AN: I randomly typed this out before I went to sleep. I intend to add to the story. It might end up being a "feature-length" thing or a series of one-shots. I'm new to written romance, so bear with me. Also, might contain mature themes.

Edited some stuff. Same story, better spelling.


Chapter One

Her wife stood at the bottom of the steps and looked at her watch for the umpteenth time that night. Stefanie Adams Foster hated being late for things. She hated tardiness so much that she had got home early, tried to help Jude with his homework, planted pizza money in a strategic enough location for the rest of the kids to find and was dressed before Lena had got into her car to drive home from work.

They had made the reservation almost two weeks earlier, and promised each other that only an earthquake strong enough to total the restaurant would keep them from going there.

But Lena had other things in mind, namely a quick peck on the cheek when she got home, and an insistence that she should be left alone to get ready for their night out.

Stef hated thinking she would be late almost as much as actually being late.

"HURRY UP, WOMAN!" She almost shouted up the steps. Someone was walking about. A good sign.

The police officer turned around when the door opened behind her. Jesus left it open for Brandon, who was right behind him. Both boys had things over their shoulders.

Jesus' gym bag – which she was sure she could smell from where she stood – was as characteristic as Brandon's guitar.

Stef heard footsteps behind her and turned. "Finally, now let's get-"

Mariana sauntered down with a towel wrapped around her head. She paused when she was half way down and shot her mother a puzzled look.

"Sorry. Thought you were Mama."

"Gross," the girl rolled her eyes "so all brown women with towels on their heads look the same to you?"

"Mariana," Stef argued back, as her daughter laughed and walked down the rest of the way.

"Just kidding Mom," the short girl smiled, then busied herself with arguing with Jesus about something.

Stef tried to peer under the towel wrapped around her daughter's head. If she caught a glimpse of blonde hair she'd-

Something Mariana had said finally registered.

"...so all brown women with towels on their heads look the same to you?"

"LENA!" The blonde woman screamed "YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T WASH YOUR HAIR!"

"Too late!" Someone shouted back.

Stef rose to the first floor, two steps at a time. Her bedroom door slammed shut half a second later and the lock clicked a moment after that. The blonde thudded against the wooden barrier. She had been too slow.

Lena's laugh sounded from the other side.

"We'll be late!" Stef mewled.

"No we won't," Lena replied as the hair-dryer hummed to life.

"We will!"

"We won't," the Vice-Principal defended "go shoot some hoops or something."

"Let me in."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because."

"LENA!"

"Stef?"

She gave up. The police officer slumped to the floor with her back against the door.

"So how was your day?" Her wife asked as she busied herself with whatever it was she was doing.

"I'm not telling you."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Very funny, Stefanie."

Lena's work-voice drew Stef to her like a magnet. As if on instinct, the blonde woman pressed her ear against the door and purred.

"Say that again, Ma'am."

"Naughty girl. The kids might be listening."

"We got that lock to keep the kids out, remember?"

Lena laughed. The memory of Jesus walking in on them had stopped being embarrassing – for her and Stef, at least – and had become uproariously funny.


"Right there," Lena had gasped as her wife licked her neck.

"You like that? How about..."

"YES!"

The curly-haired woman had been straddling the blonde. She wore jeans and nothing above the waist. Stef had a way of turning her wife topless whenever anything started between them. And she was on form that night.

"They call this a clavicle," the police officer had whispered as she licked it.

"Oh GOD Stef," Lena had gasped once more as the arms around her pulled her closer.

She grabbed the strong woman's hands and re-positioned them. She was topless, after all. Might as well put those hands to good use.

"Well hello girls," Stef had whisper-laughed.

Her wife's nipples were harder than her service pistol's barrel. And they would be delicious when she tasted them...eventually. Lena would have to earn every licked inch that night.

Stef's tongue circled one particular spot close to her wife's neck and it was enough to cause Lena's hands to rise from her back to her blonde locks.

"Stefffff," the beautiful woman had breathed.

And then the door had swung open.

"Hey Moms, Emma said-"

The boy stood in the doorway in his pajamas. There was silence for a moment. And then he had screamed.


"Good thing Stef was wearing clothes," Lena laughed to herself as she looked at the earrings she had picked out "and good thing my hair pretty much covers my back or he'd have seen..."

She paused to wonder. Jesus had seen her in a backless dress AND in swim-wear. He knew what her back looked like. But he didn't know what Stef's hands looked like when they were oh-so-erotically cupping her breasts. Her hair had enough volume to hide that from him.

"You're thinking, aren't you?"

"I am," the curly-haired woman sighed "you know me so damn well, Mrs. Adams Foster."

"Language, please."

"Gross, Mom. Are you guys bent on scarring me for life?" Jesus complained as he lingered at the top of the steps.

"You should have knocked," both women chorused from each side of the bedroom door.

"You don't have to keep telling me that," the boy complained, as Jude walked out of their shared bedroom and walked up to him.

"See? He probably overheard you guys too!"

"You've lived here longer than I have," the smaller boy stated "don't you know the signs yet?"

"What signs?" Stef and Jesus both asked, almost in unison.

He shrugged and attempted to walk past his brother. It didn't work.

"What signs?" Jesus repeated.

Jude couldn't run past him or they'd end up falling down the steps. And he couldn't turn round and run back to the room or the athletic woman would get him before he even saw the door.

"I'll be bad cop," Stef volunteered.

"No fair, Mom! I wanna be bad cop!" Jesus complained.

The moment he raised his arms to make his insistence, Jude saw an opening and went for it.

The boy squirmed round his older brother, surprisingly found his footing on the second-highest step, and descended to the ground floor at great haste. Callie walked through the front door, and he ducked behind her.

"Whoa," the family wrestler remarked as Stef burst out laughing.

Mariana and Brandon traded looks.

"You still can't tell," was their consensus a few moments later.

"Can't tell what?" Callie asked.

"Nothing," Brandon replied. His glare didn't work on Mariana.

"We each have fifty bucks riding on whether Jude turns out to be a jock."

"You SUCK, Mariana!" Brandon howled.

If Jude knew what their bet was, he could fix the outcome. And she had just blurted it out in front of him like a...like a...Mariana.

"LANGUAGE!" Stef shouted from her sentry point on the floor outside her room.

Jesus came down the steps and declared his willingness to join the bet.

"He either will be or he won't, you idiot," Mariana rolled her eyes "it can only go two ways."

"No fair," her twin refused "what if he becomes a jock then quits?"

"Or becomes a jock when he's waaaaaay old," Callie agreed.

"He'd still be a jock," the girl with a towel wrapped round her head sighed "don't you guys know what boolean logic is?"

Stef listened to their new-fangled techno-thingummy conversations for a while longer, before something seemed to shift on the other side of the door.

It was the sound of cloth brushing against wood. She could almost feel the body pressed against the barrier.

"And now you're sitting on the floor too," the police officer sighed.

"Stefanie Marie Adams Foster," her wife sighed back "can you hear that?"

"Lena Elizabeth Adams Foster," the other wife replied "you mean that smirking and twerking going on downstairs? I bet everyone this side of the equator can."

The woman in the room laughed. "That's not what I meant."

"Then you'll have to be specific, dear," Stef put on her best little-old-lady impersonation "this old brain ain't what it used to be."

"I mean..." Lena shut her eyes "over a decade ago, on this very day...we met. For the first time. Can you imagine how amazing it's been since that first handshake?"

A tear rolled down the police officer's cheek. She hadn't thought Lena would remember. But then again...how could either one of them forget?

"Wait downstairs for me," her wife requested "I'll be down in five minutes."

"Bring an overnight bag," Stef answered a moment later "all I need is my toothbrush."

"Are you-?"

"We don't have to come home after dinner," Stef replied "and we will NOT want Jesus walking in on us tonight."

"GROSS!" The boy complained from the top of the steps. He descended right after that.


Thanks for reading! Please review what I've written so far. It'll help me grow and stuff.