Anonymous asked: I like to imagine Aubrey writes messages with her fingers on Chloe's skin and Chloe likes to guess what they say, so it kinda becomes a game with some ridiculous results
A/N - not quiiite the same as the 'imagine' buut...I couldn't resist.
"Tell me a story, Bree."
The piped request was unexpected, given their current set-up. A morning free of engagements on both ends had led to lazy lounging on the couch as Chloe not only decided she didn't feel like rising, but also convinced Aubrey to sit down beside her. Currently, the redhead was stretched out across the cushions, her legs draped over Aubrey's lap and her foot arched awkwardly to hook around one knee. (Despite Aubrey's insistence that the position had to be uncomfortable, Chloe vehemently denied the accusation every time.)
The real reason that the request took her by surprise, however, was not their lounging position, but rather their choice of lounging accessories. Aubrey had contented herself with the morning paper; Chloe, on the other hand, had been alternating between a number of items that made Aubrey seriously question her girlfriend's attention span, including the tablet that was her latest birthday gift and a cheesy romance novel, which she had just tossed to the floor.
Aubrey eyed the novel with distaste, both for its choice of contents and the way it was currently splayed open on the ground. "You were just reading one," she pointed out, lips pursed with distaste.
"Yeah, but that one's so predictable," Chloe whined, ignoring Aubrey's snort of agreement in favor of pushing herself up on the couch to look over at her girlfriend. "I'd much rather hear one from you."
Knowing the pout that she would face if she made eye contact, Aubrey kept her gaze focused on the paper. "I'm no good at telling stories," she informed the bold headlines.
"You write stuff all the time, though," Chloe persisted. Aubrey made the mistake of looking up and was met with hopeful blue eyes.
Aubrey rolled her eyes. "Chlo', I write legal papers. Those are hardly interesting."
"So write me something interesting, then."
Her proposal was met with a raised eyebrow and a sigh. "I don't have anything to write with," Aubrey said in a last-ditch effort to get out of Chloe's latest 'grand idea'.
Chloe smiled, leaning forward and grasping one of her girlfriend's hands. "Sure you do," she said, bringing the hand to her lips and ghosting a kiss across fingertips.
Aubrey stared at her, swallowing as her mouth suddenly went dry. Chloe met her gaze slyly, knowing what effect her actions had caused, then purposely lowered Aubrey's hand to rest against bare skin still resting across her lap. "Tell me a story, Bree," she suggested again, her voice pitched low.
It took tremendous effort for Aubrey to draw her eyes from Chloe's gaze and focus on where her hand now lay. The shorts Chloe had chosen to wear to bed (and never chosen to change out of) had ridden up, showcasing much of her thigh. In most other circumstances, Aubrey would have assumed that the actions were a deliberate call for a more personal type of attention, but judging from the way Chloe was settling herself back against the cushions, intently watching to see what Aubrey would do, it appeared a story really was what she was after.
Write something interesting? Easier said than done. Chloe was the creative one in their relationship, bouncing from one made-up fantasy to the next with such a lack of effort that Aubrey was, at times, left envious. Even the thought of trying to match that creativity left an unwelcome feeling in her gut, but if not something creative, what was there to write? The only thing left was facts - but as both of them agreed, work-related topics were out of the question. So, then, was discussion of co-workers, and there weren't many other people that Aubrey associated with on a normal enough basis to talk about.
Frankly, the only thing in her life she truly considered 'interesting'…was the girl watching her from across the couch.
A memory, then. She would write about a memory.
But which one? Thoughts whirled as she debated, filtering through years of interactions for one that Chloe stood to recognize, yet wasn't mundane enough to fail to muster interest.
Then again, if she really was going to be tracing letters to tell this story, it was more likely that Chloe wouldn't be able to make out what she was actually writing. So why not take the opportunity and choose a memory she normally would never consider sharing?
A smile began to form as fingers began their slow dance.
'We've known each other for what feels like forever, Chloe…'
"Is this about me?" Chloe asked suddenly, seeming to recognize the last letter combination. Aubrey's smile remained, but other than a small shake of her head, she gave no response, choosing instead to continue focusing on making each letter perfect.
'I still remember the first time we met…'