DISCLAIMER: I do not own Guiding Light or the characters therein depicted. I do not seek to profit from this story.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Takes place in 2015, six years from now. Futurefic. I tried to remain as close to character as humanly possible but as I have only seen YouTube clips of Otalia and no full episodes, I cannot guarantee the results. Thank you, also, to Meg for beta-ing this piece.
Thank You: To the lovely ladies at the AD Skype Chat...of which I am proud to be a small (but vocal) part.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Ordinary
By DiNovia
Natalia Rivera opened the side door to her beautiful farmhouse at 10:15pm on a Thursday in April and entered it, wreathed in the scent of wisteria and the last chill of winter. It was unseasonably warm this April and she had to admit that she was relieved. The snow was getting old and she missed her garden something fierce. She always did...right up until harvest time, when her opinion swung wildly in the other direction. How many tomatoes and zucchini could one family eat, after all?
She dragged her bags into the kitchen, stopping abruptly and smiling when she identified the lingering smell of a pizza from Tony's in the air. If she was lucky, there'd be a piece or two wrapped up for her in the fridge, but she was too tired to look at the moment. She'd eat it for breakfast tomorrow, maybe. Remembering Emma, though, she decided she wouldn't, after all. She'd make pancakes or something. The poor thing had probably only had cold cereal while she'd been gone. She'd be needing a good, hot breakfast.
The business trip had been grueling. A let's-clean-house, all-day conference with their established Chicago property, The Magdalen, followed by two days of progress meetings with the contractors, builders, and designers working on their newest acquisition, Pointe du Sable, an extremely upscale boutique hotel being built in Edgewater near the Gerber/Hart Library. Everything had gone pretty much as she'd expected--the general manager of The Magdalen had called her and Olivia both "cutthroat bitches" after she'd fired him and his three most trusted managers, while the head contractor for Pointe du Sable had spent the better part of an hour treating her as if she were a blithering idiot until she'd quietly told him that if he didn't want to find himself standing on a corner down by the docks waiting for day work, he had better change his tone. He did.
Of course, good things had happened, too. The new general manager of The Magdalen had ended her first day at work by choosing one of the internal shift managers as her new senior manager, which made Natalia extremely happy. The shift manager, Deborah Ferguson, had worked for The Magdalen since it had opened. She was efficient, dedicated, brilliant...and continually overlooked for promotions under the old regime because she did not conform to Patrick Howe's feminine ideal. Because she wasn't thin, blonde, and leggy. And so she had languished as a shift manager, staying on because she loved her work and the property in much the same way that Olivia had loved The Beacon in the beginning of her career. Natalia hoped that the promotion to senior manager under Yael Adler would help Deborah come into her own, finally. She was so due, and Natalia felt confident that The Magdalen was about to turn a very important corner, business-wise. She could return to Springfield secure in the knowledge that she had accomplished everything Olivia expected of her.
The drive home had not been as relaxing as Natalia had hoped it would be, though. She'd been fighting a headache all day and all she wanted was to be home already, not rolling down seemingly endless miles of interstate. Looking now at the darkened kitchen with two unwashed glasses in the sink and nothing else, she guessed she was too late to spend any time with Emma. The fourteen-year-old should have been in bed at least a half an hour ago.
Natalia sighed, shrugged out of her Armani suit jacket, and threw it over the back of one of the chairs at the table. She rolled up her sleeves and quickly washed out the two glasses, smiling softly as she did so, imagining Emma and Olivia laughing over greasy slices of pizza and sipping that too-sweet orange soda that they loved so much. She upended the glasses in the dish drainer and retrieved her jacket and her bag, heading into the living room. She stopped in the doorway as soon as she saw Emma, love and consternation both coloring her features. The teenager sat cross-legged on the couch with her laptop propped open on her knees and her mp3 player plugged into her ears. She also had her cell phone out and was busily texting someone. Probably Derek. Or Jodie. Or both.
Natalia smiled ruefully. "Hello?" she said, waving at her daughter. When she got no immediate response--how loud was that music?--she took two steps toward the lanky, tow-headed girl.
Emma caught the movement in her peripheral vision and jumped.
"Ma!" she cried, pulling the earbuds from her ears. Natalia could hear the tinny sounds of her daughter's music even from where she was standing. She narrowed her eyes.
"I know! Too loud!" said Emma before Natalia could begin her lecture. "Sorry.... I was--"
"Oh, I know what you were doing, young lady. The cat's away so the mice will play! Or, in this case, eat pizza for dinner and stay up too late on a school night. What are you doing up?"
"Working on my American History paper. Honest! Look!" She tilted her laptop so Natalia could see it but the older woman waved her away.
"Is it due tomorrow?" If it was, Natalia would be surprised. It wasn't like Emma to procrastinate in her school work. Well, not often, anyway.
"No, it's due a week from Tuesday. But Rachel Maddow interviewed the author of one of my articles tonight and I wanted to get my thoughts down before I went to bed."
Natalia couldn't help but smile at that. She let go of her bag and hung her jacket over its handle, sitting next to Emma on the couch.
"What's your paper about?" she asked, genuinely interested. Emma was turning out to be quite the little activist. Just this year, she'd been elected to the student council. Last year, she'd initiated her school's first Gay-Straight Alliance club. She'd already interned with Mayor Doris Wolfe once and was hoping for a repeat performance now that Doris was a freshman state representative.
Soon she'll be on her way to Harvard or Northwestern or Yale, she thought proudly. My beautiful, sweet baby girl.
"It's on Michelle Obama's work with military families and the sweeping benefits reform it inspired in the armed forces," explained the teen, grinning. She shrugged. "I'm a geek for Michelle," she said, scrunching up her nose in a self-deprecating move she'd learned from her other mother.
"Well, I'm a geek for you, then!" said Natalia, leaning forward to touch her forehead to her daughter's. "Ten more minutes and then you have to get ready for bed, okay?" she said softly. "I don't want to have to peel both you and your mother out of bed tomorrow morning. I've had a long couple of days."
"Okay, Ma," replied the teen amiably as they separated. "Ten more minutes." A cloud passed over her face, then, dimming her eyes a bit. "Sorry about your trip," she said sincerely.
Natalia grinned, letting her famous dimples show. She ruffled Emma's mop of wheat-colored hair. "It's okay, Jellybean. I'm home now. All better." She glanced up the stairwell, a small frown settling between her eyes. "Speaking of home, where's your mother?"
Emma sighed. "She worked until eight-thirty on the New Orleans presentation, then said she was going upstairs to read. That she'd had enough of 'trying to wrangle decent materials out of snake oil salesmen and their hairy cousins.'" The teen didn't laugh though Natalia did. "I think she was missing you, Ma. She seemed so...sad tonight."
A tiny bubble of panic burst inside Natalia and spread through her like a virus. "Oh, Em! Why didn't you say something?" Natalia wondered what could be bothering Olivia enough that Emma would notice, but would not have pressed her mother to divulge. Was she sick? Was it her heart? Was it--
Oh, she thought, the panic dissipating as she remembered the date. Oh, God. I forgot all about it this year! These meetings in Chicago and the New Orleans pitch next week and--
Natalia felt awful. Olivia always got a little melancholy on this date, the day Natalia would have married Frank Cooper had she not discovered Olivia sobbing at Gus' graveside, pouring her shattered heart into the cold earth along with all her hopes and dreams. Truth be told, that image still had the power--after six years--to suck all the air out of Natalia's lungs, filling her with such sorrow, such breathless grief for having caused her beautiful Olivia so much pain and leaving her nowhere to take it except to the grave of Natalia's own dead husband.
Olivia, on the other hand, still carried a single heavy stone of guilt about the part she played in breaking Frank Cooper's heart for a second time, even though Frank had eventually moved on, marrying one of the part-time waitresses at Company. And sometimes Olivia still worried that Natalia had sacrificed something too precious in order to be with her--no matter how many times Natalia assured her that wasn't the case. Natalia couldn't be any happier in this lifetime or any other, of this she was certain. If she had to remind Olivia of that every day for the rest of their lives, she would happily do so.
The brunette glanced at her daughter once more. "Ten minutes," she reminded her sternly, emphasizing the point by shaking her index finger at the teen briefly. "I'll be back to check."
"I know, I know! Ten minutes! Jeez!" Her exasperation was half-hearted. Emma loved Natalia for many reasons but one of the largest was the sense of security and structure the woman provided to her and her mother. Her early life as Olivia Spencer's daughter could not be considered sedate by any stretch of the imagination. Moving in with Natalia had provided them both a harbor from the storms of Olivia's life and they sheltered there willingly, even when it was bad or icky or tense, because it was the only true home they had ever known. All of Emma's most favorite memories had happened inside these walls. And Natalia, her mother by heart if not by body, had made them all possible.
Natalia nodded, grinned again, then grabbed her bag and hefted it up the steep staircase. She stopped briefly in the guest bedroom--which she still called "Olivia's old room" no matter how many times she'd tried to break herself of the habit--to brush her teeth and freshen up a bit. She'd been in the car a long time and she knew once she saw Olivia, all other thoughts would flee before her simple desire to touch the woman she loved. She left her bag and the jacket where she'd parked them and climbed the rest of the stairs to the master suite.
Golden light spilled into the hallway through the partially open door to their bedroom and Natalia could feel the weight of the past few days falling away with every step she took toward it. She opened the door, ready to speak, but her breath caught in her throat when she saw Olivia.
Her lover lay propped up on a pile of pillows, fast asleep, a book open on her chest. Her long lashes lay softly against her cheeks and her mouth was slightly open, her full lips almost pouting. Natalia's hand went to her heart.
Thank you, God, she prayed. Thank you for the gift of her love. Thank you for giving us both the strength we needed that day.
Quietly, she slipped out of her shoes--a too-expensive pair of patent leather Jimmy Choos that Olivia had insisted she get because "seeing you in them makes me shiver"--and padded over to the bed, sitting gently on the sliver-sized edge left to her. She reached out and lightly brushed strands of honey caramel hair from Olivia's cheek, then leaned forward to brush those pouting lips with her own.
Olivia drew in a sharp breath as she woke, her eyes fluttering open. "'Talia?" she asked sleepily.
"Olivia," replied Natalia softly. She cupped Olivia's cheek in her hand and waited for those turned-copper eyes to focus on her. "Hi," she smiled when they finally did.
"Hi," replied the older woman, a slow smile warming her features and rising in her eyes like the sun. "You're home."
Natalia shook her head. "Not quite." She leaned in and brushed Olivia's lips with her own again...and again...and again, until Olivia's eyelids fluttered shut and she groaned, her lips parting to allow the tender familiarity of Natalia's earnest and thorough exploration. When they finally surfaced from the depth of their kiss, Olivia opened her eyes to see the wonder that was one of Natalia Rivera's brightly dimpled grins.
"Now I'm home," said the younger woman. Olivia covered Natalia's hand with her own.
"How was Chicago?" she asked, her eyes darkening with concern. She knew how difficult the three days must have been for her lover, but she wanted to hear it for herself. She considered it a sort of penance for not being able to go herself.
Natalia shook her head. "Later. In fact, we'll talk about it tomorrow. I'm officially off the clock and all I want is to crawl into bed with you and forget about how tired I am. Okay?"
"But--"
Natalia derailed her protest with another heart-stopping kiss. "I'm sure I can eventually win this argument," she drawled, desire flooding her hooded eyes, "but I don't have the energy for both that and this...." Her fingers went to the top button of her crisp, white blouse and popped it open. Olivia watched, mesmerized, all of her considerable attention suddenly focused on what Natalia was doing. She held her breath. As the second button succumbed to those long, bronzed fingers, a tentative voice from the doorway shattered the tension between them.
"Mom? Mama? Just letting you know I'm going to bed...."
Olivia frowned at her daughter, confused, while Natalia quickly buttoned herself up again. "What are you even doing up?" asked the older woman. "How long was I asleep?"
"It's only ten-thirty or so," said Natalia, turning to beckon Emma into the room with them. "Em was just working on a paper. I said she could stay up for a few extra minutes tonight." She made Olivia scooch her legs over and she pulled the teen down between them. "Did you finish what you wanted to, sweetie?"
Emma smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Ma."
Natalia reached out to tug at one of Emma's unruly curls. "You're welcome," she smiled. "Do you have anything after school tomorrow?"
"I have to see Ms. Gulati about the GSA, but it should only take fifteen minutes. We're just going over the agenda for the next meeting. Why?"
"Because I thought maybe I could have a Friday Night Movie Night with my favorite girls. How does that sound? We'll order in, make popcorn, snuggle together on the couch...."
"Can we watch While You Were Sleeping?" asked Emma excitedly.
Natalia laughed. "We can watch anything you want."
"Cool! Count me in!" Emma grinned and she and Natalia turned to Olivia, who had yet to agree.
"Well?" prompted Natalia.
Olivia made a show of considering the proposal. "Well, I think I could pencil that into my schedule," she said, sounding not at all sure.
"And I think I can clear your schedule entirely," countered Natalia, narrowing her eyes and swatting Olivia's knee harmlessly. "You're bad."
The older woman grinned and Natalia was sure the room became significantly brighter. "I'll be there. Roaming herds of wild ducks couldn't keep me away."
There was a split second of silence while the three of them visualized that absurd image--then they all burst out laughing.
Olivia's cheeks were a little pinker when she finally took a breath. "Bed, you!" she said to Emma, pushing gently at her daughter's shoulder. "You have school tomorrow."
"Wait," said Natalia, leaning forward. "C'mere." She gathered Emma and Olivia both into the generous circle of her arms and held them close to her, breathing their intermingled scents, able--after all these years--to tell which was Olivia and which was Emma without conscious thought. "Thank you, God on High, for bringing me home safely to my family. Love them and protect them and keep them safe for me, now and always. Amen."
"Amen," echoed the Spencer women, one with a fresh, bright smile and one with eyes so milky jade with love and desire, Natalia had to look away lest she embarrass herself in front of their daughter. Her cheeks were already flushing red.
"Okay, now you can go to bed, sweetie," Natalia whispered to Emma, reaching in to kiss a freckled cheek. "I love you, Emma. And I'm so proud of you. Don't forget that, okay?"
Emma's eyes dipped away from Natalia's gaze shyly. "I love you, too, Mama," she muttered, her own cheeks turning pink with the unexpected attention. "Thanks."
"Ugh," groused Olivia. "So mushy, isn't she? I think I need to brush my teeth." She pulled Emma in for a hug and kiss and took a moment to whisper something in the teen's ear, for her alone. Emma blushed even pinker and squeezed her mother tightly.
"Me too, Mom," she replied softly. Eager to escape her mothers' attention, Emma headed out of the room then suddenly stopped halfway to the door and turned back, grinning mischievously. "Don't stay up too late, you two," she sang, waggling her index finger at her mothers. "It's a weeknight!" She ducked out the door and shut it behind her before the pillow Olivia lobbed in her general direction could connect.
"Oh, that--that--scamp!" cried Natalia, blushing furiously. "She gets that from you, you know." She turned toward her lover and almost laughed out loud at the look of outrage on Olivia's face.
"Me?!
"Mm-hmm," smirked Natalia, unconvinced. Their eyes locked then, their gazes shifting from indulgent humor to scorching desire in less than a heartbeat, something that had always happened for them, even before they'd understood what was going on between them. Natalia stood, never breaking the gaze she held, and stepped two steps away from their bed. She chewed her bottom lip for half a second then began unbuttoning her classic, crisp, white shirt, her long, bronze fingers trembling ever-so-slightly as she did so.
Olivia held her breath and watched, her eyes focused intently on what Natalia was doing. She felt a wave of heat crash over her body, washing away her earlier melancholy and the last of her sleepiness, her skin flaring with anticipatory tingles. Warmth pooled at the hollow at the base of her throat, between her breasts, in her belly, and lower still, between her legs, and she gasped, surprised by how quickly, how totally she wanted the dark-tressed beauty undressing for her. When Natalia reached the last button on her shirt, her hands disappeared behind her back, loosening the button and the zipper on her black Armani pencil skirt. She slid the material over her gorgeous hips and let it pool on the floor around her feet.
Olivia groaned with hungry appreciation...for there stood Natalia, her white oxford hanging open, revealing a lacy, barely-there bra; and her skirt gone, revealing thigh-high stockings and black garters.
"This is all me," breathed Natalia, her eyes blazing, a whirlwind of flame and heat. "All for you...."
Olivia lifted the book from her chest and closed it, leaving it on the nightstand. Then she rose from the bed with a predator's easy grace. She stalked over to Natalia and slipped her warm hands underneath the cool cotton of the open shirt, resting them on curvaceous hips, her thumbs slowly stroking the tender skin just above lacy French cut panties.
She said nothing but leaned down, brushing her beestung lips over the leaping pulse point at Natalia's throat. "I missed you," she whispered, brushing her lips there again, feeling Natalia's pulse double. Whether it was the kiss or the words that set the brunette's blood pounding, Olivia didn't know.
"I missed you, too," replied Natalia softly. She slipped her hands beneath Olivia's top and around her hips, grazing her perfectly manicured fingernails lightly up and down the taller woman's spine, her fingers dipping as low as the waistband of her jeans would allow. "I hate leaving you," she said simply.
"I hate it, too," admitted the older woman. "But as long as you keep coming home to me, I'll survive." She smiled softly at her love, scrunching her nose in acknowledgment of her attempt at a little light humor.
Natalia's eyes shimmered in the golden light, the humor lost on her completely. "You're the only home I know, Olivia," she breathed. The long days in Chicago crafting perfection and respect out of stone and wood, followed by the long nights in Chicago, rambling around the presidential suite at The Magdalen, missing her family, had scrubbed raw a spot in Natalia's heart. Coming home to hear their daughter tell her that Olivia was sad and realizing the probable cause made that raw spot bleed a little. She needed....
She needed Olivia. Pure and simple. She needed the balm of her hands and her mouth on her skin. Needed to be knit up in those intoxicating absinthe eyes. Needed the sweet tempest of their untamed adoration written on her body.
Kiss me, she begged with cocoa-colored eyes. She tilted her face up and nuzzled Olivia with her cheek, sighing into the tender shell of Olivia's ear, making her shiver.
Olivia knew that these business trips that she sent her lover on cost her dearly. Natalia, an ardent, impassioned woman whose richly, deeply felt emotions were integral to her personality, had to bank the fire of her soul severely in order to survive the arid climate of the boardroom. Heat turned inward evaporated something precious inside Natalia, and she often returned from these trips depleted in ways that only Olivia could replenish. The older woman relished this work, wanting to fill her lover in every way she could, wanting to melt through the artificial winter she'd created around her heart with the slow green explosion of burgeoning life, like the spring.
She cupped Natalia's face in her exquisite, long-fingered hands and brushed her mouth against her perfect lips, lush and full. Natalia trembled with the touch and surged forward, her hungry need obliterating her control. They both groaned as her infantry tongue invaded Olivia's mouth, engaging a battle for dominance that raged deliciously and thoroughly until they were both breathless. A brief retreat--the need for oxygen recognized and resented at the same time--ended in another advance, this one deeper and more dangerously wanton than the last.
Olivia's frantic hands skittered up Natalia's sides, pushing the oxford off her burnished shoulders, unclasping her lacy, little bra and slipping that off, too, dropping the garments onto the floor with the younger woman's skirt. Natalia ran her hands up Olivia's spine, tangling her lover's cotton top in her fingers and pulling it off of her, revealing beautiful breasts barely confined in ebony satin. She quickly did away with that garment, too, and wrenched herself from their intimate connection, finding and laying claim to the curve of Olivia's jaw next, then the smooth ivory column of her throat, nips and bites, like pearls, dotting a silver chain of kisses that descended ever further until the hot, wet O of Natalia's mouth captured a painfully erect nipple, suckling there with abandon. Olivia threw her head back and hissed, pleasure and pain rendering her nearly incoherent.
The hotelier wrapped her arms around Natalia, spinning with her until her back was to their bed and they fell on it together, the jolt of the movement forcing the dark-haired woman to release the object of her considerable attention.
They fell into each other's eyes, leaf and bark shimmering with the return of Natalia's nascent incandescence. Slowly, Olivia rose from her lover's embrace, feather-light fingertips fluttering against silken skin, the electricity of her touch manifesting as a wave of chills that washed over the Latina's body. Eyes the color of Eden drank in the sight of her lover below her, her chest rising and falling with tortured breaths, her burnt sienna hair tumbled about her head in glorious waves, her hands and arms raised over her head, a heart-stopping image of surrender, of willing supplication....
Olivia licked her bottom lip and unbuttoned the fly on her jeans with trembling fingers, pushing them over her hips and off her body, along with the black satin bikini bottoms that matched her bra. Finally nude, she stepped forward, nudging Natalia's knees apart, stepping firmly between them, her ivory hips connecting with caramel thighs. The voltage between them at this moment could have powered all of Springfield for a year or more.
Natalia still wore her lacy white panties, the garters, and the thigh high stockings that Olivia found irresistibly sexy. Olivia lowered her stance slightly, then shifted forward, their bodies sliding together in a sensuous glissade. She pinned Natalia's wrists above her head with one hand while the other drifted over her heated skin, alighting first at her cheek, then her breast, fingertips tugging at a wine-colored nipple with insistent tenderness.
"Do you know how much I love you?" she asked, her voice whiskey-dark.
Natalia's heart--already pounding--leaped in her chest and she nodded, unable to speak. It never failed to surprise her how deeply the sound of Olivia's need affected her, even after years of loving one another. Like a thief, it stole her voice and often her reason, too. Rendering her helpless in its wake.
"Do you know how much I need you?" A sliver flash of insecurity darted in the depths of Olivia's eyes, like a school of fish fleeing unseen danger, there and gone again. Natalia recognized it immediately.
"Yes," she breathed, hoping the fervor of her declaration would banish the doubt for good, knowing it wouldn't.
Olivia looked away from Natalia's eyes for a moment, the sheer enormity of the love and devotion she saw there overwhelming her. She looked instead at her own fingers as they traveled down her lover's abdomen, causing the muscles there to clench with anticipation, then along one thigh, watching with an almost detached interest at the goose flesh that followed the touch.
"Do you know how much I want you?" she asked finally, raising her eyes again to find Natalia's, her voice dropping to its lowest register, a sexually-charged inferno of sound that immolated the younger woman.
"I've always known," she confessed, her own voice deepening with desire now, feeling it rise inside her, curling around her, her body taught with it, shuddering with the strain of waiting for her completion.
Olivia's fingertips danced back over bronzed skin, returning to the bud of Natalia's breast like a honeybee. A question rose in her eyes as they darkened, her pupils dilating as wide as they would go.
Natalia gasped and arched her back, her craving for Olivia's touch threatening to pull her apart at the seams.
"Yes, Olivia. Yes." The desperation in her lover's voice was not lost on Olivia Spencer. "Take me," she breathed finally.
Olivia's sharp intake of breath was the only indication that she understood, at first. Then she swept aside the lacy barrier of Natalia's lingerie and thrust three fingers deep inside her, groaning with the sensation of slick molten gold beneath her and the feel of her lover's legs rising to wrap around her hips, feet hooking behind her knees. She leaned heavily over her, using her hips to drive her fingers harder and deeper inside, thrusting wildly, powerfully....
Natalia threw her head back, crying, "¡Ay, si! ¡Si! ¡Querida, cogeme! ¡Cogeme más fuerte! ¡Ay dios, no pares!"
Olivia groaned loudly again. The sound of Natalia begging her to "Fuck me harder! Oh God, don't stop!" in her mother tongue was always her undoing.
"Yes!" she hissed, her need coiling inside her, a white-hot spring twisting, tightening, as she continued to grind her hips into Natalia. She punctuated each plunge of her fingers with another cry. "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes...."
Natalia writhed beneath Olivia, head thrashing from side to side, bucking off the bed with each powerful thrust into her center, mixed English and Spanish profanities pouring from her kiss-bruised mouth. She was a live wire, electricity arcing off her body with wild abandon, poised at the edge of madness.
"Please," she pleaded. "Please make me come...."
Olivia obeyed, completely unable to deny her lover anything, curling her fingers just so, her thumb finding that shy pearl of aching need, flicking it, swirling around it....
"Come for me, Natalia," she growled. "Come hard."
That was all the Latina needed and her orgasm crashed through her, the raging flood of it sweeping her away, carrying her out to sea where bliss lapped at her skin and starlight shimmered in her eyes. Slowly, so slowly, she let go of the sea, finding herself cradled in Olivia's strong arms, the older woman collapsed next to her, gazing at her with adoring eyes.
Weakly, she reached up to brush a few errant strands of mahogany silk from Natalia's face.
"I love you," whispered Natalia, shivering against her lover, her body ravaged by lust and adrenaline, a fine golden sheen glistening on her bronze skin.
Olivia pressed a tender kiss to the corner of Natalia's mouth. "That still amazes me, you know," she admitted softly, pulling back.
Natalia smiled, her world-famous dimples making an appearance finally. "Well, you need to 'man up' and get over that."
Olivia raised one perfect eyebrow at the younger woman.
"Oh, I do, do I?" she asked, amusement evident in her tone.
Natalia cupped Olivia's face in her hand. "Yes, you do," she said, her voice rock solid with deep conviction. "Because that's never going to change. Not ever."
Olivia drew a finger down the curve of Natalia's cheek.
"Thank God," she whispered earnestly, leaning in for a tender kiss.
When she pulled back, Natalia said, "That sounded suspiciously like a prayer, Ms. Spencer."
Olivia kissed Natalia's temple and whispered in her ear. "That's because it was, Ms. Rivera. Me and God, we go way back over you."
"You do?" asked the younger woman, a little surprised by that declaration. "What's the first prayer you ever said about me?"
Olivia chuckled. "Are you sure you want to know that?" she asked.
"Yes. I am."
"You won't like it," Olivia warned.
Natalia saw the mischief in her lover's eyes and narrowed her own in response. "Tell me. Right now."
"It was, 'Oh God, not her again!'"
"Ah!" Natalia swatted her lover on the shoulder. Then she did it again, for good measure. "I can't believe you!" she complained.
"I told you you wouldn't like it," laughed Olivia. "You should have listened to me."
Natalia's frown faded after a minute, only to be replaced by a look Olivia usually referred to as Hand in the Cookie Jar.
"Well, I suppose that's not so bad," she said finally. She chewed her lip and looked away from Olivia's discerning eyes. "I think my first prayer about you might have been worse," she muttered.
"I can only imagine," said Olivia ruefully. "What was it?"
Natalia grimaced and shrugged. "'God, I hate that fucking bitch!'"
Olivia laughed until she cried.
The End