Work Text:
ali blaire (11:30 pm)
surprise!
ash (11:30 pm)
baaabe what are you doing up it’s like midnight there!
ali blaire (11:31 pm)
not for another half hour
learn to do math :)
ash (11:31 pm)
im challenged dont make fun of me
ali blaire (11:31 pm)
I thought you’d be happy to see me...
ash (11:32 pm)
i am i just dont want you to stay up just to talk to me
you have important stuff to do
like train our back line to kick ass so i dont have to
-
She stretches, rolling over onto her stomach and taking the laptop with her. It strikes her as funny that Ali doesn’t bother to point out it’s four am in Germany, like she knows it won’t change anything- Ashlyn would have waited until sunrise to see ‘ali blaire’ light up her screen. She misses Ali more than she knows how to put into words, and even if she know how to she wouldn’t dare. There’s no excuse for making Ali feel guilty that she left Germany a month earlier (or at least guiltier than she already feels leaving Ashlyn behind), and if it comes down to it Ashlyn will blame it on insomnia or a snowstorm or anything but her need to talk to the one constant in her life.
-
ash (11:32 pm)
whatre you up to?
-
Ali sighs, readjusting the throne of pillows propping her up against her headboard. She wants to type out that she’s doing something interesting or important, but all she has is an episode of Scandal on mute and a glass of water and the screen connecting her with Ashlyn. “Just relaxing”, she taps out, then deletes it and rewords it to be a more casual “just chilling out”. She had tried to go to sleep an hour earlier, but not even bad acting and her electric blanket could shut her off. After a day of training hard she’s still too wound up to go to sleep before she exhausts herself, and that means a long haul until two am at least.
ash (11:33 pm)
chilling huh?
so what like a big steamy bubblebath and a glass of champagne
Ali laughs to herself, shaking her head as she reaches for her glass and types out her reply with one hand:
ali blaire (11:33 pm)
you wish but nope I’m clothed
ash (11:33 pm)
in?
ali blaire (11:33 pm)
oh, are we doing this?
ash (11:34 pm)
i dont know what you could possibly be referring to
so whatre you wearing?
ali blaire (11:34 pm)
tank top and yoga pants
ash (11:34 pm)
thats specific
ali blaire (11:34 pm)
we can just video call....
ash (11:34 pm)
nope youre not getting out of this
ali blaire (11:35 pm)
I’m wearing the yoga pants that cut off at the calf
ash (11:35 pm)
yessss
ali blaire (11:35 pm)
why do I feel like you’re fist pumping?
PSU tank top
ash (11:35 pm)
the white one?
ali blaire (11:36 pm)
yeah
ash (11:36 pm)
with a bra?
ali blaire (11:36 pm)
ash...
ash (11:36 pm)
its just me, ali.
-
She’s not surprised at all when Ali video calls her, but she accepts it without turning on her own camera. She wants to see first.
Ali’s propped up against her headboard, lit on one side by her bedside lamp and dappled by the irregular lights of the TV everywhere else. Ashlyn doesn’t even bother to pretend that she’s looking, taking Ali in from head to toe. From the shadow cast by the lamp and her own special brand of focus, Ashlyn can tell that her suspicion was right- there’s no bra under that tank top. The temperature in her room jumps at least ten degrees when she lets herself wonder whether that lack of underwear is universal.
“Hi,” Ali says, and Ashlyn grins before she realizes Ali can’t see her.
“Hey. So no bra, huh?”
Ali laughs, shaking her head, but she’s unfazed by it and Ashlyn knows it.
“So romantic. Why can’t I see you?”
Ashlyn lies, tapping around on the keyboard for credibility, “I dunno, I’m working on it.”
“You could be in a bubblebath with a glas of champagne for all I know,” Ali teases, and Ashlyn smirks- “Come on, you have to admit it was a good try.”
There’s a moment of silence, then, where Ali takes a drink of her water and Ashlyn’s distracted so she stops typing. Ali catches it too fast for Ashlyn- “did it work?”- and she’s left confused and scrambling to maintain her cover-up.
"Uh, nope. Software update. It's saying there's five minutes left." Before Ali can question it, she redirects the conversation, sitting up so that she can rest her laptop on her knees.
"How are you? How's DC?"
-
Ali knows there are two ways to answer that, and for a moment she's not sure which one to choose. She wants to be honest, wants to tell Ashlyn that home no longer feels like home without her, but at the same time the idea of making Ashlyn feel responsible for the distance turns her stomach. She settles for the middle ground, fingering the hem of her tank top, eyes downcast.
"I'm good. Training with Lori, mostly, so I'm being kept busy. I miss you, though."
There's more that she could say, if she wanted to. How she misses Ashlyn in every possible way, from the way she smiles to the way her voice seems able to fix everything. How this time of night turns 'alone' into 'lonely' and her bones ache with the need for intimacy and connection and just Ashlyn.
The roughness of her girlfriend's voice when she speaks again startles Ali so badly that her head jerks up like she's expecting to see anything but a blank screen.
"I know something that might make you miss me a little less."
-
Ali's face changes completely, her jaw slackening a little, and Ashlyn backpedals.
"You don't have to, but I think it...it'd help."
"If what?"
Ali knows; Ashlyn can see it in the way she leans forward a little and her breathing hitches. The fact that she asks anyway means one thing and one thing only: she wants to hear it from Ashlyn's mouth.
And Ashlyn won't deny her what she wants.
"If you touch yourself, cause I can't."
Ali flushes, licks her lips. Ashlyn tilts the screen back a little to see better, her own breath quickening.
"It won't work," Ali says, and it's so quiet that Ashlyn has to take a few moments to register it. When she does her brow furrows, not that Ali can see it.
"What d'you mean?"
Ashlyn watches as Ali breathes, as her eyes flick down to her hands again before she looks up at the webcam once more. There's tension in her body that wasn't there before, tension that Ashlyn wishes she could reach through and dissolve, like sugar on her tongue.
"I-I mean, I won't be able to. You know. Cause I can't see you."
-
"You've never- without, I mean, on your own?"
Ali's blushing now, and she reaches for her water but doesn't pick it up, just presses her palm against the condensation forming on the glass. She knows better than to lie, but it's not fun to talk about. Ashlyn is and always has been very secure in her sexuality, and in her body, and Ali- as happy as she is with what she looks like, she's never bothered to think much about how it works. It always seemed too smutty to her.
"I, a few times. Not well. Not to-" she pauses, suddenly glad that she can't see Ashlyn's face, because this above all is what embarrasses her.
"Orgasm?" Ashlyn supplies, and Ali chokes out a nervous laugh, shaking her head.
"Babe, I promise you that you can. And you will. I'll make it good for you, AK. Don't I always make it good for you?"
-
Ashlyn can't believe the words that are coming out of her mouth.
She knows that it's got to be at least partially the privacy of a one-way camera, but partially it's like she can't even control herself asking as long as Ali's tense like that, shy like that. Ali squirms a little like Ashlyn's words scald her skin, but she blushes, still, and answers: "Yeah."
As quiet as it is, it's still an affirmative and it's permission to continue, so Ashlyn does.
"I'll talk you through it. You trust me, right?"
"Of course."
Ashlyn shifts so that the laptop rests on the bed next to her knee, focusing hard on Ali's breathing and the tightness in her shoulders.
"I'll tell you what I'd do if I were there, and you can do it for me."
Ali makes a soft affirmative noise, and lifts her hips a little like she's gonna reach down and slip off her pants. Ashlyn stops her, surprised at the strength of her voice.
"No, leave them on. I'd touch you over your clothes first. Your hips and your stomach," she waits until Ali complies, her eyes fluttering closed as she flattens her hand against her own abdomen, "and more, but I’d just be teasing you."
-
Ali's self conscious about it, but her fear of disappointing Ashlyn is bigger than her apprehension. One hand she leaves on her stomach, feeling the rise and fall of her own ribs beneath her tank top; the other she lifts to brush against herself, the way she imagines Ashlyn would- the back of her hand across one breast and a fingertip skating the curve of the other. She imagines she can hear Ashlyn's breathing and feels the ghost of her lover's kiss on her temple.
She shivers.
Ashlyn speaks again.
"Yeah, like that. I'd take your shirt off, first. Cause I know how sensitive you are, and I know where you're ticklish just above your hipbones."
Ali smiles a little, shaking her head- Ashlyn's certainly being honest- and opens her eyes to sit up and pull her tank top over her head.
There's a long, long moment of silence where Ali wishes more than anything she could see the look on Ashlyn's face.
-
She's speechless for a lot longer than she means to be.
She's seen this sight before, plenty of times, but it never matters. Ali takes her breath away. She’s speechless for so long that Ali’s voice is what jars her out of it; the sound of her name, almost frightened: “Ashlyn?”
“Yeah. I’m here.”
“Are you- I mean, are we both...”
Ashlyn doesn’t answer, instead she pulls her own shirt over her head and clicks on the camera so that Ali can see her. She’s wearing a bra, but it doesn’t seem to matter to Ali- her eyes widen and then she grins, lying back against her pillows again, and now when she skates a hand over her stomach she does it without Ashlyn telling her to and her smile turns wicked.
“I’d be touching you, too,” she says, and then immediately blushes, like she can’t reconcile with her own words. Ashlyn grins right back, shifting slightly so that her legs part, just barely starting to feel the discomfort of her jeans.
“Yeah? Where?”
-
Ali’s blushing so hard she’s sure it just looks like her skin tone by now, but the image of Ashlyn in front of her is like a shot of pure adrenaline to her system, and she speaks again without thinking, dragging her eyes from Ashlyn’s shoulders to her casually-spread legs.
“Everywhere.”
Ashlyn laughs, but she follows directions, stroking a hand along her own ribcage, following the lines of her tattoo like Ali does, awkwardly twisting one arm behind her to unhook the clasp of her bra, and her eyes never waver- Ali knows she’s being watched as she tugs her yoga pants down over her hips. She has to look down again to get them off completely, and when she looks back up Ashlyn’s bra is gone and the fabric has been replaced by her hands and she’s still watching, eyes dark.
Ali’s surprised at how it makes her feel, being watched. What started out as a substitute for Ashlyn’s hands is quickly becoming something else, some kind of appreciation for her own hands, for watching Ashlyn, and it’s not something she ever would have expected of herself.
She stretches out her legs and watches Ashlyn’s expression turn predatory.
“God, Ali. You are so perfect.”
She doesn’t see it when she looks down at herself, even for just a moment. She sees the things it seems like Ashlyn can’t- the stretch marks on her thighs, faint but present; the scar on her knee from surgery; the patch on her knee she must have missed when she shaved that morning. Ashlyn doesn’t see that. Ali doesn’t know whatAshlyn sees, but it’s not any of that.
-
Ali doesn’t answer, but Ashlyn hadn’t expected her to; she hastily unbuttons her jeans and kicks them off. Ali grins, one of her hands sliding down her stomach to the hem of her underwear.
“Boxers?”
“Easy access,” Ashlyn replies with a smirk, and to prove her point she dives a hand under her own waistband. She doesn’t do anything, she just waits for a reaction.
“Don’t rush,” Ali warns, but her own hand says above her underwear, drifting between her legs as she continues, “don’t you want this to last?”
Ashlyn watches, absently touching herself but without any real intention.
“I don’t care about me, this is about you, remember?”
Ali pauses, her hand stilling, and Ashlyn takes the hint without needing to be prompted: “Under, now. I’d be gentle, though. You’re really tense. You gotta ease into it.”
She’s speaking, but she’s not really thinking about it; she’s watching Ali’s face for any sign of reluctance or apprehension in case she wants to stop and isn’t saying so. Just like she said before, Ashlyn intends this- whatever it is- to be about Ali, and if it’s not doing anything for her she’ll be the first to call it off.
-
Ali focuses on Ashlyn’s voice instead of what she’s doing, and Ashlyn keeps talking. She’s saying something- probably giving direction- but Ali’s not comprehending it, she’s just using the timbre of Ashlyn’s voice and the visual of her, trying to conjure her up in reality, in all her long lean glory. The thing is, she’ll never be able to be as gentle with herself as Ashlyn is with her, and her unskilled hand is a poor substitute for the real thing.
For a moment she’s consumed by panic, by the fear that she won’t be able to do this, and Ashlyn will be disappointed. Not vocally- never vocally- but sometimes Ashlyn is disappointed, at least Ali thinks she is. Ali’s not gay and she’s not experienced and now more than ever she’s thinking about how she can’t possibly measure up to any other girl Ashlyn’s known like this; unconsciously Ali pulls a face and Ashlyn’s voice breaks through to save her: “Stop.”
She freezes. She opens her eyes. Ashlyn’s sitting up, concern written all over her face, and Ali blushes harder than she’s ever blushed before, covering her eyes with her forearm.
“Talk to me.”
-
“I can’t do it.”
Ali doesn’t uncover her eyes, and Ashlyn aches to reach out and make her.
“Yes you can! You just were. It’s just like if I were touching you. You just have to think about what I do, and then you do it.”
“I can’t, Ash. I’m too self-conscious and I’m bad at it.”
“We don’t have to do this, Ali. I never wanted you to feel like you- like this was something you had to do.”
Ali sighs with her entire body, one arm thrown across her chest, and even like this she’s so beautiful that Ashlyn’s chest feels tight.
“I know. I wanted to. I mean, I still want to. I’m just scared that I won’t make it all the way and I’ll feel like an idiot. It was bad enough alone.”
“It’s not a big deal if you don’t, baby. I just wanna help you.”
-
Ali breathes. Slowly, and with intention, she drops her hand between her legs again.
"With me," she says breathlessly, and through hooded eyes she watches Ashlyn lay back again, legs splayed.
Ashlyn is quiet about it, and Ali watches the shift and flex of the muscles and tendons in her arm as her hand twists. When Ashlyn rolls her hips up and presses her head back into the pillows, Ali feels her stomach flip, and the moan that works its way past her lips forces Ashlyn’s eyes open again.
"Slow," and Ali slows, lightening the pressure.
"Other hand," and Ali obliges, lifting her free hand to drag her fingers along her breast, emboldened by Ashlyn watching her. She's closer than she's ever been like this, the pressure coiling in her lower abdomen, her breath coming fast and shallow.
-
Ashlyn's barely moving, trying to stave off her own release, but she really can't. Ali's close, too, the rising blood reddening her chest and along her neck. There's one trick still up her sleeve; one thing Ashlyn is sure will send Ali right over the edge.
She waits until Ali closes her eyes, and then she makes her move, groaning it out- "God, Ali," and just like that Ali's eyes snap open and she arches forward off her pillows with a strangled gasp. Ashlyn’s so focused on Ali that when she follows, shaking and panting, it catches her entirely by surprise, and she ends up rolled over onto her side, clutching at her pillow with her free hand.
They breathe, separate but connected over hundreds of miles, until speaking seems feasible again and Ashlyn’s exhaustion catches up with her. She rolls onto her back again and pulls her discarded shirt over her head, neglecting her jeans and bra, and when she looks back at the screen she sees that Ali hasn’t moved. She’s sprawled out against her pillows, one hand resting on her stomach, and she startles when Ashlyn speaks.
-
“You okay?”
Ali lifts her head and smiles, still surprised, but so completely deadened and satisfied that all she can do is nod.
“More than.”
Once she’s semi-dressed again, she brings the laptop to rest in her lap, and that’s when she notices the blinking alarm clock at Ashlyn’s bedside that reads 4:59 and the bags under Ashlyn’s eyes. She’ll be getting up in three hours to train, probably, and Ali has all night to sleep, and she can’t even feel guilty because she’s too overwhelmed with gratefulness and love.
She almost cries over it but she manages to keep it at a smile so big that it makes Ashlyn question her with a wary “what?” that she deflects by a wave of her hand.
“Nothing. I’m just- thank you.”
Ashlyn smirks.
“I told you I’d make it good for you.”
“Not just for that. For everything. For sticking with me so long.”
Ashlyn blushes a little, hiding her shy smile in her shoulder for a moment, and Ali is smitten all over again. She loves when Ashlyn gets embarrassed over her own dedication. It reminds her that this long-distance relationship isn’t a chore for either of them, and it makes her confident that things will only get better once there’s no ocean between them.
“You don’t have to thank me, Al. I love you. That means....you know.”
“Five am Skype sessions?”
-
Ali’s caught her and Ashlyn blushes again, this time reaching to turn the alarm clock away.
“I don’t care. Time doesn’t matter.”
“That’s what I mean,” Ali laughs, “thank you for staying up for me, even if we both know it’s stupid to do. And thank you for, you know. Helping me.” It’s Ali’s turn to blush and Ashlyn’s turn to laugh, but she’s tired enough now that she can feel her eyelids drooping and knows that Ali can see it. She’s unable to stifle a yawn, and when she opens her eyes again Ali’s blush is gone to be replaced by as stern a look she can possibly muster. It’s still kind of embarrassingly cute, but she means business.
“Go to sleep, Ash.”
“Yeah.” She picks at her comforter’s loose threads, nodding.
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
-
“Ali?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
-
“I know.”