Note: Thanks so much to all the readers, whether you've stuck with me from the beginning, or discovered this fic somewhere along the way. You all deserve to be in the closing credits.

Fade to Black: The Last One, Finally

1.

Sharon had a bad habit of waiting for exactly the right moment to broach particularly heavy topics; and when that moment failed to arrive, well, she could be patient. Come to think of it, that was probably why she'd stayed married as long as she had.

However, this time she was on a schedule. Glasses perched low on her nose, she looked over her computer monitor to where Rusty sat across her office, playing on his phone, and found him looking right back. "Just a few more minutes," she promised.

"Take your time."

She frowned, trying to find the layer of sarcasm in the words, but nope, there was none. She wondered what had brought on this unusual display of patience. Refocusing her attention on the screen, she typed the last sentence of a response to Chief Pope's email, and then reached blindly for the blazer hanging over the back of her chair. "You want a burger?"

"When don't I want a burger?" the teenager returned, but without his usual enthusiasm. The captain waited by her office door as he gathered his things, shoving them into his messenger bag, and walked past her, heading for the elevator.

"You're limping."

He shrugged without looking at her. "My foot's a little sore. It's no big deal."

Lips compressed into a thin line, Sharon stepped into the elevator. With Rusty, the things that weren't a 'big deal' tended to be the biggest deals. Demanding he spill his guts never worked; he was like her in that way. The best course of action was to wait him out and, when it became necessary, engage in a little judicious prying. She reassured herself that it was very unlikely to have anything to do with more threatening letters, because not even in her wildest nightmares could she discern the connection between letters and limping.

Maybe, she thought, shifting mental gears as she reversed out of her parking spot, she should just announce it without preliminary, just say, "I'm going on a date with Brenda." She tended to build things up too much in her mind, the anticipation usually much worse than the reality.

"You know, don't you?" Rusty asked suddenly. "That's why you've been acting weird. Father Flanagan called you."

This wasn't Sharon's first rodeo, and she knew better than to reveal her ignorance. The more Rusty thought she knew, the more he would tell her. She looked over at him in the passenger seat but said nothing.

"Look, I - I know I shouldn't have lost my temper, and I'll earn the money to pay for the locker. I'll get a part-time job. But, like, Eric is such a douchebag. He only comes to chess club because his dad makes him, or whatever, but he's on the lacrosse team, and everybody thinks he's hot shit."

"Language," Sharon put in mildly, choosing to let Rusty's tirade run its course rather than making a real issue of the profanity.

"I really wanted to hit him, Sharon, but I promised no more fighting -"

The note of childlike misery in his voice touched her, and the captain let it sit for a moment. Then she said, "So you kicked the locker instead." After all, she wasn't a detective for nothing. "Honey, you're going to have more than a sore foot if you kick your way through life every time someone does something you don't like."

"He called me a fag in front of, like, all my friends!"

Ohhhh. The incident with Kris, and now this - Sharon saw clearly, her suspicions confirmed. She needed to handle this very carefully. And so she considered her words for several minutes before she shrugged. "So what?"

Rusty's eyes widened with incredulity. "So what? Sharon, are you kidding?"

"Not at all. Oh, it's an ugly name -" Her lips quirked slightly. "But it's only an ugly word used by ignorant people for something they don't understand. Your friends who were there already know you, so surely whatever Eric might say wouldn't matter to them. And besides, what's wrong with being gay?"

"Nothing." He blinked. "I mean, I - I'm not homophobic or anything."

Sharon cleared her throat but said nothing right away. She had to tread lightly. This wasn't a conversation about forcing Rusty to confront his own uncertainty about his sexual preferences - uncertainty she was sure he felt - but she had to find a way, obliquely, to tell him she would love him just as much as ever, no matter whom he chose to love. "No," she agreed. "You like Dr. Morales."

Rusty shrugged. "Yeah, he's okay. He's kinda funny, for somebody who spends all day cutting dead people open."

She hummed. It was best not to go down the list of the other queer people he knew through his dealings with the LAPD - people like her who, although not closeted or even particularly secretive, preferred to keep their private lives private rather than wearing a rainbow flag on their lapel. Andrea Hobbs, for instance. She and Sharon had had many a conversation about their similar philosophies and desire to be defined by what they did rather than by who they did. "And what about me?"

He turned so sharply he was in danger of giving himself whiplash. "Yeah, of course I - You don't mean that you're -?" His voice squeaked on the last word.

"A lesbian? Would that bother you?"

Rusty stared out at the traffic for so long that Sharon seriously started to squirm. This was much worse than having to tell Brenda. "No. At least you wouldn't be bringing any shady guys home. I mean, not that you would anyway. Except Jack."

She sighed. "Except Jack," she agreed ruefully.

The question hung in the air for a moment before he asked, "So, like… Sharon, are you?"

She hummed an affirmation.

"I don't understand."

At least she could be confident he didn't need an explanation of the mechanics. "What don't you understand?"

"Why you never told me before. And you were married. Are married. To a man. Are you, um, in the closet?"

"I am not. I don't necessarily broadcast it at work, but there are people who know. My friends know. My brother and parents and kids know. Jackson knows."

"But then why didn't you tell me?" He sounded hurt, which she could understand.

"It wasn't relevant. I haven't been seeing anybody."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"Ha-ha." They glided to a stop at a red light, and she was glad for the chance to give him her undivided attention. "It's very important to me that you understand this. Brenda helped me to see recently that what I think of as … keeping private matters private, often appears to others as a decision to be secretive. Rusty, I have never thought of this as keeping a secret from you."

Behind them an SUV honked, and Sharon eased down on the accelerator. "Oookay," Rusty said, dripping skepticism.

"We live in an age of identity politics. Do you know what that means? Many people believe that one aspect of your life determines your identity: your sexuality, your race, your religion. I prefer not to be defined that way." Oh, dear God, she sounded like she was giving a lecture. Maybe she should have told the teenager to take notes. "I'm a lesbian and the head of Major Crimes and a lapsed Catholic and a mom and an amateur water-colorist; it's a piece of the puzzle, but it's not the whole solution. I'm very content with who I am. I just want you to understand that, although this is not something I choose to talk about all the time or make extremely public knowledge, it is also not a secret, and I am not ashamed." No, not giving a lecture, she amended. Jesus, Sharon, you sound like you're testifying before a Congressional committee.

"But like, doesn't it bother you that people use it as an insult?"

"Well… it's something I've had to deal with for a very long time now. And just as people can choose words to use as insults, we can choose not to be insulted by them. In some ways, it's not so different from the children on the playground who called me four-eyes."

Rusty had slumped back in his seat. "Yeah, well. I guess it's easier at your age."

She had to suppress a smile at that. Oh, yes: growing up in an Irish-Catholic family in the 1960s, taking painful years to come to terms with her sexuality through those oh-so-queer-friendly decades of the seventies, eighties, and nineties - it was a walk in the park. But she allowed Rusty his angsty brooding.

"Hey, where are we going?" Rusty asked as Sharon made a quick left turn.

"I offered burgers. I think we deserve them, don't you?"

"You're not mad? You're not, uh, punishing me?"

"Well, I am not thrilled that you damaged school property; we'll have to work out a way for you to pay for that. You cannot get a job yet," she added before he could speak. "But you did keep your promise. You did not get into another fight. I think it could be beneficial to you to talk about where all this anger is coming from, though. If you would like to consider why you reacted so strongly to what that other boy said, I could find you a -"

"Sharon, no. No shrinks."

Knowing she didn't have the leverage to make a deal on that front at the moment, she let it drop.

Only when she had parked and cut the engine did Rusty speak again, so quietly that she had to strain to hear the words. "One of my friends from chess club is gay. Ehab, from that day at the movies? And, like, thinking about him - I feel like I owe him an apology or something, you know?"

Sharon felt a surge of pride and hope. She simply reached over and squeezed Rusty's shoulder. "Let's eat."

The second-to-last thing Sharon wanted to do was engage in yet more heavy conversation with Rusty this evening, but since the last thing she wanted to do was postpone her date with Brenda and she'd made a promise to herself, she had no choice. She decided to wait until they had ordered. Then she decided to wait until the food came. Then she decided to wait until they had finished eating. But at the rate he was going, Rusty was never going to finish eating. Sharon frowned. If he was still extremely upset about the events at school, she needed to know.

"Is something the matter?" Sharon leaned forward, smoothing the cloth napkin in her nap, and regarded Rusty, who was picking at his food, despite the fact that this was his favorite burger joint. "Aren't you hungry?"

Rusty looked up at her through the sweep of his bangs. "Whatever else is going on, I wish you'd just tell me," he blurted. "Is it something with the trial? Or the letters? If I can't stay with you any more, then -"

"No!" Reaching across the table, Raydor grabbed his hand and squeezed hard before she let go. She wiped a smear of mayonnaise on her napkin. She was already making a hash of this, and she hadn't even begun yet. "No, no. It's nothing bad. It's something good, actually. I hope you'll think it's good. I think it's good." She was babbling, and Rusty did not look reassured. She took a deep, hopeful breath. "It's related to what we were talking about in the car, actually. Brenda and I have decided we'd like to see each other."

She paused. Rusty blinked at her, expressionless. She had a feeling she was terrible at this. She'd never really had to do it with Emily and Ricky. As teenagers they'd been aware that their mother went out for the evening once in a while, but there had never been anyone significant enough to make her invite that person into her children's lives or their home.

"We're going out tomorrow night. On a date. And Detective Sykes is going to keep you company." He still said nothing, and his expression gave nothing away. "I'm not asking your permission, but it's important to me that you not feel uncomfortable with the situation." She waited so long for him to respond that she eventually prompted, "Okay?"

He shrugged. "Okay."

She sat back. "Okay?" she repeated, dismayed. That was it, after all this build-up and effort?

"Sharon, uh -" Rusty looked from his foster mother to the remnants of his burger and back. He was uncomfortable, that was obvious, but with an undercurrent of - amusement? "Like, I don't know how you did things when your kids were living at home, but it's not like - I mean, I've been around. I'm not new to this stuff."

It was Sharon's turn to be confused. She put down her chicken sandwich and appraised the worldly-wise seventeen-year-old. Was this about his past, or his sexuality, or…? "Okay," she said, drawing the word out.

"I mean isn't this a weird time for us to be having this conversation?"

Her forehead wrinkled. "When else would we have had it?"

"Uh…" Blue eyes bored into her, incredulous, as if Rusty couldn't decide whether Sharon was kidding or the most oblivious person alive. "Maybe before she moved in with us."

The captain stared right back, lost for words.

"It's cool," the teenager hastened to add. "I like Brenda, except when she uses all the hot water. I mean, I wondered about the two of you, and then after what you said earlier, I just assumed -" He shrugged. "I thought that was your way of telling me she was your, uh, partner."

Sharon's head began to throb, right between her eyes and slowly working its way to the left, as it did during an especially frustrating investigation. "Brenda and I are just friends." She felt her face flush as certain vivid memories rushed back, and Rusty looked alarmed, as if afraid she might offer up details. "We have only been friends, until - that is, we haven't been seeing each other. Romantically. Dating." Wonderful; rather than the parent, she sounded like the child in this scenario.

His eyebrows shot toward his hairline. "So when the two of you got suuuper dressed up in San Francisco and went out to that fancy restaurant, and were gone for like six hours, and kept staring at each other all day the next day, and then when Brenda came over and acted all weird -?"

She waved him off with her napkin. "Okay, enough," she said, turning back to her dinner. "Eat your french fries before they get cold."

Her ward shrugged, his expression lodged somewhere indeterminate on the amused-perplexed-relieved spectrum, and swiped a fry through a blob of ketchup.

His dinner companion looked down at the remaining half of her pickle spear, bemused. Sharon still had a few things left to process, not the smallest of which was the feeling that she was the last to know what was going on in her own life.

"Um, Sharon?"

But that was going to have to wait, apparently.

"How do you know if you have a broken toe?"

2.

With the conversation she and Brenda had had Monday still firmly at the front of her mind, Sharon refused to over-think this thing and psych herself out. It was a date, but in her thoughts she could call it something else. She could call it Herbert, if she wanted to. She settled for calling it dinner, which seemed like a more sensible choice. Dinner with a dear friend. A very nicely dressed friend, who looked amazing in her tiny black dress, and at whose cleavage Sharon kept finding herself leering. At least that part was mutual, Sharon noted as she watched Brenda Leigh's chocolate eyes trace the deep vee of her silk blazer.

They talked a little about work; Sharon shared her concerns about Rusty's violent outbursts, and Brenda nodded and hummed in all the right places. Normal things. Brenda ordered her tagliatelle without the onions, and Sharon refrained from comment, but she was hopeful.

After the main course had been eaten but not yet cleared away, Brenda announced, "I'm willin' to go slow, Sharon, but I won't go backwards again."

Caught off-guard, the captain tensed. "And what does that mean to you?"

"It means you've gotta show up," Brenda replied bluntly. "If - when - you get stuck in your own head, tell me. We'll deal with it. But you can't disappear on me again."

The brunette breathed out, her eyes dropping to her plate before rising again. "I'm sorry for not handling things well."

"I know." Brenda reached out and covered the other woman's nervous hand as it fidgeted with her wine glass. "I know you are."

Sharon's eyes were wide and troubled, but after several seconds of eye contact, she nodded. "Okay."

"Okay," Brenda echoed, squeezing the captain's fingers before releasing them and sitting up straight. "Dessert?"

All in all, it was… nice-ish. Not really unpleasant, but odd. They'd gotten to know each other so well, and yet they were acting a lot like semi-strangers on a first date. Maybe, Sharon thought, they should stick to hanging out and watching movies, because she was fairly certain they both breathed a sigh of relief when they had finished their shared bread pudding (drizzled in chocolate, naturally) and returned to the safety of Sharon's car. They'd gotten through the date thing, and now they could put it behind them.

And then Sharon pulled into the parking lot between their buildings, and Brenda murmured, "Please tell me you're not gonna be a perfect gentlewoman and kiss me goodnight at my front door." Sharon was reminded that dating had distinct advantages.

She hummed as Brenda leaned across the console between them and drew her into a soft kiss, her palm caressing the older woman's cheek. It felt startlingly natural, as if they were longtime lovers. At least they weren't awkward at this.

"I have to be home by eleven so Detective Sykes can get going." Sharon glanced at the elegant silver watch she wore. "It's 10:45. Unless you want to have a quickie in the backseat -"

Brenda matched the other woman's wry grin. "Not tonight," she agreed. "Could I - that is - Oh, Lord, my mama's turnin' over in her grave right now. What if I came home with you?"

The captain laughed abruptly. "So it's the inviting yourself over that would be a trigger, not your, ah, Sapphic proclivities?"

"We're Protestants. We just wouldn't talk about those."

The two women smiled at one another. Sharon couldn't look away from the golden flecks twinkling in those deep brown eyes. Oh, she had it bad. The thought made her chest squeeze with anxiety, but it also made her smile widen. She felt the laugh lines crinkle around her own eyes. "Are you sure that's something you're ready for?"

It seemed to take Brenda's brain a moment to catch up with the conversation. "Comin' up with you? Why wouldn't it be? It's not like I've never spent the night before."

"No," Sharon agreed slowly. "But this would be - different."

"You think it's too soon? It'd make Rusty uncomfortable?"

The captain snorted. "I'm sure it'd make Rusty uncomfortable," she imitated, "but he will deal with it. Kids are supposed to be uncomfortable when their parents have sex, and that young man has seen far worse than two sober, consenting adults agreeing to share a bed behind closed doors. However, as soon as Amy sees us, no one is going to have to tell her the rest of the story. And you know what Major Crimes is like. You know how the grapevine inside the LAPD works, and how its tendrils spread to the District Attorney's office; and you know that by the end of business tomorrow, everyone from Chief Pope to Special Agent Howard to the third-floor janitor will know that Brenda Leigh Johnson is fucking the Wicked Witch."

Brenda was distracted by again hearing Sharon use the word fuck. She articulated it so precisely, lingering on those hard consonants, and the sound sent a shiver up Brenda's spine. The blonde shrugged. "If that's all," she said with a smile, "then let's go."

No one would have mistaken the two women who entered Sharon's condo for friends who had just shared a casual dinner. There was the way the blonde was poured into the short black velvet dress, and the more subtle but no less devastating appeal of the brunette's all-black ensemble of spiked heels and Armani that had definitely never seen the inside of the LAPD. There was also the way they lingered in one another's personal space. With a combination of jealousy and pride, Brenda noted how Amy Sykes's eyes raked appreciatively over her commanding officer before she yanked her gaze back to the older woman's face. The detective's smile was a little too wide to be natural.

Sharon wasn't oblivious, but was doing a good job pretending to be. "Hello," she called out, looking to where Amy perched on the sofa, reading on her ipad. "Is Rusty -?"

The door to the teenager's bedroom was open, and he emerged, likely in order to satisfy his curiosity. He seemed only to glance at Brenda and Sharon as he passed by them on the way to the kitchen, but his light eyes were observant. "Hey. How was dinner?" He busied himself pouring a glass of water.

"Excellent. Did you finish your history review?"

"He aced it," Sykes confirmed, and Sharon smiled at her.

"Thank you, Amy, for your time."

She shrugged. "Hey, it definitely beats guard duty in Kabul." She had risen, grabbing a casual handbag and a lightweight jacket. "Good night, Special Investigator. Ma'am."

Brenda fluttered her fingers in a wave. The thought of the detective running off to tell her colleagues about Sharon and Brenda's relationship made the blonde a little giddy.

The door closed behind Sykes and Sharon asked, "Would you like some coffee?"

Before Brenda responded, Rusty said, "I guess I'll turn in. See you in the morning." His gaze encompassed both women, and if he looked like he hoped one of them would correct his assumption - Oh, no, of course Brenda won't be here in the morning! - he didn't look particularly surprised when no one did.

Brenda waited until his door closed. "That wasn't so bad."

Sharon smirked. "I'm confident he's pulling the covers over his head and ruining his hearing with very loud music as we speak. Coffee?"

Brenda couldn't wait any longer to do what she'd been itching to do all night. Stepping up behind Sharon, she wrapped her arms around the taller woman and let her body melt into the warm curves wrapped in that sleek black fabric. "Mmm, nope. I was hopin' for somethin' a little sweeter."

The captain arched her back, sensuously pressing against Brenda's heat. "You already had dessert."

"I'm still hungry."

It was over the top, but not unappealing, especially as Brenda's cool fingers made short work of the blazer's top button and slipped inside to cup one breast through what turned out to be nothing more than a lacy wisp of a bra. The captain chuckled and then sighed with pleasure as she gripped the edge of the counter. In these heels, there was no guarantee she wouldn't topple over backwards.

"Sharon Raydor, you seductress." Brenda nosed dark curls aside to kiss the back of the other woman's neck. "I didn't think you could own anythin' sexier than that black dress. Why are you so hell-bent on provin' me wrong?"

"So you like your women a little more masculine, Special Investigator?"

The puff of Brenda's laughter was warm on Sharon's skin. "You're about a hundred percent feminine and a thousand percent irresistible, an' you know it."

Those busy little fingers plucked at the button of Sharon's snugly-fitted trousers, and Sharon pushed away from the counter. "It would take a nuclear attack to get Rusty to come out of his bedroom right now, but we should still -" She gestured toward the master bedroom.

"Sure thing, captain. As long as you don't think you're goin' first."

"That's a matter of perspective, isn't it?"

Brenda rolled her eyes and led the way down the hall.

Sharon quietly closed and locked her door and turned to find Brenda primly sitting on the edge of the queen-size bed, her legs crossed, classic Chanel pump swinging from one toe. "I like your bedroom."

"I like you in my bedroom."

"Such a smooth talker," Brenda drawled, her eyes narrowing. "A real ladies' woman. I had no idea what I was missin' out on all this time."

Sharon folded her arms over her chest and regarded the younger woman coolly. "There's no need for ridicule."

Brenda toed off her shoes and stood, biting her lip. She hadn't been making fun at all. She imagined the women that must have passed in and out of the captain's bedroom. Sharon had said she hadn't had a meaningful relationship in a long while, not that she hadn't had sex. Surely there had been sex. With Captain Raydor mode switched off, the woman oozed sensuality.

The brunette read something in Brenda's face and slowly ambled closer. "Brenda. You're not jealous, are you?"

Brenda regarded her fiercely. "Is there any reason for me to be?"

"Absolutely not."

Dark eyes made a slow, careful appraisal of the other woman's body. She tried to remember if she'd ever been jealous in any of her other relationships, and drew a telling blank. "Come on over here, then."

Still in her heels, Sharon towered over Brenda, and the younger woman found that she reveled in the feeling of Sharon's body, slender and delicate but strong, enveloping her. Their lips met in a long, lazy kiss. Only when Sharon attempted to take control, her tongue pressing at the seam of the other woman's lips, did Brenda turn her face away. "Unzip me."

Sharon raised an eyebrow. After a few seconds, though, she drew the zipper down slowly, peeling the clinging fabric of the dress from Brenda's body, and the blonde allowed the liberty. It was worth it to see the way Sharon bit her lip, hard, once the smaller woman stood before her in only a tiny black thong. When the older woman reached for her, Brenda stepped back. "Get on the bed."

The captain looked a little too amused for her own good, but began to comply.

"No," Brenda corrected, her voice low and silky. "On your knees, captain."

Sharon's eyebrows rose again, but she knelt. "May I take my shoes off?"

"Not yet."

Quite primly under the circumstances, Brenda Leigh sat down on the bed behind Sharon and leaned in. She ran her hands down the other woman's arms, and then back up to tug gently at the silky lapels of the blazer before undoing the two small buttons. Sharon's skin was warm, and Brenda could feel her rapid heartbeat against her fingertips. "We're gonna leave this on," Brenda decided, and Sharon released a small, breathy sigh of disappointment. The blonde grinned with delight as she pressed closer, kissing Sharon's neck and shamelessly rubbing her body against the smooth, expensive fabric. She knew Sharon could feel the hardness of her nipples, the heat of her, tantalizingly near but unreachable, and delighted in her ability to torment the cool, sophisticated captain. "It looks so good on you." Brenda reached around with both hands, parting the sides of the blazer; she imagined how the fabric must look as it framed the older woman's lace-clad breasts. For the moment she'd have to settle for using her sense of touch. She firmly cupped both breasts, grasping and kneading, trying to memorize the shape and weight in her hands. Her thumbs scratched over the nipples Brenda wanted to draw into her mouth, and Sharon's breath hitched. Brenda repeated the movement, and then shoved the cups of the lacy garment down so that she could grab both nipples simultaneously. She pinched hard, and then twisted. Sharon threw her head back and gasped, and Brenda grinned. Her captain liked it rough.

Brenda let her hands skim downward, over the baby-soft skin of Sharon's abdomen, pausing to unfasten her pants and give herself room to maneuver. The angle was a little awkward, but she caught the zipper tab and dragged it downward. Through the opening, the smaller woman felt the silky whisper of Sharon's underwear. Sharon held very, very still. There was just enough room for one small hand to slip inside the newly-opened vee, and Brenda let her fingertips rest lightly on Sharon's pubic mound, close to where the other woman craved her touch. Just the tip of her index finger slipped beneath the gusset and stroked the coarse, neat hair and warm flesh of Sharon's outer labia. She felt her body tremble with strain, and realized Sharon was holding her breath.

"You're not impatient, are you? I'm just gettin' started."

In answer, Sharon shuddered. Brenda craned her neck to peer into her lover's face. The captain's eyes were closed, her lips tightly compressed.

Brenda's heart pounded so hard that, for a few seconds, she could hear nothing else. The temptation to take the other woman right then and there was strong. Brenda knew just exactly how hot and wet she would be, how open and ready, and her fingertips tingled with the longing to feel that again. Brenda's own need was swelling, throbbing low and steady at the juncture of her thighs and radiating through her body. But Sharon couldn't always have everything her own way.

Brenda grasped the waistband of Sharon's trousers and tugged the fabric as far down her legs as she could go, which was not very far in this position. They caught around Sharon's knees, and Brenda leaned back. Her palm smoothed down a quivering thigh as she admired her handiwork. "That's good," she praised. "Now bend over."

Too stubborn to protest, Sharon hesitated for half a second before lowering her upper body to rest on her elbows. Brenda gripped her hips, steadying her. "Good Lord," she murmured, riveted by the erotic spectacle that presented itself to her: Sharon Raydor's phenomenal ass, clad in lacy black panties that weren't much more substantial than Brenda's own. She wanted so badly to spank her; she could feel the sting and itch that would spread through her palm. A wave of intense heat flooded her, and she gulped. She'd save the spanking for next time. It would be downright embarrassing if one good, satisfying smack on the older woman's backside made Brenda come.

She slithered down onto the mattress and sank her teeth into Sharon's flesh as if she were eating an apple. The woman gasped and bucked, and Brenda wished she could hear her scream. She sucked hard, determined to mark her captain, and then moved a little lower, repeating the whole process on the back of Sharon's thigh. She refused to hurry, battling her own desire at least as much as her partner's impatience, and worked her way down to the back of Sharon's left knee. Her right leg received the same treatment, this time in reverse, and when Brenda had finished, she knelt and dragged her short, blunt fingernails up the back of the other woman's legs, scoring the sensitized flesh with angry red marks. Sharon pressed her lips to the back of her hand and panted shallowly.

Brenda couldn't stand it any more; she decided they'd both had enough. "Roll over." The guttural, gruff sound of the command surprised her. This time Sharon didn't hesitate. She rolled onto her back, grabbing her panties and sweeping them and her pants the rest of the way down her legs and into a twisted mess at her ankles, where her strappy heels tangled in the fabric. None too gently, Brenda grabbed one milky thigh and pushed it up and back as far as she could with the other woman's feet essentially chained together, spreading Sharon for her hungry gaze.

Heavy-lidded green eyes focused on Brenda's face. They were darker than Brenda had ever seen them before, the pupils dilated as if the other woman were drugged. Brenda couldn't wait.

At the first contact of Brenda's firm tongue, tremors swept through Sharon's body and her muscles jumped, her pelvis jerking. Her fingers wound through Brenda's hair to keep the younger woman's mouth in place, and for the first time in her life, Brenda didn't mind. Sharon arched and squirmed, leaving Brenda to chase her. The taste of her was pungent and earthy, and exactly what Brenda had been craving. She gripped Sharon's hips hard, using all her force to keep the woman in place, and lapped frantically at her prominent, engorged clit. Sharon's hips began to move again, this time in short, rhythmic jerks that pressed her sex more fully into Brenda's mouth. The blonde was surrounded by her, drowning in her, and it was a glorious way to go. Out of the corner of her eye, Brenda saw Sharon bring a hand up to squeeze her own nipple, using much more force than even Brenda would have dared. The brunette's teeth sank into her lower lip and her hips bucked a final time, hard, before Brenda felt the wild spasming of her muscles and the rush of new moisture that flowed out to coat Brenda's tongue. Sweaty and shaking, with her scalp aching and her entire chin coated in the older woman's come, Brenda felt positively euphoric.

She let her cheek rest on Sharon's smooth thigh until she felt another merciless yank at her hair. She glared at the captain as she sat up and moved toward the head of the bed, but before she could say anything, she found herself flat on her back, trapped beneath the welcome weight of the other woman's body as Sharon's tongue shamelessly fucked her mouth. Her hands were restless, flitting from Brenda's hair to her breasts to her knee.

"Oh, Jesus, just do it."

Brenda hadn't intended to speak, and was surprised to hear her own voice. In the next instant, three of Sharon's fingers slammed into her, and she opened her mouth to protest that it was too much, it hurt - But before she could form the first word, the pain was gone, replaced by an intense, aching pleasure. Sharon was fucking her fast and hard, using the leverage of her superior position, and it felt good, but Brenda knew it wasn't going to be enough. Long, slender fingers crooked and pressed upward, and tingles like sparks shot up Brenda's nerve endings; but she couldn't come like this. She opened her mouth to say so, to demand that her aching clit be rubbed, and then caught her breath in surprise because, just like that, she was coming, clenching violently around Sharon's seeking fingers.

An unspecified period of time drifted by, during which Brenda was content to watch the patterns on the inside of her eyelids. At some point Sharon gently withdrew her fingers, but otherwise they both lay still. Finally, incongruously, the silence was broken by a sound Brenda had never heard before but recognized immediately: the captain was giggling girlishly.

Brenda pried one eye open. "What?" she managed to ask.

Sharon's eyes twinkled. She clapped a hand over her mouth, but it didn't prevent the resurgence of giggles. "It's just - would you mind if I undressed now? Or at least took off my shoes?"

3.

"Rusty's real lucky," Brenda said Sunday afternoon, apropos of nothing, and Sharon raised her eyebrows in surprise, as if the other woman could see her. She readjusted her iphone against her ear.

"Somehow I doubt that word has often been used to describe him," she said, surveying the contents of the refrigerator. Fruits and vegetables made a respectable showing, but she just didn't feel like cooking.

"Maybe not in the past, but he's lucky now. He's certainly fortunate to have you." Brenda paused and cleared her throat before continuing, "For a lot of reasons, but especially because he doesn't have to worry about you disapprovin' of his sexuality. You know, however he ends up decidin' to express that." Another pause, a slurp - Brenda was drinking something through a straw, probably a decadent iced beverage drizzled with chocolate and hovering under a cloud of whipped cream. How on earth did she stay so tiny? "You're a good role model for him."

The captain snorted. "He thinks I'm a closet case."

"You have a hot girlfriend now, to make up for that."

Sharon could feel Brenda waiting for her to respond, to argue that they couldn't skip over the important step from dating - from having gone on only two dates - to being a couple. Instead she said, "Wanna come over tonight for pizza?"

"That depends. Extra cheese?"

"On half," Sharon bartered, and Brenda grinned.

"Done. What time?"

"Oh, around seven. But you can come over any time."

"Great." Brenda hesitated, and Sharon imagined her biting her lip. "I'm lookin' forward to seein' you."

It had been only twelve hours, but she felt exactly the same way. The brunette grinned, allowing the radiant smile to overspread her face since no one was watching. "Me, too. Bye, Brenda."

I love you. She tasted the words on her tongue, but kept them to herself. Telling a woman you were in love with her after two dates just might be rushing things a little.

Two dates and several months of intense friendship, Sharon corrected herself. And she did love Brenda, whether or not she'd said it aloud. It was terrifying, but also exhilarating, and she thought, Oh, right, I vaguely remember this feeling. Falling in love - she hadn't even known if she was capable of doing that again, and yet Brenda, in typical Brenda fashion, hadn't given her a choice. Sharon laughed.

"Um, is the cauliflower especially hilarious, or are you having a psychotic break?"

Sharon slammed the refrigerator door and spun to face Rusty. "Pizza for dinner?"

"Is this what you're like when you're happy?" he countered. "Because if it is, I'm all for it.."

She shrugged. "I was happy before. Now I'm just… happier."

Rusty smiled that very slight one-sided smile, the one that made Sharon wonder if they were secretly related. "Is Brenda coming over?"

Sharon nodded. "Is that all right with you?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Versed in this genre of non-answer, Sharon continued, "I'd like it if Brenda spent a lot more time here, actually. Would that bother you?"

Rusty scrunched his nose and reached around his foster mother to open the refrigerator door again. "We've had this conversation," he reminded her as he snagged the orange juice. "I didn't mind then, and I don't mind now, as long as you don't, like, make out in the living room." He flushed and hastily continued, "Having Brenda around is cool. You smile more, and there's always dessert."

Sharon rolled her eyes and turned to leave Rusty and his juice in peace.

"Oh, hey, Sharon?"

His tone was casual, but she braced herself just in case.

"Is it cool if Ehab comes over later too?"

"Ehab," Sharon echoed slowly, "from chess club."

"If you know any other Ehabs, I guess they could come too. - He's, like, a math whiz, and he said he'd help me with trig. You know, so I can catch up before school starts."

The captain cocked her head. "Ehab must be a very good friend if he's willing to give up part of his summer vacation to help you with trigonometry."

Rusty shrugged and looked away, a little too casual. "Yeah, well," he muttered, "there's gonna be pizza."

"Ehab from chess club," Brenda said a few hours later, after Sharon had related the story in a low voice that couldn't be overheard. "This sounds encouragin.'"

"Don't say anything," the captain cautioned, immediately transitioning into maternal mode. "I don't want to push him. There's no reason to think Ehab is anything more than a friend."

"Uh-huh." Brenda grinned and leaned back into the sofa cushions, as if settling in for the duration. Her eyes twinkled. "Have I mentioned lately that I consider you a real good friend, Sharon?"

Sharon swatted at the blonde, but moved over until their arms touched. "Do you want to watch a movie? I have paperwork, but I can multi-task."

"Yes, you can. One of your many skills." But as Sharon clicked through to the Netflix screen, Brenda grasped her wrist. "Um - do you think we could talk first, though?"

Sharon tried to keep her expression and body language open, although her stomach immediately tightened with nerves. "Of course."

"It's nothin' bad. Well, I mean, it's kinda bad, but -" The blonde looked over her shoulder, making sure Rusty's bedroom door was still closed, and a wave of nausea swept over Sharon.

"Whatever it is, please tell me."

"It's somethin' I should've told you a long time ago, probably. I feel like I owe it to you, especially after you promised to be honest with me. - You look like you're gonna throw up, honey. Are you okay?"

"No, I am not!" Sharon retorted shakily. "I can't stand the suspense, Brenda."

"All right. You know how back in Atlanta, my first husband accused me of havin' an affair with a fellow officer?" Sharon nodded jerkily. Whatever she had expected Brenda to say, this wasn't it. "I was havin' an affair, Sharon, but not with the person he thought. Her name was Ellen, and she was a lieutenant in narcotics."

Sharon breathed out very slowly through her nostrils, her shoulders falling and her eyes closing.

"Say somethin'."

"You scared me." Sharon's eyes popped open, and she swatted Brenda's leg again, harder this time. "You scared me, Brenda. I thought you were preparing to drop some awful bombshell."

"I just admitted to you that I've had two extra-marital affairs," Brenda pointed out. "That's the kind of information that should probably make you rethink startin' a relationship with me."

Sharon breathed out again, concentrating on lowering her blood-pressure. "We already have a relationship. Are you planning to cheat on me?"

"Of course not."

"Do you understand that if you ever do, I will end this, no second chances?"

"I do," Brenda whispered. "I love you, Sharon."

The older woman laughed a little hysterically. "I love you too, Brenda."

"Good. I - Good." Brenda laughed too, and ran a shaky hand through her curls. "That's good."

"Why now? What made you decide to tell me about Ellen now?"

"Like I said, I felt like I should've told you sooner. I… I didn't love her, but it was still important. And I wanted you to know that I've been with a woman before." Sharon's forehead scrunched a little, and Brenda elaborated, "In case you thought this was a phase, I guess."

"I don't think that."

Brenda nodded. "I've never told anyone. It seemed fair, after I've been excavatin' your deepest and darkest secrets."

Sharon smirked. "That's what you think. - But I appreciate your trust, Brenda. I really do."

They sat silently for a moment, looking at one another, not uncomfortable but uncertain of how to proceed.

"Hey, can I order the pizzas now?" Rusty called. "We're starving."

"When did that become plural?" Sharon murmured. Raising her voice, she responded, "Yes, but get a vegetable on them. Onions don't count."

"Pepperoni?"

"On one."

Brenda grinned. "I find these negotiations fascinatin'."

"Speaking of negotiations, did you bring work clothes for tomorrow?"

"I did, but are you sure? Sneakin' out in the middle of the night isn't awful, since I don't have far to go, and Rusty -"

"Can handle it." Sharon squeezed Brenda's hand. "I'd like you to stay, Brenda. And here." The captain plucked a familiar-looking key from the end table and held it out.

The blonde frowned. "Sharon, I already have a key. Remember when you needed me to let the plumber in?"

"I'm making a point, Brenda Leigh. This isn't a spare key; it's your key, to use whenever you want."

"Oh." Brenda's expression transformed with surprised delight, lighting up her features, and then dimmed again. "Does Jack have one?"

"I think you know the answer to that. The only people with keys to my home now are the ones who belong here."

It wasn't U-Hauling, Sharon reassured herself, because Brenda had her own separate residence, even if it was two minutes away.

"Oh." The blonde lit up all over again, erasing any doubts Sharon might have still harbored. "Thank you, Sharon. Thank you so much."

Sharon smiled, her eyes crinkling the way they did when she was really happy, and Brenda leaned in to kiss her. After a few moments, a disgusted "hmph" broke them apart.

"Ugh, you guys, Ehab's going to be scarred for life," Rusty said as he led the way into the kitchen. The tall, gangly youth behind him blushed and smiled apologetically, but looked otherwise unharmed. "Do we have any soda?"

"We have seltzer." Sharon aimed the remote at the television and the screensaver disappeared, the Netflix menu popping up.

"Y'all wanna stay in here with us and watch a movie?" Brenda asked blithely, secure in her knowledge of the answer.

"No, but what are you watching?"

"I don't know. Tonight it's captain's choice."

Sharon tapped a button, and Brenda gaped at the screen in disbelief. Beside her, the brunette smiled smugly, obviously pleased with herself. "Steel Magnolias."

The End