

After following Marcus’ requests to visit the religious sites of the city, she had attended the evening service in the monastery before collapsing into her bed, only to text Vi for half an hour before drifting off to sleep.

But now, as she turns restlessly in the small bed, nightmares seep into her bones.

Her mother is there; she always is. She’s laughing, her hair is grey and her eyes glisten in the sun. And then there is a scream. There is always a scream. There’s blood on her face and her jaw hangs open – all of the life in her eyes has been drained, leaving dull grey irises in their wake.

But then she sees Vi’s face. She’s crying on her knees, telling Caitlyn to stay. She’s never had a nightmare like this before. Her body feels heavy, like she wants to run but she can’t, and when she looks back to Vi, flames are beginning to engulf the empty room that they are in. She opens her mouth to scream, to tell Vi that they need to leave, but no words form. She can’t scream, she can’t run. She is helpless.

The room heats up. The flames come closer.

She wakes up with a choking gasp for air, arms instinctively wrapped around her body.

There’s no one here. She’s in the monastery. She is safe.

She lies back in bed and stares at the crucifix above her, mind already starting to reel with terrifying thoughts.

–

When she wakes in the morning, eyes still groggy, she can scarcely find the energy to get up.

Breakfast is spent in silence, which she thought was unnerving until now. It allows her to collate her thoughts, the only noises being the occasional clanking of cutlery and soothing birdsong.

Every tangent reels back to Vi. She itches to text her, but the nuns don’t allow mobile phones at meal times, so she just rests her hand on her pocket.

Thirty minutes later, she is dressed in her white vestments, making her way to the Vatican for the purpose of her trip.

Other priests join her on her commute, idly chatting amongst themselves. She watches them from her seat on the bus, and again is struck with a pang of loneliness. She glances at her phone to see no text from Vi and she cannot help the disappointment that jabs at her heart.

Hundreds of rows of chairs are laid out across the Vatican floor, and Caitlyn sits somewhere in the middle. Beside her are two older men. She wonders how long they have been priests for – perhaps their whole life.

She shoos her next thought away as quickly as it forms - she does not want to think about whether these wrinkly men have ever had sex.

Her hands fidget in her lap as the hall fills with priests, all donning white albs and cream stoles.

The Pope enters and a hush falls over the audience, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the hall as though he is God himself. Caitlyn just sees another old man stuck on a high horse.

He raises his hand in a solemn blessing before beginning to recite a passage from the Bible.

Caitlyn’s mind wanders. She wonders what Vi is doing, where she is, what she had for breakfast. She thinks about her hair and longs to touch it again.

The Pope begins his teaching, and Caitlyn is uninterested until he starts saying:

“I wish to speak about a challenge that many in our world face—a confusion about identity, love, and the purpose of human relationships.”

She furrows her brows and leans forward, suddenly intent on listening.

“The Church has always proclaimed that God’s design for humanity is sacred, that he created man and woman with a purpose, and that true love reflects his divine plan.”

She starts to understand what he is saying. He is splurging some form of homophobic rhetoric.

But Caitlyn does not see any part of her life as a ‘confusion about identity and love.’

She is not confused. She knows that she wants Vi. Every part of her is screaming at her to let herself be with her. To give herself wholly to Vi. And God most certainly did not create men for her. If he did, he wouldn’t have made them like that.

If anything, he made Vi for her.

Vi, whose mind she feels like she can read at times, who holds her with such reverence and fills the cracks in her mind with gold.

The Pope continues, wrapping his hateful words in intricate phrases so that he doesn’t look directly homophobic. He talks about how the teaching of Christ remains the same, how the church should not change with time.

She quietly sighs in agitation, not meaning for the words, “we’re meant to change,” to slip out under her breath. The two men either side of her glare, but she shrugs it off. She crosses her arms and sits back, feeling an urge to tip them off their stupidly uncomfortable chairs.

“The Church cannot bless what God has not ordained. She cannot deem what God has already revealed as contrary to his plan to be holy.”

He prays for homosexuals then, and Caitlyn cannot help but feel wildly agitated. She doesn’t want to be prayed for, or forgiven, because none of this is wrong.

It is beautiful.

Vi was right. It is a miracle in itself.

So, on the way back to the monastery, she visits a bookshop, still wrapped in her alb and purchases a book about lesbian history. The book keeper, a young woman with dark hair and thick eyeliner, smirks at her as she makes the purchase. She slots it into a bag, and gives Caitlyn a friendly nod, which she returns.

A couple of hours later, Caitlyn changes into mustard yellow trousers and a white blouse, then begins to look around the city. She slips a tote bag over her shoulder and carries the book with her.

Vi: Hey cupcake. I’m super busy with clients today, but I’d love to call you this evening and hear about your day if you’re around xx

Caitlyn: I can’t wait xx

She visits the Trevi fountain, and pulls out a few coins.

You will visit Rome again. She tosses one in.

You’ll find a lover. She pauses for a second. She has already found her lover, but why the hell not toss it anyway?

You’ll marry your lover.

With a smile, she tosses it in, takes a quick photo and begins walking towards the shops.

She buys a few items: a new lip balm, a plaid shirt, and then she is standing in front of a shop which she has never stepped foot in. She adjusts the tote bag on her shoulder and pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head.

It’s a lingerie shop.

She looks at the mannequins, dressing in beautifully designed matching sets: she bites her lip at the thought of her wearing something so bold.

She owns no sexy underwear. Why would she? Everything under her clothes is designed for practicality, not to be actually seen and admired by anyone. But now she wants to be desired, to touch and to be touched, and look sexy whilst doing it. Besides, she is sure Vi will appreciate the gesture.

With an encouraging nod, she steps inside. A member of staff approaches her immediately, but she waves her off, feeling far too awkward to accept the help. She browses all of the sets, trying to push away the blush painting her cheeks.

She picks out a few that catch her eye and takes them to the changing rooms, where she strips down and tries them on.

Nervously, she turns her body, eyes scanning every inch of skin in the mirror. She thinks it is too much - the bra is a deep blue, adorned with lace and the matching thong sits high on her hips before dipping gracefully low.

Unsure, she swallows.

She reaches for her phone and calls Mel, deciding that she needs a second opinion.

“Hey. Woah. Are you shopping?”

“Yes, Mel.”

She is sitting in her car, looking as stunning as ever.

“Are you naked?”

“I’m trying on lingerie.”

“Sorry? What? What on earth have I missed?”

“I’ll fill you in, okay? It’s a long story. Tell me if this is sexy.”

She flips the camera to show the expanse of her body.

She does not care that Mel is seeing her like this - they have been friends for years and have been in countless changing rooms and bar bathrooms together.

“Oh my God. Do I like women? Wait, do I want to have sex with a priest?”

“Mel.”

“Sorry. Yes,” she grins, face pressed close as she stares into the phone, “It’s very sexy. I’m sure your husband, God, will be very impressed.”

“Oh shush. Her name is Vi, if you must know.”

“Jayce told me.”

“That bastard. Are these things supposed to feel like you have a permanent wedgie?”

She turns again, following the plump curve of her ass.

Vi is going to lose her mind.

“Basically, yes.”

“Jesus. Right. I’ll buy it.”

Mel practically squeals down the phone, and Caitlyn quickly reaches for the volume button.

“You need to tell me what happens. I can’t believe you’re going to have sex. Use protection!”

“Haha. Very funny,” she deadpans before scandalously lowering her voice, “We made out in the confessional.”

“What! Tell me more!”

“Nope. Going now. Bye!”

She hangs up the phone and chuckles to herself as she dresses. She can’t believe this is actually happening. Part of her feels like she has already made up her mind.

But she is fucking terrified.

After a few minutes of walking, she decides to stop at a gelato shop by the Colosseum. She checks her phone – no messages.

She swipes onto her camera, checking her appearance. She looks good - her skin is slightly sunkissed, giving it a soft glow, and her hair tumbles onto her shoulders.

She hollows out her cheeks slightly, pressing her lips to the ice cream and snaps a picture to send to Vi before she can overthink it.

Then, she pulls out the book and begins reading.

Her phone lights up chaotically ten minutes later.

Vi x: Are you trying to kill me???

Please come home now

You look too delicious

And those fingers…

Caitlyn: Good things come to those who wait

Vi x: Oh you’ll definitely be coming ;)

Caitlyn: Violet!!!

She blushes violently and chuckles to herself, already feeling the embers of desire lighting in her gut.

After a day of sightseeing and a hearty dinner, she retires to her bedroom, watching people walk the streets below as dusk begins to settle on the city.

She pulls out her phone and brings it up to her ear.

“Hello,” Vi says, voice immediately alighting a fire low in Caitlyn’s gut.

She crosses her legs, suddenly aware of the dull ache between them.

“Hi.”

She can do nothing to stop the small smile from dancing on her lips.

“I miss you.” Caitlyn moves from the windowsill to the side of her bed.

“I miss you too. How was your day?”

“It was okay. The Pope was spewing some homophobic crap this morning. Everyone thinks he’s so righteous, but he’s just another old man disguised in holy garments.”

“I’m not surprised. What else did you do?”

“I bought a book about lesbian history.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I had my alb on when I bought it,” she chuckles, “I think the book keeper knew.”

Vi laughs down the line, and there’s a faint rustling of sheets.

“How was your day?”

She lies down, hoping to mirror how Vi is, imagining the warmth of her body beside her - the quiet rise and fall of her breath, her starry eyes.

“Busy. I had a bunch of clients. I basically spent the whole day teaching people correct lifting techniques.”

“I bet you look toned.”

Her lips quirk into a small smile, legs pressing together again in search of friction.

“Oh yeah. Wanna see?”

“What are you trying to start, Violet?”

“Friendly conversation.”

She can hear the lilt in her voice, teasing woven into her words and she can picture the charming smirk that comes with it.

“You were the one making comments about my muscles.”

Caitlyn hums down the line, blissfully closing her eyes, “I’ve been picturing them very well, thanks.”

“You’ve been thinking of me?”

“At every moment. And that photo you sent? Hm. Pretty unfair.”

She closes her eyes, and hears an exhale of breath down the line.

“What are you wearing?”

She bites her lip and briefly considers telling her about the lingerie she bought. No - it would be better as a surprise.

“A pair of boyish boxer shorts with little cats on them.”

Vi’s laugh fills her ears again, and she smiles at the sound.

“Black cats?”

“Oh of course.”

A finger absentmindedly traces over the skin of her stomach as she looks down at her clothes.

“Hm. What else?”

“Some Christian band shirt I bought from a record store. It was £2.”

“Oof. That’s really doing it for me.”

“What are you doing, Violet?”

Her voice has a dangerously low rasp to it.

“I like how you say my name.”

“Are you going to answer the question?”

“I’m lying in bed, touching my tits, wishing you were here.”

The gasp that escapes Caitlyn is involuntary - a sound coaxed out from the memory of Vi’s soft breast in the palm of Caitlyn’s hand. She remembers the feeling of her thigh between her legs, pressing deliciously into her. She wants more. She craves her.

She bites her bottom lip and closes her eyes, daring to continue.

“And if I was there… What would you do?”

“I’d start by undressing you. Slowly. I’d savour the image of you and burn it into my mind.”

The lust in Vi’s voice has her reaching lower, attempting to quell the needy ache over her shorts.

“I’d touch your tits,” Vi breathes, “God, I wouldn’t be able to stop.”

Caitlyn’s mind runs wild, sprawling with an abundance of sin.

She thinks about Vi leaving hungry kisses over her chest and lavishing her nipples. Her clothes suddenly feel too tight against her skin, the room too hot.

“Shall I take off my shirt?”

“Yes.”

She sits up, immediately pulling her shirt over her head, leaving her chest flushed and bare.

“Touch them.”

She does as she’s told, gliding over her nipples lightly with one hand.

There’s more rustling, and then a low gasp.

“Are you…”

“Yes,” Vi answers, without Caitlyn having to finish her question. “Yes, Cait. I am. Is that okay?”

“Yes. Shit. I’m touching my tits.”

“Good,” She says, voice thick with need, “Now play with your clit, baby. I want you to feel good.”

Her eyes water with the thickness of desire. The comment shoots straight to her core.

Long fingers gather wetness and slide up to her clit. She cannot control the whimper that escapes her lips.

Vi curses under her breath.

“I’ve wanted to do this since we went to the bar for the first time. I couldn’t stop thinking of your hands on me. How your hips felt against my ass. I wanted you to bend me over that pool table and fuck me,” Caitlyn tells her around a gasp.

“Jesus. You haven’t masturbated since then?”

“No. Not for a long time. Never felt the need.”

“Fuck,” Vi sighs, “I touched myself whenever I spent time with you. You had me so pent up. Is that weird?”

Another heady breath. She doesn’t know who from.

“No. I always wanted to.”

“Caitlyn. I need you here.”

“I know, baby,” she purrs, “I know. I’ll be there to take care of you soon. I want to taste you, Vi. Make you come on my lips.”

“Yes,” Vi gasps, chasing fleeting breaths.

“Do you want that? My mouth on you?”

“So badly, Cait. I’ll take whatever you give me.”

“That’s my good girl.”

She circles her fingers over her clit, eliciting a deep moan from her.

“Mmph. I didn’t know you had this kind of talk in you, Cait.”

“Is it too much?”

A slight tinge of embarrassment creeps into her gut, stilling her movements.

“God, no. I like it. Keep going. Please.”

“I wish these fingers on my clit were yours.”

“Ah. I’d devour you. I want to be inside you. I want to fuck you with my fingers and my mouth until you can’t think of anything else.”

She slips her fingers lower and pushes inside, quietly gasping at the feeling.

“Yes. Need you inside of me.”

“Are you fingering yourself, baby?”

“Yes, Vi,” she groans, feeling her orgasm build like a wave. Vi’s voice is honey dripping into her ears and across her body and between her thighs and-

“Caitlyn.”

Vi sounds so needy. Caitlyn has never heard her sound like this, but now she craves it. There is no going back. She won’t rest until she has had every part of Vi.

“You sound so good, Vi. I love hearing you moan.”

She slips her fingers back up to her clit, pressing harder and pretending that it is Vi. She yearns for the ghost of her kiss that still sits heavy on her lips, on her jaw, on her neck. She’s chasing it, fingers moving quicker now.

She can hear how close Vi is, and it is driving her crazy.

“My sweet, perfect Violet. Let go for me.”

She sounds wrecked. They both do.

Her breathing is shallow, the fast pants urging her on.

“I’m- I’m coming, Cait.”

As Vi’s voice trails off into a gasping mess, her orgasm crests at Caitlyn’s core. She bites down on her lip, careful not to cry out too loudly. It’s powerful, and it comes crashing down perfectly, accompanied by the soft whispers of Vi’s name. Her eyes squeeze shut and she works herself through it, the sweet sounds of her lover forever engraved in her brain.

“Fuck,” she pants, her whole body going limp. She rolls onto her side, pressing the phone to her ear to hear the quiet rhythm of Vi’s laboured breathing. “That was… Fuck.”

“Good?”

“Like you couldn’t imagine.”

“Oh, I think I can.”

Caitlyn giggles down the line, then immediately sobers at the sight of the crucifix above her. “I hope no one heard that.”

“You weren’t that loud. I’m sure you have more in you.”

“I guess you’ll have to try and coax it out of me, then.”

“Guess I will,” she chuckles, “Shit. If Jinx heard that, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“First the confessional, now this…”

“No. She didn’t hear. She can’t have. I’m choosing to believe that she didn’t hear that.”

Caitlyn laughs, and the joyful sound is slightly too loud to be considered appropriate at this late hour, but she doesn't care.

“God. I love your laugh.”

She just smiles, letting the compliment swell in her heart.

“I miss you. I wish you were here,” Caitlyn whispers, voice laced with longing.

“So do I. I can’t wait for you to come home.”

“One more day.”

Nerves flutter in the pit of Caitlyn’s stomach, but she is too exhausted to give in to them.

As if reading her mind, Vi asks, “Are you tired?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Same. I guess we should say goodnight.”

“We could stay on the phone,” she says shyly, phrasing it like a question.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

Quiet settles upon them.

“Goodnight, Caitlyn.”

“Goodnight, Vi.”

Caitlyn puts her phone on the pillow beside her, and blinks at it through tired eyes. She tries to imagine the outline of Vi beside her where the phone is, and she slides a hand across the pillow, reaching out for her, yearning for the warmth of her body to slot against hers.

Chapter Text

Caitlyn is buzzing with nerves when she gets home.

As she left the monastery that morning, not without a sinister glare from the nun on the front desk, and stepped on the plane home, she had one thing on her mind.

Vi.

Vi, who is coming over tonight to have dinner with Caitlyn.

And to have sex with Caitlyn.

She wants it too, her whole body thrums with how badly she wants Vi. She wants all of her. She wants to see her naked, wants to be seen naked. She wants to touch her. To be touched. But still, she cannot help the anxieties that stir in her gut.

She has never done this before.

What if she is terrible at it?

What if Vi realises that she’s atrocious at sex, and decides to pursue someone else.

Rationally, Caitlyn knows she would never do such a thing. She knows her like no other, knows her soul, her heart, and now she wants to know her body.

She tries to push the negative thoughts away and focus instead on preparing dinner when her phone pings with a text. She glances over to it, and wipes her hands on a teatowel upon seeing that it is from Vi.

Vi x: Can’t wait to see you xx

The anxiety spikes again, and despite the excitement she feels, she ignores the text. She slides a bowl of dough into the fridge.

Her phone buzzes: incoming call.

“Hi,” Vi says as she holds it up to her ear. Her voice is so sweet, she cannot help but smile at the familiar sound.

“Hello. I’m cooking. What do you want?”

Vi scoffs, before attempting to shift her voice into something that slightly resembles Caitlyn’s accent. “Oh hi Vi, I missed you so much while I was away visiting my good friend The Pope. I can’t wait to see you again.”

“I have missed you,” She chuckles, slicing through an onion, “Get over here.”

“I’m here.”

Her face drops. She drops the knife onto the floor, cursing as it narrowly misses her foot. There’s a knock at the door, and she freezes.

“What?”

She looks down at herself; she’s wearing a pair of beige chequered pants and a white, airy shirt. Her hair is tied back lazily. She had planned to add a slight curl to it and change into something sexier - she is not due for another hour.

“I’m not ready.”

“I don’t care. Let me in,” she groans, knocking the door rapidly.

“Fine.”

She jams her thumb into the red button and marches towards the door, checking her reflection one last time before swinging it open.

Caitlyn’s throat dries up immediately. Vi looks stunning - it is unfair, really. She is wearing a cropped, white tank top and black jorts. Her eyes widen as they land on the red bouquet of roses in her arms.

Vi points to the knife she hasn’t realised she is still holding.

“That for me?”

“Oh. Er-”

“Can I come in?”

Get a grip, Caitlyn.

“Yes. Sorry,” She babbles, stepping to the side to let her pass.

She kisses her cheek before removing her shoes, and Caitlyn’s fingers lightly touch the skin that she had kissed, a breathless sigh leaving her lips.

Vi holds the flowers out to Caitlyn, and she notices the bottle of wine in her other hand.

Nobody has given her flowers before. She holds them awkwardly, like they are a bomb waiting to explode. She has no idea what to do with them.

Taking them from her would be a start, she thinks, as she snaps out of her daze and pulls them close to her chest to inhale the floral scent.

“They’re beautiful, Vi. Thank you. I-”

Instead of finishing her sentence, she grabs Vi’s hand and hurriedly drags her into the kitchen, producing a small, wrapped box from the counter and thrusting it into Vi’s grasp.

A small smile of disbelief plays at her lips as she opens it; her eyes brighten immediately.

“Cait,” She grins, looking at her in awe before smoothing her hands over the leather gloves, “I love them. Thank you. You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted to. I’ve seen the holes in your current gloves.”

“It’s trendy.”

“Well, you can cut those up if you really want to.”

Quickly, Vi leans in for a chaste kiss, still smiling like the sun.

“Thank you, cupcake.”

Any attempt to hide the blush making itself known on her face would be useless, so instead she clears her throat and moves to speak..

“I haven’t made dinner yet. I wasn’t expecting you until seven.”

“I got impatient. Besides, I thought I could help you. It’s nothing we haven’t done before. What are you making?”

“Pizza.”

“Pizza? Haven’t you been eating pizza for days?”

“I had one pizza.”

Caitlyn rolls her eyes at Vi’s shocked face.

“One pizza? Four days in Rome and you had one pizza?”

“I had a bunch of pasta, some tacos…”

“Tacos? You were in Italy and you had Mexican food?”

“I like tacos!” She laughs, opening the fridge and taking out the dough.

Vi grins and shakes her head as she washes her hands, and Caitlyn can’t help but watch the movement, studying how her fingers slide together.

“Something on your mind?” Vi smirks.

“Maybe.”

She opens the cupboard and takes out the remaining ingredients, glancing to Vi to catch her staring. With an amused breath, she looks at the towel she is using to dry her hands.

As Vi pours herself a glass of water, she continues to chop the rest of the vegetables. She can feel Vi watching her bashfully now, and can vividly picture the shit-eating smirk on her face.

She tries to focus, but the knife unexpectedly slips and catches the side of her hand. She swears and steps back, knife clattering onto the chopping board.

“Shit. You okay?”

Vi picks up her hand and leads her to the sink to clean the tiny cut.

“Yeah.”

“You got any plasters?”

“Top cupboard,” she nods. “Can you reach?”

Vi humorously tuts and leans up on her tiptoes to take out a very over the top first aid kit. She cleans the cut with expert precision and then kisses it, laying her fingers across the warmth of her palm.

She touches her wrist as she says, “You’re shaking.”

Caitlyn withdraws her hand, ashamed to be caught looking so pathetic.

Gently, Vi pushes a strand of blue hair behind her ear. Her grey eyes look at her with such reverence, she doesn’t know whether to shrink into herself or to stand taller.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I…” Her eyes drop to the floor before gingerly meeting Vi’s, “I’ve never done this before.”

”Chopped peppers?”

“Sex, Violet,” She scoffs, “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Caitlyn. I didn’t come here just to have sex with you. I came because I missed you, and I want to hear about your trip. We don’t have to do anything,” her hands cradle Caitlyn’s, “I’d wait lifetimes for you to be ready.”

Caitlyn has to consciously stop her eyes from welling up at the honesty of her words.

“I said I’d take the time to think about this in Rome.”

“And?”

“And I want this. It’s you that makes me happy, Violet. Not the church, or God, or my job. It’s you. If you’re as serious about this as I am, I want to give you everything.”

“I am.”

She cups her face in her hands, and Caitlyn feels as though she can read her very mind, earnesty transcending any need for words.

“I meant what I said in the confession booth. Every word, Cait.”

She breathes a sigh of relief and lets go of the tension freezing her body, finally anchoring on familiar shores, and then she leans in, capturing her lips in her own.

“God, I missed you,” Vi sighs before trailing kisses down to her jaw. Caitlyn rolls her head back, allowing her to press her soft lips against the skin.

She had missed her too. Every minute. It had only been four days without her, but that was all it took for her heart to ache for her in ways she didn’t think possible.

Caitlyn brings her back up to her, smiling into the next kiss.

This feels right.

She suddenly doesn’t care for scriptures, or what she had been taught since she was just a girl.

She just cares for the woman in front of her, whose name forms the beat of her heart.

“Come on,” she giggles, gently nudging her backwards and turning towards the pizza dough. She tears it in half and gives one to Vi, who takes it with a grin.

–

“Tell me about your trip,” Vi says from the sofa, extending her arms towards Caitlyn.

She moves to lie on Vi’s chest, tucking her head below her chin.

“I want to know every detail.”

“Okay. I went to St Peter’s Basilica, the Sistine Chapel. It was all very religious.”

“Masturbating under a crucifix sounds like the peak of religion.”

Caitlyn chuckles against her body, delivering a light slap to her shoulder before resting her hand there.

“I threw coins into the Trevi fountain. Thought of you,” she smiles, “I went shopping.”

“Buy anything nice?”

“Hm. A few things,” her smile is laced with mischief as she kisses Vi. “I’ll show you later.”

She lies back down and takes Vi’s hand in her own as she trails off about what she had seen in Rome. Their entertained fingers look beautiful together. Caitlyn studies them, the way they interlace as though they are one.

Vi’s hands are big, she realises. Bigger than hers. Her skin is soft, though drier than Caitlyn’s, and she has a few calluses on her palms.

She traces over the tip of her fingers, the little lines that must match up perfectly to the ones on her own fingers. She thinks about how they would feel tracing over her skin, skimming over her breastbone and dipping below her waistband.

The alarm rings, snapping Caitlyn out of her thoughts, and Vi stands up to take the pizzas out of the oven. Caitlyn watches her from the couch.

Smirking, she stands up and quietly walks over to Vi. She brushes a strand of hair away from her neck and places her lips on her skin, encircling her arms around her waist.

Vi closes her eyes. Her breathing picks up and when Caitlyn nips her pulse point, the gasp she earns is sinful.

Caitlyn merely hums, stepping to the side to begin cutting the pizza.

Vi watches her, entirely bemused while Caitlyn feigns innocence. She sucks some sauce from her thumb, raising her eyebrows at Vi, who scoffs.

“Do you have a candle?”

“Do we need a candle?” Caitlyn replies as she slides their pizzas onto mismatching plates.

“Yes. We’re on a date.”

She looks at her, and the genuine look on her face makes her want to melt.

“Really? I actually saw you as more of a friend.”

Vi’s mouth falls open.

“I’m kidding,” Caitlyn says, heart racing at the thought of her joke not landing and hurting Vi’s feelings. She places a hand on her chest.

“Do you dry hump all of your friends in confessionals?”

Her lips quirk into a smile. Caitlyn lets go of the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Just ones that smell like sandalwood and have pink hair.”

Vi kisses her and takes the plates from her to set them on the table, sitting down while Caitlyn finds a candle to place between them.

“Oh. I need to tell you something.”

Caitlyn sits opposite Vi and takes a bite out of her pizza.

“Yeah?”

“During that time we weren’t talking… I ordered Jericho’s.”

“Traitor,” Vi gasps, her fist falling onto her heart dramatically, “I don’t know how I can ever forgive you.”

“Allow me to attempt to make it up to you.”

“Try all you like, Father Kiramman. Perhaps you can persuade me with that pretty mouth of yours.”

She laughs and shoves her knee, picking the pizza back up while trying not to lose herself in the affection of Vi’s eyes.

“Talked a lot of talk on the phone last night.”

She drums her fingers on the table.

“It’s different in person.”

“Different how?”

“Well… You’re right there…” Her eyes skirt over the table, desperately trying not to meet Vi’s.

She hums and sits back in her chair, regarding her until Caitlyn finds the confidence to meet her eyes. Vi quirks an eyebrow and Caitlyn swallows down the last of her food.

“It’s cute.”

Vi moves to clear their plates away and Caitlyn’s eyes stay on her.

“What do you want me to say?” She begins, taking a gulp of wine, “That I’ve been imagining what it’s like the fuck you since I first met you? Wondering what sounds you make, whether you’re loud or quiet? That all day, I’ve been imagining the ways I can have you stretched around my fingers? That I felt myself get wet on the plane picturing how you look between my legs? And some twisted part of me wants to have you completely overwhelmed, begging-”

Her words are cut off by Vi’s mouth capturing her own from behind her, hungry hands urging her to stand up and push impossibly closer until Vi’s back hits the counter.

She tugs her pink hair and whines into her mouth, getting impossibly turned on when the wet heat of Vi’s tongue touches her bottom lip and slides into her mouth in a passionate dance with her own. Vi is pulling her body against hers, letting their hips clash together in the frenzy of their mutual desire.

“Bedroom,” Vi huffs between kisses, hardly letting Caitlyn pull away to guide them.

As soon as the door closes, Vi’s lips are on hers, hands framing her waist. Their mouths clash together, teeth bashing with the speed of it, and then they both giggle into the space between them.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes,” Caitlyn nods, not even trying to hide the desperation behind her eyes. “Yes.”

Vi kisses her again and their tongues come together, coaxing moans from the both of them.

Hands flit across Vi’s toned body and tuck under her shirt, desperate in their movements as they skim across her back, her waist, and her hard abs. The feeling of them beneath her hands is holy; she can feel the ridge of every muscle.

The feeling of Vi’s hips thrusting forward into her touch with a needy groan is enough to make her feel like a God. She could get drunk off of this.

She wants to consume her.

She steps back, smirking at the needy pout playing on Vi’s puffy lips. She looks almost upset that Caitlyn has stopped kissing her until she realises exactly where those hands are going. They cross over the hem of her shirt and lift, pulling a few strands of hair out of her ponytail and leaving her looking like the sky during a storm.

The quick breath that escapes Vi’s lips combined with the sacred look in her eyes has Caitlyn half-smiling, like the world isn’t spinning beneath her feet. She blows a strand of hair off of her face and then Vi is rushing in again, kissing her like the world is ending.

Caitlyn’s hands encircle her wrists, guiding her to her bra-clad breasts. Fingertips dig into the soft skin there until Caitlyn is pleasantly sighing and nipping at Vi’s bottom lip.

When Caitlyn’s fingers absentmindedly trail up over Vi’s hardened nipples, she breaks away from the kiss to look down.

“Can you take this off?”

Immediately, Vi takes off both her shirt and her sports bra.

“Oh,” she gasps, eyes bashfully staring at her tits.

Warmth spreads across her body, and the sight of Vi’s bare chest ignites it into wildfire.

“You massive lesbian,” Vi laughs. Caitlyn looks up and catches her glistening eyes.

“And you’re not?”

They hold each other’s faces and kiss each other softly. Caitlyn traces featherlight fingers over her breasts, losing herself in the quick breaths against her lips.

“You’re very pretty, Violet.”

Vi smiles and wraps her hands around Caitlyn’s back, smoothing over her skin. When her fingers touch the buckle at the back of Caitlyn’s bra, she moves backwards.

“Do you not-”

“Wait.”

Trying to control her shaking hands, she moves to unbuckle her belt.

“Is this a striptease?”

Her fingers pause their frantic movements.

“Would you like it to be?”

Vi doesn’t reply, she just steps backwards and sits on the bed, eyes staying fixed on Caitlyn as she slowly pushes the trousers down her legs.

She looks at her like she is something holy.

Like Caitlyn is manna in the desert and she is nothing but a starving man.

“Holy shit,” Vi breathes as the matching navy thong comes into show. “You’re unreal.”

“I got it from Rome.”

“Fuck. You got this so I could see you in it?”

“Yes. I didn’t have anything sexy to wear.”

“You’d look sexy in a bin bag.”

Caitlyn laughs and her eyes flit to the ceiling, away from the intensity of Vi’s gaze but it doesn’t last. She closes the distance between them, eyes dropping to Vi’s hand that tentatively touches her waist before trailing down to the waistband of the navy blue thong to feel the soft material between her fingers.

“I love it.”

The words sink to her pussy, throbbing there and causing Caitlyn to flush red as Vi’s fingers dance across her thigh.

This is real. This is happening. She feels herself tense beneath Vi’s touch.

“Cait?”

Vi’s eyes find hers, seeking assurance for her to continue. She nods shyly.

She wants to be touched so badly. She can feel it in the pulse between her legs, the gathering wetness.

But she wants something else first.

Her hands settle on Vi’s shoulder as she climbs into her lap.

“You look like an angel,” Vi whispers.

“Do you know what a Biblically accurate angel looks like?”

She frames her face with her hands, tenderly smoothing her eyebrows with her thumb.

“They’re just loads of eyes and wings. Kind of scary.”

“You’re such a Bible nerd,” She chuckles, kissing her and letting her hands squeeze her ass, “Forgive me, Father.”

“Vi,” she warns, tilting her chin up so that their eyes meet.

“Does that turn you on? Calling you Father?”

There’s a mischievous glint in her darkened eyes.

“Fuck you,” She laughs breathlessly as a devilish grin spreads across her face. “You know it does.”

“Father,” she whispers into her ear, taking her earlobe between her teeth and biting down. Caitlyn moans sweetly.

The feeling of it pools between her legs; she aches for relief.

She wraps her legs around Vi’s waist, positioning her cunt over the ridge in her jeans and grinding down. She gasps at the feeling of it lightly nudging her clit through the thin material of her underwear.

“Caitlyn,” Vi sighs, fingers gripping at the skin on her back before sliding down to the groove of her waist.

“Mm. Feels good.”

Her hand moves so that her thumb is lightly pressing against her thong, dipping lower, lower-

Caitlyn’s mind sharpens through the haze of lust.

She stands between her legs, tracing her lips with her fingers and then she kisses her once more before melting in her eyes.

“I want to go first.”

“Are- Are you sure?”

She can’t help but smirk at the way Vi flusters beneath her.

“Yes,” Caitlyn brushes her fingers through her hair and leans in close to her ear, hot breath sensually dancing across her skin.

She lowers her voice to a whisper.

“I want to fuck you, Violet.”

Chapter Text

Caitlyn thinks she must be in heaven.

Vi sits beneath her, completely naked, eyes closed as if focused on prayer. Her brows twitch as Caitlyn’s fingers tentatively stroke through the soft curls between her thighs before parting slick heat with a slow, searching touch.

“Show me,” She whispers, a hint of uncertainty behind her words.

Immediately, Vi curls her fingers around her wrist, carefully guiding her hand down further. She pushes her middle finger into wet heat, and the feeling has Caitlyn’s eyes shooting open with a sharp breath.

“You’re soaked.”

Vi nods and drags her finger up, quietly moaning.

“It’s because of you, baby.”

Grey eyes meet blue.

“You… Mm…Turn me on so fucking much.”

When she closes her eyes, Caitlyn urges them open with a quick swipe of her thumb against her cheek and an insistent nudge at the bottom of her chin.

Vi urges her to rub small, deliberate circles over her clit, sending her head falling forward into Caitlyn’s chest as she thrusts her hips. Her breaths come in ragged, broken pleas.

“I want to watch,” She says, and Vi just nods, hardly able to process what she is saying.

She lets go of her face in favour of lowering herself to the floor.

Her knees fold under her and press into the hard wood, but for the first time, this does not feel like penance. This is no false God. This is Vi, her love. And Caitlyn knows that she will never be on her knees worshipping anything that isn’t Vi again.

Her hand presses against her ass, urging her forward to the very edge of the bed while continuing her teasing pace.

She watches as her stomach tenses and her hips shift towards her, lips parting in a silent gasp when she applies more pressure. She thinks about how she fucks herself and tries to mirror it onto Vi, who responds with another heady breath.

A finger drops lower. She looks up. Vi gazes at her through heavy eyelids and nods.

She watches her finger disappear into her. Her head tips back, thighs now trembling under the faint heat of her breath.

The feeling of being inside of Vi is enough to coax a quiet sigh of disbelief from Caitlyn - it is divinity in itself.

She doesn’t look away as she begins moving them, slowly sliding them back until just the tip is inside of her, and then pushing back inside and curling.

“Ah. Caitlyn,” Vi gasps, chasing her touch with her hips each time she pulls out. “S-so good.”

Caitlyn feels herself grow impossibly wetter at her words, and she is sure that the thong must be ruined by now, but she stays focused and moves her face closer, inhaling the scent of desire.

“So pretty,” Vi pants, using one hand to bunch Caitlyn’s hair up into a makeshift ponytail.

She looks up at Vi, who looks thoroughly ruined, like she is barely hanging on.

She’d frame this if she could. Right where the painting of Jesus is in the corridor of her house.

She kisses her pussy and Vi bites down on her lip, carefully pulling Caitlyn in with barely-there pressure to the back of her skull.

Without a word, she pauses her rhythm and closes the gap, tracing a slow, torturous line through her folds. She hums at the tangy taste, moving closer to lick at her entrance so that she can feel the slick coating her tongue.

“Fuck. Fuck.”

Vi’s hips buck up into her with lessening restraint, knuckles white as they grip against the bedsheets, and then she cannot hold herself up any longer. She falls back on the mattress, back arching in pleasure.

“Cait. Cait,” she cries, voice rising with each chant. Her name sounds like a prayer, so holy from Vi’s tongue, even whilst in the bellows of sin.

With one final curl, her walls clench around her. Caitlyn feels it so deliciously, feels her body tense before going slack with a few cries of her name. She laps her up, savouring the musky taste of Vi which she knows she will never be able to get enough of until strong hands are pulling at her to urge her away.

She crawls up her body, immediately grabbing her jaw and thrusting her tongue into her mouth so that Vi can taste herself. Her thighs frame her toned body, lace material of her thong pressing against her abs.

It’s erotic, and she should see it as dirty, but in truth, it is the cleanest she has ever felt.

“Fuck,” Vi breathes between kisses, “That was-”

Caitlyn pulls back to let her fill her lungs.

“Was it okay?”

“Are you kidding? That was amazing. Are you sure you haven’t done that before?”

Caitlyn laughs nervously, pleased at the completely spent look on her face.

But she cannot ignore the ache between her legs. She rocks forward against the hardness of muscle, whining into Vi’s mouth, desperate for some kind of relief.

“You want me to touch you, baby?”

Shyly, she nods and grinds down harder.

“Do you like it when I call you baby?”

Another nod.

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

Vi’s middle finger trails lazily over her damp underwear, teasing and torturous. A low gasp spills from Caitlyn’s lips. She’s being unfair.

“Vi.”

“So needy,” she chuckles, and it is evil.

In one swift movement, she flips them so that Vi is positioned above her.

“As much as I love this bra, can I take it off?”

“Yes.”

Caitlyn lifts her back off the bed to allow Vi to unclip the buckle, and Vi’s fingers fidget with the plastic for a few seconds. Caitlyn giggles, and Vi echoes the soft sounds, clearly trying to concentrate on the intricacies of her bra.

“You’re terrible with clasps,” Caitlyn smiles, noting the slight shakiness of her hands, “Are you nervous?”

“Maybe. Are you?”

“Yes. I’m kind of terrified.”

Relenting, she sits up, and Vi’s hands pause their fussing.

“Would you like to stop?”

“No.” She kisses her softly, just once. “I want this. More than anything.”

“You tell me if it gets too much, okay?”

She nods.

Finally, the bra comes loose beneath her fingers, and Caitlyn shimmies the straps down her shoulders.

Her eyes flood with awe as she hesitates, eyes fixated on the expanse of her bare chest.

Caitlyn smiles and tilts her head to the side, watching the hunger in Vi somehow deepen further. She surges forward, placing a gentle hand on her breast and kissing her deeply. She pushes against her hand, urging her to squeeze her breast and moans into her mouth at the contact.

Vi lays her back down so that her back is against the mattress, and then her mouth moves to her tits.

Caitlyn’s hands go to her hair and her body writhes uncontrollably beneath her.

“Vi,” she moans, needing more, anything.

She sucks her nipple into her mouth and looks up at her. Caitlyn bites her lip. Her eyes are a deep blue, now more like the pavement beneath God on Mount Sinai rather than the bright blue they usually are. Her pupils are blown wide, filled with a desperate kind of hunger.

Vi’s fingers hook around her thong, pulling down, down, until the cool air of the room hits the slick covering the inside of her thighs.

“Fuck,” Vi pants at the sight, careful as she dips her finger through her folds and then sucks on it, eyes rolling back at the taste.

“Bloody tease,” Caitlyn curses breathlessly, but she can’t help it, not right now.

Vi crawls back up her body, stopping as their faces align.

“You ready?”

“Yes. Come here.”

Caitlyn folds her arms around Vi’s shoulders, kissing her once before burying her face into her neck at the feeling of Vi's fingers parting her.

She presses down on her clit perfectly, and Caitlyn can’t help but bite her neck as she whines.

She starts to trail small circles, which feels fucking incredible, and Caitlyn would be wondering how on earth she has lived without this for so long, without Vi, if she had any capacity to think about anything other than the pleasure coursing through her body.

Her nails dig into Vi’s tattooed back as her hips rock upwards, chasing more friction. It’s completely fruitless, she is dripping, but the gentle pressure of Vi’s fingers has her feeling like she is going to come embarrassingly fast.

“Vi,” she gasps, pulling her lips into a greedy kiss. She practically shoves her tongue down Vi’s throat and groans at the hot feeling. “Ah. Yes.”

A finger dips lower and then she is inside, meeting no resistance from Caitlyn who pulses beautifully around her. She throws an arm over her face and her back arches off the bed before her hips lift again.

“Vi.”

“I want to see you, baby,” she pulls her arm away from her face, feeling like a woman mad when their smoky eyes are drawn together. “My beautiful girl.”

Their joint gazes drop to her fingers, and she pushes a second one in. Caitlyn's wince is barely noticeable, but Vi sees it instantly and stops, studying her face intently for any sign of hesitation.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” she nods, shifting her hips and lifting a hand to hold her jaw.

“Cait.”

She opens her eyes and loses herself in the safety of Vi’s. She takes a slow breath to recollect herself.

“Too much?”

“No.”

She places an unhurried kiss to her lips while she gets used to the feeling of Vi’s fingers stretching her ever so slightly.

“Keep going. Feels… Incredible.”

Vi nods and resumes her rhythm, using her thumb to rub her clit whilst she thrusts in and out of her with excruciating slowness.

Perhaps this is what they mean by resurrection; Caitlyn can feel her orgasm building so impossibly high that she thinks she might faint and wake up a new person.

“Violet,” her eyes close again until she feels the gentle press of Vi’s forehead against her own, and then she is looking at her again. It is intense, but God, she wants this so badly. She will never run from this woman again.

“Hm. You feel amazing.”

The compliment shoots to her core and her eyes prick with tears as she closes in on the edge of oblivion, soon to drop over and never return.

Excitement tumbles and trips over fear, because once she falls, she knows that she will never be able to have anything else. She won’t be able to get enough of this woman: Vi, who must have been made by God in the same breath as Caitlyn.

She’ll be a fallen angel, incapable of repentance.

“I’m- I’m.”

“I know, baby,” Vi hushes, kissing her cheek and maintaining her rhythm.

It’s just right. She doesn’t speed up or slow down. It’s everything.

Her body tenses, and she grips Vi impossibly harder.

It’s a build up that climbs higher. Higher than she has even been.

“Ah-”

“Breathe, Cait. I’ve got you.”

A wave breaks over her, and she cries out Vi’s name as if it’s a hymn.

It’s a transformation. A sacrifice that only gives.

The orgasm cuts through her and pieces her back together, cleansing her flesh where she once thought it would be sullied.

And Vi is right here, catching her shaky breaths with the tenderest of kisses.

She tries to speak, but her words come out as incoherent mumbles. Her hands tremor as they find Vi’s face, and then she interlaces their fingers and pulls her hand to her lips.

“Oh my God.”

“Was that good?”

She gasps again when Vi pulls her fingers away.

“Fuck. That was-” she pants, “I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

“Not sure you’d find me there.”

“I’d find you anywhere,” her knuckles lightly brush her cheeks, eyes swimming with something deeper than adoration.

She’d fight the plagues of Egypt for this woman.

Vi’s lips are soft pliant on hers, and then she pushes more, touching her tongue with her own and groaning. She nips at her neck, leaving little marks in her wake.

“Vi.”

“Mm?”

Her fingers trace patterns over the inside of her thighs, and Caitlyn’s hips jut up at the sensitivity there.

“I can’t.”

“You can, baby.”

And God, she’s good.

“I want to feel you on my tongue. I’ll be gentle.”

Something stirs in her gut again; an insatiable hunger.

Her hands subconsciously push at her hair, urging her down further, until she is kissing past her belly button and planting one kiss on her core.

A strong hand runs up her side and her thumb swipes her nipple.

“Caitlyn?”

“Mhm.”

“Can I taste you?”

And as she looks down into Vi’s big, grey eyes, she asks herself how can she ever deny this woman anything. Especially not something she craves so deeply.

She is an angel crafted for Caitlyn.

“Yes.”

Her tongue licks a straight line up her centre and Vi moans at the same time as Caitlyn. It’s loud and sinful but Caitlyn doesn’t care.

She’s glad Eve took that wretched apple if it means she gets to have this, over and over again. Hell, she loves her for it.

Vi drags her tongue through slick folds, chin dripping with Caitlyn. She is soft and gentle as she focuses on her clit, feeling the sensitive twitch of her.

Her tongue drags into Caitlyn and curls.

Caitlyn cries out and tangles her fingers through Vi’s hair.

She bucks her hips up into her face, practically fucking her face as she chases the feeling of her tongue skimming over her clit before baring down and sucking.

Her hands travel up her body, one interlocking with Caitlyn’s while the other settles on her tit to rub at her perfect nipples.

All Caitlyn can do is arch up into her touch, needing her like the sun. She wants her impossibly close.

Another loud moan escapes from her lips, and she looks down at Vi to see her hips rub frantically against the mattress. She’s getting off from this, Caitlyn realises, suddenly thrusting her hips up into her with a feral desperation.

Her hand grips Vi’s hard as she comes, fingers indenting her skin. It unfolds beautifully, flipping her existence on his head in the best ways, and then she is pulling Vi closer to her, slotting a thigh between her legs.

“Fucking hell,” she pants, “You’re good at that.”

It pulls a quick breath from Vi, high and breathless, and she presses down against her thigh.

Her skin glistens under her like myrrh. It looks as though it has turned to gold.

“You like a little praise, hm?”

In response, she grinds down against her muscle, and Caitlyn pushes her leg up further, coaxing a soft sigh from her heavenly lips.

“That’s it, Vi. You look so beautiful like this.”

“Ah. Cait,” she groans, brows furrowed in frustration. “Touch me.”

Her elbows push her up, until she is pulling her further into her lap.

Caitlyn’s fingers are at her clit immediately, easing the soft pout on her face, and Vi is biting her lip and trying to hold herself together, she can tell from the way her legs are gently trembling.

“You feel fucking heavenly,” their heads fall forward until they are joined together, melting together into one being as their souls so desire. Her fingers curl inside of her, and Vi groans, hips canting forward.

She wraps her arms around Caitlyn to press impossibly closer, their tits now flush against each other.

“Fuck, Caitlyn,” she strokes the back of her head and presses her lips to her hairline, so desperately hanging on.

“Look at me, honey.”

With a whine, she pulls back to meet her eyes, and Caitlyn can see how thick the desire sits in her irises.

“You’re being such a good girl.”

A gasp and a quick nod.

“You’re so perfect, riding me like this. Doing so well.”

She holds her waist and moves her hips as she rides her fingers. Caitlyn pushes in further, hand gliding up to her face to hold her eyes there.

Vi kisses her and rests her hand on the base of her neck.

“Vi,” Caitlyn gasps, eyes widening and lips falling apart at the wet sounds coming from her fingers. Vi is actually dripping down her hand. “I can- I can hear it.”

“Mm,” Vi nods, “I… I’ve been thinking about this. So fucking much.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Since I first- fuck. Saw you.”

“Hm. What did you want to do to me?”

Vi’s fingers dig into the flesh of her back, and Caitlyn relishes in the sting of it.

She groans and her muscles tense, head falling onto her shoulder.

“Tell me.” Caitlyn says, stilling her movements, “or I stop.”

Vi lifts her head to look back up at Caitlyn, a sense of betrayal in her eyes.

Caitlyn kisses the confusion from her lips, whispering, “tell me,” into her mouth.

“I thought about-” Caitlyn moves her fingers again, causing Vi to throw her head back before bringing her face back to her, “Taking you on the altar. Spreading your legs. Making you beg for it.”

Caitlyn feels her own cunt throb with anticipation.

“I thought about you getting on your knees. Hm. For me. Coming in- ah - your pretty fucking mouth.”

“I thought about it too. I dreamt of it.”

Their lips come together in a flurry of heat and tongues and moans. It’s hot and messy and everything. She can feel Vi dripping and bucking her hips more frantically into her hand. Her breaths become needy whines and she tightens deliciously around her fingers, bracing herself for the inevitable crash.

“Come for me,” Caitlyn pants into her open mouth.

She all but crumbles in Caitlyn’s arms as she coaxes her through it, whispering sweet praises into her ear and stroking a reassuring hand up her back.

“My precious Violet. Look at you,” she hums, trailing kisses over the expanse of her neck before finally pulling her fingers out of her and lifting them to Vi’s lips.

The sight of Vi sucking herself from Caitlyn’s fingers is beautifully erotic. She wants to memorise the sight forever; burn it into her mind and sculpt it. She’d become an artist just to capture the goddess that is Vi.

She pulls her fingers into her own mouth, moaning at the taste of Vi’s spit and juices mingling on her tongue before Vi is kissing her again, pushing her backwards onto the bed.

“I’ll never tire of having you, Caitlyn Kiramman. I’ll never stop. I want to forget where I end and you begin.”

And something about the words make her smile like the rising sun. It is as if she can feel her heart finally learning the meaning of peace.

So, as Vi pulls her down onto her face, her heart soars; a psalm lifted to the heavens. She feels that emotion she is too scared to name flow through her like holy water, piecing every part of her she once thought broken back together with gold.

Chapter Text

Sunlight filters through the bedroom when she wakes up, casting vibrant rays over the clothes that were strewn around the room in the excitement of the previous night. Birdsong kisses her ears, and she finds herself stretching beside Vi, who looks perfect in the early morning light.

She never wants to wake up without her again. Gently, she pushes herself up, sliding a hand up Vi’s chest to cup her jaw.

Peace floods her veins at the perfect sight in front of her. Her lashes flutter like the wings of an angel.

Caitlyn kisses her and as she goes to pull back, a strong hand lifts to the back of her neck to capture her lips again, not letting her move. Her lips curl into a smile against Vi’s.

“Morning,” Vi whispers, trailing her fingers through dark blue hair.

“Morning.”

“Sleep well?”

“Mhm.”

In fact, she slept excellently. She hasn’t felt this well-rested in what seems like forever.

She nudges into Vi’s neck and nips at her pulse point before moving to straddle her body.

“Cait,” Vi sighs, hands finding her hips immediately.

Caitlyn’s mouth moves to her tits. She lavishes each nipple with attention, rolling them in her palms and leaving little purple marks over the skin of her chest.

Vi’s fingers lightly graze across her scalp, and when she looks up at her face, her lips are parted and gasping.

She releases her nipple with a satisfying pop and leisurely stretches her spine.

“I have to go to Mass.”

“What?” She opens her eyes and stares at her as she says, “Caitlyn Kiramman. You’re going to kill me.”

“Stay here. I’ll come back after.”

“You promise?”

“You’re in my house, Vi.”

She grins up at her, and the sight makes Caitlyn’s heart swell. Pushing herself up onto her elbows, she kisses her and lightly slaps her ass, eliciting a quiet giggle from Caitlyn as she steps off the bed to pull some clothes out of her drawer.

Vi rolls onto her side to watch every movement, sheets bundled up at her chest.

“You’re a work of art.”

Caitlyn just shyly smiles to herself at the compliment and pulls a pair of simple black briefs up her legs, then pairs it with a matching bra.

She opens her wardrobe and buttons up a black shirt before tucking it into her tailored trousers and putting on her clerical collar.

A soft squeak comes from the other side of the door, and upon opening it, she is met with a very displeased-looking Geppetto. If cats could roll their eyes, she would do just that as she walks into the bedroom, swishing her tail and scanning the clothes across the floor with a dissatisfied grunt.

Immediately, she spots Vi in the bed, and her green eyes light up. She jogs over to her, leaping up into her arms with a happy mew.

“Wow,” Caitlyn comments, raising her eyebrows.

“Hello, Geppetto,” Vi coos as she strokes the cat.

Caitlyn throws a T-shirt at her with a ludicrous scowl.

“Don’t be naked around my cat.”

With a chuckle, she pulls the T-shirt over her head. She looks impossibly soft in her clothes, and Caitlyn feels her heartbeat race inside her chest.

“Come here.”

Caitlyn steps towards her, and when she is close enough, Vi hooks her fingers under her belt loops and pulls.

“You look rather dashing, Father Kiramman.”

She runs a hand down her back and squeezes her ass as she kisses her.

“We’re going to have to unpack this priest kink of yours upon my return.”

“It’s not a priest kink,” Vi smiles, kissing her again. “It’s a Caitlyn kink.”

Caitlyn actually giggles at the comment, a happy sound that widens Vi’s smile, and she could die in this moment and be happy. She knows what the warm pounding of her heart means. And it is everything.

“I won’t be long.”

She grabs her face and kisses her again before blowing her a final kiss from the doorway and disappearing down the hall.

—

She gives the sermon on love and smiles the whole way through it.

"Love is patient, love is kind.”

She thinks about Vi and bites her lip.

“It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres."

She preaches the importance of loving one another to the congregation and keeps the service light and happy without dragging it on for too long.

She has matters to tend to.

She has a woman in her bed whom she loves deeply. Whom she wants to spend all of her time with.

So that is what she does. She wraps up the sermon and dismisses her parishioners, wishing each person a personal goodbye on the door.

One of the older women touches her arm and says that she looks very happy. Caitlyn thanks her.

She’s over the moon.

So, as she crosses the small pathway to her house, her lips stay parted in a smile.

She hangs her robes up and heads straight upstairs, slowly opening the door to see Vi curled up in bed with Geppetto in her arms.

Her heart melts at the sight. The feeling inside of her is so clearly love; she cannot deny it, nor run from it anymore. She just wants to give in to it. It can’t hurt to let herself have this; she will figure it out.

She pulls out her phone and takes a picture of her, then plants a gentle kiss on her forehead and changes into comfier clothing: a pair of shorts and a plaid shirt.

Ten minutes later, as she is attempting to make pancake batter, a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist.

“How was Mass?”

“It was fine. How was your nap?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vi hums into her neck. “What are you making?”

“Pancakes.”

Caitlyn turns around and places a blob of batter onto her nose.

“I’ve cancelled all of my clients. I’m very sick, you see,” she smiles as she wipes the batter off her nose with her thumb before dipping it into her mouth.

“Vi.”

“It’s life-threatening, Caitlyn. They said the only cure is a day spent in bed with a blue-haired priest. Kind of strange, I know, but doctor’s orders.”

“Ugh. You’re…”

She steals the words from her mouth with a swift kiss.

“Amazing? Talented? Charming?”

Her eyes wiggle suggestively.

“All of those, but especially annoying.”

They grin at each other, and the sunlight hits them perfectly in the centre of the kitchen. The moment is wonderful, and they both just bathe in it, until Caitlyn is scooped up with a squeal and placed easily onto the counter.

Vi wastes no time ridding her of her pants and opening her shirt. She takes the syrup from beside the plates and squeezes it over her thighs, earning a disbelieving scoff from Caitlyn that is cut short by the sight of Vi lowering herself down to lick the sticky mess. Her eyes rise to meet her, and the vision in front of her is so breathtaking that Caitlyn can hardly form a coherent thought.

She threads her fingers through her hair and throws her head back, letting herself succumb to this heaven that she has been blessed with.

–

They do exactly what Vi says - they spend the day in bed.

It is like a dam has burst. They don’t stop touching each other all day, exploring every inch of their bodies.

They take breaks to drink water and eat, but it does not last long. Their hands keep drifting to the other’s bodies, ready to take and to give.

All Caitlyn wants to do is this.

This, being riding her fingers while her hands lazily drag across her chest. Her head is thrown back, hair catching the sunlight as it drips down her back.

Caitlyn’s mouth is parted, brows furrowed and eyes closed. Her back arches backwards, hips slowly rocking against Vi’s hand.

She bites down on her lip as she comes, immediately folding to press herself against Vi, wishing that she could be somehow closer. A part of her wants to crawl under her skin and live there.

With a satisfied sigh, she flops onto the bed beside Vi, running a hand down her chest.

“I’m hungry.”

“I have something you can eat,” Vi winks.

“We are going to starve if you keep saying that.”

It had taken three loud grumbles of both of their stomachs to convince them to stop to make lunch.

Hours later, as the late afternoon tumbles into evening, they face the same dilemma.

“Let’s go out to eat,” Vi says, framing her face with her hand.

“Is it a date?”

“No, sorry. I’m actually seeing someone.”

Caitlyn gasps, eyes glistening with amusement as she pushes herself up with her elbow.

“Who is this mystery woman?”

“You wouldn’t know her. It’s an affair.”

“An affair? How scandalous.”

“Mhm. She’s married to this idiot called God.”

Caitlyn giggles.

“He sounds like a right arse.”

“I like how you say that,” Vi grins, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “arse.”

“Arse,” she repeats, leaning closer and kissing her through their giddy smiles. “Dinner?”

“Dinner.”

–

Vi is head over heels.

As she holds Caitlyn’s hand beside the candlelit table, she feels like the luckiest person alive.

Caitlyn looks stunning, with Vi’s jacket slung over a black turtleneck that does well to cover the little purple marks littering her neck. She takes it from her and drapes it across the back of her chair before sitting opposite her, not without a quick kiss to the cheek.

Dinner is spent blanketed in the comfort of idle chatter and adoring stares aimed at each other.

It is lovely, just like Caitlyn, and Vi finds her heart to have turned to mush around the woman.

She is madly in love.

With a priest.

A priest whom she had mind-blowing sex with.

It’s a strange thought, one that she has been trying not to dwell on. The thought of Caitlyn suddenly deciding that living a life of priesthood is better than life with Vi is a scary one.

But when she looks at her as though she hung the moon and slips her hand into Vi’s, the thought dissipates completely.

“Do you want to get a drink? There’s a cute bar over there.”

Caitlyn nods her head towards a quaint bar at the other side of the road from them. It glows warmly with orange lights and glass windows.

“You don’t want free drinks from my dad?”

“Vi, you have a bite mark on your ear.”

“Whose fault is that?”

With a hefty eye roll, Caitlyn pulls down the top of her turtleneck, revealing the hickeys imprinted into her skin.

Vi laughs and pulls her across the road, opening the door for her as they step into the bar and order two cocktails. The only table available is the one closest to the toilet, but they take it anyway, squeezing close to each other and tasting their drinks.

Through the side of her eye, Caitlyn regards her. It makes Vi shift in her seat.

“God, Cupcake. Do you have to be so hot?”

“I’m not doing anything.”

She leans forward to pick up her drink, and Vi watches the movement, completely transfixed by her.

Caitlyn rolls her shoulders back and tilts her neck to the side.

“You okay?”

She hums, glancing at Vi, “Back ache.”

Vi’s hand smoothes across her back over the material of her turtleneck, then squeezes the muscles below her shoulders, coaxing a soft sigh of relief from Caitlyn. She sits back, letting her head fall into Vi as she keeps the slow rhythm, digging her fingertips into the flesh of her back.

She nudges her face into the crook of Vi’s neck, and the hot breath against her skin immediately shoots straight to her gut.

A wandering hand digs down to the bottom of her top, fingers sliding under to feel the skin there.

Caitlyn shoots her a knowing look.

“No one’s looking,” Vi whispers, glancing over her shoulder.

She freezes.

Caitlyn feels the way her body tenses and turns to look at what has caught her eye.

“Fuck.”

Quickly, Vi springs to her feet, grabbing Caitlyn’s hand and dragging her into the toilet.

“What the fuck. What the fuck!” Caitlyn hisses, door closing behind her, “Why on earth is Marcus here?”

“Shit.”

“Marcus! Of all people!”

Vi touches her forehead and paces back and forth, catching Caitlyn’s reflection in the mirror. Her forehead is creased as she fidgets with her hands, pulling at the skin at the edges of her nails.

“We’ll get out of here. He won’t see us-”

Distant murmurs approach the door, and Vi pulls Caitlyn into a cubicle without thinking, locking it behind them.

“Vi!”

She slips a hand over her mouth, focusing on the conversation between the two girls.

“And yeah, he’s just such a dick.”

“I don’t know what you see in him.”

Okay. Not Marcus. She is not sure why she initially thought Marcus would be coming into the women’s toilet, anyway. It was a fight or flight response.

Caitlyn looks extremely confused, and Vi decides to let go of her mouth and instead shrug apologetically.

And then her expression shifts into something different.

Something hungrier.

Vi’s eyes widen just as Caitlyn grabs her jacket by the lapels and crashes their lips together.

It doesn’t take her long to melt into the kiss, completely shutting out the conversation happening just behind them. Her hands wrap around Caitlyn’s waist, mouth pushing further into her as if wishing to swallow her whole. The force causes Caitlyn’s head to hit against the cubicle wall, and Vi pulls back with a worried gasp.

“Er. You okay in there?”

Both of their eyes widen.

Caitlyn shakes her head, panicked.

“Um. Yes. My… Friend has diarrhoea,” Vi stutters, hand instantly flying to her face at what she has just said.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s pretty intense. She nearly fell off the toilet.”

A very exasperated Cailtlyn throws her hands in the air. “Yep! Shouldn’t have eaten that burrito.”

Vi’s jaw falls slack at Caitlyn’s makeshift accent. Why is she trying to sound American? It is awful and far from passable - Vi just hopes the girls are too drunk to notice.

They both cringe at themselves, pinching their noses and shaking their heads.

“Well. We’ll leave you ladies to it. Good luck in there.”

The sound of clacking heels filter out of the room until the door shuts with a click.

“Very nice!” Caitlyn grunts, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I panicked!”

“Clearly.”

“What was I supposed to say?”

“That I was drunk?”

“Okay,” Vi nods, her mind clearing slightly. “That seems a lot more logical, actually. Yeah.”

Caitlyn shoves her shoulder lightly before her lips split open, spilling out infectious laughter that has Vi giggling like a teenager in her proximity.

“Diarrhoea,” She snorts, placing a hand on her stomach with the effort of laughing.

“I’m an idiot.”

“It’s a good thing I apparently find idiocy attractive then, isn’t it?”

Vi kisses her again, not hiding the smile that tugs at her lips as she does so, and Caitlyn feels incredible under her hands. She presses open-mouthed kisses to her jaw and pulls at her turtleneck to expose more skin.

“Do you think Marcus is still there?”

She pulls back, studying the worry in Caitlyn’s beautiful eyes.

“Do you want me to check? I could distract him while you sneak out.”

“And how would you do that?”

“You should know by now how distracting I can be,” she smirks at Caitlyn, who squishes her cheeks together and kisses her.

“Okay. I’ll give you two minutes and then do my best to sneak out unnoticed. I’ll walk to the right as I leave. Meet me somewhere there.”

“I’ll find you,” Vi nods, straightening out her clothes and unlocking the door. She smooths her hair in the reflection before pushing the door open.

“Marcus? That you?”

The man turns away from his friend, his face shifting into annoyance.

“It’s Your Excellency.”

“I have to call you that even when you’re not working?”

“Yes. It’s my title.”

“Huh. Okay, Your Excellency. What are you doing here? Preaching the gospel?”

“Wow. You should become a comedian,” He deadpans. “I’m having a drink with a friend. Is that a problem?”

“No! No. You should try the pina coladas here. They’re good.”

“I hate coconut.”

“Wow. Really?”

Vi grinds her teeth together; this conversation is truly going nowhere. Has Caitlyn managed to escape?

“Did you… Want something?”

He flicks his fingers towards her as if trying to shoo her off. A slither of anger shows its skin, but she pushes it down for Caitlyn’s sake.

“Yes. Some guidance.”

“On?”

“The Bible.”

There is a beat of silence.

What is she doing?

“Last time I spoke to you, Vi, your words were inextricably blasphemous.”

“Well, I’ve had a change of heart. My faith has been strengthened.”

“Have you been in the church?”

“What? No! I’ve just been reading the Bible. It’s interesting. Full of twists. Son of God? Real compelling stuff.”

“What’s your favourite story?”

“Um.” She swallows, trying to keep her panic from surfacing. “The Nativity.”

Marcus rolls his eyes, and Vi glances at her phone.

“Oh gee, is that the time? I better be going. So nice to see you!”

She hurries out of the bar, doubt creeping into her mind. That could have gone far better, but she is sure Caitlyn had managed to get out, and that is all that matters.

She shoves her hands into her pockets, attempting to calm the blush on her cheeks as she mumbles under her breath about what an arsehole he is.

A hand grabs her hood, and she yelps as she is dragged into a narrow alleyway, her heart racing so fast she thinks she might throw up. She shoves the hand away, lifting her arms as though ready to fight.

“Hey there.”

Her shoulders drop at the sight of Caitlyn in front of her.

“Jesus! You scared the shit out of me!”

“It wasn’t sexy?”

She looks horrified.

Vi laughs breathlessly.

“A little bit. My life flashed before my eyes.”

“Aw. I’m sorry.”

She wraps her arms around Caitlyn and feels a hand reach around to squeeze her ass. “Do public places make you hot or something?”

“You make me hot.”

“First the bathroom, now this alleyway.”

“Maybe I just want you every minute of the day.”

Caitlyn bites her lip and kisses her, carefully guiding her backwards until she is pressed against the wall with hungry hands balling up her shirt to skim across her abs.

“Fuck, Cait,” Vi sighs at the feeling of Caitlyn’s teeth nipping her neck. She palms at her breast, and Vi can do nothing but give in with a quiet moan.

Deft fingers tug at her belt, and Vi’s mind short cuts, focused only on Caitlyn’s starving eyes until a bang at the end of the alleyway sends the both of them jumping out of their skin. Vi’s squeal is high-pitched and utterly ridiculous, and Caitlyn can do nothing but shoot her a quick glance of bewilderment.

A rat scurries across the floor, narrowly missing their feet.

Vi sneers at it, then looks up at the disgust on Caitlyn’s face.

“Shall we just go to yours?”

“Yep.”

Chapter Text

“So. How is the sex?”

Mel Medarda looks unfairly stunning as she throws her arms around Caitlyn, pulling her in for a tight hug outside of one of Caitlyn’s favourite coffee shops.

She had called only the previous night, saying that her job had given her the day off last minute and she wanted to see Caitlyn. So, she had driven two long hours just to see her friend.

“You haven’t seen me in two months and that’s the first thing you ask me?”

Caitlyn wears a loose fitting blouse and tan trousers, while Mel, always overdressed, looks gorgeous in a long, yellow dress.

“You left me on a very cruel cliffhanger when you called me last. You must tell me about Rome.”

“It was fine. Very religious.”

“Now. The sex.”

“I’m getting us coffee,” she scoffs, stepping inside of the cafe. She places her hands on the doorframe and looks back to Mel with a glint in her eye. Her voice drops to a hushed whisper, “I came five times last night.”

The look on Mel’s face is hilarious.

—

Vi is happy.

She has not felt this elated and utterly carefree since she was a child.

Caitlyn brings out the best in her. She is amazing. And Vi feels like the luckiest person alive.

She is utterly and hopelessly in love with the woman.

The feeling commands her entire body, causing her to smile to herself randomly. Her limbs feel light, lungs completely care-free, as though nothing could possibly weigh her down.

So, as she folds her laundry, she fucking dances.

She sings and sways her hips as she sorts her clothes into neat little piles. The beat that plays from her phone is lively. She moves her arms to the sound. There is no semblance of rhythm to her movements; she is simply dancing for the sake of it, because she doesn’t know what to do with all of this happiness within her.

“Someone’s happy.”

Vi jumps at the gruff voice that brashly interrupts her ridiculous head bangs.

“Dad. Can you knock?”

Her cheeks flush adorably red as she cringes inwardly at herself.

“Sorry,” Vander chuckles, “I heard about the priest.”

“From who?” She gasps, eyes already shooting past him to search for her brothers.

“The grapevine. I didn’t know you two were… Dancing with the devil when I met her. Now it feels like I gave a poor introduction.”

“What? We weren’t… Oh my God. We’ve only been together for like… Two weeks.”

13 days, though not officially.

“So she’s your girlfriend? Your pastor partner?”

“Kind of,” she squeaks, not entirely sure if she can even look her father in the eyes after he has just said ‘dancing with the devil.’

“When is she coming here for dinner?”

“Oh so Mylo can scare her off with his buggish eyebrows?”

“Vi.”

“Buggish eyebrows?” The boy suddenly materialises in the doorway, and Vi rolls her eyes at him, “I’m going to cut holes in all of your clothes tonight.”

“Don’t do that again!”

“Mylo. Go pester Claggor,” Vander groans.

“Or get a job!”

With an exasperated huff, he spins on his heel.

“Bring her here. I’m sure she’d love us,” he smiles, “You look really happy, my girl. It’s a good look on you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she smiles, shoulders dropping, “I am.”

“I’m glad, Vi. You deserve it.” He steps forward and lays a huge hand on her shoulder. “Just don’t… let her play with you, okay? Tell her to put a ring on it.”

She shakes her head with a small smile.

—

“And then we were making pancakes and she lifted me onto the counter and gave me the craziest-”

Mel squeals far too loudly to be deemed appropriate, catching the gaze of a few other customers in the cafe. It causes Caitlyn to flush red as she laughs into her coffee.

“She sounds amazing.”

“She’s so amazing. I really love her.”

Caitlyn’s eyes widen at the realisation of what she has just said.

“Love, huh? It’s not a bit soon for that?”

“I’ve known for a long time. I… It feels right with her. Even when I first saw her… I knew she was going to change my life. Like one day I’d fall in love with her.”

“And the church?”

She folds her arms onto the table and stares at her empty mug, shifting in her seat uncomfortably.

Mel’s eyes are soft and understanding when she finally musters the courage to look at her..

“I don’t know, Mel.”

“Would you leave? For her?”

“I… I think so. But what would I do? This is all I’ve ever known.”

“You could do anything, Caitlyn. What did you see yourself doing before this?”

She lets out a wistful sigh.

“So many things.”

“So. Pick one.”

“You say that like it’s easy. What if my time has passed?”

“You’re twenty five. Don’t be ridiculous,” Mel deadpans. “You have options. The world is your oyster.”

“Ugh.” She groans dramatically and throws her head back. “I just… I need to think.”

“Then do that. Hey - go on holiday. Take a break. Just don’t burn yourself out.”

“I won’t.”

“Right.” She quirks a suspicious eyebrow, and Caitlyn finds herself cursing how well Mel knows her. She needs to change the subject.

“How is the wedding planning going?”

“Terribly. The house won’t be ready by autumn because apparently there’s a gas leak. I mean, come on, how serious can that be?”

“Fairly serious, I imagine.”

“Ugh. Whatever. We tried to push it back to next summer, but it’s all booked up.”

“Can you not just find a different venue?”

“No! I’ve been dreaming of getting married there ever since I was a little girl. Besides, we aren’t in a rush. What’s two more years of engagement?”

“I admire your patience.”

“Will you marry Vi?”

Caitlyn nearly chokes on her water.

“Definitely too soon for that.”

–

They shop for hours, buying clothes, lingerie and shoes, until Caitlyn feels exhausted and very ready to head home.

Vi calls her as she makes herself dinner and balances a very needy Geppetto on her shoulders, only shifting her when she sits down and the cat practically slides off of her and onto the table.

“What’s wrong with you?”

She narrows her eyes at her in suspicion, earning a high-pitched mewl.

“Vi, I think my cat misses you.”

“Aw. Tell her I miss her too,” Vi says through the phone.

It has only been two days since she has last been at the house.

“Geppetto - get a grip,” She teases, reaching out to pet her. Geppetto purrs and then pulls away, turning around with a sassy swish of her tail. “When will I see you next? I think Geppetto is suffering.”

“Geppetto? Or you?”

“Both of us,” she pouts honestly.

“Cute. I’ll come and see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“I have a wake to attend.”

“Fun. The morning?”

“Mass and confessional.”

“Evening?”

“Yes. I’ve bought something to show you.”

“Is it a new set of lingerie?”

She lets her fork drop into her salad in disappointment. “How did you guess?”

“Wishful thinking,” she laughs, before clearing her throat. “Would you ever… Like… If you wanted to… You could send me a picture?”

“A picture?”

“You in the lingerie, maybe. I don’t know. You don’t have to, of course.”

“You’d want that?”

Caitlyn chews on a leaf, flipping the thought over in her head.

“Yes.”

“I will if you send me something in return.”

“You want a picture of my body?”

“Are you serious? Of course I do. You’re astonishingly sexy, Vi. It takes one look at your Instagram comments to discover the amount of girls thirsting over you. I’m sure they’d kill for a naked picture of you. In fact, they’d probably combust on the spot.”

Vi chuckles down the line, and Caitlyn feels the sound shoot straight to her heart, setting fire to a pool of embers there.

“Well, they’re not getting one. That particular image will be reserved for Caitlyn Kiramman.”

“Can’t wait,” she smiles, shifting in her seat at the very thought of Vi’s body. “I’m going to take a bath. I’ll speak to you later.”

–

As Caitlyn lies in bed, no semblance of sleep makes it’s presence known to her. She feels like there is an amalgamation of unresolved emotions watching her from the corner, shrouded by shadows.

She turns on her side and thinks she can see her mother’s face in the dark. Mottled, mouth open in a silent scream. She scrambles to sit up and leaps at the lamp, switching it on with a racing heart. No one is here.

The bed is empty save for Geppetto, who sleeps soundly at the end of the bed. She feels cold. She misses Vi, which seems stupid - she has spent so much time with her, but each time they part, she can’t help but feel saddened. She wants to spend every minute by her side. It is clingy and obsessive, but she can’t shut the thoughts away.

She cannot keep this up. She is balancing on a knife edge between her love for Vi and her job; the church. She is betraying her parishioners, she is betraying God. She is no longer righteous. She is no longer good.

Actually, she is rather terrible.

It is like the guilt she feels from her mother’s death has doubled over, giving way to a separate strand of it that she doesn’t know what to do with.

In an attempt to push down the tightening feeling in her throat, she climbs out of bed and replaces her pyjamas with the dark lingerie she had bought earlier in the day. She’s not horny at all, but she needs something to occupy her mind. She aims the lamp at her chest and picks her phone up.

She has never taken a nude before, and as she sits in the middle of her bedroom half-naked, she thinks it is quite silly. She struggles to find the perfect angle, holding the phone in the air and then down low. No - that one is awful.

She flips the phone upside down and takes a few, hoping that they will turn out alright and then she swipes through them.

They’re fine, she supposes. Perhaps they could do with the brightness being turned down a little.

Ten minutes later, she is still sliding filters up and down the photos, trying to make them look perfect. They need to be flawless, she tells herself.

But she can’t do it. They don’t look right. And then she can barely make out the skin of her chest because the picture is too damn dark.

Tears stream down her face for reasons she can’t name, wetting her chest and ruining the next set of photos she takes.

“Stop crying,” she hisses at herself, harshly wiping at her face.

She feels her mother’s eyes on her, and even though she knows that is impossible, she grabs her silk robe and slides it over her shoulders to cover up.

More photos, this time with the robe.

It is no good.

She feels dirty.

Half of her knows that she shouldn’t feel this way. She has a great figure; her tits are probably her favourite body part, but that is not what is upsetting her. It’s the shame.

She climbs into bed, throwing her fatigued head into the pillow, robe still wrapped around her limbs.

Caitlyn. You caused this.

Mother. Cassandra.

Her face doesn’t look right.

Half of it is covered in blood.

And then Marcus is there, beside the body, finger pointing at her.

Sinner. You caused this. You’re a bad person, Caitlyn. Murderer. How dare you call yourself righteous.

Water pools at her feet but it is too hot, far too hot and it is rapidly rising until it is burning her shins. She looks at her mother for advice but she is dead, and the dead can’t talk, except she is tallking, because she’s saying her name, she is saying that she caused this, and Marcus isn’t reacting. He just stands there, completely immune to it. There is screaming, lots of it coming from outside-

She wakes clutching her throat in a cry for air. The lamp is still on. She checks the time. It is just past midnight.

Terror wracks her body, causing her hands to shake and her eyes to well up again. Her throat feels tight, like she can scarcely breathe.

“Mummy, I had a bad dream. There’s monsters under the bed.”

“There’s no monsters, darling. You can come and sleep with us tonight, alright?”

She doesn’t want to be alone. Her thumb hovers over the one person her mind immediately pleads for.

“Hey, Cupcake.”

Vi sounds ever so tired, voice slightly raspy with sleep.

“Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, but I don’t mind.”

“I’m sorry, Vi. I’ll leave you to-”

“Are you okay? You sound upset.”

“No. I’m… Fuck.”

“I’m coming over. Stay there.”

–

As soon as Vi gets to Caitlyn’s house, she pulls her into a tight hug, feeling the way Caitlyn’s hands smooth across her back as she digs her nose into her neck.

“You came,” she murmurs, and her voice sounds so small, Vi thinks her heart might break.

“Of course.”

“It’s so late.”

“I don’t care. You could call me from the fucking moon and I’d find my way there.”

Vi pulls back to cradle her face, seeing the fresh trails of tears on her cheeks. She wipes them away with her thumb, leaning in to kiss the pout from her lips.

“I don’t think they have signal on the moon.”

Vi exhales through her nose, though she can find no room for humour when Caitlyn looks so upset.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Can we… Can we go upstairs?”

Vi nods and holds her hand as they go into the bedroom. Caitlyn unties her robe and Vi’s jaw falls slack at the sight.

“Oh. Woah.”

Caitlyn rolls her eyes and pulls two sets of pyjamas out of her drawers.

“Can you stay over?”

“I mean. It’s pretty hard to say no when you look like that.”

Caitlyn’s smile is watery, and it pulls Vi out of her cuntstruck daze.

They silently change into the baggy pyjamas Caitlyn provides them with, and they brush their teeth together without saying a word. Vi watches her tired reflection in the mirror and feels her heart ache. She wants to heal all of her woes. When she places a careful hand on the small of her back, Caitlyn melts into the touch with a soft hum.

They climb under the covers together and Caitlyn lies on Vi’s chest, closing her eyes at the feeling of her fingers stroking through her hair. Geppetto tucks herself into Vi’s side, and Caitlyn reaches over to touch her fur. Her mind finally begins to calm down, crashing waves dissipating into gentle ripples.

"Were you taking nudes?" Vi's voice is soft, as if afraid she might break.

"Yeah."

"Is that why you were upset? You don't have to do anything you don't want to, you know?"

“It's not that." She takes a shaky breath. "Everything is a lot.”

Vi stays quiet, though keeps the gentle rhythm of her fingers going.

“I feel like I’m leading two lives, and I can’t decide which one to pick, because either way, I’m going to let people down.”

Her voice breaks and she nuzzles into Vi’s chest, hiding her face.

“I can’t lose you. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh, Cait.”

She wraps her arms tighter around her frame and kisses the crown of her head.

“And if I leave the church, what am I to do? What are you going to do with the study club? I feel like my head is going to explode. I don’t know what to do.”

“Caitlyn. You don’t have to worry yourself with the study club. I’ll find somewhere else to host it. Just… Be here with me tonight. You need to sleep.”

“I keep having nightmares. They’re always about my mother. I see her face, and it’s all distorted and wrong, like it would have been after the crash.”

She rubs her hand up her spine.

“Well, if you have another nightmare, I’ll be here.”

She tenses her body against her, gripping her shirt. “I’m… It’s scary.”

“I won’t let anything bad happen to you, Cait. I promise.”

Caitlyn shuts her eyes and lets her body relax against her.

“Thank you. I think… I think I need to talk to my dad.”

Chapter Text

It takes nearly a week for Caitlyn to finally be able to find time in her busy schedule to visit her father - she feels as though she is balancing on a knife’s edge the whole time. She is a nervous wreck.

Vi’s presence is her anchor; she stays with her through the long nights. The nightmares lessen with the presence of Vi’s warm body beside hers. Everything is less scary with her.

The drive to her father’s house is always mind-numbingly boring: a straight motorway that has Caitlyn feeling like she might fall asleep behind the wheel if not for the aircon blasting into her shaded eyes.

She queues a list of jovial music that reminds her of Vi, because apparently she’s already so in love that she has made her a secret playlist. She cringes at herself when she thinks about it too much.

She’s like a damn teenager.

A smile tugs at her lips, and now she feels crazy. She’s at a stop light, smiling to herself. A kid in the car beside her stares through the window, rubbing his snotty nose against the glass. Caitlyn laughs and continues driving.

She stops in town to get a few gifts for her father: some flowers, beard oil, and fresh fruit.

She balances a bag on her wrist and holds the kaleidoscope of flowers close to her chest, when a small ball of blue cloth is thrown to her feet by a baby in a stroller.

With a short laugh, she leans down to pick it up.

“Oops. Sorry about that,” a woman with dark hair says, an apologetic smile on her face.

“Don’t be.” Caitlyn hands the toy to her and realises that she is holding hands with another woman. They have two simple bands on their ring fingers.

She looks between them - they’re an attractive couple, one with insanely voluminous blonde hair and the other with piercing green eyes.

And they have a child. They’re a family. They’re married and they have a child and they’re raising it together-

“Er…”

“Oh. Sorry. I wasn’t-” she flusters, ashamed to have been caught staring. “You’ve got a beautiful kid.”

“Thanks,” the second woman says, uncertainly twisting her lips as if she isn’t entirely sure of Caitlyn’s intentions.

She slips the bag further up her arm and tries her best to give them a genuine smile, but it just looks awkward. She curses herself and steps away.

She can hardly focus on not tripping over her own feet because now her mind is reeling off thoughts concerning her best-friend-turned-not-girlfriend possibly raising a child with her. She hadn’t even wanted children, or so she thought. But Vi would make a good mother, and they are an excellent team. The thought of Vi holding a baby, their baby in her muscular, tattooed arms is enough to make her womb ache in yearning.

They’re not even dating, Caitlyn reminds herself. She doesn’t know what they are. They’re having sex. The greatest, most passionate sex that has Caitlyn seeing stars with each earth-shattering orgasm. She doesn’t want to sleep with anyone else, and she is pretty sure Vi doesn’t either. Are they dating without knowing it? Maybe Vi thinks they are girlfriends. Maybe they are.

Caitlyn snaps herself back to reality only to remember the current issue at hand here. The couple behind her thinks she is some sort of homophobe, when in actuality, she is the exact opposite of that.

Her mouth moves faster than her mind, and just before she is out of earshot, she turns around to the confused couple to shout:

“I’m a lesbian!”

Immediate regret washes over her and she pinches her nose, hearing the women behind her burst out into fits of laughter.

“Good for you, love!”

—

After her mother’s death, Caitlyn’s father, Tobias, became a reserved man.

He isolated himself in his grief, meaning he and Caitlyn drifted after the accident. She blamed herself, of course, and it took Tobias years to finally come out of his shell again and take the time to properly apologise to Caitlyn for not being there as he should have been.

She forgave him, of course - she wasn’t about to push her one remaining close family member away due to some petty feelings in her teenage years, and they began to spend time together again. They talked about things. Hobbies. School. Cassandra, with great reluctance.

Caitlyn did not tell him much outside of these subjects. Her priesthood training took place in a boarding school, where she would only come home four times a year.

She did not tell him that she blamed herself for the accident, or that she barely slept because she kept seeing her face. She did not tell him that she pissed the bed on the two year anniversary of her death because the nightmares had felt so real, and her roommate was a massive dick about it and thought it would be funny to tell half of the school.

She dealt with that on her own, burying herself in her studies rather than facing it head on.

Still, she did not blame her father. She just did not feel close to him, which was strange, because they were inseparable when she was a little girl.

He throws his arms around her when she opens the door and holds her tightly.

“Caitlyn! I missed you!”

“Hi, dad,” she smiles, pulling away to give him the flowers before walking to the kitchen. “I bought you some fruit. I’ll leave it in the fridge.”

She places the bag on the kitchen island and he rifles through his gifts, grinning at the beard oil as he reads the text on the packet.

“Aw - you shouldn’t have.”

Caitlyn just smiles and loiters as he makes them tea. She can’t find anything to say, so she stays quiet, as does he.

They get comfortable in the lounge, the sticky quiet only filled by the occasional clinking of saucers and the monotonous grandfather clock.

“So. What’s been going on with you?”

He asks, finally.

“Um. I’ve been working a lot.”

He nods and asks no further questions.

She shifts in her seat and places the tea down.

“I met someone.”

“What?” His eyebrows shoot up, though she can’t tell if he’s horrified or intrigued.

“Yeah. I don’t know. It just happened. I’m in love with a woman.”

She closes her eyes, blood running cold through her body. Her palms sweat as she anxiously rings her fingers together.

“What is she like?”

Her eyes open in surprise, and she takes the opening to continue.

“She’s lovely. She’s a personal trainer. Very… Pretty. She runs a weekly study club and, long story short, she had to move it to my church. We became friends and…”

“What’s her name?”

“Vi.”

“Vi,” Tobias says, testing the name on his tongue as if weighing up whether it’s good enough for his daughter. “Does she make you happy?”

“So happy. I haven’t been this happy since-”

She cuts herself off at the painful reminder.

“Well, I’m proud of you.”

“What?”

Now it’s her turn to look as though she’s seen a ghost.

“You’ve found someone who makes you happy, Caitlyn. The church wasn’t doing that. I could see that it was eating you alive, but I was too much of a coward to do anything-”

“Dad.”

He raises his hand to stop her.

“Caitlyn. You do what you need to do. I’m sorry for not saying anything. I haven’t been a good father to you.”

She feels her eyes stinging with the threat of tears.

“It doesn’t… bother you? That I’m a lesbian?”

“No,” he answers immediately in a light tone, “Why would it?”

Caitlyn’s eyes swim with emotion and she desperately tries to stop herself from crying at the realisation that her parents never actually cared about her sexuality. She could have told her mother. She could have helped Caitlyn.

She would have understood.

“If Vi makes you happy, take the leap. Leave the church. You can do anything, because you’re her daughter. Because you’re Caitlyn Kiramman.”

“I’m your daughter too,” she sniffles, standing up to sit beside her father on the sofa.

“And I’m so glad.” He wraps his arm around her and pulls her into his side. “She’d be so proud of you, darling. I’m sure she’s looking down on us now, beaming with pride. You’ve grown into something extraordinary.”

“Extraordinary?” She scoffs, throat burning.

“You’ve grown up. You’re your own person, and I couldn’t be more amazed at the person you’ve become.”

Finally, she lets herself cry, lets the tears flow freely and be soaked up by her father’s expensive shirt. He cries too. He brings a hand up to his face to wipe away the tears, and Caitlyn feels herself thaw, giving way to spring, to a life she wants to grasp with both hands.

She brings their foreheads together and tries to smile, and the watery expression is mirrored on her father’s aged face.

“You look just like her,” He says. “My beautiful Caitlyn.”

She sits up and wipes her eyes - she has done too much crying lately. It’s about time she gets to be happy.

“Tell me more about Vi.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Okay.”

Caitlyn goes on about Vi for what feels like hours - she talks about how kind she is, her family, her past, and even shows her father photos of the two of them together before showing him some of her posts. It makes her heart bloom. He asks her questions, as if he’s trying to get to know her.

“I want to meet her.”

“What?” Caitlyn laughs.

“I want to meet her! The woman who stole my daughter's heart. She needs the Tobias seal of approval.”

“Right. Maybe.”

“Maybe? That’s not good enough. We need to plan a day for me to meet my daughter in law.”

“Oh my God, dad. We’re not married.”

“I’ve heard lesbians move fast.”

Her jaw drops.

“Where on earth did you hear that?”

“I have Instagram. I’ve already followed Vi.”

“WHAT?”

“I’m sure she’ll love the baby pictures of you. Oh look! She’s already requested to follow me.”

Caitlyn thinks she might die.

But she will die a damn happy woman.

—

On the way home, she sings. It is terrible and out of tune, but she doesn’t care. She practically shouts the words to each song in her playlist: ‘songs about Vi.’

She swears she has never been this happy before.

—

When she enters the church in her vestments, ready to host the evening mass, Marcus is already standing behind the altar, mid sentence.

They lock eyes, and Caitlyn sits at the back bench, confusion wracking her mind.

Marcus taking over her evening service was not in her schedule, and she hadn’t spoken to him in a couple of weeks. This is completely unplanned.

She recognises the passage he is reading from the book of James.

"But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death."

Death.

She gulps.

Does he know?

Wait - had he seen her and Vi?

She digs her nails into the palms of her hands, clenching her jaw in an attempt to keep her boiling anxieties at bay.

He continues his warning about the dangers of straying from God’s plan, and she can’t help but notice how he keeps glancing at her, as if making sure that she is paying attention.

She wants the ground to swallow her whole.

Twenty excruciating minutes later, he pulls her into her office with a simple ‘Follow me.’

“Father Kiramman.”

“Your Excellency.”

He sits in her chair. She bites her tongue. She feels like she is a student being rebuked by the principal.

“You were late to your mass today.”

“By ten minutes. The traffic was bad.”

“There’s no excuse. What community outreach have you done today?”

She crosses her legs and lifts her chin - she will not allow herself to be put down by this sad excuse of a man.

“None. I went to visit my father.”

“Your father? You should have been working. Have you held any confessionals?”

“Not today. But I’ve been working-”

He stops her words with a simple hand, and she wants to scoff.

“I am afraid you may be getting distracted from your mission here. I am giving you the whole day tomorrow to take time for yourself and your faith. You will spend morning to evening in quiet prayer, reconciling with God and asking him for forgiveness.”

Forgiveness.

This is wildly unfair.

“I will take over your morning service. If you must go somewhere to do this, you may, but this is not a day off, Father. It is dedicated prayer time, since you seem to be struggling to make time for what is truly important. I will hear no more of this petulance.”

Petulance.

As if she is a child.

“Understood?”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

She spits the words out bitterly, and Marcus takes it. Good.

She’ll show him.

Chapter Text

“Tell your clients you’re sick tomorrow.”

Caitlyn’s words come out as a broken sigh - her mouth is agape, her chest heaving as she grinds down on Vi’s fingers. She holds her waist from below, eyes dragging up from her tits to her ruined face.

“Okay.”

“Mmf. Really?”

“Sure.” Vi thrusts her hips up into her, sending her fingers further inside, and all Caitlyn can do is cry out her name and let her hair cascade down her shoulders, covering her face. “Something you wanted to do, pretty girl?”

She pushes herself up, grip tightening on her waist. Eyes full of lust scan over her face, now just inches apart from her own.

“Yeah,” She nods frantically, lids slipping shut as her mouth falls open.“Fucking… yes.”

“Yeah? Use your words.”

“Beach.”

“Beach?”

“Vi. Fuck,” She pants, so close to the edge she can hardly breathe, let alone think about what she is trying to say, and this maddeningly slow pace has her aching.

One thing at a time, please.

“I need to come. Please.” She tangles her hand in her pink hair and drags her lips over her scalp, stopping just above the tip of her pierced ear. “Fuck me, Violet.”

Vi understands; of course she does - she thrusts her hips again, and Caitlyn grips her shoulders with a bruising kind of intensity as she falls apart, scarcely able to keep herself upright as she rides out the high. Her eyes squeeze shut, filling with an array of colourful stars. She flops into Vi, only rising up to let Vi remove her fingers and shake out her cramped hand.

“So. Beach, huh?”

Caitlyn giggles and remembers herself, holding Vi’s face as she shoves her tongue into her mouth and pushes her onto her back before trailing kisses down her perfect body.

When she looks up at Vi, she is smiling.

–

After a debate concerning the logistics of taking Vi’s motorbike to the beach, Caitlyn waits in her car outside of Vi’s house, head resting in her hand and elbow propped against the door.

It is the kind of day that calls for suncream and shades without being overly hot, and it is the exact kind of day she wants to spend with Vi.

Marcus had given her the day to focus on prayer, but there is only one thing she wants to worship.

A few minutes later, Vi appears in the doorway, tote bag slung across her shoulder. Two boys shove each other beside her. One is a skinny, tall boy with spiky hair and tanned skin. The other is blonde, slightly larger, with a chiselled face.

Mylo and Claggor. Vi has spoken about them.

They look at Vi and then at Caitlyn with devilish grins. Jinx appears, wrapping her arms around Vi’s shoulder and practically leaping onto her back. Vi nudges her to the side, and then Jinx raises a hand in the air to wave at Caitlyn, who waves back with a shy smile. The boys do the same, and Vi shouts something at them and sprints towards the car.

“Sorry,” She laughs as she sinks into the passenger seat, shooting a middle finger at the group from the open window.

“What for?”

“My siblings. The circus. Oh God.”

Her eyes widen as a much taller man who she recognises as Vander appears behind them.

“Drive, Cait.”

She chuckles and switches on the ignition, only to see Vander begin his descent down the stairs, followed closely by the gaggle of Vi’s entire family.

“Cait! Drive!”

Vi drags her hands across her face, trying to ignore the horde approaching the car. Caitlyn winds the rest of her window down, leaning half out with an elbow.

“Hello, Father Kiramman.”

“Vander. It’s Caitlyn,” She smiles, rolling her eyes fondly.

The lankier boy pipes up. “We’ve heard so much about you. Vi is obsessed- hey! “

Jinx shoves him as she jumps up behind him. “Has my sister here been worshipping at your manger?”

Caitlyn’s brows shoot comically high up her forehead.

“Okay, guys!” Vi almost yells.

“You should come over for dinner. The boys are dying to meet you.”

He places his large hands on his son’s heads, nearly knocking them together. Claggor sheepishly averts his gaze.

“Well actually, Vi hasn’t-”

Vi leans over, practically slinging herself into Caitlyn’s lap, to wind the windows up, “Drive. It’s for your own good.”

“Violet,” She giggles, shaking her head and nodding to Vander. She lifts a hand to wave at the group as they drive away, and Vi finally relaxes into her seat, desperately trying to ignore Caitlyn’s smug glances.

“Obsessed, huh?”

“Shut up,” She groans, “can we stop at the shop? I need tampons.”

“I’ll just lick it up.”

Vi hides her bellowing laugh with her hand, using the other to shove Caitlyn’s face.

—

She grabs a few snacks for the day ahead and browses the drinks, reading the labels on the bottles, while Vi heads straight towards the toiletries.

When she looks up, she freezes. Her mouth opens as if she is going to say something before closing dumbfoundedly.

A woman with dark grey hair has her back to Caitlyn. It is trimmed short in a neat way, and she holds her posture with a sense of regality.

She looks just like her mother.

Her skin pales, eyes sparkling with unshed tears.

She turns around and leans past Caitlyn to grab the bottle beside her head. Caitlyn just stares like a deer caught in headlights. The woman offers a polite smile.

She doesn’t look like Cassandra from the front. Her nose is entirely different, eyes more of a swampy green than cerulean.

“Um. Can I help you?” She says, brows rising to the top of her head.

“Sorry.” Caitlyn clears her throat. “I thought you were someone I knew.”

There’s a warm hand on her back. The woman walks away.

Caitlyn turns to Vi.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

She follows Caitlyn’s gaze to the woman who is now paying and her hand finds hers. Caitlyn gives it a gentle squeeze and looks at Vi, a small, trying smile tugging at her lips.

Their eyes meet quietly, and Vi simply strokes her cheek before guiding her towards the till.

—

It takes them just over an hour to get to the beach, and despite Vi’s claims that she will navigate, the early afternoon heat knocks her out within the first thirty minutes. Caitlyn cannot stop looking over at her and feeling herself melt entirely with love for the woman. It seems to course through her blood and warm her very bones in the same way the sun does as it beats down on the two of them, lying on a blanket near the shoreline.

Caitlyn has her eyes closed, head resting on Vi’s abs while she reads a book.

“I can’t believe I’ve deprived myself of this for so long.”

“I’m glad you gave in.”

Vi brushes Caitlyn’s hair away from her face, looking down at her and meeting her eyes. She places the book beside them, focus now entirely on Caitlyn.

“I couldn’t see myself with anyone else,” Vi says, fixing her eyes on the vast expanse of the glistening ocean before them.

“With?” A small smile that does not go unnoticed by Vi plays at her lips. “Do… Um.”

Vi grins at the blush on her cheeks. She knows what she is trying to say, and it is adorable, so she lets her struggle.

“Are- Vi,” she puts a hand on her cheek and looks towards the waves that gently roll onto the shore.

“Say it, Cait,” she gently pokes her side.

“Evil.”

“Hmm?” She leans forward and pings her bikini strap so that it playfully elasticates onto her skin, earning a shocked gasp from Caitlyn.

“Willyoubemygirlfriend?” She all but blurts the words out, covering half of her face and not at all looking at Vi.

“What? I didn’t quite catch that.” Vi leans down, prodding her again and running her fingers over her stomach, causing Caitlyn to laugh violently.

“Vi!” She humorously sighs, pushing her hands away. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Hm maybe.”

She looks straight ahead, and Caitlyn bolts upright, grinning madly.

“Maybe? You bastard.” She shoves her shoulder.

“Yes, Caitlyn Kiramman. I will,” She scoffs, eyes glistening, “Of course I will. Are you mad?”

She grabs her face and pulls her in for a sloppy kiss, lips still smiling when they join together.

“Do you want to go in?” She points her head towards the sea, and Caitlyn nods.

She stands up, and Vi runs right past her. It takes her a second to register that this is in fact a race before she bolts after her, squealing as the cold water hits her ankles.

They charge into the water together until they are treading water and swimming towards each other, cold limbs tangling as one. They’d find each other blindfolded in a crowded room at this point.

It is like some sort of baptism. A rebirth.

Caitlyn’s new life.

She pushes herself up, crashing back down onto Vi and plummeting her under the water, kissing her lips with reverence. Their hair flows like intwined ribbons and Caitlyn opens her eyes to see little bubbles settling in the bed of Vi’s lashes. She kisses her again, cradling her face with gentle fingers.

The world around her is muffled. There are no loud sounds, no expectations. It is just them. She wants to live here, with only Vi and the gentle push and pull of the sea that carries them so willingly.

Their bodies turn, synchronised. Vi pushes her down, beneath her, and Caitlyn drops her hands to her waist. Her muscles ripple beneath her touch, and she melts into the feeling of Vi holding the curve of her back. Their mouths stay attached as if breathing each other’s air.

They swim back up, breaking the surface and pushing their hair away from their faces. Caitlyn is immediately on her again, smiling and kissing her a thousand times under the fierce heat of the sun.

When they go back to the shore, they lie beside each other, hands entwined and eyes closed.

–

The sand is soft beneath her feet, and Caitlyn’s skin is smooth as it slots against her own.

She watches her long, blue hair dance in the gentle ocean breeze, covering her plush lips. She kisses her because she can, because her mouth is too enticing not to capture with her own.

This is exactly where she wants to be.

Caitlyn crouches down and her deft fingers filter through the sand, pulling out a white seashell and holding it up with a gleeful smile.

Vi smiles back, still not sure whether she is dreaming.

They walk further up the shore, strolling through the dunes leisurely. Vi doesn’t dare to let go of Caitlyn’s hand - she just watches her as if in a trance.

Hills of sand covered in scarce blades of sharp grass surround them as they lower themselves. Vi drapes an arm over Caitlyn’s shoulder and pulls her close to her chest, planting a kiss to the side of her temple. Their eyes come together, and there is something swimming within the deep blue of Caitlyn’s that silently speaks to her. It’s something like:

I love you.

I love you, and I’d do anything for you. Say the word, and I’ll do it.

God made my soul in perfect tandem with yours. This was always meant to happen.

I love you, and I want to leave this all behind in favour of a life with you.

Vi feels her heart seize in her chest. She tries not to get her hopes up, instead stealing a kiss while she can. Her grey eyes say something like:

I love you. Please don’t break my heart.

—

By the time they are done sunbathing and have strolled the shore collecting seashells, the sun is starting to set. They watch the orange hues blend to pink from the car, the chill of the evening starting to sink in. It’s beautiful and serene, only amplified by the soft sounds of music coming from the stereo.

Caitlyn switches on the ignition and begins to drive home, pushing away the tiredness of the day to focus on the road. She turns up the music and taps the steering wheel to the beat.

Gentle humming comes from the passenger seat, and Caitlyn glances at her. She rests her elbow on the window and touches her lips, trying to hide her content smile.

“You know that I’m proud, and I can’t get the words out,” she sings quietly, looking at Caitlyn and chuckling.

Her voice raises slightly as she sings the chorus and nudges Caitlyn’s shoulder, trying desperately to get her to join in.

“I want to be with you everywhere.”

Caitlyn shakes her head and giggles, letting her free hand be picked up by Vi and kissed.

“I want to be with you everywhere.”

She points at Caitlyn, who cannot keep her eyes away. Her shoulders shimmy ridiculously.

“My friends say I’m acting peculiarly. Come on, baby. We better make a start.”

She sticks her lower lip out in a comical pout as she sings, “You better make it soon before you break my heart.”

Caitlyn rolls her eyes and gives in, allowing Vi the pleasure of singing the chorus with her. They nod their heads and dramatically boogie in the car, and Caitlyn feels the happiness and love act as the beat of her heart.

They keep singing together, nodding their heads and completely butchering the melody. Neither of them cares, though, too caught up in the moment to take anything seriously.

They look at each other as they sing the chorus because the words ring true.

Caitlyn does not want to spend another day without Vi.

Chapter Text

After two weeks of pestering on Caitlyn’s part, Vi, albeit reluctantly, finally invites her to have dinner with her family.

Obviously, she says yes. She is very excited, if a little nervous, but she has a feeling that it will go smoothly. She has already met Vander, and he is the most important person to impress, so she thinks she has that one sorted. It’s her brothers she is unsure about.

Vi had said that she thinks they will like Caitlyn lots, if a little too much, which is good news.

She slides a blue stud into her ear and checks her outfit: green corduroy pants and a black T-shirt that she had stolen from Vi. She picks up her phone to text Vi that she is on her way, and leaves the house with a final spray of perfume.

Vi opens the door before she even has a chance to knock. Bashfully, her eyes sweep over Caitlyn’s entire body.

“That’s where my shirt went.”

Caitlyn tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling.

“You look nice,” Vi says, snaking a hand around her waist to kiss her. “My girlfriend is a thief.”

“Is now a good time to ask what happened to my Burberry belt, then?”

“I was doing you a favour. I thought priests weren’t allowed to be materialistic.” She teases, shooting her a wink that shoots straight to Caitlyn’s gut.

Something else stirs unpleasantly in her gut. She tries to push it away, but the butterflies feel too heavy. They make her feel nauseous.

“You okay?” Vi lowers her voice, stepping outside and half shutting the door.

“Yeah,” She nods, though her voice raises in that obvious way that it does when she is lying. Vi has picked up on these little habits, and she sees straight through it.

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.” Caitlyn lifts a hand to Vi’s face and kisses her. “Let’s go inside.”

She chews the inside of her cheek as she steps past her.

Vi’s brothers are lovely. They bombard her as soon as she steps into the apartment, and while it is overwhelming, she understands that they are just excited to meet her.

“Boys. Give the girl some room,” Vander’s voice is gruff and commanding, though in a kind way. “You’re going to scare her off. Come sit, Caitlyn.”

He is wearing a beige shirt and smart trousers beneath a baby blue apron that says ‘Best dad.’

“Thank you, Vander.” She follows Vi to the table and sits beside her, greeting Jinx with a smile when she appears from her room to sit with them. Mylo and Claggor whisper something to each other and laugh.

The childish secrecy behind their giggles coaxes unwelcome memories of her school days, when the other girls would say horrible things about her behind her back. It causes her to shift uncomfortably in her seat.

“Are you two going to behave?” Vi snarls upon noticing the change in her expression. Caitlyn puts her hand on her thigh under the table, giving her a small smile.

“Don’t get so tetchy Vi,” Mylo snorts. “We were just saying how pretty your girlfriend is.”

Claggor rolls his eyes as he says, “Oh boy.”

“Never gonna happen, Mylo.” The grip Vi has on her fork tightens before she glances at Caitlyn apologetically.

Vander brings a few plates out of the kitchen, balancing them on his arm with practiced expertise.

“How’s life of sin, Caitlyn?” Jinx asks. Caitlyn chokes on her water, and Vi just shakes her head in quiet amusement.

“Pfft. I- er.”

Mylo perks up again. “Yeah. What happened to priests can’t have girlfriends?”

Caitlyn looks at Vi, trying to hide the grimace on her face.

“You guys are terrible, seriously,” her face scrunches up with anger, “I bring somebody I like home for dinner and this is how you treat her?”

“I think they were just curious,” Vander interjects, pulling his chair out to take a seat, “Tell me, Caitlyn, is Vi as charming as her old man?”

She lets go of the breath she was holding, feeling the tension in her shoulders dissipate until she is smiling.

“Too charming for her own good, I’m afraid.” Vi’s fingers interlace with hers beneath the table. “She’s great, sir, you’ve really raised a sweetheart.”

Her eyes glisten like cut diamonds when she looks at her, lips pulled into an adoring smile.

“Has she told you about when we went to a waterpark and she lost her swim shorts on a slide? She was… I don’t know… Ten?”

Her siblings burst out into laughter at the memory and Caitlyn joins them, much to Vi’s dismay.

“Oh my God. She came out the other side with her ass out,” Jinx giggles, eyes watering at the memory.

“Okay. Very funny,” Vi sighs, half-smiling as Caitlyn humorously covers her mouth. She squeezes Caitlyn’s hand under the table, a silent admiration. “Eat your food, people.”

Vander shoots her a proud wink, and Vi looks down at her plate, cheeks flushed pink.

–

“So, this is your room, huh?”

Caitlyn crosses her arms, scanning the walls and glancing at the single bed. She steps in front of the bedside table, smiling affectionately at the black and white photo strip that is pinned to the wall.

They had gone out for ice cream over a week ago, and had walked past the photo booth when they both had the idea to go in it. The first photo is them smiling, Caitlyn’s tooth gap just peeking out below her lip. In the second, Vi’s fingers are poised behind a giggly Caitlyn’s head. The other two are them kissing, one with Caitlyn’s lips pressed against Vi’s cheek, who is smiling ear to ear and the others with their grinning lips pressed together.

Caitlyn had taken home the other copy and kept it beside her bed.

“Mhm. Dad said you could stay over tonight, if you er. Wanted to. It’s only a single bed, but we could make it work.” She runs a hand through her hair, and Caitlyn smiles at the sight.

“Are you nervous, Violet?”

She exhales a shaky breath.

“A pretty girl is meeting my insane family and seeing my tiny room for the first time. Yes I’m a little bit nervous.”

Caitlyn steps forwards and wraps her arms around Vi’s shoulders, feeling her hands go instinctively to her waist.

“I think your family is lovely, and I don’t care that your room is tiny. The single bed is just an excuse to get on top of you.”

“On top of me, huh?”

Vi kisses her, and Caitlyn flips them and leads Vi backwards until the back of her knees hit the bed. She pushes her down and straddles her waist, kissing her again and letting her hands roam across the expanse of her chest.

“Wait. Can we have sex here?”

A smirk brightens her sparkling eyes.

“Would you like me to ask my dad, miss righteous?”

Her lips twist marginally, and Vi notices straight away.

“What’s wrong?”

She delicately pushes the hair that frames her face towards her ears.

Caitlyn removes herself from Vi’s lap and walks two steps towards the far wall. She bites her thumbnail and turns around to face Vi.

“I think I’m going to leave the church.”

Vi’s brows shoot up in surprise.

“Really?”

“When I was in Rome, I wrote something.” She digs into the bag that she had dropped to the ground, rifling through her things until she finds a white envelope. “I- um. It’s for you. You can read it.”

She sits beside Vi, who takes it slowly. She opens it with care, and Caitlyn can do nothing but watch the movements of her fingertips.

She wets her lips and looks at Caitlyn, who gives her a nod to continue.

“Do you want to read it to me?”

“Would you like me to?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” She swallows, taking the paper back and unfolding it. She takes a deep breath, willing the emotion in her voice to subside.

“Violet,

There was a time when I thought my calling was one to God, to the church. I felt obliged to dedicate my life to what I thought was the greater good for reasons I still struggle to comprehend. It is difficult to absolve myself of that guilt, of that grief, and I know I shouldn’t be yelling about it when there are people like you who have been through hell yet still find the strength to have kind hearts.

I thought my heart had turned to stone until I met you. And then I realised that it was just frozen in ice, and you were the one to come and thaw it. You make me warm, Violet, like a hearty fireplace on a winter’s day. I’m not trying to be profound or poetic here: I am simply squealing my confessions in a palatable way. Or so I hope. Maybe I will never give you this letter. Perhaps I will give into my cowardice and toss this slip of paper into the Trevi Fountain.

What I am trying to say is: my calling was never to God. My vocation was a path wrapped in repression and guilt that was always going to lead me to you, Violet. I can’t fathom an existence without you by my side. In a way, you saved me, and I love you with every part of my being for that.

So, yes, this letter is an admission of love. I want to say it out loud soon. Verbalise it and flip it on my tongue. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I will love you today and I loved you yesterday and every day since I was a girl. I loved you before I was born. I will love you tomorrow and for the rest of my life. God, if he does exist, something I have been calling into question as of late, said that he knew us before he formed us in our mother’s wombs. I think when he wrote my fate into the stars, he created the veins of my heart to entwine perfectly with yours.

Everything seems complex and unfairly confusing right now; you slammed into my life with all the force of a comet, but I am so glad you did. The one thing I am sure about is my love for you.

I love you. I want to scream it from the roofs of Rome. I want to tell the bitter nuns about how I would walk backwards into hell for you. I’d do anything for you, honestly.

I sign off with every last scrape of love I can dig out from the bottom of my heart,

Yours, Caitlyn x”

“Cait…”

Caitlyn closes her eyes, swallowing down the tears threatening to surface.

“Shit.”

She hears a sniffle, and when she risks a glance at Vi, she is crying. She furrows her brows and rubs a hand up her back.

“I love you too. I love you so much. This-”

Vi looks at her with so much love, she cannot help but cry with her.

She holds her face like she might fall apart, and their kisses are salty and slow, all heavy breaths and affection and love. All of the love in the world spills out into each other’s mouths.

“I love you,” Caitlyn says, even though she must have said it fifty times in her letter. It feels like heaven to say it out loud.

“I love you.”

Vi kisses her forehead and they wipe each other’s tears again.

“I love you, Caitlyn, and if you want to leave the church, I’ll be with you every step of the way. God. I love you,” she pulls her close so that their bodies are pressed together, beating hearts aligned in a steady, brilliantly mutual rhythm.

“I’m so proud of you.”

Caitlyn smiles hard, letting herself laugh through the tears. The sound is swallowed up by Vi’s mouth.

Vi pulls her backwards, onto her, and Caitlyn lifts her legs so that she is straddling her, still pressed close in slowly deepening kisses. She feels the softness of Vi’s plush lips against hers, the way they both open their mouths so that their tongues can flit together.

“Can I… I want to try something.”

“Yeah?”

“Can we scissor?”

Vi’s eyes darken, lips curling into a smirk.

“I’ve never actually done that before.”

“Really?”

Something precious flutters in Caitlyn’s chest, perhaps the fact that this kind of intimacy will be a first for both of them.

“I don’t know if it works.”

“Well, we can find out,” Caitlyn whispers, trailing her lips towards Vi’s neck.

The very thought of it has her lightly grinding down into Vi’s pelvis, feeling the desire pool between her legs, and when Vi’s hands slide up her thighs, the feeling only intensifies.

Caitlyn strips Vi of her shirt, rubbing hardened nipples through her bra while kissing her.

“Cait?” Vi’s question is breathy.

“Mhm?” She nips at her neck.

“I love you.”

Her heart sparks with joy.

“I love you too.”

She grins and comes back to her lips, feeling Vi smile against her.

She crosses her arms at the bottom of her T-shirt and lifts - her bra is simply white, but it isn’t long before Vi is taking it off with now practised hands.

She pushes herself up and takes a breast into her mouth, looking up through dark grey irises. She palms the other and Caitlyn sighs in pleasure, threading her fingers through pink hair.

“We’ve got to be quiet,” Vi says, nipping the side of her breast.

“Okay.”

She tugs off Vi’s bra and her hands squeeze her in the way she knows Vi likes, and it does not take them long to strip each other completely naked, hands searching with an easy sense of familiarity.

Their wrists cross paths, and Caitlyn moves to the side to give her access, dragging one leg over Vi’s waist and closing her eyes at the feeling of Vi’s finger sliding through soaked folds. She mirrors the action on Vi, swallowing up her heady breaths until both of their mouths are open, heat pouring into each other like a manifestation of their mutual desire.

Caitlyn opens her eyes, sees the pleasure on Vi’s face, and reluctantly retracts her hand, pushing Vi’s fingers away with her arm.

Vi nods, knowing what she is about to do, and helps her up again. She bends Vi’s leg, furrowing her brows in concentration. A soft, breathy laugh escapes from Vi’s lips.

“What?”

She risks a brief glance towards Vi’s perfect face before shifting her attention back to the task at hand.

“You look so focused,” she smiles.

“I am. This is harder than I thought.”

Vi laughs again, moving her leg so that it is draped across Caitlyn’s shoulders.

“Jesus. Good thing I work- oh.”

Vi bites her lip, watching as their bodies connect. Caitlyn slots her pussy perfectly against Vi’s, and the sensation sends shooting stars through both of their bodies.

It’s wet and it’s warm and it’s better than anything Caitlyn could have ever possibly imagined. She can feel Vi against her, and can feel their slicks merging together. Her body, her warmth, her shaky breaths.

Her mouth falls open with a soft gasp. She looks beautiful. Caitlyn can hardly tear her gaze away from Vi’s hooded lids. She has spent her life believing in the unseen, but here, against the heaven of Vi’s body, she has never felt anything more divine.

She rocks her hips forward and Vi lifts hers to meet her halfway, producing the most lustful of sounds that has Caitlyn moaning with an unstrained intensity. Her eyes widen as soon as the sinful noise escapes her throat, and she covers her mouth with her fingers.

Vi smiles again, though it does not stay on her lips for long before it is washed away by a gasp at the feeling of Caitlyn’s clit grinding down against hers. Caitlyn tilts her head to the side, biting down on her shin in an attempt to muffle her needy whimpers.

“You’re so beautiful,” Vi pants, hips still moving with hers in a mutual rhythm.

Caitlyn does not want to look away. Her heart bursts with love, only now she can verbalise it.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” Vi takes her hand and links their fingers together, using the other to guide Caitlyn closer by the flesh of her ass. “So fucking much, baby.”

“Vi.” Her eyes are hooded, mouth open in a silent scream. “My Violet. My love.”

She pushes forward in an attempt to get closer to her which just opens Vi up further, causing her to arch her back and thrust up into her with desperation. Caitlyn’s blue hair falls over her shoulder and clings to her glistening face.

She looks ruined like this - an angel fallen from grace, completely overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Fucking yes, Cait.”

She juts her hips and she can tell that Vi is close just from the look on her face, and so is she. She so desperately wants them to orgasm together, so she grinds down harder, squeezing her thigh close to her chest as if trying to ground herself. She lets go of Vi’s hand to trail it down her body, cupping her breast and then softly stroking her cheek.

Their eyes lock onto each other, and it’s the kind of intimacy Caitlyn knows she will only have with Vi, the kind she only ever wants with Vi, because she does want to marry her and spend the rest of her life by her side. Because she loves her, and she says it again because it feels so easy and she can say it. She’s free to say it.

She feels tears pricking her eyes and desperately tries to keep them at bay.

“Violet,” She groans, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to disguise her tears, “Come with me. Please.”

“Yes. Cait. Ah. I love you,” She lifts her hips and they both push into each other. Caitlyn feels it build higher than God before crashing down onto her like some sort of blessing, like a divine light, though she can’t liken it to anything religious because it is just Vi. Vi, who is right here, who loves her. And who is coming right alongside her. Her face twists, mouth falling completely open as she comes against Caitlyn.

This is her religion now, she decides.

They don’t stop rubbing against each other until every tremor is coaxed out and Caitlyn is lying flat against Vi, the only noise is that of their beating hearts.

“Holy shit.”

“Still think it doesn’t work?”

“Shut up,” Vi scoffs, kissing Caitlyn. “I love you.” She pauses when she feels water on her cheeks. “Cait. What’s wrong?”

“I just… Love you. I can’t believe I get to have this.”

“You deserve it.” She places a gentle kiss on the crown of her head.

“So do you.”

She lifts her head and Vi strokes a gentle hand down the side of her face. “I love you.”

“You’ve said.” An impish grin spreads across Caitlyn’s face, showing off the perfect gap in her front two teeth.

“You’re so goofy.”

“You love it.”

“I do. I really do.”

“I love you too, Violet. More than anything.”

Chapter Text

The next four weeks are a hectic whirlwind of constantly vacillating emotions. She anxiously hands in her notice to Marcus, involves herself in the death sentence that is apartment searching (she feels just about ready to smash her laptop at the fifth perfect apartment that she clicks on only to see a no pets policy), visits her father again, and has weekly dinners with Vi’s family.

That is the one constant in her life: Vi.

Vi, who holds her at night when she is exhausted, which, it seems, is now every day - Marcus has decided to double her already chaotic workload so that she has no free time over the next four weeks. Vi, who cooks her dinner and makes sure that she eats and takes good care of herself. She even showers with her, gliding soapy hands over her body, an act that feels so sacred, she can’t help but shed the occasional tear at the gentleness she is treated with.

“Don’t cry. I don’t like seeing you cry.”

Her hands hold her with the kind of tenderness she thought reserved for holy objects.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say that, either. You don’t have to apologise for anything, okay? Shit, Cait, I’m the one who should be crying. Look at you. My angel. My perfect angel. I love you.”

They had discussed finding an apartment together which had led to the reluctant yet mutual agreement that it may be too soon for that. Caitlyn had even pondered the possibility of moving back in with her father, which Vi had claimed to be supportive of until she found her crying in the kitchen after a particularly soft hour of sex.

Caitlyn feels like she needs to take a deep breath, but the walls are closing in around her and her oxygen is shutting off.

But here, at the top of a familiar hill, life feels still.

Vi sits beside her on her mother’s bench, the breeze gently blowing their hair until blue merges into red. The trees rustle in the distance, and the two women watch as a flock of starlings soar through the sky, turning and tumbling over one another in a dance far too complex for her to understand.

Her mind finally feels somewhat settled, like a pond bathed in sunlight. Any ripples which manage to slip through are tamed by the woman next to her.

Caitlyn notices Vi’s head turn towards her, but she doesn’t meet her eyes. She just breathes, letting the sway of the grass lull her spiralling mind.

“Do you still think it was your fault?”

Caitlyn’s fingers skim across her thigh and her eyes drop to the floor. Vi’s hand rests on top of hers.

She turns her palm upwards to intertwine their fingers. They slot together perfectly, providing further evidence to support the fact that yes, God made them for each other, and their love is a religion in itself. If being with her is a sin, then being without her must be the greatest tragedy of them all.

“Being with you makes me feel like less of a bad person. But there’s a recurring part of my stupid brain that tells me that yes, it was my fault.”

“You have a beautiful brain, Caitlyn.”

She finds the courage to meet her eyes, and finds only an outpour of love there. Her body shifts so that she can lie down and rest her head on Vi’s lap. She feels heavenly like this, cheek touching the softness of Vi’s thighs beneath the end of her shorts.

“It must be doing something right if it loves you.”

Vi’s fingers trace lightly through her hair and the feeling urges Caitlyn to close her eyes.

“Do you think she would’ve liked me? Your mother?”

“I think if she saw how happy you make me, she would’ve loved you.”

She pushes herself up with one hand and shifts her weight into Vi’s side.

“My father has been dying to meet you.”

“Really?” Vi smiles, “I’d like that.”

“Next week?”

Vi leans her head into her shoulder and she tilts her head to meet her.

“Yeah.”

“He’s going to be thrilled.” She smooths her finger over the skin of Vi’s knee, taking a few minutes to just sit still with her lover, and not think of anything.

Flowers of purples and yellows decorate the hillside. A bee hums as it flies past them - Caitlyn tracks the movement with her eyes, smiling at the cuteness of the little insect.

She wants to stay here forever. She wants it to be painted and she wants to hang it in her house, to remain undisturbed forever.

But there’s been a development, and she has to tell Vi.

“I’ve found an apartment.”

Vi tears her eyes away from the scenery to settle on Caitlyn’s face.

“It’s nice. I’m going to a viewing tomorrow. You should come. I hope you’ll choose to spend most of your time there anyway, if you’d like that?”

“You know I’d love that, Cait. I’ll be there for as long as you can stand to have me.”

She chuckles, and the sound is carried away in the summer breeze, “Forever, then.”

—

All of the homeliness of her house has been swept away, leaving nothing but boxes of clutter scattered across the floor.

Geppetto weaves between them, looking up through sad eyes, as if completely aware of the situation. Caitlyn crouches down and the little cat nudges her knees. She picks her up and kisses her head.

“My girls,” Vi steps past them, putting a hand on Caitlyn’s back and softly petting Geppetto’s ears.

She picks up a box, and Caitlyn feels her cheeks heat up at the flex of her biceps.

“I think we should put Geppetto on the bike. Maybe we can find her a little helmet.”

Caitlyn laughs at the joke, and her words seem to ease some of the tension in her body. Without even having to ask, Vi opens her crate with her free hand.

“I’m sorry, munchkin,” she soothes as she shuts the cat in the carrier, pushing past the displeased mewl she receives. Vi carries her out to the car, kissing Caitlyn’s cheek as she goes.

With a heavy sigh, Caitlyn scans her surroundings. The once warm living room is now completely empty and devoid of any signs of life. She is no longer welcome here, and as she slots another box into the boot, the church seems to loom menacingly over her as if to shake its metaphorical head in disappointment.

Vi wraps her arms around Caitlyn’s waist and kisses the frown from her face.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replies, turning her head at the sound of a car pulling up onto the gravel.

Marcus steps out, dressed in his vestments, and Caitlyn nods at Vi. They have adopted a way of communicating without the need for words. Vi understands, and disappears inside to make herself busy with the rest of the boxes.

“Caitlyn.”

Her name sounds strange on his tongue. She doesn’t like it, she decides.

“Marcus.”

“It’s Your Excellency.”

“Is it?”

He bristles under her smug smile. Good.

“What you’re doing here is wrong, Kiramman.”

“I take it you’ve had no luck finding my replacement?”

She looks through the back window of her car, where Geppetto looks up through knitted bars, practically scowling at her.

“There’s a range of promising candidates.”

Probably all useless, she thinks to herself.

“Well then.”

She looks at him as if to ask him why on earth he is there, when Caitlyn is about to be out of his life for good. She could have just posted the church keys through her letterbox and told him to collect them.

Barely bothering to look at him, she digs through her pockets and pulls them out. He takes them, face unmoving.

“You’ll burn in hell for this.”

“Thank you.” She folds her arm across her chest, flashing him a sarcastic smile just as Vi places another box in the boot of her car.

“Marcus,” she nods, “Can we help you?”

His face scrunches up almost hilariously as he looks between them. A moment later, he seems to explode.

“Do you think this is right? These… Relations are forbidden. It’s an abomination. You should know this.”

He stares down at Caitlyn, and as much as she tries not to shrink in on herself, she feels herself slouch and cast her eyes to the floor.

“Hey.” Vi steps in front of her. “Believe what you want to believe, but nothing about this is an abomination. You’re just bitter because you’re trapped in a shitty scheme that makes you hate yourself and feel guilty about everything. Caitlyn got out. And I’m fucking proud of her for that.”

“Got out? Neither of you will see heaven. You will suffer eternally for this. Does that not scare you?”

“No,” Vi shrugs.

Wiith a deep breath, she pulls herself together and looks back up at Marcus.

“I love Vi. She makes me the happiest I’ve ever been. And I’d rather spend the rest of my life with Vi, knowing that I can do anything by her side than push this greatness away in favour of an afterlife that may or may not exist. If I’m with her in hell… Well, I can’t bring myself to care all that much.”

She feels the warmth of Vi’s fingers interlacing with hers, giving her a newfound surge of strength.

Marcus looks as though he’s going to burst into flames.

“Goodbye, Marcus. I wish you and your daughter the best.”

She gives a curt nod before spinning on her heel, walking back into the house hand in hand with Vi to collect the last few boxes.

—

Vi steps through the quaint kitchen with Geppetto in her arms while Caitlyn retrieves the last box.

It is different to Caitlyn’s old house: the cabinets are white and polished, not old and stained mahogany which recorded the lives of formed Priests. This house was wholly hers. It has a far more modern touch to it, and less character, but it is comfortable. She pulls open the fridge to see a single bottle of champagne in the door. She smiles and picks it up, walking back into the entryway to pick two mugs out of an open box just as Caitlyn comes back in.

Geppetto springs out of the crate and begins to explore the space, tentatively meowing at every corner.

She can feel Caitlyn’s curious eyes on her as she pops open the champagne and begins pouring into the mugs. She picks one up and hands it to Caitlyn.

“It’s not quite as refined as flutes, my lady, but I don’t remember which box they’re in. We probably should have labelled them.”

Caitlyn takes it with a smile, and Vi lifts her own in the air.

“To your new life.”

They clink the ceramics together.

“To my new life.”

After a sip, Vi takes it from her and places it on the floor, pulling her phone out of her pocket to play a song. She can’t remember where the speaker is, but it does not matter. This is more than enough.

An orchestra filters through the phone, and Vi turns it up. A trumpet begins, and Vi takes Caitlyn into her arms, joining their hands together while she snakes the other around her waist.

“You’re such a romantic,” Caitlyn grins.

“Only for you.”

Their eyes melt together.

Never thought that you would be,

She side steps with Caitlyn, and they’re clumsy and out of rhythm. Neither of them are seasoned slow dancers, but they laugh into the space between them, feeling their hearts swell together with love.

Standing here so close to me,

She spins her in her arms, and it is so similar yet so starkly different from the night at the lesbian bar. They are in love, and there’s sunlight pouring into the room, heating the floorboards, and they are both completely struck with joy.

There’s so much I feel that I should say,

Vi’s eyes drop to Caitlyn’s intoxicating smile - the tooth gap that she loves so much peaks out from her top lip, and she longs to kiss it. She can kiss it, because Caitlyn is her girlfriend, so that is what she does.

But words can wait until some other day,

Caitlyn giggles, and Vi feels herself melt. It seems to show in her eyes, because then Cailtyn is melting with her, pressing her body closer until they are just holding each other and swaying ever so slightly.

Kiss me once,

Vi’s lips find Caitlyn’s cheek, and she squeezes her close for a moment before pulling back to create space between their faces.

Kiss me twice,

She leans in and pecks her lips.

Then kiss me once again,

She kisses her again, then twice more before resting her head on Vi’s shoulder, lips forever pulled into a loving smile that matches Vi’s.

To their new life.

Chapter Text

— Two Years Later —

“Jesus Christ, that woman is intense.”

Caitlyn Kiramman is a vision in a dusty blue dress that cinches at the waist. Her hair is curled into easy waves, and winged eyeliner dances gracefully across her lids, somehow making the cerulean hue in her eyes pop even more than it usually does.

Her skin is slightly tanned, a result of the recent trip away she had taken with Vi. It gives her a natural glow akin to a brilliant sunbeam on a summer’s day. She seems to brighten the space around her, with a gracious posture that she holds; the kind of ease that only comes beside her lover.

“Who?” Vi asks, taking a glass of champagne from Caitlyn, who sweeps her eyes up her body with a pleased smirk. The dark blue, pinstripe waistcoat and trouser set is doing wonders for her, and conjuring terrible thoughts inside of Caitlyn’s head.

“Ambessa Medarda.”

“Oh yes. I’ve been avoiding her. She looks like she could crush my face with her fingers.”

Vi slips a hand around Caitlyn’s waist and looks out upon the guests.

Mel and Jayce have quite the turnout; they ended up delaying the wedding by two years, and Mel was worried that people would not be able to make it, but as Caitlyn scans across the masses of crowds, she knows her anxieties were unjustified.

“You look beautiful.”

Caitlyn looks back to Vi to see that her girlfriend is staring at her in admiration.

“As do you.”

There’s a high pitched squeal in front of them, and they both snap out of their mutual dazes to grin at Mel and Jayce.

“You guys are out-sexying us. Let us be the hottest at our own wedding please,” Mel laughs, pulling them both into a tight hug.

“We can’t help it, Mel,” Vi drawls, winking at Caitlyn.

“Congratulations. Though I don’t know if that’s the correct word to use, seeing as though you’ve just married this imbecile.”

Caitlyn pinches Jayce’s arm, earning her a light shove in return.

“You’ll crease my suit,” he whines.

“Boohoo.”

“Come on. One of you two has to catch the bouquet,” Mel smiles, an impish grin casting stars across her honeyed pupils.

Caitlyn takes Vi’s hand and their eyes glisten as they join together.

It’s been two years.

Caitlyn has never been happier.

She has been seeing a therapist and despite her initial reluctance, it has been helping her in ways she didn’t think possible. The nightmares have lessened. She feels a lot less guilty about everything. It is like she has walked through a long winded corridor and come out a different person.

The progress is not linear. She’s heard it from her therapist as well as Vi countless times. Caitlyn still cried about everything. Sometimes she cries after or during sex and feels like a huge turn off, but Vi is always there to kiss her through her troubles.

She wears brighter clothes. She threw out a bunch of the black clothes she would wear to work when Vi had moved in with her, only three months after she had bought the flat. She spent nearly every night there; it seemed stupid to not ask her.

Living with Vi is easy. Somehow, she has managed to fall even deeper in love with her. Every day, she finds something new about her to worship. They fall asleep in each other’s arms every night, and Caitlyn wouldn’t have it any other way.

They had gone travelling for three months and Caitlyn took the time to think about what to do with her newfound freedom. They visited Rome together and danced in a gay bar, and some part of Caitlyn felt healed by it.

When they came back, Vi opened a gym with her father, and Caitlyn hosted support groups for women. She helped them overcome difficulties in her life, and helped queer people find comfort in their sexuality.

Vi had told her not to rush into a career, so she spent a year focusing on her groups and helping Vi with the study group.

She would bake whenever she was bored, sometimes driving to Vi’s gym to drop pastries off to her and her coworkers. One day, she had come home to a tray of still warm muffins, and had said that Caitlyn should be a baker.

Since then, she has been working four days a week in a cafe near their flat. She loves it. It is normal and it’s exactly what she needs. It pays the bills and keeps her busy.

Her new life is such a stark difference to how it used to be, but whenever it gets too much, Vi pulls her into her strong arms and tells her how loved she is. And she believes it, because she loves Vi the exact same way. It pours out of her and keeps her nourished. She wants to spend the rest of her life with her.

Which is why the bouquet catch currently feels slightly competitive. She has the height advantage over Vi, and arguably quicker reflexes.

She doesn’t know why this is making her so buzzed. Perhaps it is the image of Vi being her wife. They had spoken about getting married, both agreeing that there was no need to rush anything, especially with how quick life has flown by over the past couple of years. She always got the feeling that Vi cut the conversation short because she thought Caitlyn did not want to get married. It makes sense considering her relationship with the church, but that does not matter to her.

She wants to call Vi her wife. She wants to wear the rings. Maybe even start a family with her.

That is another thing they have swept under the rug. They both agreed that one day, they would have kids, but they tended to not delve into the intricacies behind it.

We have time.

Oh, what a feeling.

Caitlyn is harshly snapped out of her daze when Vi’s hand shoves her shoulder, and then she realises that the bouquet is spinning in the air, sending petals scattering over the hubbub of women. She jumps into the air, not dwelling on the fact that her palm has just collided with Vi’s nose-ring, and then her hands are gripping the stems. She lands back on her feet with a satisfied grin.

She hardly sees Vi beside her, who is keeled over with her hands on her knees, hand cupped over her nose. She places a hand on her back and gasps.

“Are you alright, Vi?”

“You just thwacked me in the nose.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Vi casts her a sidewards glance and bursts into a fit of laughter, hands moving to her stomach from how hard she is cackling. Caitlyn shoves her lightly, heart racing with the fear that she had actually hurt Vi.

“You caught the bouquet,” she says when she has finally regained control of herself. “Does that mean we’re going to get married now?”

Where Caitlyn would usually reply with a witty remark, she finds herself flushing under Vi’s cocky stare. She feels suddenly hot, and all she can do is scrunch her face up and drag her eyes to the flowers in her hands.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty girl?”

A quick breath of air passes her lips. It is amazing how wound up Vi can make her even after two years of dating.

“You can do whatever you want with my tongue when we get home,” she smirks, mind finally catching up with her, “Care for a dance?”

Caitlyn holds out her hand, and Vi takes it, letting herself be led to the dancefloor.

The world melts away around them as they dance together, letting the music carry their bodies in perfect synchronisation. They slip around each other before pulling them close. It reminds her of when they had first danced together, back at the lesbian bar. Caitlyn had felt so afraid, then.

Now, she feels like she can do anything by Vi’s side. She never has to be afraid again.

–

Life with Caitlyn is heaven. Excuse the pun.

Vi loves her so much that she thinks her heart might burst.

She did not think it was possible to love someone like this; with all of her magnetic flaws and soul that is vastly entwined with her own.

She will never get tired of waking up tangled in her arms. Simple actions like brushing their teeth together feel like something holy when she is doing it with Caitlyn.

And the sex is still great.

They have an array of toys, and they both take great pleasure in figuring out what they like together. Caitlyn in particular has been eager to try everything. She did not think a woman who spent years in the priesthood would come out the other end asking almost shyly if she can strap Vi whilst she is blindfolded and pressed face down into the mattress.

Not to mention the spitting.

She still has moments where she feels burdened by terrible bouts of guilt, but Vi knows exactly how to make her feel better.

They visit her mother’s grave.

Caitlyn lays the flowers and stands beside Vi, face stoic. She holds her hand and gives her side a gentle nudge. A silent ‘you don’t have to hide around me.’

She understands and squeezes her hand in a gesture of thanks.

“Were your parents buried, Vi?”

The question dislodges an unusual pang of pain within her heart.

“No. We scattered their ashes. Couldn’t afford the headstones.”

“Where? We could go. You always come with me to my mother’s grave.”

“Oh. You don’t have to. I haven’t gone in years.”

“I want to.” She squeezes her hand again and offers her a small smile. “If you want to take me, I’ll go.”

She looks into her eyes like she would go to the end’s of the earth for Vi.

“I’d go anywhere with you.”

–

Vi is uncharacteristically quiet in the gentle autumn heat that comfortably sways between them in the train carriage. Her eyes remain fixed on the passing landscape, and when her fingers begin to pick at the skin of her thumb, Caitlyn covers her hand with her own.

She still isn’t entirely sure where they are going, even when they begin to walk away from the small train station. Just that Vi thought it would be nice to make a pretty day out of an otherwise sad one.

And she was advised to wear her walking boots and to pack a rain jacket, just in case.

They walk through thick woodland in silence, the only noise being the crack of sticks beneath their feet. There is no one around, just them.

A few miles of hiking later, the trees clear around a beautiful lake. Vi slings her backpack off and perches on a large rock, pulling Caitlyn down beside her.

“We scattered them in that lake.”

She sees the wash of a pretty memory fill her sparkling eyes.

“They dragged me and Jinx here when we were young. We complained the whole way, but when we were here, it felt like magic. There was something about the place that was so serene. Even at that age, I knew it meant something. I thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.”

Her lips quirk into a small smile, and she tears her gaze away from the body of water to settle on Caitlyn. Her voice softens impossibly further, like the first blossom of spring.

“I was wrong.”

“Vi,” she whispers, scoffing half-heartedly. “You sap.”

“Have you seen yourself? I’m allowed to be cheesy when my girlfriend looks like this.”

She slithers an arm around her waist and pulls her closer, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head.

“I love you,” Caitlyn says as she links her hand with her own.

“I love you too. My mother would have adored you.”

She smiles.

“She would have said, ‘Violet, you’ve found the sun. She’s wonderful. Give her the world.’ And I would. I’d give you anything you ask for. For the rest of my life, Caitlyn. I promise.”

“Oh, Vi,” she sighs wistfully, “I wish I could have met her.”

“She was brilliant. My father, too. He worked so hard.”

“Like you, then,” she nudges her shoulder with her own.

She shrugs.

“You tell me that you’re proud of me, but I’m proud of you, too. Everything you’ve built is wonderful. The gym is really something, Vi, and I’m proud of you for having such a good heart, even after the things you’ve had to endure.”

“You’re not about to get religious on me, are you?”

“Shut up,” she snorts. “I’m starting to think you want me to get religious on you. Like it’ll turn you on.”

“Tie me up and exorcise me.”

“Right,” Caitlyn tuts, lightly slapping her arm, “Terrible.”

She tries to keep up her offended facade, but it is impossible when she can see her entire future in the flash of her humoured smile.

—

For the next three weeks, she has something planned.

A ring sits in her pocket at all times of the day. She waits for the right moment.

Vi has no idea.

She thinks she hasn’t picked up on her nervous jittering, or the way in which she cooks dinner in silence because her thoughts are so loud, until she comes home from work and Caitlyn jumps out of her skin at the feeling of Vi’s hands slithering around her waist.

Her fingertips had been fiddling with the box and imagining the moment; she hadn’t even heard her come in.

“Woah. Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, nervously smiling.

Vi’s brows shoot up her forehead and she crosses her arms.

“You’re not.”

“What?”

She tries her best to look confused, but she has always been a subpar liar.

“There’s something up. You’ve been acting weird for like… two weeks.”

“How?”

“You’re jumpy. Nervous… Oh God, did I get you pregnant?”

She exhales a breathy laugh, feeling her hands sweat.

“No. I’ve just got my period.”

“Right. Have I ever told you that I’m secretly a vampire?”

She circles her hands around her and sniffs at her neck.

“So that’s why you’re always trying to bite me.”

“You love it.”

Vi opens her mouth and nips her warm skin.

“Can I turn you, Kiramman?”

“Vi,” she giggles, biting her lip when Vi picks her up and slides her onto the counter with ease, hungry fingers already peeling at the waistband of her trousers.

—

The time does not come.

She thinks about proposing when they’re out to eat, but Vi wouldn’t like the theatrics, and neither would Caitlyn.

They go on a hike. Caitlyn could propose when they reach the top of a mountain, but then Vi twists her ankle and steals the moment. They laugh together the whole way down.

There’s more moments, but something always stops Caitlyn. A seagull stealing her sandwich when they’re at the beach, an ill-timed phone call from Jinx who accidentally cut herself bangs, and even explosive diarrhoea at one point.

She doesn’t know when to do it, but she knows that she must.

And as her jittery fingers close the door behind her and turn around to the sight of Vi’s perfect back in the little kitchen of their home, she feels a semblance of peace settle upon her.

It is just them, in the low lamplight where they have spent loving hours dancing and kissing.

“Hey, cupcake. How was the group today? I’m making your favourite.”

She takes a minute to just watch the domestic scene in front of her.

Vi, wearing a tank top that ends just above her hips and black cargo trousers. Her tattoo sprawls across her back, as if calling out for her to once again trace the intricate patterns across her soft skin. Her muscles ripple down her arms, even more prominent now than when they first met.

Geppetto is standing on her shoulder, tail nonchalantly curled around the front of her neck. She never does that with Caitlyn, but for the last two years, the cat has been glued to Vi’s side.

It makes her heart swell.

“Cait?”

She casts her a sideways glance and a warm smile.

“What are you doing over there?”

“Admiring you,” she smirks, swaying her hips as she crosses the room to hug her girlfriend. “The group was fine. How was your day?”

“Better now.”

She kisses her cheek and rests her hand on the small of her back.

“Vi.”

“Yes?”

Caitlyn clears her throat and steps back. Vi swallows, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I er…”

Her mouth dries up and her fingers shake. She has no idea how to do this.

“I’ve been… thinking.”

Her brain trips and falls over each thought, until she sucks in a sharp breath and closes her eyes.

“I love you, Vi. When I met you, I felt my life begin. And I want to spend the rest of it with you. I want to grow old with you and love every new wrinkle and grey hair that is attached to you.”

Vi’s expression softens, eyes melting into pools of honey.

“I know we have only been together for two years, but you’re my best friend, Vi, and you make me the happiest I have ever been.”

The words tumble out of her mouth clumsily, but the earnestness in Vi’s gaze tells her that it does not matter.

“And eventually I think I want to have children with you, even though I've never properly thought about that before. You’d be an amazing mother, Vi, but if you don’t want that, I’d be okay with that, too. I'd do whatever you want, which is scary, but also kind of beautiful. You make me feel safe, Vi. Like every fucked up thing is fine because we’re helping each other learn to live.”

She steps closer, lips parting into a watery smile.

“I didn’t plan what I was going to say.”

“You’re doing great,” Vi whispers, squeezing her hands and sending a sense of tranquility pulsing through her bloodstream.

“I want to marry you. Not through the church, I don’t care about that anymore, but I want to call you my wife and wear the rings. I want to look at you in ten years and think how the hell did I get so lucky that I got to marry her?”

Vi blinks and a single tear drips down her cheek.

“I thought you didn’t want to… Because marriage is a sacrament and it reminded you of-”

Caitlyn slips her hand into her pocket and pulls out a ring.

“The only sacred part of it is the blessing of getting to marry you.”

She kneels.

“Will you do me the honour of marrying me, Violet?”

More tears fall.

“Yes.”

She pulls Caitlyn to her feet and throws her arms around her.

“Caitlyn,” she sniffles, “Yes. A thousand times yes.”

“Oh, thank God,” she sighs, quietly laughing and kissing her through the emotion blocking her throat.

“Thank God? It’s all you, cupcake.”

“Vi. Shut up.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

—

“And how is my darling Violet?”

Her father places two cups of tea in front of her before sitting on the couch.

His eyes are bright, and his beard is neatly trimmed. It comes as a relief to Caitlyn to see him looking well, as if his happiness has increased parallel to her own.

“Very good,” she answers, leaning forward to take the tea. She can’t help the smile on her face when she says: “We’re engaged.”

“What?”

Her father’s eyes widen with glee.

“I proposed. Suffice to say, she said yes.”

“Caitlyn! This is amazing news!”

He springs up out of his seat faster than Caitlyn has seen him act in his entire life.

“Do you need help planning the wedding? Oh my God. When are you going to have it? Do you have a date? How are you going to arrive? What venue?”

“Father,” she laughs, “I proposed two days ago. We haven’t decided any of that yet. Vi wants to arrive in a flashy sports car, that’s all we know.”

“Sorry. I’m just so excited.”

His mood shifts. There’s only a slight twitch in his lips, but Caitlyn knows her father.

“I have something that your mother gave me. We decided that we would give it to you when you were old enough to know what to do with it. But after everything happened, I just… Forgot about it. Wait here.”

When he reappears ten minutes later, he is holding a white envelope. He holds it out to her nervously.

“What is it?”

Her name is written in her mother’s handwriting.

She looks at her dad.

He nods for her to continue.

Carefully, she peels it open, as the slip of paper carries the spirit of her deceased mother.

For my darling Caitlyn,

When she has grown into something marvellous.

“W-What is it?”

“Your mother and I created an account in your name for when you grew up.”

“Father… How much?”

“Five hundred thousand.”

The air is sucked out of her lungs.

“Half a million?” She gasps, face paling.

“Yes, Caitlyn. It’s your choice what you want to do with it. Any ideas?”

“Father-”

“Caitlyn, you deserve this. Take it.”

“It’s so much.”

“It’s your mother’s final gift. Now that you’re getting married, I’m sure you’ll want a house. And weddings are expensive, Caitlyn. Take it. Enjoy it.”

She cannot find the words. She leaps to her feet and throws her arms around his shoulders, hugging him as if afraid he might disappear.

“Thank you.”

–

Their house is everything.

It is a quaint little cottage with a picturesque front garden, lined with sprawling roses and blossoming Violets.

The bricks are yellow like something from a fairytale, with pale blue window frames and a grandiose wooden door complete with a plaque that says ‘Kiramman Cottage.’

It is a dream, except it isn’t because Vi can feel how real it is under her fingertips. She runs a hand down the exposed beams, mouth half open as she gawks at the space and the weight of the keys pressed in her palm.

It is her house. Their house. With her soon to be wife.

It’s also a mess inside.

Caitlyn holds her hips, chest rising and falling with the effort of carrying their well-loved sofa inside. They had not been ready to part with the dark green velvet, so had decided to take it with them, despite the challenge of lugging it through the doorway.

Geppetto seemingly enjoyed the ride, standing on the pillows and meowing them as if directing them on where to go.

There’s boxes and boxes flooding the floor, but they manage to find a space for it in the living room.

“What time is it?”

“Nine,” Vi answers, checking her phone before looking back to Caitlyn and glancing at the ring she had bought for her. She had been eyeing it before the proposal, and knew that she had to buy it so that they could both wear engagement rings.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“We don’t have a bed until tomorrow, cupcake.”

“Ah shit.”

“Do you want pizza? I want pizza. We should make a fort.”

“A fort?”

Caitlyn’s lips quirk into a smile.

“A blanket fort with pillows and blankets around the couch. Me and Jinx used to make them all the time when we were younger.”

“Okay. Blankets are in there,” she points to a bag on the far side of the room, and Vi borderline sprints across the room.

It takes them thirty minutes to transform the living room into a fortress made from blankets and pillows. Colours of every shade dance across the space, and the two women lie together in the space, a half empty pizza box between them.

The laptop illuminates their faces, and when Vi is halfway through a slice of pizza, she looks at Caitlyn to see tears streaming down her face.

“Cait? You’re crying.”

“Yeah,” she blubbers, casting her eyes over the credits of But I’m a Cheerleader.

“I’m sorry. It’s a comedy. I didn’t think it would upset you.”

“No. It’s okay.” She turns her head into her chest, gently stroking between Geppetto’s ears, who sleeps soundly on her legs. “I’m just- I don’t know. I’m glad they got out. They’re so in love. It’s sweet.”

“Is your period due?”

“That has nothing to do with my current emotional state.”

“You cry at movies the day before your period.”

“These are sexist ideologies-”

“They’re Caitlyn ideologies. I get horny, you get sad.”

“You’re dumped.”

“Right before the wedding?” Vi gasps in mock amusement.

“Yep.”

“Fuck. Guess you’re single now.”

Caitlyn nods her head, lips pursed in an obvious attempt to stop herself from laughing.

“Mhm. You’re quite hot,” she looks at Vi from the corner of her eye. “You single?”

“No ma’am, but you are deathly pretty. I’m engaged.”

“Engaged?” Caitlyn’s eyes flick to the ring on her finger. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

“Lady? That’s presumptuous.”

“Pfft. Look at you.”

Vi scoffs.

“If you must know, she used to be a priest.”

“A priest? Tell me more.”

“Well, she’s the love of my life. She can quote scripture and it turns me on. I mean, seriously, it’s hot.”

She runs a single finger over the skin just below where her cotton shorts end, near Geppetto’s tail. Her voice shifts into something more serious.

“When we first met, she said she was going to bless my charity. Well, she ended up blessing my entire life. And now I get to spend the rest of it with her. Pretty lucky, huh?”

Vi watches as Caitlyn eyes water again like flowers. In this timid, orange light, she looks like the holiest of saints. In this moment, she understands why Caitlyn spent so long in the church - if there ever was an angel like her, she would devote her life to worshipping her. She would kiss every inch of nude skin and drape her entire soul over her body if it meant that she would even cast a infinitesimal glance in her direction.

But she is real. She is stardust. Living and breathing, the evidence in the warmth of her thigh beneath Vi’s palm.

And she is going to be her wife.

“I’m taking you back. Be my wife,” Caitlyn says at last, breathing peace over their bodies like still waters.

“Only if you’ll be mine.”

“Always, darling, always.”