A/N So this is the standard "this is my first fic, please be nice to me" disclaimer. Long time writer, first time publisher. it's kind of the inkling of an idea that I just typed out one day and I haven't refined it much or thought about where it's going (if anywhere). Please read and review if you are so inclined. I'm cool with whatever as long as it's constructive. (oh and I would like to acknowledge that FromTheBarricades (aka neighborhoodspaceman) and drinktruthserum kept BOTHERING me about publishing this until I did it. I blame them :)


They are part of the town but separate from it. They say hello to everyone. Exchange polite conversation. Even show up at the local watering hole once or twice a month where they have a couple drinks, tell amusing but not quite personally revealing stories, and laugh. Or the blonde one laughs. A sort of full body laugh that starts in her lungs and bursts out, scrunching up her face in an way that manages to charm everyone watching. The dark haired one is more reserved, her smile enigmatic, but she watches the blonde laugh with undisguised affection, as though the blondes laugh is the only thing that she really cares about in the world.

As if the blonde is all she cares about in the world.

They weren't exactly young when they came here, probably in their late 30s or early 40s by most estimations and both with an air of world weariness to them (although they were both knock outs, movie star beautiful in a town where they didn't get a lot of that).

The town is relatively conservative but the two are so amiable no one gives the fact that they're clearly more than roommates much thought. They keep to themselves and don't make waves and everyone can see they're in love, so everyone just goes with it and no one gives them any trouble.

They didn't make trouble but it sometimes found them. One time in the form of some trucker passing through. It was one of their nights at the bar, a rare night when the dark one was actually telling a story.

For all that she was silent, she had a distinct charisma, a way of capturing a room with her raspy voice and her well timed quips and her perfectly told stories. They had a small crowd of about a half dozen, all captivated.

After the story was told everyone laughed and the blonde, who'd been watching with her chin in her hand, her eyes bright with affection, had taken the dark ones hand and squeezed it, then they'd gotten up and joined one or two others on the tiny dance floor, dancing slow to some stupid old jazz standard the brunette put picked out, the blonde's head tucked into her shoulder.

It was then that the glowering drunk at the bar has started up, spewing a stream of filth and invective about "fucking dykes" at Eddie the bartender. Yelling that he'd make them both into real women. The couple ignores him, though the blonde stiffens a bit, relaxing only when the brunette whispers something quietly into her ear. Eddie tells him to shut his fucking mouth, tells him he's gonna fucking toss him. That shuts him up for a minute. But he's persistent and drunk, and not particularly bright, and when the two women come up to the bar to settle their tab and say their goodnights to Eddie that it happens.

The man, evidently mistaking the blonde for the weaker of the two, plants his hand firmly on her ass and makes a disgusting comment. The blondes normally placid shining blue eyes flash dangerously just once and with stunning speed she draws back her fist.

Everyone is surprised by it except the brunette who catches her arm just as it's about to fly forward into the man's sneering face and grips it gently but firmly. The blonde's head whips back. The brunette meets her fierce blue gaze head on. There was a short, entirely wordless exchange and the blonde grimaces and reluctantly takes a step back.

The man had been cowering away from the expected blow and now stood straight with a smug look on his face. Before he could say anything more, the brunette took a step forward and pushed him back, with a sharp hard shove right to the center of the chest. He found himself leaning over the bar with the brunette towering over him, the hand still firmly pressed into his chest. She fixed him with a truly frightening, menacing smirk that didn't come close to reaching her eyes, leaned down, and spoke softly into his ear for about thirty seconds.

Then she straightened up, her face again the quietly amused mask it usually was, slung her arm around the blondes shoulders, and walked with her out into the night. The man stayed glued to the spot for a good long while before standing, paying up, leaving and never coming back.


Sometimes Alex still can't get their names right and Piper finds it frustrating as shit. It's a quiet evening mid-June, the sun is low in the sky and they're in their kitchen.

Piper sighs, "it's been almost ten years Alex."

Alex grimaces, "I like your name, Pipes. Besides you don't look like a Paige."

"And you can call me Piper all you want when we're in here," she gestures around the modestly sized kitchen of their modestly sized house, "but I've gotta be Paige in public. Just like you've got to be Anna."

"Paige and Anna," growls Alex, pulling a beer out of the fridge, "Jesus we sound like characters in a fucking teen coming of age story..."

"Nah neither one of us has cancer," Piper says, half smiling, thinking fleetingly of Miss Rosa, "It wouldn't work. And stumbling over the name is as bad as saying it wrong."

Alex huffs a sigh, leaning against the kitchen counter as she opens up her beer.

"I know babe. But we can't ruin this. It was a miracle they even let us stay together."

"Not really. I had a good lawyer and the information they needed."

"Al..."

Alex rolls her eyes, "I know."

And she does. It had taken some time (well a lot of time) but she had come to peace with the life they had to live and she even enjoyed it most of the time.

At first she had chafed at the lack of control, at having to abandon everything she'd ever known and move across the country to a place she had never even considered living. She was a city person. It had taken time to adjust to the slower pace and the simpler (Piper got all pissed if she called them slower) people.

But eventually they'd settled in. If she hadn't had Piper she probably would've fucked it all up within two months but Piper had kept her on track. She'd understood Alex well enough to know she needed some space to adjust but she'd also known not to let the listless brunette get away with any boredom inspired bullshit. They kept well supplied with books and beer and Alex got a job doing the ordering and accounts for the local bar and Piper tutored at the learning center and it was good.

They were acquainted with people but never really formed deep friendships with them and it didn't bother them. They'd always been more interested in each other than anyone else and Alex knew that sounded sort of fucked and codependent but she could've given two shits what anyone else thought because she had Piper and they both had their freedom. Finally. And the price she'd had to pay for that wasn't so bad on balance.

Honestly she knew she wasn't young anymore and all the ambition and drive she'd had, the part of her that was an adrenaline junkie control freak, had faded over the years. Life had fucked her over too many times for her to think she had much control over anything, and the four months she spent cowering in an apartment in Queens waiting for men to beat down her door and torture her to death had made her seriously reevaluate her priorities. She was happier with less now (although the life they lived now wasn't her ideal). She had learned to appreciate what was in front of her more.

Sometimes she felt bad about dragging Piper into this with her, taking her away from her life, but after Litchfield Piper had changed and her family had never fully understood or accepted it. The only ones she ever missed were Polly and Cal, but she could deal with that. She always assured Alex she was fine and for once Alex knew it was true.

But there was no turning off the instinct that had always existed in the back of her head to always assume that danger was right around the corner, that something could appear suddenly that would take it all away. No matter how much she tried to suppress it, no matter how much Piper tried to assure her that they were fine, and that nothing would happen, she couldn't make it go away completely. Life (the heroin, prison, Piper, Queens, being forced to live out here in the first place) had taught her the hard way that nothing was as permanent as it seemed...

Alex takes a deep breath, drinks deep from her beer and smiles at Piper. No this isn't the life she would've chosen for herself but it was the one that was in front of her now. So for now, she was happy just to be. And as long as Piper was with her, she couldn't see that ever changing.