Clarke comes home for the week of spring break, but she and Abby end up unable to spend much time with each other. Abby had planned to take a few days off to be with her daughter, but a bout of stomach flu has several of the other clinicians out, leaving her to cover for them during the day. And Clarke spends a good portion of her evenings out reuniting with old friends from the neighborhood.

It's Clarke's second-to-last night of break and Abby's had to bring home a mountain of paperwork to trudge through – paperless workplace, my ass – and they're both frustrated that they haven't quite been able to connect over the break.

"Are we at least going to eat dinner together?" Clarke complains as Abby sits at the dining room table, poring over her files.

"Yes, sweetie, I'm sorry. Just let me get to a point where I can take a break," Abby placates.

Clarke flutters around the house as she waits for Abby, busying herself with texting and playing games on her phone.

"Mom, the wi-fi's not working on my phone, is it working on yours?"

Not even glancing up from her stack of files, Abby nods at where her cell rests at the end of the table. "I don't know, honey, check."

Out of her peripheral vision, Abby vaguely registers Clarke picking up the phone.

"Mom."

"Hmm?"

"MOM. Who the hell is Raven and why is she saying she wants to – ohmygod. I just – no, I don't even want to know." Clarke drops the phone on the table and shudders, brushing her hands off on her pants like the phone had been contaminated. Then she storms off upstairs.

Abby immediately abandons the paperwork and jumps out of her chair, snatching the phone up.

"Fuck," she breathes out, putting a hand to her forehead, as soon as she sees the words "deep inside" staring back at her from the screen. Normally such texts from Raven cause an electrifying stir of heat and quickening of her pulse, but this one's got her heart racing for all the wrong reasons. Besides her daughter now being privy to some rather detailed information about her sex life, Abby's sure this will lead to some questions about the nature of her relationship with Raven – questions that she's not sure if she can answer for herself, let alone other people.

She gives Clarke some space, then manages to coax her out of her room with the enticing aroma of a meal not cooked on a dorm-room hot plate. As they eat they stick to small talk and avoid meeting each other's eyes. After dinner Abby returns to her paperwork and Clarke plants herself in the living room with her drawing pad, but before she heads back upstairs for bed Clarke stops and wraps her mother in a hug.

"Sorry, Mom, it's just – ugh, sex and parents, you know," she says, scrunching up her face and shuddering again.

Then she smiles warmly and deposits on the table a charcoal portrait she's done of Abby.

"You don't have to tell me anything you're not ready to. Just want you to be happy," she murmurs, kissing Abby on top of the head before retreating upstairs.

Abby picks up the paper and studies every angle, every shadow. It's gorgeous – Clarke is so, so talented – and all Abby can think is, "I am."


Despite all the sex she and Raven are having, neither one of them have slept a full night over yet, a variety of flimsy excuses allowing them to continue to pretend that they're keeping things super casual.

The first time they spend a night together ends up completely unplanned. They've given each other four orgasms, and Abby's feeling like she's still got it, because she definitely could've gone another round, but Raven's the one who's already out like a light.

Raven's facing her, half on her stomach and half on her side, soft, even breaths dissipating into the bedding. Abby pulls the covers up over them both, and curls her arm over Raven's bare waist. This first overnighter may not exactly have been prearranged, but she's not about to wake a peacefully sleeping Raven just to kick her out of her bed, and, if she's being totally honest with herself, she's tired of acting like she doesn't dream of lazy morning sex and leisurely brunches and waking up entwined and warm. And the way that Raven now burrows closer to her, even in sleep, gives her confidence that neither of them will regret this impromptu turn of events in the morning. Abby drifts off to sleep, basking in the calm of the heated body lying next to hers.

She wakes shortly before Raven does, and takes the opportunity to gaze at her, the breaking early morning light highlighting details she's never noticed before – a faint scar nestled amongst one eyebrow, a light dusting of freckles along the inside of one bicep, the warm copper undertones blending into the rest of her dark hair. When Raven starts to stir, Abby reaches over and brushes a lock out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"Morning," she says, smiling at Raven's sleepy form.

"Mmf, mornin'." Raven grumbles out the barely intelligible words and blinks repeatedly, struggling to keep her eyes open.

Abby snickers. Somebody is definitely not a morning person.

"Breakfast?" she inquires.

"Yes, please," Raven mumbles against her pillow, though her eyes are still laboring to focus on Abby.

Abby grabs one corner of the sheets and makes a move to get up, but Raven's arm flails out and traps her back in the bed.

"Mmm, not yet though," Raven says as she tightens her arm around Abby's hip, and snuggles back into Abby's side. Abby is only too happy to stay right where she is, and languid mornings filled with sex and brunch and intertwined limbs no longer seem so out of reach.


Raven jokingly calls her "dude" and something snaps in Abby, and the next thing she knows she's accusing Raven of being juvenile and impulsive and not really knowing what she wants, and a variety of other things that may have no basis in fact, but that she has been worried about anyway. There's so much they haven't talked about – the age difference, their romantic histories, what they're looking for in a relationship, or if they even want one – not wanting to burst the bubble on whatever it is they've been doing with each other up until this point. And as frightened as Abby is to let someone in again after Jake, she's just as scared to tie someone down who's still got their whole life ahead of them.

Abby throws some choice words about, words like "child" and "immature" and "old enough to be your mother" – words that will poke at the very essence of the insecurities between the two of them.

By the end of her tirade, Abby is panting hard, nostrils flaring, her fists repeatedly clenching and unclenching at her sides. Raven's eyes are wide and her mouth hangs open silently, looking stunned at the turn her innocent comment has taken.

Abby expects Raven to fire back in typical Raven style – puffed chest, defiantly tilted chin, her trademark smirk turned into a sneer – because she's seen Raven pissed off before, and oh, it is a spectacle to behold. But the younger woman's gaze softens and her head cocks to one side, brow furrowed in contemplation. Abby swallows hard, shuffling her feet and looking off to one side of Raven, unable to keep eye contact with the wounded, yet understanding expression.

"Do you want to talk?" Raven queries, her voice measured and even.

"No," Abby answers stubbornly.

There's a long pause before Raven speaks again. "Should I go?"

Abby nods weakly, still unable to meet Raven's eyes.

Raven takes in a deep breath and exhales it slowly, and it somehow sounds both disappointed and forgiving.

Raven turns to go and Abby is able to watch her again now that those revealing eyes are no longer trained on her. But Raven stops after a few steps and spins back around.

"Call me when you stop freaking out," Raven offers, her lips curving up in a wistful smile. "I'll still be here."

Abby's heart clenches at the gentle words, but she still lets Raven leave. They don't talk for three days, and for someone who just started a fight because she hadn't thought the affection between them could last, Abby can't believe how much time she spends fending off tears.

On the fourth day Abby finally caves, and leaves a voicemail on Raven's cell – "Hey. I…I'm so sorry. I miss you. If that offer still stands, yes, I would like to talk."

Abby plans an elaborate apology speech, but it flies right out the window as soon as she opens her front door to Raven's compassionate and perceptive gaze.

"Oh god," Abby groans plaintively, her eyes already starting to tear up. She runs her palms over her cheeks, then sweeps one hand through her hair. "Raven, I'm so – "

"Hey, you don't have to apologize anymore. I get it," Raven says, stepping up to Abby and taking her hands in her own. "I get it," she repeats quietly, looking down at their entwined hands.

Abby takes a deep, shuddering breath. "You're just so young, and you're smart and beautiful, and you could have anyone in the whole world–"

"I know," Raven says with that smug smirk, and this is a Very Serious Discussion but Abby laughs and rolls her eyes. "And I'm here. So what does that tell you?"

Raven's eyes meet hers, and Abby's heart swells at the sincerity she sees there. She squeezes Raven's hands. "I just don't want you to get involved in anything that you don't really want."

Raven's smirk shifts into a gentle grin. "Abby," she scoffs, "do you seriously think anybody could make me do something I don't want to do?"

Abby laughs and smiles back, shaking her head. Raven may be young, but Abby's never met anyone as confident and independent and less likely to be coerced into anything unwelcome. If Abby ends up lucky enough to have a place in her life, it would be because Raven truly wants her there.

Abby leads Raven over to the couch and they talk, finally talk. And it's hard and messy and emotional, but they both come out of it affirming that yes, this thing between them matters, and no, neither of them really knows what they're doing, but maybe they can figure it out together.

Abby would have expected make-up sex with Raven to be rough and wild, because she's seen how the younger woman has handled hard and messy and emotional before. But once again Raven surprises her, and she's being so unbelievably tender with her that Abby finds herself fighting tears again for an entirely different reason.

Raven cups Abby's face, stroking her cheek with her thumb, gently coaxing her into every meeting of their lips. She places her palm over Abby's thrumming heart, letting it rest there for long moments, before her hand slowly descends between their bodies. Before she enters her, she gazes searchingly into Abby's eyes. And as they start to move and writhe, she keeps breathing out Abby's name like it's a question and a promise and a prayer.

Abby clutches at Raven's back, drawing her as close as she can, holding on so hard that she's sure her fingernails will leave bruises and crescent-shaped marks. Every kiss, every brief glimpse up into Raven's expressive eyes leaves Abby's chest so constricted it feels like it could collapse in on itself. When she comes, she does so without uttering a sound – partially because that tightness in her chest won't allow her breath to escape, but mostly because she doesn't trust her voice to emit anything other than "I love you," and it's still too soon.


Raven's a terrible cook, her neglectful upbringing and subsequent early emancipation leaving her to fend for herself more often than not. She's far more acquainted with frozen pizzas and microwaveable burritos than fresh foods, and Abby's been using her well-appointed kitchen to impart on Raven the pleasures of home-cooked meals. Sometimes they prepare food together, Abby teaching Raven knife skills or the best way to roast a chicken, but sometimes Raven just sits on the counter and observes Abby's mastery of the space.

Raven comes over for dinner for the third night in a row, eager to try out the puttanesca that Abby claims is one of her specialties. She's brought a bottle of what she terms "fancy people wine," which is what she calls any bottle that costs more than twelve dollars.

They're sipping wine in the kitchen, Raven minding a bubbling pot of pasta while Abby is stationed over a sizzling skillet. Abby's struggling to open a jar of capers, and with a grunt of frustration she hands the jar over to Raven.

Raven pops the jar open on the first try and passes it back over to Abby. They meet each other's eyes and share a knowing grin. They've only officially been dating for a few months but it already feels a little bit like they've done this a thousand times before.

Then Raven's smile turns impish and she quirks an eyebrow. "You getting soft on me, Doc? Need to go to the gym more?" she taunts, and there goes the tender moment.

The longer they've been seeing each other, the more comfortable they've become with revealing certain aspects of their personalities. So Raven's cheeky comments don't really spoil the mood – all she's actually done is tap into the fact that Abby maybe has a little bit of a power-play kink, one that Raven's been perfectly willing to both instigate and indulge.

Abby switches off the burners and advances on Raven.

"Hmm, soft, huh?" she challenges with narrowed eyes and her own mischievous grin, and their dinner gets cold because Raven ends up backed against the refrigerator instead, her pants around her ankles and arms trapped behind her back, begging a very smug Abby for release.


Clarke and her friend Monty decide to take a road trip over summer break, and Abby insists they stop in town before heading out because she just happens to know a great mechanic who can make sure Clarke's car will safely make the rest of the 1500-mile trek. That's how Clarke finds out what Raven does for a living, and also how she discovers exactly how old Raven is.

"Mom! Holy shit. Mom!" Clarke exclaims, jaw dropped down to the floor, at the same time Monty hoots out, "Way to go, Dr. Griffin!"

Abby rolls her eyes at both of them, but smiles inwardly, and the next time she sees Raven, swaggering into her home in a white tank top, lean muscles straining beneath bronze skin, she can't help but think to herself, "way to go, Dr. Griffin."


Callie and Indra still aren't letting up on the "older woman seduces a sweet young thing" jokes, and Abby endures a plethora of comments from them along the lines of "Hey, Maude, how's Harold?" or "You spending another weekend with the cub?"

The two of them go through a phase where they take to referring to Raven as "the pool-girl."

"You still schtupping the pool-girl, Abby?"

"You must really like those special services the pool-girl offers, huh?"

Abby knows they don't really mean anything by it, that it's probably just payback – Abby teased Callie relentlessly for actually taking a summer job as a pool cleaner back when the two of them were high school sweethearts. She remembers making plenty of risqué comments about Callie and all the bored housewives she was working for.

The ribbing from Callie and Indra has never once been mean-spirited, though, and still isn't now. But this particular line of joking skirts too far into the realm of "affluent suburbanite takes advantage of the help" for her tastes. It's one thing when Abby answers her front door to Raven asking "Did the lady of the house call about needing something serviced?" – as Raven flashes that permanently sly grin. But it's totally another thing coming from people outside her relationship.

And that's what it was with Raven at this point, an actual relationship. Abby can't imagine her friends ever letting up about the age difference – god knows even she still marvels at the course her life has taken – but she does need them to be respectful about who Raven is, both as an individual and in relation to Abby.

"Hey guys, cool it with the pool-girl stuff, ok?" Abby requests at the coffee shop one day. "I know she's young, but Raven's brilliant and capable and certainly no one's servant."

Callie and Indra both bow their heads, looking suitably contrite.

"Sorry, darling," Callie says, and the use of the old term of endearment lets Abby know she's serious. "We'll stop." Callie glances over at Indra, who nods in agreement. Then Callie tilts her head and fixes her gaze back on Abby. "You really care about her, don't you?" she asks, her lips curling into a quizzical smile.

"I love her," Abby declares without hesitation, and both Callie and Indra draw back in shock at her no-nonsense tone.

The age-gap jokes will never really end, but now she thinks her friends finally understand that this thing between her and Raven is not going away – and it's not something to be trifled with.


Abby invites Raven to be her plus-one at what turns out to be a ridiculously pretentious charity event for the clinic. The dimmed lights in the hotel ballroom accentuate the vases with floating candles at the center of each table, and tuxedo-clad waiters circulate trays laden with champagne flutes and hors d'oeuvres. A jazz quartet plays in one corner, and Abby counts no less than five ice sculptures positioned around the room. Sometimes you have to spend money to make money, but the clinic could give free prenatal exams for a year for what this event costs.

Raven looks stunning in a floor-length, sleek white dress, but is also clearly one-hundred percent done with the party within twenty minutes of their arrival.

They're mostly surrounded by stuffy old white men from the medical community, some of whom are not shy about giving them some rather pointed looks. These men have absolutely no right to be judgmental – over the years Abby has met both the vapid trophy wives and the mistresses. And she's pretty sure the age difference between Raven and herself pales in comparison to the age gap between a good portion of these men and the women in their lives.

They get seated at a table right next to a board chairman that Abby's complained about on numerous occasions for being a total stick-in-the-mud, and neither of them are really enjoying the evening. So it's no wonder they take full advantage of the open bar.

"Who are all these assholes?" Raven growls, returning from the bar with two more whiskey gingers. She sits back down, setting one drink in front of Abby, and hooks a thumb towards a corner of the ballroom. "That jackass in the plaid bow tie will not stop glaring at us."

Abby swats at her arm, her eyes flashing a warning to keep her voice down. "These assholes are my 'esteemed' colleagues," she whispers, rolling her eyes. "And they're spending a small fortune tonight to help the clinic keep doling out free vaccinations. So please, no bloodshed, ok?"

"I can't promise anything," Raven mutters over the rim of her glass.

Abby snorts and clamps a hand over her mouth, tamping down on the giggles that threaten to burst forth. All the alcohol she's consumed so far has her pleasantly tipsy, infusing her body with a mellow buzz despite the unfavorable aspects of the evening.

The crowd quiets down as the self-congratulatory speeches start, and by the time the second speech ends, Raven gets up from the table once again.

"I need another drink if I'm gonna sit through this crap," she declares. "You want one?"

Abby waves a hand and shakes her head, turning her attention back to the podium as Raven heads toward the bar.

Three more speakers finish, and Abby looks in the direction Raven went. There's no line at the bar, most of the attendees in their seats listening to the speeches, but Raven is nowhere to be found. Abby cranes her neck around, just beginning to feel an inkling of worry, when she hears her phone buzz in her purse.

Meet me by the bathrooms.

She's intrigued by the text but more than a little suspicious, and when she finds Raven she follows her past the kitchen, through a corridor, and down two flights of stairs marked with "Employees Only" signs. Raven guides her into a supply closet with a newly-damaged lock on the door handle. Abby shoots her an accusatory look.

"Huh. Weird," Raven fibs, shrugging.

Once inside, Raven shuts the door behind them. She pulls out an opened bottle of champagne from behind a stack of cardboard boxes, and presents it to Abby.

"How'd you manage to acquire a whole bottle of champagne?"

"I have my ways," Raven replies, winking at her.

Abby chuckles, shaking her head, but accepts the offering and takes a few swigs from the bottle. Raven steps closer into Abby's personal space, and watches the muscles of Abby's neck work as she drinks. Heat starts to prickle up Abby's forearms. It has little to do with the alcohol, and everything to do with the hungry gaze directed her way.

Raven takes the bottle back and sets it on a wire shelf next to some paper plates and cups. She trails her fingers down the column of Abby's throat, towards the dip in Abby's red dress where her cleavage peeks out, and Abby has to laugh again because Raven really has a thing for her breasts. But then Raven's leaned in close enough that their bodies brush against one another's, and Abby bites her lip and breathes in sharply through her nose. When Raven grins ear-to-ear and whispers, "I think I found us a better party," Abby surges forward and claims Raven's lips with her own.


Abby gets the impression that Raven isn't someone who wants a lot of fuss or fancy things on her birthday, so she decides to do something a little unconventional. A monster truck show at the local coliseum is definitely not Abby's kind of thing – the roar of the vehicles is horrendously loud, the air is thick with dust and the smell of exhaust, and she couldn't care less about how much horsepower Grave Digger's engine has – but there's a huge grin plastered on Raven's face throughout the show, a grin that becomes even more resplendent after the main event ends.

Abby's called in a favor with a colleague whose son works security there, so they are allowed to go back into the staging area where they keep the trucks, dirt bikes, and the giant, flame-spewing scrap-metal robot dinosaur. Raven spends an hour climbing all over the neon-and-dirt-encrusted vehicles and chatting with their mechanics, and Abby snaps a picture of her standing in front of a truck tire that's taller than she is.

On the way out Raven scoops Abby up at the waist, gathering her into an intense hug that actually lifts her off the ground a little.

"Thank you sooooo much!" Raven says, beaming at Abby with that impossibly dazzling and earnest smile, and Abby is unable to resist forming a matching one.

Later, when they're lying spent and sweaty in each other's arms, Raven whispers, "best birthday ever," right before she drifts off to sleep, and Abby's heart just soars. She's the one who put that smile on Raven's face, who brought about that elation in her voice, and Abby has every intention of carrying out such feats as often as possible.