Author's note:

Another livejournal fic transported over – and more slash. Please avoid if you're not into that sort of thing.

Nothing too heavy here, but definite adult themes.

The title is taken from the song "All For Believing" by Missy Higgins.

XX

I'm sweating. I can feel a bead of it sliding down my back but I try not to think about it. We're not going to win but nobody wants the margin to get any wider. Kristy is slamming the ball into her glove, her eyes narrowed against the late afternoon sun. Her hair has loosened during the day and there are damp tendrils against the pale length of neck and a wisp or two poking out from under her baseball cap.

We eventually lose and the disappointment shows as we wander back to our gear.

She catches sight of me and gives me a weary smile and a shrug.

"Still want a victory party?" I ask her. My arm brushes hers as we gather up our things, stuffing them into sports bags.

"An un-victory party?" she asks. "Maybe. There's a lot of alcohol sitting there."

I laugh and follow her as she walks towards the gate, exchanging brief words and nods with people as they ask if they can still head to her house.

"You want to come straight round?" she asks me. "You can shower at my place."

"I don't have a change of clothes with me," I say regretfully.

"Borrow something of mine," she responds carelessly. "I'll just wear shorts and a t-shirt."

"Me too," I answer. Watch her ponytail swing back and forth against the back of her neck as she walks in front of me.

x

Despite the enormity of Kristy's house, most people stay in the kitchen and the room overlooking the back-yard, some spilling out onto the lawn. I try to stay near to Kristy, wondering how she can possibly remain so oblivious to my infatuation with her.

I'm suddenly nervous other people can tell even if she can't, so I perch myself on a stool at the kitchen counter and watch her drift from group to group, a plastic cup of something fruity and tainted in her hand.

I pick salt off a pretzel and kick my legs a little, wishing she'd notice that I'm by myself and she'd come over and talk to me. Maybe I'll get drunk enough to express my feelings to her. Maybe she'll be drunk enough to feel the same way – or drunk enough to forget everything if she doesn't.

"Hey, Abby."

I turn at the voice behind me and see Bart standing there, two beers in his hands.

"Want one of these?" he asks.

I take one. "Thanks." I don't want him to be here. He and Kristy have a habit of hooking up when there's beer around and I despise him for it.

He sits behind me and takes a swig. "Too bad you guys lost today," he says, evidently unable to discuss anything but softball with me.

"Yeah," I say, watching Kristy hug some new arrivals and point them towards the fridge.

Bart keeps talking and now and then I wake up enough to realise he's giving me a point-by-point description of everything our team did wrong.

I decide to leave before he realises I have no interest in what he's saying. Besides, I've lost sight of Kristy.

I make something up and move away from Bart, gulping down half my beer as I move away.

I can't see Kristy anywhere. I take another beer from the fridge and drink from it as I wander from room to room, searching for her. I wander up to her bedroom. She's not there, but I close the door, knowing she wouldn't really mind finding me there, should she walk in. I run my fingers along the edge of her desk and glance out the window to the smooth lawn below.

She's out there, her hair glinting in the last of the evening sunlight as she tosses a rubber ball for Shannon. The dog is oblivious to the teenagers scattered about the garden as she leaps after the ball, barking as it falls to the ground and then racing after it, trampling flowers.

As I'm about to head out and join her I see Bart heading towards her with another cup of spiked punch in his hand. Kristy takes it with a smile and when she lets him kiss her, I turn away and head back to the kitchen to replace the empty bottle in my hand with a full one.

"Heyyyy!" Kristy giggles, looking up at me from where she's sprawled on the lawn. Shannon is lying beside her, her pink tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. "Drunk?"

"Yeah," I say, sinking down beside her. And I am. I decided to seek comfort from glass bottles and cheap plastic cups of beer and punch and God-knows-what once Bart secured Kristy for the night. But he's disappeared for an impromptu round of baseball at the back of the yard. Kristy's usual sense of competitiveness has been lost with the amount of alcohol she's had.

"Having fun?" she asks mildly, her eyes searching the stars above.

"Yeah," I lie. I reach for her hand, briefly, and then change my mind and snap a lawn daisy off at the stem, twirling it between my thumb and forefinger. "How's Bart?"

"Mm," she murmurs. "Horny."

I titter nervously and Shannon pricks her ears up at me.

"I don't know what to do with him," she sighs. "I never see him when I'm sober." She rubs a hand over her face and then rests her arm across Shannon's back. The dog licks her hand and then goes back to watching the crowd milling around the back door.

"He's only after one thing," I say suddenly. I bite my lip, hoping she's not mad.

"I know," she says, rubbing Shannon behind the ears. "The thing is, when I'm drunk, these things always seem like a good idea." She rolls her eyes and then gives me a weary smile.

I rub my nose. The lawn and the nearby garden bed are starting to get to me.

"Argh, you're starting to get all allergic," she says with fake disgust. "Get away."

I laugh, but I have to stand up.

"Actually," she sighs, staggering to her feet, "I'm all itchy from the grass. I might go take a shower... sober up a bit..." She wanders off towards the kitchen, slightly unsteady.

Bart has reappeared and is pouring shots in the kitchen. He coerces Kristy into taking a couple, his mouth pressed against her ear and his arm around her waist.

I match her, the alcohol burning my throat and making my eyes water. I splutter and Kristy laughs at me, downing another in one smooth motion before whispering something back to Bart and weaving her way up the stairs.

I take another shot and follow her.

My heart is beating so fast, so fast. I glance around before I try the handle and to my surprise she's left it unlocked. I slip inside and close the door softly, the sound of my pulse dying a little under the steady hiss and trickle of the shower.

I slide the bolt across with trembling fingers and pull my t-shirt over my head in one swift motion. For a moment I glance her shadow against the shower curtain. I'm too drunk to think of any plausible excuse for this. But she is drunk too. Perhaps if this is a disaster she won't even remember.

I unsnap my bra, push my shorts down my legs and stand naked, three feet from her and separated only by a flimsy curtain splashed with gaudy tropical palm trees.

I step forward, curl my toes against the bath mat and take a deep breath. My fingers creep around the shower curtain and I draw it back slowly.

She has her back to me, her face tipped up towards the stream of water, a sudsy shower puff pressed against her throat. Her hair is tucked up into a loose bun.

If I wanted to, I could grab my clothes and escape from this before she sees me and freaks out and banishes me from her life forever.

But I don't want to leave and get dressed. I want this.

I step into the tub and touch my fingers against her hip. She turns her head only slightly, her eyes half-closed. She doesn't seem surprised.

"Was wondering when you'd come in," she murmurs, her eyelids fluttering. She hasn't looked at me and now she turns her head back to the wall and dips it slowly.

I'm so surprised I freeze for a moment. I can feel vodka and beer in my head and in my blood. I'm dizzy. I step closer, press my lips against the crease of her shoulder and her neck. She tips her head back with a sigh, squeezing the soapy sponge against her skin. The smell of the soap itches my nose.

Don't sneeze Abby, don't sneeze... don't be allergic to her.

"Hey..." she murmurs, her head still back, her eyes still closed, "why'd you get me so drunk?"

I kiss the side of her throat and let my fingers slide from her hips around to the flat plane of her belly. I don't want to talk. I don't think I can.

She moves the soapy bath puff down her throat to her breasts.

"Hey Bart," she whispers, "want to do my back?"

Oh shit, oh shit. She thinks I'm Bart, oh no, oh...

I freeze, my heart pumps a dash of icy-cold blood through my body and suddenly I feel more sober than ever before.

Fuck. What do I do?

"Kristy..." My fingers move away from her belly and back to her hips.

She turns her head in surprise, her eyes wide but glazed.

"Oh, Abby..." She blinks at me. "Hi."

"Hi..." I'm still touching her. I can't stop staring at her. She's drunk. I should not be here.

She gives me a lazy smile. "Thought you were Bart."

"Sorry," I say. I can feel a flush rising to my cheeks.

She drops her eyes and lets them wander down my bare skin, right to my toes, which are facing hers. "Are you drunk?" she asks, a catch in her throat.

"Yeah," I say.

"Me too..." She squeezes the shower puff against her breasts again and then presses it towards me, stroking it gently over my shoulder. "Did you know I was in here?"

"Yeah," I say again.

"Oh..."

"I can go," I say softly...

She raises her eyes again. Water is misting over her hair and her lashes. I reach up and pull the band from her hair and it falls messily over her shoulders in damp tendrils. Cup her face in my hands, feel her soaping up my skin, and I kiss her on the mouth.

She tastes of vodka and punch and it sends a shiver down to the bottom of my belly. Over the hiss of the shower and the gurgle of the drain I hear the door give a gentle rattle.

Bart is trying to get in.

"Hey, Kristy..." he says softly through the door. "Let me in?"

She breaks away from me, sways unsteadily and blinks at me. She turns her head to the door, bites her lip and calls back to him, her voice husky. "Maybe next time."

"What?"

She ignores him and curls one arm around my waist, opening her mouth slightly and pressing it against my lips. "Kiss me again," she demands against my mouth.

My body sags with relief and I stroke her cheeks with my thumbs. I don't know how I know what to do but it all seems to be right with her. I kiss her again. Brush her hip with my knuckles and bow my head to the stream of the water.

"Kristy," I murmur. "I'm not that drunk..."

"But you're in the shower with me," she says softly.

"Yeah..."

"Are you a lesbian?" She rests her forehead against the curve of my shoulder and my neck.

"I'm not sure," I admit. "Maybe." I can feel her lashes on my skin.

"Okay," she breathes.

"I really like you," I whisper. "Really, really, really like you."

"I know," she answers. "I just wasn't sure... what you wanted."

"This," I say instantly. "But if you don't want... this..."

She chuckles and slides her tongue against my pulse. "Nah, this is okay, isn't it?"

I laugh breathlessly and cup her face again. "Very okay..." I blink water from my eyes and try to catch her gaze. "But, are you just drunk? Do you really want this?"

"This is okay," she repeats with a slow shrug. "I haven't thought about it but I really like you too, Abby. This is okay..."

"I don't want a drunk Kristy for one night," I say pleadingly, unable to stop the desperation in my voice. "I think about you all the time, I want you... like this... all the time."

"Yeah," she answers, her voice low, her cheeks flushed slightly and her hair wet and heavy against her neck. "I know. I thought... I thought maybe you did." She lowers her eyes, unfocused for a moment. "I just didn't want to say anything. You know, in case I was wrong. I thought it was pretty arrogant of me to think you had a crush on me."

I laugh and she pulls me a little closer to her.

I interrupt her next thought quickly. "So – when you're sober... will you freak out?"

"No," she says. "But, Abby, I don't think I can tell people about this..." she looks embarrassed.

"That's okay," I answer quickly. "I can't either."

"Oh good," she sighs, resting her cheek on my shoulder. "We'll just be a good old-fashioned sporty lesbian couple in secret."

I giggle and put my arms around her. "That's very, very okay."

x