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Her feet ached with every step she took. She shouldn’t have worn those four inch heels that Sharon insisted looked good with the dress she was wearing. Brenda looked down at the torture devices and had to admit that Sharon had been right. They were perfect for this outfit, but absolutely horrible if she had to walk around a crime scene for hours, stand in the morgue and go around interviewing suspects and persons of interest.
With a sigh she slid the key in the lock and opened the door. Leaning on the door handle she stood on one leg, slipping off her shoe. She stumbled into the house, hopping around on her other leg she threw off her other shoe, the pain slowly subsiding from her feet when they came into contact with the cold floor. She almost groaned with relief. Never again.
Kicking the heels aside so they were almost out of the way, Brenda shrugged out of her jacket and made her way into the living room, raising her eyebrows when she heard music, distinctly Russian music. She thought she knew Sharon’s music taste and this definitely wasn’t it, but when she rounded the corner she saw that the captain was watching a movie.
Sharon was curled up in the corner of the sofa, clad in a thin white tanktop, a blanket thrown over her legs, completely engrossed in the movie she was watching. On the screen a thin girl was dancing in a traditional Russian outfit for some tired looking soldiers as they clapped and whistled.
“Hi,” she said, leaning down to press to a kiss to Sharon’s cheek. The brunette smiled and looked up at her, her face scrubbed clean of her make-up, her hair still slightly damp from the shower she had obviously taken. Brenda liked her best like this. She was just Sharon, nothing more, nothing less.
“I didn’t know you were coming over tonight,” Sharon responded and reached up to cup her cheek and plant a soft kiss to the corner of Brenda’s mouth.
“Neither did I. But I just wanted to see you,” she said softly. She loved going to Sharon after a long day and just be with her.
“I’m glad you’re here, but I hope you weren’t planning on a very interactive night. I’m exhausted.”
“Me too.” Brenda looked at Sharon, at the half empty wineglass and at the way the top she was wearing was rather sheer and that she was definitely not wearing a bra. Brenda wished that they both weren’t so tired when Sharon looked like that, but just the thought of sex made her want to curl up on bed and just fall asleep. “You know, this is no way to watch a movie.”
“No?”
“Wait here, I’ll be back.” Sharon quirked an eyebrow as she watched Brenda retreat into the bedroom. Brenda quickly changed out of her blazer and dress and into one of Sharon’s oversized LAPD sweaters and a pair of her shorts. Putting her hair up in a messy bun, she went into the kitchen, hoping that Sharon had what she was looking for.
Opening the freezer compartment of the fridge, she pushed aside some frozen vegetables and the icepacks that Sharon used when she had pulled muscle after running too long, Brenda wasn’t disappointed. With a smile she pulled the tub out of the freezer and picked a spoon from one of the drawers before going back into the living room.
“The only right way to watch a movie is with ice cream,” she said, holding up the tub and the spoon. Sharon looked at her as if she wasn’t sure if she thought Brenda was endearing or just insane. Brenda just sat down next to her, pulling the blanket over her own legs, delighted to see that Sharon’s legs were bare underneath it.
Teasingly she ran her cold fingers over the warm skin of Sharon’s thigh. Sharon jerked her leg away and shot a mock glare in Brenda’s direction. Brenda just gave her an almost innocent look as she pulled open the tub and stuck the spoon the ice.
“I can’t believe you don’t have my favorite,” she said as she took a bite from the ice cream.
“And that would be?” Sharon asked as she suspiciously eyed the spoon that Brenda brought to her mouth, deliberately taking her time to work the ice cream off it, knowing that the older woman was watching as she wrapped her lips around it. She let it melt in her mouth a bit before swallowing it.
“Chocolate fudge brownie,” she stated which earned her an eye roll from Sharon.
“I could have guessed that anything with an overkill of chocolate would be your favorite,” Sharon said as she lifted Brenda’s legs, positioning her feet in her lap. Her fingers began to slowly massage Brenda’s feet, working out all the pain. Brenda moaned softly at the skilled touch.
“I wouldn’t have guessed that Phish Food was yours,” she shot back, swallowing another spoonful of ice cream before taking another scoop and holding it out to Sharon. The brunette looked at it skeptically before she leaned in and took the offered spoonful. All Brenda could think was that it was quite something to watch Sharon eat ice cream like this.
“It isn’t. It’s my daughter’s favorite. You’re lucky I still had some from when she stayed here. I normally don’t have ice cream.” Brenda gaped at her. What kind of a person did not have a steady supply of ice cream in their house? Sometimes she really wondered how she had ended up dating Sharon Raydor. Their opinions couldn’t be more different from time to time.
But then when they weren’t arguing or discussing the minute, unimportant details of their lives, they just worked. Unlike when they actually had to work together. Despite having gotten to the point where they had keys to each other’s houses, they could still be at each other’s throat whenever Sharon had to investigate one of Brenda’s officers.
Not wanting to get into an argument about something as silly as ice cream, Brenda picked up the DVD case in an attempt to find out what the movie was about, but the summary on the back was written in French and save for a few names she knew, the movie didn’t seem at all familiar to her. Les uns et les autres. There was something about the filmfestival of Cannes and she understood that it was nearly three hours long.
“It’s called Les uns et les autres, but I believe the American title is Bolero,” Sharon supplied, the French title rolling fluently off her tongue as she switched to Brenda’s other foot, looking at the screen again.
“What’s it about?” Brenda asked curiously, frowning at the French words. It was a beautiful language, but she didn’t understand more than the basic ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. When she turned her attention to the screen, she pursed her lips in discontent when she noticed that the French parts of the movies weren’t subtitled either. This was going to be potentially problematic if she was going to sit through it for another two hours.
“Why does it have to be about something?” Sharon said with a sigh as if trying to point out that Brenda was ignorant for thinking that all movies had to be about something.
“Well, I can’t imagine someone making a three hour movie without a storyline,” Brenda countered, suppressing the urge to excuse herself for not seeing fancy French art movies, like apparently Sharon had.
“It’s difficult to explain. It’s a love story between people, about people, about art and dance and music. I’ve always thought it was about loving life no matter what it throws at you,” she trailed off as on screen there was a music and dance scene to celebrate the end of the Second World War. Brenda took another spoonful of ice cream.
“There aren’t any subtitles,” Brenda pointed our when there was a short scene where the spoken language was Russian. She understood what they were saying, but as far as she knew, Russian wasn’t one of the languages Sharon had mastered.
“That evens us out. I don’t understand the Russian, you don’t understand the French. But there’s enough American in it for you to comprehend the storyline. Though it really isn’t that important what they’re saying. It’s more the images that matter,” Sharon explained and took the ice cream that Brenda offered to her.
“Can you explain it anyway?” The question earned her another annoyed sigh. Sharon took a sip from her wineglass, before returning to massage Brenda’s feet and ankles. Brenda sometimes really hated it that Sharon could be mildly irritated by her but still continued to do something nice for her.
“I could, but I won’t. It would ruin the movie. Just watch and enjoy it.”
“But - -,” she tried, thinking that it really wasn’t that difficult to translate to a few French lines, seeing as the movie didn’t have that much dialogue anyway.
“Brenda, I think it’s great that you’re here, but please, just shut up and watch it.”
“Why do you like this movie so much?” She was met with complete silence, though she could have sworn she saw an expression of annoyance pass over Sharon’s face. Cradling the tub of Phish Food, she turned her attention to the movie, occasionally looking at Sharon, the way she reacted to certain scenes, absentmindedly mouthing the words to the songs from time to time.
She seemed so absorbed in her movie that she didn’t even notice that Brenda was watching her, observing her. Sharon only stopped her massage to sip her wine. Her warm hands moved up Brenda’s legs, running over her calves. When she reached Brenda’s knees, Brenda pulled her legs back and moved closer to Sharon, curling up against her. Sharon wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
Brenda sighed contently as she settled against Sharon’s side, caressing Sharon’s thighs, trailing her fingertips from her knees to her hips before she let her hand come to rest on her stomach. She liked this, how right and easy this felt. Even if she didn’t understand the film or liked it very much, this quiet moment was perfect.
She could still vividly remember how much she had hated Sharon when they first met, how close she had come to actually pulling her gun on the captain. And now she could barely imagine what her life would be like without Sharon, even if she sometimes still couldn’t believe that she had somehow ended up with the brunette.
Sharon plucked the spoon for the tub and took a bite of ice cream. Brenda looked at her. When she wasn’t captain Raydor, Sharon was so different. She was so much more patient with her, most of the time. She had been so kind and accepting of her inhibitions, had waited without complaints for Brenda to be ready to come out to people about their relationship. Despite their arguments, Brenda knew she had something good and she wondered what she had done to deserve it.
The movie was reaching its conclusion with a final scene on the Eiffel tower and Trocadéro, a dance, a bolero, while Geraldine Chaplin sang and the three generations of families that had been the main characters watched. It was a very beautiful ending and actually very romantic. Maybe despite the countless of storylines, it really was a love story.
Goosebumps had appeared on Sharon’s skin and there was small smile playing on her lips as she was completely absorbed in the ending, watching the Russian dancer’s body move to the music. When the end credits started rolling, Sharon picked up the remote and switched it off before she stretched her back and took off her glasses, running a hand over her face.
“I’d never figured you could be such a romantic,” Brenda commented, nuzzling Sharon’s throat, kissing the soft skin. Sharon played with a lock of blond hair that had escaped from Brenda’s bun. There was a moment of silence before she snorted.
“I’ve been accused of many things over the years, but being a romantic most definitely wasn’t one of them,” Sharon said, a hint of a laugh in her voice as she slipped her glasses back on her nose.
“That doesn’t mean that you aren’t one. You pretend you’re all tough with your Armani suits and your stilettos, but you’re gooey on the inside.”
“Gooey on the inside?” Sharon repeated slowly as if it was an insult. Brenda lifted her head from Sharon shoulder to find the brunette looking at her over the rim of her glasses, a skeptical look in her eyes. “God, I hope that’s a compliment,” she said, but Brenda saw the sparkle in her eyes and the upturned corners of her mouth.
“It is. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation,” Brenda replied. Sharon captured her lips in a slow kiss.
“Thank you,” she said against Brenda’s lips.
“Just like I won’t tell anyone you walk around wearing next to nothing in your house,” Brenda said when Sharon got off the couch to collect the DVD from the player in the white top that barely covered her lace clad ass. Brenda stared at the sway of her hips and her long legs.
“Like people care what I wear in my house,” Sharon retorted, looking over her shoulder, smirking when she caught Brenda staring at her before she took the disc and placed it back in the case. Brenda walked up to her, moved Sharon’s hair over one shoulder and wrapped her arms around her waist.
“I do,” she whispered in her ear, kissing the back of Sharon’s neck. She slipped her hands under the thin white fabric, running her hands over Sharon’s stomach moving them up over her ribs, brushing her knuckles against the underside of her breasts. Sharon hummed, rolling her head back to let it rest on Brenda’s shoulder.
“Is that your way of telling me you’re not that exhausted anymore?” Sharon asked, her voice dropping an octave as she covered Brenda’s hands with her own.
“It might be,” Brenda teased, nipping at the skin between Sharon shoulder and her neck that she knew made Sharon shiver, sucking at it softly, smiling when she heard she heard the older woman moan. “Why? Are you interested?”
“Mmm,” Sharon replied, pushing her ass back to let it brush against Brenda’s hips. “Let’s go to bed.”