Chapter Text
Kirsten Longacre was on a high. She turned 32 and found out her transfer to an elite unit came through. Having set the record for the youngest DS in Scotland, she was now on track to DCI, and she’s been granted a prime unit.
Surrounded by her mates, her current colleagues, and an ex, Isla, with whom she was on good terms, she was having the time of her life at the local pub. The banner above the bar read: “Happy Birthday!” and someone wrote in with a marker “Goodbye and good riddance ). It was a send-off and a birthday celebration. The only thing that would have made the night more complete was if she had a girlfriend. She ended things with Isla over a month ago. They had been seeing each other for close to a year, and Isla was itching for her to move in. Kirsten dragged her feet. She liked Isla a lot; she was sweet and thoughtful and put up with Kirsten's extended hours. But she didn’t feel IT. She loved and cared for her; she just wasn’t IN love with her. It was a complex concept for Isla to take. They’re trying the let’s be friends thing, which means hooking up whenever Kirsten feels lonely.
Orla, Kirsten’s best mate, thought it was a horrible idea since they were little.
“She’s so in love with you; you’re not being fair, Kirsten.” Orla admonished.
Kirsten put an arm around her friend, “Orla, it’s my birthday.”
Orla smiled and kissed her forehead, “I know, and I love you. But promise me you won’t go to her tonight. She’s having a tough time knowing you’re going away.”
Kirsten took a big swig of her pint of whiskey people kept throwing shots in. “Orla, Orla, Orla.”
Orla snorted and attempted to take the pint away from her drunk friend. “I know what my name is, you mad girl.”
“Orla, you know why weakness for beautiful women, and there are about 11 lesbians in this town,” Kirsten leaned in close to Orla’s ear, “and 10 of them are not as pretty as Isla.”
Orla sighed, she was only two years older than Kirsten, but sometimes she felt much older. Her allegiance was, of course, to Kirsten and always will be, but she still noticed how utterly in love Isla was with Kirsten. The poor girl took whatever scraps she could get, even if it meant just sex.
Three of Kirsten’s former colleagues, Liam, Caelen, and Ewan, came over to their table.
“Fit ye on aboot here Longacre?” Liam, a DCI and one of Kirsten’s favorite work buddies, asked.
“Beautiful women,” Kirsten answered, gesturing with her pint full of whiskey, spilling it everywhere.
“Where yer goin’, there’s a fit DCI there,” Liam let out a low whistle. “I can still remember meeting her when we took out exam together. She shot me down hard.”
“A woman turned you down, Liam?” Kirsten clutches her chest dramatically.
“I know, me, the Scottish Brad Pitt.”
“You are talking about DCI Silva?” Ewan inquired softly.
Everyone at the table turned to look at Ewan. Ewan was the IT guy for the entire police force. He was even younger than Kirsten and on the spectrum. He made up for what he lacked in social ability with immense intelligence. Ewan rarely talked about women.
“Aye,” Liam answered, “you fancy her too, my wee lad?”
“She’s a beaut and clever. I fixed her computer for her, and she sat with me and asked questions; no one ever does that.”
Kirsten put her arm around Ewan, whom she is fiercely protective of, as if he was her little brother. The entire squad was. “She must be something if you think so, Ewan.”
“Tall, older, brunette with the nose?” Caelen pitched in. “A MILF, met her when we did that joint task force- she was all business which made her even fitter. She’s a hetero Longacre, but when did that stop you?”
Kirsten made a face. “No more, tired of being straight women’s …” Kirsten paused to cover Ewan’s ears, “real-life vibrator.”
This sent the boys into an uproar, and Orla just shook her head as she watched Isla leave the bar. She tried her best to keep the shots away from Kirsten the rest of the night, and when Kirsten wouldn’t allow her to drive her home, instead opting for an Uber, Orla knew Kirsten was headed towards Isla’s.
Straight or not, Orla hoped that this DCI Silva everyone is raving about would provide enough eye candy to distract Kirsten and let her move on.
Kirsten woke up in Isla’s bed; she was sure it was Isla’s before the sun came up. She felt like rubbish, but she knew she had to get out before Isla woke up. She didn’t want the uncomfortable conversation about what would happen to them now that she was going 45 minutes down the road. They both knew the answer; they’d still be broken up.
Kirsten felt like an asshole. She knew what she was doing was wrong, giving Isla false hope. But she hated sleeping alone, and there was a finite amount of lesbians- single lesbians within a 100-mile radius.
She tip-toed out of the bedroom and put her clothes on in the foyer. She promised herself that this would be the last time she would sleep with Isla. She was 32 now; she needed to start acting like it. She was going to kick her arse and take names at her new station, study for her inspector exam, and spend time with her mates. She needed to learn how to be single for more than a month.
Kirsten’s first day at her new station was uneventful. She was relieved to find out her boss, Sup. Robertson was an upstanding boss who fully supported her taking the inspector’s exam. When she asked if there was anyone who could help her study or give advice, a familiar name came up.
“Ah, that would be DCI Silva,” Robertson said proudly as if he was talking about one of his children, “she’s the best that I got. Only person I know who passed it the first time, but you didn’t hear it from me & I’ll have you on parking duty if you repeat it.”
Kirsten laughed and played along, “Hear what, sir?”
Robertson smiled, “She’s down at the MET all week but should be back tomorrow.”
Kirsten didn’t think much else about DCI Silva. She hadn’t even bothered to Google her. She was laser-focused on her goals. Besides, she was done with straight women, and this one has a kid, which means a husband. Hard pass, she thought.
She was paired up with Porter that first week and they hit it off like two uni mates. They would go out after work for a pint, where Kirsten got the run down about her new work family.
“Then there’s DCI Silva, guv’s favorite, brilliant detective, bloody intimidating how good she is.”
“She’s away for the week, right?” Kirsten asked nonchalantly.
“She should be back tomorrow. I would make introductions, but ever since the accident-“
“What accident?”
Porter chugged his pilsner. “She got into a bad car accident a year or so back. She lost her partner, but she saved her stepkid. She’s… understandably changed since; she always has headphones on; she’s even more intense now.”
“Aye, that’s bloody awful.”
Porter nodded, “We all give her space, mostly because we’re intimidated and just out of respect.”
She instills fear and respect at the same time. Kirsten thought. Whomever this woman is, the more Kirsten hears about her, the more of a legend she sounds like.
Kirsten went home that night not thinking anymore about Amy Silva. She thought about going home to an empty flat and an empty bed. She called Orla to ask about her day and briefly told her about the new team she’s working with.
“Have you seen her yet?” Orla asked.
“Who?” Kirsten asked as she brushed her teeth.
“The detective, your blokes said was fit.”
“No, she comes in tomorrow. Why do you care?”
“You whinged about how there are not enough good-looking women-“
“Lesbians,” Kirsten said clearly, cutting Orla off after taking her toothbrush out of her mouth. “My painful adventures with straight women are over. They’re nothing but teases and heartbreakers only interested in having multiple orgasms.”
“Want to put money on that?”
Kirsten laughed at that harder than she should. “Goodbye, and good night Orla.”
She could still hear Orla cackling as she hung up.
Kirsten remembered the exact moment that she set eyes on Amy Silva. It was a Friday, and even though Kirsten was early for work, she wasn’t the only one in the office. A woman she’d never seen before sat at her desk, eyebrows furrowed at her computer screen. Kirsten’s stomach started to work itself up; her heart beat faster. To say Amy Silva was fit didn’t do her justice. Fit implies hotness, those women who get by on their looks. Beautiful was also too simple to describe her. Kirsten struggled for the word or words to tell whom she was looking at. Amy Silva was subtly gorgeous. You stare at her long enough, and you can see it; symmetrical solid features.
The average confident Kirsten would have walked over and introduced herself, but Kirsten was uncharacteristically shy; her legs would not move. She has stuck four desks away, trying her hardest not to get caught staring. Amy Silva never looked up once.
Kirsten got up the nerve to approach Amy while walking to the vending machines. Aye, she’s tall too, and she has fashion sense. Kirsten thought, looking at Amy’s power suit. Then something magical happened; Kirsten made Amy Silva laugh; that smile cemented Kirsten’s throbbing crush and made other parts of her body throb. Her features were striking to Kirsten, the big eyes, the stunning smile, the way her energy changes. As Kirsten trailed Amy back to her desk like a lost puppy, she made a mental note to herself to make Amy Silva laugh as often as she could.
Their coffee and tea break at lunchtime started that week. Kirsten couldn’t remember being more excited about anything as much as she looked forward to spending 20 minutes up on a freezing rooftop with Amy, making her laugh, taking her away from her headphones. She learned that the taller woman liked to run and was always professional at work.
No mention of a daughter, no mention of the accident. Kirsten understood that Amy was straight, but that didn’t stop Kirsten from turning on the charm and making Amy laugh as often as she could; it gave Kirsten a high. She looked forward to coming to work now, not that she didn’t before, Kirsten loves her job, but now she gets to see a stunning woman daily.
“Orla,” Kirsten said to her best friend whom she was Facetiming. She heaved a heavy and dramatic sigh, “Orla, I love her.”
Orla laughed and said, “You love how she looks.”
Kirsten feigned offense, putting a hand over her chest. “Aye, the woman is clever. She happens to be very pretty and makes my little heart do weird things.”
Orla rolled her eye, “Your HEART, eh? And not another part of your body.”
“Orla Blyth Denny, I resent that.”
“Doesn’t make it not true. But I am glad someone else is on your um, mind. Isla won’t stop texting me.”
“Aye, sorry, mate.”
“Just let her be.”
“I will, promise,” Kirsten said. It was easy to do now that all she could think about was when she would see Amy next.
When she failed her inspector exam, Amy went with her to a bar to commiserate. Kirsten still doesn’t understand what came over her when she went in for the kiss. First of all, it was very public. But they were vibing, and she thought she read to Amy’s energy right. It was painful to see the woman you are so infatuated with wipe off your kiss out of disgust and then leave. She called Orla that night and cried so much that Orla came over to hers to make sure she was ok. She called out the next day because she did not want Amy to see that she’d been crying.
Things were different after that. There were no more rooftop or vending machine run-ins. Kirsten understood why Amy had to steer clear; she just wanted an opportunity to apologize and not have it be through a text or voicemail. Kirsten still loved going to work; the change was that it made her sad and happy to see Amy.
Three weeks had passed by without talking to Amy. After three weeks of giving her room and waiting for her to approach, it became clear that wouldn’t happen.
“Isla stopped texting me crying about you; please tell me you haven’t-“
“No, Orla, I haven’t shagged my ex.”
“Aye, you like this, Amy.”
“She won’t talk to me.”
“She’s straight, love, and she rejected you once already.”
“I know, I just want to be around her even if I can’t, if we can’t-. Why did I fuck this up and kiss her?”
Orla snorted, “Because beautiful, clever women are rare, and they’re your kryptonite, the straight ones.”
Fuck it, Kirsten thought to herself as she looked at her watch. Quarter to 8. She glanced around the office and saw that it was just Amy left.
The worst she could say is no. Kirsten thought as she approached Amy Silva’s desk.
“Shouldn’t you be calling it a day?”
“Three new cases this week,” Amy responded without looking up from her work. The tone wasn’t welcoming, but it wasn’t friendly either.
Kirsten persisted, “When was the last time you were home by 9.”
Amy finally looked at her, “Well, there’s a lot to do so….”
Kirsten smiled; even though the rebuke stung a bit, she was still happy to see Amy up close. The familiar knot that existed in her belly started to tighten up. She could smell a very faint scent of Amy’s perfume mixed with her pheromones. Kirsten could see the perfect manicure on those long, slender fingers. Kirsten took the hint and buggered off.
“And I don’t like going home,” Amy said as Kirsten walked past her desk. “At least I feel useful here.”
Kirsten stopped and turned to face the brunette.
“But look, I can finish up if you want to get a drink or something,” Amy asked hesitantly, her eyes pleading.
Kirsten doesn’t remember how she ended up back at Amy’s, but they were both drunk and happy.
“I like you.”
Kirsten had heard those words more times than she would like to remember. It was hard not to melt into Amy’s kiss, but what was more challenging was falling for someone who didn’t know who they were. What’s hard, Kirsten thought, was being left for a man one or two years into the relationship. So she treaded the waters cautiously.
She’ll feel the same sober, Amy promised.
Fighting every cell in her body that wanted to explore every inch of Amy Silva’s body that night, Kirsten said they should wait until they were both sober, despite Amy’s drunk protest.
“Fine, come to bed.”
“Amy-“
“Just to sleep; you’re too drunk to drive. I’ll build a pillow divide just in case you can’t control yourself.”
“Me? Aye, your tongue was down my throat just now.”
They both laughed and shared a look that conveyed how much they wanted the same thing.
Kirsten liked her too much to mess this up. “Is it ok if I crash on the couch?”
Amy looked hurt.
“It’s not you, well, it is you. I don’t think a pillow divide will do much.” Kirsten admitted.
Amy smiled at that smile that Kirsten adores with the very fiber of her being. The smile that melted her. She extended her hand out to Kirsten.
“I promise, nothing will happen. Just sleep. Please stay; I like your company in any capacity.” Her voice was soft and raspy.
Kirsten hadn’t known Amy Silva long, but she knew enough that the last sentence was too complex.
“Here,” Amy said, handing Kirsten two paracetamol and a glass of water as they got into her.
“Thanks, doc.”
Amy smiled and thought about how close that statement was to be true. She grabbed two pillows and put them in between them.
“See, just like I promised.”
Kirsten chuckled, “Aye, Silva, don’t you have any fresh ideas in the middle of the night.”
Amy’s face fell, not because of anything Kirsten implied but because Amy wouldn’t know what to do even if she did want to engage with Kirsten.
“I’m taking the piss, Amy.” Kirsten threw a pillow at the taller woman. “Good night.”
Amy watched Kirsten as she slept. She took in her features now that she could honestly stare at her freely. Kirsten was the type of woman who looked beautiful with little to no effort. She didn’t seem like she spent much time on makeup; her red hair matched her personality- big and welcoming. They were opposites, Amy thought. Kirsten was charming, thoughtful, amiable, the type of person who could talk to anyone. Kirsten was this ray of light, this effervescing being that made her feel again; she made her feel things that weren’t gut-wrenchingly painful.
Amy wasn’t sure what exactly she was feeling. She hadn’t ever felt this way about men. All she knew was that she couldn’t stop thinking about that night Kirsten kissed her at the pub; how her reaction was abhorrent. She was a proper dick to Kirsten, who did not deserve that response. She thought about how she never properly apologized and how gracious Kirsten had been towards her. Amy was only sure about how being around the redhead made her feel. Kirsten awakened parts of Amy that she thought were dead. For the first time in two years, she looked forward to seeing someone who wasn’t Poppy. Kirsten made her laugh; she was easy to be around, probably why she’s been such a hit at the station.
Kirsten also made her feel something else that Amy hadn’t felt in a long time. At first, she thought it was the depression of losing Iain, but then the medication she is on for the depression, one of the side effects was little to no libido. Being around Kirsten defied all of that. Things started swirling in her belly that’s been dormant for over two years. But she didn’t know what that meant. She liked the kissing part. But what else did she like? Amy didn’t know, but she knew she wanted more, and she wanted it with Kirsten Longacre.
Was she gay now? Bisexual? She didn’t fancy other women. Amy Silva hadn’t thought about sex in so long that she may as well be a monk. Men have tried to hit on her; she had no interest. There was so much baggage, and she didn’t have the energy to get to know someone. Then Kirsten Longacre came into her life with her jokes, persistence, wit, and eyes. Amy felt like the wet misery blanket that had engulfed her since the accident had finally lifted. She talked things through with her therapist, and they reasoned that her reaction to the kiss was somehow a betrayal to Iain. It wasn’t reasonable, but what actions and emotions are when a person is grieving. Tonight was one of the best nights she’s had in years. Amy reached out to kiss the inside of Kirsten’s wrist before drifting off.
Kirsten Longacre woke up with a start. She was in a strange bed in a strange room. It took her a few seconds to gather her wits. Amy wasn’t in bed, which made Kirsten panic a little. Did she get sober and wonder why a woman was in her bed. Her fears were assuaged when she saw the text on her mobile.
“Went on a run, should be back by 8. If you want to hang out sober, I don’t have anything planned for today.”
Kirsten could think about things she’d like to do with Amy Silva on a lovely Saturday. She was in her crush’s bed, and nothing happened; Kirsten was so proud of herself. She glanced at the time, ignoring texts from Porter and Orla. 6:45, she had more than enough time to get home, shower, and be back.
While trying to gather her things in the living room, she noticed the picture on the mantle of Amy, a man, and a young girl. Kirsten swallowed hard; it was a clear reminder that Amy had spent at least 39 years of her life straight and that Kirsten might just be a novelty. Kirsten’s been there before, and it’s usually with older women. Parts of her were screaming to run away. Not only was Amy straight, but she was also emotionally unavailable, and they worked together. This was also a rebound for Amy. Red flags are planted everywhere. Kirsten ignored all of them, how she felt when she was around Amy; no number of red flags could trump the butterflies, the crazy attraction.