The sex was the easy part - at least as easy as anything got in Litchfield.
There was an electric tingle running through Poussey from the pressure of Brook's hand in hers as they made their soggy way back, pushed ahead by guards.
Normally, any escape attempt would land you in the SHU, but they couldn't fit half the prison population in there, and so they settled for more mundane punishments: A shot for everyone. No change of clothing for a week, meaning everyone had to stay in the uniform they'd taken a swim in. And - not a punishment, though it felt like it – twice as many prisoners crammed in.
There wasn't much privacy that first day, just a few quick kisses, the opportunity to sit next to each other at supper, feeling the warmth of each other's bodies. Brook was mostly silent for once, beaming at Poussey as she and her friends riffed off each other in their usual way.
It was enough to keep Poussey buzzing throughout the night, despite the cold, clammy clothes and the stranger moving around above her in the new bunk bed, making the whole thing creak.
In the morning, in the shower, they finally got a corner to themselves and wasted no time, giving a few fervent kisses before Poussey sank to her knees and laid Brook's leg over her shoulder for better access. Brook was probably a screamer by nature, but she had better sense than to scream in here; instead, every lick was accompanied with little whimpers.
It was good. And the next time they managed to sneak off, when Brook got a chance to return the favor, it was even better, everything Poussey had longed for and had nearly gone out of her head missing.
Whenever she saw Brook, her face automatically went into a grin, and her body tingled, and all she wanted was to be close to her, as much and as often as possible.
"Blasian beauties!" she declared to the others. "Brilliant Blasian beauties burrrning in love!"
Brook laughed, and Taystee rolled her eyes.
"Bitch, these Blasian beauties better back off, we're trying to eat in peace."
"I think they'd like to eat in peace too," Cindy said.
"Yeah," Janae filled in. "Each other!"
Poussey shrugged. "Hey, what can I do?"
She took Brook's hand, looking into those glittering, happy eyes and knowing that her own were just as happy. It was like being on a fucking honeymoon.
Well, there was nothing like jail to end the honeymoon phase. Cramped quarters, routine searches, shots at the drop of a hat, empty shelves in the library, trying to put together an appeal. Feeling something, anything at all, was a hazard, and Poussey fell back to her old routine, making new batches of moonshine and playing everything off as a joke. The riffing she did with Taystee made Brook laugh, and then try to join in, and... well, she just wasn't any good with that. Taystee was nice to her and all, but the whole thing got awkward.
"Are you in love with Taystee?" Brook asked that night.
"Aw, fuck," Poussey said, having drunk all night. "You're paranoid."
Brook's eyes welled up, and her face hardened. "That is completely unfair! I'm asking a reasonable question, and you have no call putting my sanity in question..."
She kept going, and Poussey groaned, letting her head fall back on the bunk. Somewhere in her foggy mind there was an answer trying to come out, but whether it managed to make it past her sticky, uncooperative mouth, she didn't know. Her thoughts scattered, and were haphazardly collected only at roll call the next morning.
As soon as possible, Poussey went to Brook to apologize.
"I didn't mean it," she said. "I was drunk, that's all. And there's nothing between Taystee and me, promise."
"You're drunk a bit too often," Brook said.
Poussey cursed under her breath, but she couldn't deny that Brook had a point. And so she tried. She got rid of the batches. She even went to those damned meetings, listening to Warren's weird rants and Vause's "oh poor me making a fortune running drugs" tales of woe.
The whole thing made her cranky and tired, which in turn made Brook babbling and nervous.
"For fuck's sake," Poussey snapped, as they were sitting on her bunk and Brook was subjecting her to a long-winded story about the spiritual life of plants. "Don't you ever shut up?"
Brook shut up, for a second, and glared. "You're really mean lately."
"Well, you're really annoying! Anyway, you're the one who wanted me to stop drinking."
"It's better for you."
"I know it's better for me! And apparently, it's also better for me to drink diluted water, and eat food that's been grown near animal skulls! Do you even believe in all that bullshit?"
This time, Brook didn't even try to argue; her face set in a glare, and then she walked away. Poussey sat back, still stewing, but it took only ten minutes for the bad mood to dissipate and be replaced with guilt.
She ran off to search for Brook, and found her in the empty library, lying on her back with her eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"I'm sorry," Poussey said. "You didn't deserve that."
Brook sat up. "Do you want to break up?"
"What?" Poussey said. "Why? Do you want to break up?"
"I don't know. It feels like you're just looking for excuses to pick a fight with me. Like I can't do anything right. I spent enough time being bullied in here, I don't need it from you too."
"I'm not..." Poussey halted. "Okay. Yeah. You're right. I try not to, but..."
She fell silent.
"You used to be fun," Brook said after a while. "I used to watch you from across the dining hall, thinking, 'she's so funny, I could spend hours just watching her laugh.'"
Poussey grinned. "Really?"
"It's like I make you less fun." Brook looked down, picking at her shoes.
"I think I just don't have that shield anymore," Poussey said slowly. "And that's not you. I got in a funk long before we got together. You made me happier."
"I don't anymore."
Brook looked so dejected and sad, and all Poussey wanted was to set things right, but she didn't know how.
"I don't want to break up with you," Poussey said. "That's the last thing I want."
"I don't want to break up with you either! But I don't want to be with you if it's gonna be like this!"
"I want to change it." Poussey was near crying now. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I just don't know how. I go to those meetings, but..."
"We need spiritual guidance," Brook said, then changed her mind. "No. I've had enough spiritual guidance. We need freaking couple's counselling."
"What, from Healy?"
They both laughed.
"You know," Poussey said after thinking a while. "If we want couple's counselling, we may need to do it ourselves."
"How do you mean?" Brook asked.
"I'm you, you're me, we counsel each other."
"Is this like that white women thing you and Taystee do?"
"Sorta. Except serious. So, Miss Washington." Poussey took on a grave counsellor voice. "What seems to be the problem in your relationship?"
"Well," Brook started, "I think my girlfriend is irritating and talks too much."
"And have you not contributed to the problems in any way?"
"I'm kinda short with her?" Brook said. "So I say things that aren't nice. And I'm in love with my best friend."
"Miss Washington," Poussey said, "I think you need to acknowledge what a wonderful person your girlfriend is. You need to tell her, and above all show her, how much you love her."
She caressed Brook's cheek, bringing out one of those bright smiles – though it only lasted a second.
"What about Taystee?"
"Taystee's a friend," Poussey said firmly, "and that's all she's ever going to be. Even if there was a chance of anything happening, you wouldn't even want that chance anymore, because you're so in love with Brook. And you gotta make her know that. Now, does that seem like good advice?"
"It does," Brook whispered.
"Okay. Good."
"My turn." Brook sat up and took on a stern voice. "Miss Soso, do you have anything to add to what Miss Washington has said?"
"I think she's been very mean," Poussey said, "and that this is unforgivable and needs to change."
"What about you, Miss Soso?"
"I... I doubt her love for me, and that makes me insecure and kinda jealous."
"Okay," Brook said. "I think you need to trust your girlfriend, who is – despite her flaws – a great girl who'd never cheat on you. And you need to let her know how much you love her, and let her love you in return. Does that seem like good advice?"
"Yeah," Poussey said.
"Does it seem doable?" Brooke asked, with much more hesitation.
"I don't know. I hope so. We may need more of these sessions."
"I could live with that," Brook said.
"Me too."
Poussey took Brook's hand, and they sat in silence for a while.
"So, can I join in the white women discussions?" Brook asked. "That always seems like so much fun."
"I don't know, you got a persona in mind?"
"I could call her Claire," Brook said. "No – Madeline."
"All right, Madeline." Poussey stood up and held out a hand. "I guess we gotta introduce you to Amanda."
Brook hesitated with her hand halfway to Poussey's.
"There's nothing going on between me and Taystee," Poussey said. "There wouldn't be even if she was into that. I love you."
Brook swallowed, then nodded. "In that case, yes, I think it's of utmost importance that we inform Amanda of the dismal state of the tennis court."
"Oh, I know!" Poussey said, hoisting Brook to her feet. "The country club has truly gone downhill these past few years. What are we paying for, I ask you? We must see if Amanda has any bright ideas. Chop chop!"
"Did you just..." Brook started, and then bit down on what she was about to say, eyes fierce and laughing. "Yes. I'm sure her experience as a CEO will be most valuable to us at this moment of crisis."
"You're a natural at this!" Poussey said, breaking character. She sneaked her hand around Brook's waist as they went to find Taystee – for a little bit longer they could hold each other, without danger of retribution from the guards.
Her heart felt light again. Lighter, at least.
Sex might be the easy part, but the hard parts were worth slogging through, for moments like this.