Cosima has always been the kind of person who values her own space and privacy. It's not that she's opposed to people, not at all. She even enjoys having them over a lot of the time, as long as they don't try to move things around. Her place is a mess a lot of the time, sure, but it's her mess. It's all scattered, but she knows exactly where everything is and where it all goes. That to her says home, and she likes to keep it that way.
So why is she putting all this effort into having a sparkling clean apartment now? Why is she actually cooking something instead of ordering take out or binging on snack food? She knows exactly why. She just can't admit it.
Sarah said to stay away from Delphine, and she has a good point. It's too risky. It's too much of a hassle. She'll just be setting herself up for heartbreak and hurt and a whole lot of pain. Cosima knows all of this, but that doesn't stop her heart from jumping every time she sees Delphine. It doesn't stop her from smiling when she thinks about her.
Damn. These people really know their subjects.
Plus, Cosima isn't Sarah. Sarah slept with Paul almost immediately without thinking about the consequences. Cosima isn't going to be that stupid. There's some weird rush from the situation, though. Like she can control the outcome, even though she's the subject. It's a weird feeling, one she probably should be trying to stop, but she likes it.
She absent-mindedly fluffs a pillow and sets it back on the couch. She flutters over to the kitchen to make sure the potatoes are properly baking. Not that she'd really know if they weren't. She had to call Alison earlier to ask some important questions about intermediate cooking skills. Alison told her everything she needed to know, then ended their conversation with the beginnings of a lecture.
"You really should be staying away from Delphine," she'd said. "At least until you know what she wants."
Cosima hung up right after that.
"Alison's right, though," she murmurs to herself now. "She's right, and Sarah's right."
She shakes her head and pulls the steaks, in their marinade, out of the fridge. It's a simple meal, by any terms, but it feels like a lot right now. This is a bad idea. She's doing too much, and preparing too much, and she shouldn't even be doing any of this in the first place. She grabs the pre-washed thing of spinach she got for a salad and puts it on the counter. That'll be last, though. She reaches up to the cabinet over the stove and, carefully, removes her favorite frying pan. She sets it on the stovetop and turns on the heat.
Just then, there's a knock at her door, and her insides leap.
"Coming!" she calls at the general direction of the door. She sprays the inside of the pan with cooking spray, throws the steaks in, and runs to let Delphine inside.
"Bonjour!" the other woman says as she kisses both of Cosima's cheeks. She can't help but watch her as she walks into the apartment. She's taller than her by at least half a foot. Her hair is swept around and clipped behind her head. She looks like one of those old Hollywood beauties. After a moment of staring at her, Cosima realizes that she's entirely missed whatever she said.
"Wait, what did you say?"
"I only said thank you for this," she repeats. "The furnace in my building is broken, and it's just too cold for me now."
"You can stay as long as you need! I happen to have the most comfortable couch ever." She can hear Sarah grumbling at her to stop being so careless, but she just doesn't care. It would be like telling the sun to go away. She could get burned, but she loves the warmth. Delphine wanders over and sinks into her couch.
"C'est magnifique," she says. "I might just sleep here from now on. Who needs their own apartment anyway?"
"I don't!" Cosima jokes. Sarah's growl is joined by Alison's much higher voice. She ignores both of them.
"What's that smell?" Delphine asks, pulling Cosima out of her mind. "It's like something is burning?"
Cosima feels her eyes get wider.
"The steaks!"
She sprints back into the kitchen, scrambling around for a spatula. She tries to flip the steaks, but it takes a minute. The bottoms are black and practically stuck to the pan.
"Well, shit," she exclaims. "I just ruined dinner."
"You cooked?" Delphine asks, slinking into the room and leaning against a wall.
"I tried," Cosima laughs, holding up the frying pan. "I'm not very good at this kind of thing. I can read DNA sequences like they're books, but cooking a steak is a little out of my range."
Delphine walks forward and rests her hand on Cosima's arm.
"I think it's sweet that you tried," she says, smiling. There's no sense of pity in her voice at all, just honesty. "I brought a bottle of wine. Would you like for me to open it now?"
"Yes, please," Cosima says. "I'll get a take out menu. How does Indian sound?"
"It sounds perfect." Delphine squeezes her arm and walks back to the living room to retrieve the bottle she brought.
In the long run, Sarah is probably right. She shouldn't be getting so close to Delphine. She shouldn't be falling for someone who's only into her for this experiment of her life. She wants to enjoy it while she can, though. She wants to laugh with her while drinking wine and eating lamb korma, curled up on her couch with their knees brushing together.
She knows it's probably not real. But when, part way through their second bottle of wine, Delphine leans forward to play with a couple of her dreads, she feels like it could be.