If Only She Were Mine.

Patsy liked her life. Almost every aspect of it was in order except for one small detail; her love life.
She absently ran a vacuum cleaner over the red-patterned carpet of the flat she shared with her two best friends and co-workers. She always resorted to cleaning when she had something playing on her mind, particularly if it was to do with her feelings.

The red-head bit her lip, lost inside her own thoughts. She was not entirely sure when it actually happened. No, that was a blantant lie. The nurse knew the exact date and the precise time when she first caught sight of her heart's desire. One Miss Delia Busby. She often found herself recalling their first meeting in training school.

They had hit it off immediately. Their conversations flowed and they got along with such ease. To Patsy it felt like they had known each other a life time. She soon became a part of her life. She mingled seamlessly with her best friend, Trixie. The trio all seemed to click so well in fact they decided to share lodgings, much to Patsy's delight.

They were firm friends, but if Patsy was being completely honest with herself she wanted Delia to be more than just her best friend. She had Trixie for that, ever since boarding school. As the months went on, Patsy found she could not voice her secret longings.

One thing the red-head struggled with was romance. She was out, of sorts, to only Trixie but that was not through any act of bravery.

One night in their shared dorm at boarding school, Trixie had smuggled in a few bottles of wine. Drinking a little too much one night, Patsy's tongue was loose enough to accidently let slip a comment about the french teacher, whom she had a slight crush on. Trixie had an initial moment of surprise, but the blonde always had her suspicions. Patsy was such a private person, so Trixie did not want to push her into revealing something she was not ready for. This careless admission of sorts was a perfect way to ask her all about it. The next morning, Patsy told her oldest and closest friend that she was indeed gay. The red-head did not turn her confession into some grand fanfare. There were no tears shed or broken-hearted sobs. She simply told her, almost matter of factly. She never did feel comfortable enough sharing truly personal things about herself.

Then she met Delia. The girl found herself willingly opening up, sharing all manner of things about herself, including the death of her mother and sister. It was always something the red-head had always struggled to deal with. They would chat for hours, regarding just about anything, except how her feelings did not run just to friendship. Even when the brunette talked openly about her own sexuality, the red-head could not voice her own preferences. She had danced around the issue until it was too late. Trixie had warned her and told her several times; 'Delia is quite the catch. You better grab her before somebody else does.' Patsy just could not tell Delia that she was gay. She assumed she knew, but just never mentioned or confirmed it to her.

Then the worst happened. Delia told them over breakfast she had a date. Her heart sank.

Delia had been out the night before to a new gay club that had just been opened, called the Gateways. Trixie had hinted that Patsy should offer to take Delia there but Patsy's nerve just could not do it. Now her Delia was going on a date with some awful woman.

Patsy hoped the date would go terribly and felt horrible for thinking such things. She wished that the girl would be rude, a bore or perhaps not as attractive in the daylight, away from the dimness of the club. But when this girl came to pick Delia up for their date, both Patsy and Trixie darted for the window to get a good look at her. There she was, walking off down the road with the Welsh beauty. She was just a little taller than Delia and wore black trousers paired with a flowery shirt. She had light brown hair falling loosely around her shoulders. She was not as slender as Patsy had imagined her to be, but was slim all the same. This girl was not terrible looking at all. In fact she could even be called pretty.

''Oh, why does she have to be pretty?'' Patsy sighed dejectedly as she felt Trixie give a soft rub to her back.

''Pretty? Sweetie she is gorgeous, but she has nothing on you.''

Patsy appreciated the way that the blonde always knew just what to say, but it was no use. She could not be consoled, not that night. Patsy had waited too long to make her move and she knew it. Slinking off toward the bathroom, she spent the rest of her evening scrubbing the bathroom, to every inch of its life.

Patsy let out a deep sigh as she clicked off the upright vacuum cleaner. She was exhausted and hardly had a wink of sleep last night. All her thoughts were all of Delia. Even her dreams. The red-head was torturing herself, imagining the Welsh beauty laughing with this seeming mystery stranger. Glancing to her wrist watch, it was still early but she desperately wanted to speak with Delia. She needed to know how the date had gone. Hoping the sound of the hoover was just loud enough to wake her, Patsy glanced at her watch for the second time. Wheeling the bulky machine back to the cupboard in the kitchen. She looked up at the sight of Delia heading over to the kettle with a yawn.

"Morning Pats."

A/N - This is my first story about Pats & Deels that is set in the modern day. This caused me to struggle, somewhat with the flow of it all. This is going to be a rather long fic; I must say a very big thank you to, Steff. For helping me proof read this. Please enjoy... x