You'd never know that Erin Gilbert was the ultimate dreamer. She had cultivated her Fantasy Face ™ into an expression that closely resembled the one she wore when solving a particularly difficult equation.
So no one knew that she wanted to dance Swan Lake.
Or cook with as much flourish as Julia Child.
Or spank someone.
Oy. Somehow that last one brought her more shame than the others, despite arguably being the most attainable of her wild dreams. The desire could be triggered at any time.
A mention of punishment.
A particularly sound high five
Abby Yates slapping Jillian Holtzmann's ass.
"Can you believe her?"
Erin looked up when she realized that Abby was addressing her. She took in the scene before her, which she had been oblivious to until that moment. Abby stood with her hands on her hips, lips pursed, and an eyebrow raised. Holtzmann was leaning on the table; all swagger and dimples, despite the large hole burned into the front of her jumpsuit. Erin reached out to touch it.
"What did you do?"
"No harm, no foul."
"Nuh-uh," Abby glared, "she took an untested 'toy' to that bust at Marie's Crisis. She got the ghost, but that thing exploded, and some kind of liquid flew out of it."
"It ate straight through my clothes," Holtzmann did not have the decency to look ashamed, "but my flesh is fine. So, so, so fine."
"Y'know what, Erin? I'm tagging you in here," Abby turned to leave, "you see if you can get your girlfriend to be a little less reckless."
"I love you too, Abigail Yates," Holtzmann called after their friend.
Erin sighed. She leveled her gaze at her girlfriend, who had pulled herself up onto the table. Holtzmann was swinging her legs in anticipation of the inevitable lecture.
"You aren't hurt at all?"
"I'm fine," Holtzmann shrugged.
"That isn't what I asked."
Erin stood up and closed the space between them, daring Holtzmann to lie to her.
"Second degree burn on my left arm," the blonde held her chin up defiantly, "minor."
She winced as Erin pulled up the sleeve of her jumpsuit.
"This needs to be cleaned."
Holtzmann nodded.
"You're mad at me."
"Well," Erin began dressing Holtzmann's burn, "you did promise me that you'd more careful."
"Hey," Holtzmann wrapped her legs around Erin, "I can still walk this time—that's progress."
"This could have been prevented," Erin pushed Holtzmann's legs down.
Truthfully, she found it damn near impossible to stay mad at her girlfriend. But if Holtzmann knew how easy it was to re-endear herself to Erin, she would probably pull stunts more frequently than she did now—and that was a scary thought.
So as Holtzmann ducked her head and studied her shoes, Erin tried to keep the annoyance on her brow— even as Holtzmann's sheepishness tugged at her heart.
"I wasn't thinking," she offered quietly.
"That much is painfully clear," Erin chuckled mirthlessly.
"I'm like a little kid when I build a new toy," Holtzmann went back to kicking her legs, "I don't have a lot of common sense to begin with, and my excitement eradicates what little there is."
"Maybe I should treat you like a little kid."
The words rolled out of Erin's mouth easily, before she could catch them and shove them back in. She had uttered that phrase so many times in her fantasies that the crossing of the line between daydream and reality was easier than she ever thought it would be.
Holtzmann stopped kicking.
"What?"
Her downcast eyes rose to meet Erin's, and they stared at each other, for what felt to Erin like an eternity. Her first instinct is to laugh, to play it off as a rather Holtzmann-like joke, but something in her mad scientist's eyes stopped her. When the corners of the blonde's mouth turned up, ever so slightly, Erin realized that it was consent.
"Go upstairs and wait for me," she was surprised at how strong she sounded— how natural it felt to be in control.
They would have privacy on Holtzmann's floor.
Her girlfriend slid off the table and moved past her, turning back when she reached the foot of the stairs, "what does one wear for a spanking?"
Erin shivered at Holtzmann's use of the word.
"Nothing," she said, trying to keep the smile out of her voice.
Holtzmann managed to control her excitement on the first few steps, but took over when she hit the fourth. She ran up the remaining stairs, removing her jumpsuit as she hopped.
Erin let herself grin.