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I’ll Give You Everything I Need to Be (You’ll Give Me Everything I Am)

Chapter Text

Two Months Later

Moving was stressful.

With paperwork and due diligence and a few fixes and closing done, Ezri and Jen were at the new duplex doing a few more “last things” and unpacking what had already been brought or shipped, shopping, assembling furniture, arranging things, and seeing to most of the still never ending phone calls and paperwork, from utilities to change of addresses.

Clara and Lalia were still in New England, disassembling, packing, and shipping things, getting one house ready to rent and one ready to sell. This split had ended up making the most sense, as there were still two households to pack, one person with knowledge of each an asset, and Ezri and Jen were making most of the now smaller decisions for the future that were left, most of them more convenient to do from their new home.

Today, Jen caught a break from the search for one missing bolt or another by virtue of a therapy appointment, finally giving Kanda a quick, gushing video tour of the duplex, which included Ezri:

“It’s nice to ‘meet’ you,” Kanda told her, and it occurred to Jen, not quite for the first time, that maybe (while they were all still on the East Coast) she should’ve brought Ezri and Lalia in just once to establish some kind of reference for Kanda, but it was too late now and this would do for one of them.

“Likewise,” said Ezri. “I’ve heard a lot of good things.”

Kanda offered a smile that somehow said the same without violating patient privacy laws. Jen, however, was not particularly concerned with these in that case. Still, she settled in a bedroom chosen at this point basically at random with the door closed, improvising with the still limited furniture.

“How are you?” Kanda asked, now that the tour was out of the way.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m tired. There’s a lot going on. And I never have any idea what time it is anymore. Time zones are weird. I’m half living here and I’m half trying to remember what time it is there so I don’t call Clara at midnight for no reason. And it’s like… everything becomes a challenge. We just got one real bed set up, today. Even food’s like, we don’t have much unpacked in the kitchen, and we don’t have a stove or oven yet, and we don’t know where the store is, and we’d have to ride share or something, we don’t have either car yet, and we don’t know what local places are good to order from or get to, and everything’s just one thing after another.”

“So, hungry and tired,” said Kanda lightly.

“Hungry. Tired. We are out of shampoo.” She lifted and dropped a slightly limp section of her hair. “Fuck TSA. And I still can’t tell you which knob is hot water, so that’s always an adventure.”

Kanda laughed.

Jen sighed. “And I miss Clara. I’m not getting laid, I have no one to beat up, and I have to get my own coffee. I know, life is hell. And I have no idea where the coffee is. Ezri swears she’s not moving it, but I think maybe she just came around on the gaslighting thing.”

Kanda smiled. “And how do you think she’s doing?”



This sounded like one of those questions that meant more than it let on, but Jen didn’t know what yet. She shrugged. “The same as I am. We’re both perpetually late for nap time. But it’s weird. We don’t fight. Not like we used to. I feel like, a year ago, if somehow we were in this situation—hungry, tired, lost the coffee, sleeping on an air mattress—we’d be at each other’s throats all the time. But… I dunno. We snip at each other plenty. But it doesn’t last long. Like, we used to give each other the silent treatment for three weeks over nothing. Now… it’s like, ‘Fuck, how’d you lose that bolt again, idiot?’ and then it’s immediately like—” she mimicked the dramatic sigh “—‘Sorry, yeah, I’ll help you find it.’ Y’know?” As she said it, she realized Kanda had, in fact, gotten her to touch on something somewhat meaningful.

“And why do you think that is?”

She thought. “There’s too much shit to do. We don’t have three weeks to fight every time one of us loses a bolt or, God forbid, the instructions, or something. Okay, that one was me. There’s just so much paperwork.” Quiet. She thought a little more. “And like, because it doesn’t matter, I guess.”

“What doesn’t matter?”

“Whatever we fight about. Like—everything that’s happened, I fuck up, she forgives me, and I’m always like, ‘Why?’ and she’s said like, a million ways now, and maybe I finally get it, that like, it doesn’t matter. Because if there was an emergency, we’d stop. Because I’ll say this awful shit to her, but I wouldn’t let someone else say half that much, and we’ll still move across the country together, or whatever. And so… it’s like, okay, if we’re going to fight about something stupid, and we’re going to make up in three weeks, and we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together, can we just do that now and not waste our time?”


It was surprising how much of therapy felt like talking to herself, or to a brick wall that asked the right questions but didn’t hand out answers. Not every session was a revelation, but it usually gave her things to think about, at least.

By the time she’d finished with Kanda, Ezri had long found the once again missing bolt and made some progress on… Jen couldn’t remember anymore if it was a shelf or a dresser, before taking her own break.

Now, they both wanted food again, and there wasn’t really food, and there were no slaves to order to fix that, and they managed to bicker about it. Trying to bear what she’d said to Kanda in mind, Jen said, “Sorry. I just haven’t had a real food or bed or sex in like, two weeks.”

“Well, I haven’t, either,” Ezri snapped, but it was halfhearted. “I don’t have a secret food or bed or slave supply.”

“You’d think you would.”

“Well, the only human inventory I have here is you.”

Yet that made it click. They’d still never really managed to have that conversation in the chaos. Jen looked at her. Ezri looked back at her.

“God, just once to take the edge off,” Jen said, and this time, the sudden, heated kisses felt good and right and the touches wandered quickly towards something, Ezri’s hands under her shirt and unclasping her bra and nothing really felt like a first, just the payoff of a lot of pent up wanting. She whined as Ezri toyed with her nipples, lips moving to her throat.

“You want me to fuck you?” Ezri asked against her skin.

“I need you to fuck me,” she groaned, pressing against her. “God, you’ve made me wait like, six years now.”

Have you been waiting six years?”

“I don’t know anymore.” That was another conversation for later.

“Mm.” She kissed her again, one hand a little tight in her hair, murmured, “I think we’ve waited long enough.”

Everything that happened as they slowly made it to the one assembled bed was rife with a million emotions. Frustration and need and love and familiarity and curiosity. It was already knowing how the other liked to be touched but never having done it themselves, and wanting to make each other feel good and learning how, and both of them being used to take take take and learning how to give.

At the edge of the bed, Jen’s hand was under Ezri’s clothes, jeans undone, the shirt long discarded, buttons be damned. Her fingers were wrapped around her, but she pulled the clothes actually out of the way and gave her a little nudge to sitting on the bed. Slid to kneeling and said, “You say one fucking thing…” as she wrapped her mouth around Ezri’s cock.

“Like how pretty you look on your knees?”

“I’ll bite you.” Muffled.

“No, you won’t.” She smirked, but it came out on a shaky sigh, her hand finding Jen’s hair again.

Jen pulled back and bit her thigh just hard enough to make her yelp. Still, Ezri seemed more focused on guiding her back to what her mouth had previously been doing than truly protesting.

It had been a while; she was out of practice, but if Ezri minded, it was hard to tell, twitching and steadily growing harder. “Do you talk about me?” she asked.

“What?” Jen asked.

“You. Clara. I mean, like…” She thrust into Jen’s mouth a little.

“Oh, she gave me all kinds of wonderful pointers before we went on that date,” Jen told her, drawing back. “Like you really like, mm, this thing.” She took Ezri in her mouth again, just a little, sucked with just her mouth without moving her head.

“I… yeah. That thing,” Ezri breathed, apparently no longer concerned with what she and Clara gossiped about. “Fuck.”

Jen indulged her for another minute, then slid up onto the bed with her. Ezri kicked her clothes below the waist off, and tugged the shirt and bra she’d undone off of Jen, took one of her nipples in her mouth, sucked and flicked her tongue over it and paused to murmur, “And that thing?”

“Yeah. That thing,” Jen breathed, also not sounding concerned with what Ezri and Clara gossiped about. “God.” Ezri’s fingers slipped under her waistband again and found her plenty interested, stroked her smoothly and focused tightly on her clit.

“Nice and wet for me,” she told her, sucking little marks into her breast, possessive, clearly drinking in her every helpless whine and twitch of need, Jen’s hand in her hair. She paused and got the rest of her clothes off of her, discarding her own bra. Jen shifted to help and opened her legs for her and rocked against her hand as Ezri slipped one, and then two, fingers inside her. God, it felt good. She could get used to this side of Ezri. Maybe more than once to take the edge off. She wasn’t sure. Pleasure blurred everything.


She wasn’t sure what it meant at first. Then nodded, panting. Ezri kissed her, long and slow, and asked, “How hard do you want me to fuck you?” against her mouth.

“If I’m not sore tomorrow, I’m not interested.”


They shifted, and settled against each other, and Ezri fucked her not sore tomorrow hard at first—she was surprisingly tight; it had been a while; she was realistically used to, what, Clara’s fingers, the occasional toy—but she adjusted quickly as they aligned and went harder.

She felt very aware for the first time in a while of how much noise she made during sex, head thrown back against the pillows, Ezri’s name slipping out on a moan, which felt right, and it felt right when Ezri kissed her wantingly, and right whenever they locked eyes for a second and smiled and looked away, and also right when Ezri moaned her name into her neck a minute later, her nails digging into Jen’s skin, Jen’s nails down her back.

She came several times during it all, clenching hard around her and crying out and gasping for breath, and Ezri watched her when she did, and after the second one said, “You’re so beautiful,” softly, tucking her tousled hair back out of her face, breathless, herself.

Yes, maybe they could get used to this.

Ezri came inside her as Jen came the third time, and then lay nearly limp on her as they both caught their breath, skin on skin, slick with sweat. “I love you,” she told her, shifting, tracing a pattern on her chest.

“I love you, too.” Still trying to breathe. “That was…”


They were quiet, content. The bed, now assembled, felt very nice.

“Wait a minute,” said Jen. “We never got food.”

Ezri laughed.

“I’m starving. Let’s Lyft to that chicken place again. That was good.”

“Okay.” Ezri smiled. “I should maybe shower first.”

“Yes,” said Jen, but paused, kissed her again, added against her mouth, “We should.”