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I wanna be your last first time

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1 – alcoholic drink

It is only later that Kelly realizes that the Jack and Coke she basically forced into Yorkie’s hand that night they met at the bar was in fact the first alcoholic drink Yorkie had ever tasted.

She kind of wishes she had ordered a Pina Colada or something else sweet and lacking the familiar burn of whiskey. Yorkie had tried to mask the grimace that appeared but, as often happens when Yorkie attempts to hide her feelings, it was painfully obvious what she really thought about the drink.

Yorkie, when left to her own devices, always orders a Coke (or when she’s feeling especially adventurous, a Dr. Pepper), but Kelly theorizes that it’s not because she’s against alcohol (after all, it’s not actual alcohol; she could just set her sliders to not let her feel any of the effects) but because she thinks it all might taste as bad as that Jack and Coke. So Kelly takes it upon herself to find out what exactly Yorkie likes to drink.

Kelly grabs Yorkie’s hand as they walk into the bar, smiling at the way Yorkie automatically squeezes her hand in response.

Flagging down the bartender, Kelly leans against the lacquered wood and grins at the man currently wiping down beer glasses.

“One of everything, please?”

Two sets of eyebrows rise in surprise, Yorkie turning to her, mouth turning down at the corners in hesitation. “Everything?”

“Everything.”

With a shrug, the bartender grabs a stack of shot glasses and starts lining them up on the bartop. Kelly leans one hip against a barstool and quirks a smile at Yorkie, who is watching with trepidation as the bartender pours various liquors into the shot glasses. She reaches out and smooths her hand over the back of Yorkie’s fingers, thumbnail scraping against the line of freckles near the base of Yorkie’s pinky.

“If you don’t like any of them, that’s okay. I just thought you might as well try it and see?” She doesn’t mean for it to sound like a question, but she also doesn’t want to make Yorkie feel like she has to.

Yorkie’s mouth firms into a determined line as she says, “Let’s do it.” And Kelly can feel her cheeks ache from the grin on her face, one that always appears when Yorkie is being particularly adorable.

They each grab a shot and throw it back.

And then immediately gag.

“Probably shouldn’t have started with vodka straight, really.”

 

 

2 – flying

It’s also Kelly’s first time piloting a plane.

Yorkie throws up in the bathroom when they land.

Kelly is worried that she might have overdone it, but then Yorkie looks at her with bright eyes and an even brighter smile.

“Can we go again tomorrow?”

 

 

3 – computer

The first time they go to a post-2000 year together, Kelly keeps seeing Yorkie’s eyes follow certain people as they pass.

“What’s up with you today?”

“Hmm?” Yorkie is looking off to the side, completely distracted.

“You keep staring at people.”

“I’ve never used one.”

“Used one what?”

“A computer.”

Kelly finally follows Yorkie’s gaze to where two girls are crowded around a 2006-era laptop. Doing the math quickly, if Yorkie was growing up around 1980, it would make sense that she’s never seen a computer or even a cell phone outside of a movie.

“Oh, well I haven’t used one like that in years either. I suppose we can get one if you’d like, or maybe a more recent version.”

Yorkie just murmurs an agreement and then asks if Kelly would like a drink.

Hours later, when Yorkie wakes Kelly up with a phone call at 4 am to fervently discuss the eating habits of koala bears, Kelly vaguely regrets showing Yorkie how to look things up on the internet.

 

 

4 – moving in

“We’re married.”

“…Was that a question?”

Yorkie furrows her brow. “No, I mean, we’re married and together. Why aren’t we living together?” She sounds genuinely puzzled.

Eyebrow lifting, Kelly turns onto her side and props herself up on an elbow to look at Yorkie. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”

Yorkie freezes in place, suddenly so unsure of what to do, afraid she’s overstepped one of the unspoken rules that she’s always tripping over. “Uh-“

“I’m teasing, please breathe.” Kelly takes pity on Yorkie, not wanting her to work herself into actual worry. “I suppose it’s because we both have our own free houses and travel takes about 5 seconds if we want it to?”

“But you lived with Richard.”

If it were anyone else, Kelly might take that as an accusation, but from the look on Yorkie’s face, it’s more likely just floundering confusion that prompted it. There’s still that bite of pain whenever she thinks of the life she used to lead, the people she still loves, but it’s more of a dull ache than the lancing jolt of years past. “Yes, I did,” she says.

“Married people live together. They did then, they still do now, right?”

And Kelly lets herself think about it, about actually going to bed with Yorkie every night, waking up to her every morning, eating at the kitchen table, doing laundry, watching television, and suddenly she wants it. Desperately. “We can, if you like,” she replies, deliberately casual.

Yorkie looks at her steadily, that worried notch still present between her eyebrows.

“And that is me asking you to move in with me, by the way.” Kelly is rewarded with a sweet smile breaking over Yorkie’s face like the sun.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, leaning in to kiss that smile. “But we’re living here on the beach, not in that monstrosity of a high rise they put you in.”

“Deal.”

 

 

5 – sunrise

They have shared a few sunsets together, sitting together on their porch, wrapped up in a blanket against the cool ocean breeze. Kelly likes sitting herself behind Yorkie on the steps and wrapping her arms around Yorkie’s waist, pressing them together as close as she could manage, hiding her smile in Yorkie’s bony shoulder.

They usually sleep late into the morning, not having anything pressing to do and both being rather tired from the night before (something Kelly does take pride in, to be frank). And when they do wake up, they often stay in bed, hazy smiles blurring in the light coming through the windows.

So when Kelly wakes up alone in bed early one morning, it is an unusual thing.

She blinks against dry eyes and pushes her hair back from her face as she sits up. “Yorkie?” She calls out, listening to the quiet of the house with the faint sounds of the sea coming through the open door.

“Over here,” the reply comes from the kitchen.

When Kelly steps onto the tile, Yorkie is standing at the sink, a cup of hot cocoa in her hand. (Yorkie never quite got the appeal of coffee, even after the update that Kelly raved about making it actually taste like the real thing. Kelly could not help but laugh every time Yorkie made that squinty face at the bitter taste.) Kelly pauses a moment to enjoy the picture her wife makes, long bare legs peaking out from under an oversized shirt, still-prescription-less glasses perched on her nose, hair ruffled and poking out at odd angles.

She’s beautiful.

“I don’t remember ever seeing one.”

The words are wistful, like Yorkie still isn’t quite awake yet.

“Seeing one what?” There’s a long moment of silence. “Honey?”

A deep breath, shuddering on its way out. “A sunrise.”

Kelly steps closer, her hand coming to rest on Yorkie’s elbow, squeezing lightly. She doesn’t say anything.

“As hard as I can remember, I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.” Yorkie shrugs, saying, “I guess I never got up early enough.”

“Or stayed up late enough.”

Yorkie’s mouth twitches up at the corner as her eyes slide over to Kelly. “What, you’re saying I wasn’t a wild child in my youth?”

Kelly snorts, “I’m saying that the little red sports car you have parked in our garage is compensating for something, and it’s not the usual thing.”

There’s a cough as Yorkie half chokes on her cocoa, laughing in that way that makes her eyes crinkle at the corner. Kelly adores that laugh.

As the quiet stretches out, Yorkie’s expression goes serious again. “It just makes me wonder what other totally normal, non-descript things I’ve missed.” Her hand reaches out blindly and Kelly takes it quickly. “I’ve never been on a boat, never been fishing, never went on a movie date, never voted, never got a job, never….anything.”

Kelly lifts Yorkie’s hand to press a kiss to it. “You’ve done plenty, and honestly I always found fishing to be really boring.” She smiles when Yorkie predictably rolls her eyes. “I’m serious though. Sure, there are a few things you missed, but we have time here.”

Those eyes focus on her, and Kelly feels herself falling all over again even as Yorkie remains quiet. These last few months have felt like rediscovering the joy of actually living once again, feelings of wonder and curiosity emerging from where they had laid somewhat dormant in the back of her mind. It feels like she’s come back to life, and she needs Yorkie to understand that she’s the one who makes Kelly feel like she’s falling in love every single day.

“All the time in the world to do everything again for the first time.”