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Technically, only one of Max’s girlfriends is tall. The kind of tall where Chloe’s always the designated grocery shopping partner because she can reach the top shelves without having to bother a stranger. The kind of tall where even if Max is wearing shoes and Chloe isn’t, Max still has to go up on tippy toes to kiss her properly.
Rachel’s only an inch taller than Max is, so it really isn’t fair that Max should constantly have to go up on tippy toes to kiss her, too. But Rachel likes wearing heels and Max lacks both the inclination and the coordination to wear such things, and so between Chloe’s natural height and Rachel’s shoe collection Max is stuck with a permanent crick in her neck.
She doesn’t mind, really. Chloe’s always been tall and Max has always been at least a little in love with her, so she always suspected she was in for a lifetime of straining to reach her partner’s lips.
It’s just that sometimes she’d like to be on the same level as her girlfriends. To not have to go up on her toes, to not have to strain her neck, to be able to simply look at them instead of up to them.
“What’s up with the pouty face?” Rachel strokes an affectionate hand through Max’s short hair. She looks concerned. Even leaning as she is against the back of the couch Max is sitting on, Max still has to look up a little to meet her eyes.
Her pout deepens, and she immediately feels guilty for pouting when she’s just received a sweet kiss on the cheek from one of the most beautiful women she’s ever met. Why should it matter if the kiss came from above? “Nothing, sorry. Just… lost in thought.”
Rachel stands up straight and frowns down at her thoughtfully. “You sure everything’s okay?” Jesus, she’s towering. It feels like she’s a million miles away. Max strains to look over the back of the couch and groans audibly. “Something wrong with my shoes?”
“No, just… five inch heels? In the house?”
Rachel flips her hair over one shoulder. “Yeah, so? It’s good practice for the runway. Plus they make my calves look killer.” She gives a little half-turn and okay, sure, she’s got a point there. “Looking good on the outside makes me feel good on the inside.” She gives a little shrug that to an outsider would look casually dismissive but Max knows her well enough to read it for the defensive gesture that it is. “I’m allowed to dress however I’m comfortable in my own home, aren’t I? I mean, you don’t see me telling you you can’t wear your Pikachu boxers around the house.”
Max gets up and pulls Rachel down into a hug. “I didn’t mean it in a judgemental way; I’m sorry. Of course you can wear whatever you want. I’m just feeling insecure; that’s all.”
“Because of my shoes?” Rachel asks in genuine confusion as she squeezes Max back.
“I mean, in a way, sort of.” The truth is embarrassing, but it doesn’t take much for Rachel to drag it out of her. A light touch here, a reassuring squeeze there, and Max spills her guts.
“Hmmmm…” Rachel trails a finger along Max’s jaw as she contemplates. “I have an idea.” She kicks off her shoes, bringing herself down to Max’s level.
“You don’t have to–”
“Shush. Now, go stand on the couch.”
Max blinks at her in confusion, but a playful swat to her backside has her climbing up on the couch and standing unsteadily on the soft cushions. Rachel holds her hands to help her balance. “N-now what?”
“Now you bend down and kiss me, of course.” Rachel smiles up at her coyly, and oh. So this is what it’s like to have Rachel Amber looking up at you. It’s a good thing Rachel’s holding onto her, because her knees are buckling at the smoldering look in Rachel’s hooded eyes.
Max bends down and Rachel goes up on tiptoes to meet her. It feels strange to lean down into a kiss instead of craning up into it, but she’ll be damned if it isn’t a wonderful strangeness.
“How was that?” Rachel asks as they part, teasing the hairs at the nape of Max’s neck and still giving her that sultry look that makes Max wish she were lying on a bed instead of standing on a couch.
“Different,” Max says, “but nice. Really, really nice.”
“Good,” Rachel says with a smile, and she goes up on her toes again.
Max is so focused on kissing the hell out of Rachel that she doesn’t register the sound of footsteps padding into the room. “Huh. Not really what I expected to see going on in the middle of the living room, but I’m not about to complain.”
Rachel and Max pull apart, giggling. Max wobbles dangerously and Rachel presses a hand against her side to steady her. “C’mere, Beanpole,” Rachel beckons with a playful toss of her head. “We’re running a simulation.”
Chloe chuckles but doesn’t hesitate, reaching out a hand just in time to keep Max on her feet. “Oh, yeah? What’re we simulating?”
“What it’s like to be the tall person in a kiss. Or, Max is, anyway.”
Chloe takes a second to process that, then shrugs. “Whatever. I’m game.”
Rachel steps back and wraps her arms around Chloe’s waist, resting her head against her back as Chloe goes up on her toes. “This is hella fuckin’ weird,” Chloe laughs. “I haven’t tiptoed in years. Not since we got our own place.”
“Because you’re tall as fuck,” Rachel reminds her. “Poor Max has to do it all the time.” She pinches Chloe’s hip. “So suck it up, Buttercup. Be the short one for a change.”
Max reaches down - down! - to cup Chloe’s face in her hand. Fair blue eyes gaze up at her expectantly, sparkling with amusement and affection. She smooths her thumb over the faint blush tinging Chloe’s cheeks. She knows she should feel silly - she’s standing on the couch for fuck’s sake, barely keeping her balance and looming over her girlfriends by several feet - but instead she feels a kind of awe. Chloe leans up as high as she can, straining on her toes, and tilts her head back like surrender, her eyes fluttering sweetly closed.
“What’re you waiting for, Mega Max? Kiss the girl.”
Max carefully bends down and kisses Chloe for all she’s worth.
The kiss only lasts about ten seconds before Max finally loses her balance for good and the three of them end up in a jumble of slightly bruised limbs on the couch. It’s completely worth it.