And when our worlds they fall apart
When the walls come tumbling in
Though we may deserve it
It will be worth it
Halo – Depeche Mode
There's no more kisses, after that first one. Her lips tingle with phantom memories of it constantly, but with Sarah always around, always concerned, fretting but trying to not show it, there's no room to initiate another, and she wants it to be on Cosima's terms, not hers. Needs it to be. She needs to know that Cosima trusts her, to an extent, but more than anything she needs to figure out how to help her, how to fix her. She can't do it sitting in Felix's loft, listening as Cosima's fits get worse, even if they don't increase in frequency, at least for the moment. Her computer can only offer her so much. She needs a library, she needs a lab, and the only place she's going to find both of those is back in Minnesota, or back in France, or god forbid back at Dyad with Leekie.
The last one is not a real option, not one she'll willingly take.
It's very hard to make herself leave Cosima. She doesn't consider asking if the brunette will go with her. She assumes that she'll want to stay by Sarah's side, to help her sister look for Kira and Mrs. S. and Felix, that she'll want Delphine to stay behind and help them look, because Cosima always puts other people before herself. She still feels like she's intruding. Sarah drinks, trying to figure out where her daughter has gone, tries to call the other one, Alison, on the phone, but never with an answer. Cosima smokes all of the drugs she brought with her despite Delphine's warning against it, and worries about her sisters. Delphine knows her mind is racing at a mile a minute, but neither of them say anything about it.
Two days pass before she works up the courage to say anything. At first, Cosima looks hurt, and Sarah looks torn between being pissed off and being relieved, but Delphine doesn't care what Sarah thinks, not really. Not right now. Cosima listens as she talks, but doesn't look at her, head in her hands, bent over her computer on the table, her glasses pushed above her eyes. When Delphine finishes speaking, she's quiet for a while. She hears Sarah pouring wine, hears a glass break, a loud curse, and then she leaves, slamming the door behind her. Delphine settles on the couch next to Cosima and slowly reaches out for her, like she's approaching a frightened animal, not wanting her to jolt and run off. Her hand meets Cosima's shoulder, and the brunette doesn't move, just sighs and straightens herself, fixing her glasses, turning her head, meeting Delphine's eyes.
"You're not leaving me," she says finally, firmly. Delphine feels her features contort into a confused frown.
"I have to," she says. "I can't help you here, I don't have the resources that I need."
"You're not leaving me," Cosima repeats, slower than before, like it'll make Delphine understand where she's coming from. Delphine opens her mouth to speak but Cosima stops her with a look. "If you're going, I'm going with you." It's more than sufficient to shut Delphine up. She stares, shocked.
"But, Sarah-"
"Sarah can take care of herself and it's not like it's a big issue with the internet around. I'm not letting you out of my sight, okay?" Delphine's heart skips. She doesn't know if she should be offended or relieved, and ends up feeling a bit of both. Her chest constricts for the hundredth time since she left left Cosima's flat in Minnesota. She buys herself time by taking a wary, calculated breath, lets Cosima shrug her hand away only to hold it between her own, fingertips pressing gently into hers, playing while she waits for Delphine to gather her wits, to form a coherent response. Cosima's words swirl like a storm in her head.
"Are you sure?" she finally asks.
"I'm positive," Cosima replies without hesitation. "I still have my place and I've got the money to keep it if I have to." Cosima's place is not meant for two people, she knows that. At least, not for two people who aren't lovers, and they do not fit into that category any more, if they ever did in the first place.
"I have my own flat," Delphine tells her, extracting her hand from Cosima's grasp to rub at her eyes, trying to banish the perpetual tiredness that's settled behind them.
"Yeah, and how much do you wanna bet that it's bugged?" Cosima asks, her tone sharp. Delphine represses a wince. It's something she had never bothered to consider. She'd blindly trusted Aldous, a decision she regrets more and more as time passes, and the tangled web of lies and deception that he had helped create, that she had willingly been a part of, grows larger and larger.
"Aldous probably already knows, he is a smart man." Cosima doesn't hide the hatred that flashes across her face at the mention of his name, the familiarity with which Delphine speaks it, something she can't control. "You are right, though." She doesn't ask if Cosima is okay sharing her personal space with her again, for such an extended period of time.
"Yeah, I am," Cosima says. "Help me find all my shit, we'll tell Sarah whenever she gets back and leave tomorrow morning."
"I will pay for the flight," Delphine tells her, watching Cosima rise from her seat and start gathering her things, scattered around Felix's loft. There's no answer to her statement, so she stands herself and packs what little she has out back into her bag. She's always been very tidy, and when the few minutes it takes her to pack are finished, she gathers what she can see of Cosima's effects, folding clothes that have been tossed around the bed, bits of jewellery left on the make shift tables, and neatly folds everything for Cosima to put in her case. By the time Sarah returns, swaggering drunkenly through the door, they're finished and sat on the sofa. Cosima has coffee, mutilated with milk and sugar, turning it a creamy brown. Delphine has hers black. Even pissed, it doesn't take Sarah long to put two and two together. She gives them both one long look, then sighs and curls herself up in the bed without another glance.
It's worst in the mornings. Cosima is by her side again, squished onto the sofa after Sarah made it very clear that she wasn't allowed to share. The gurgling in her chest every time she inhales wakes her up, not that it's a difficult thing to do. She might as well be on a bed of nails. It starts with a sputter, Cosima's form lightly shaking against her own, a puff of air against her neck. The coughs start softly, rattling them both. Delphine strokes her fingers along Cosima's spine, comforting her as much as she can. It's the second time it's happened, but normally they die down. This time, they don't, and Cosima still doesn't wake up. Delphine struggles to sit her up, calling her name. Her heart's racing, pulse throbbing. The coughing wakes up Sarah, who's by her side within a minute, helping her guide Cosima, just barely on the edge of awareness, towards the bathroom, holding her over the toilet, keeping her hair from her face. Delphine rubs her shoulders, her back, whispers words of encouragement, of comfort. Her voice mixes with Sarah's, who coos over her like she's a child. Delphine can't look at the blood that splatters over everything, the clots that Cosima hacks up. It lasts for minutes, but it feels like hours, days. She turns into Delphine's arms, her body shaking, wheezing, then dragging in quick breaths, starved for oxygen.
Sarah leaves them, violently pushing aside the beads that serve as a door and stomping away. Delphine hears her kick something, throw something else, knock things to the floor, then the noise stops, and all she's aware of is Cosima's breathing, evening out far slower than it should be. When they emerge, Cosima leaning some of her weight on Delphine's shoulder, Sarah motions silently to her. Confused, Delphine frowns, until Sarah waves her fingers around her own chest. Delphine looks down, spots the blood dried on her neck and the strap of her shirt. Cosima's eyes follow. She starts to speak, presumably to apologize, but Delphine hushes her, and leaves her on the sofa.
In the bathroom, she scrubs the blood from her skin, and holds back the tears that cloud her eyes.
They leave soon after. Clearly still annoyed at the both of them, the hug that Sarah gives Cosima is short, but she promises to keep them both up to date, that she'll try and see if she can have Art at the police station do some digging, to help her find her family. She has nothing to say to Delphine. The threat is clear. Sarah watches until they reach the stairs, then the door clanks shut. Delphine steals Cosima's suitcase away from her, wrangling it and her own bag, slung over her shoulder, down the many flights until the reach the ground floor. Cosima takes it back with a small smile, bundled up in her coat, the red one Delphine loves so much.
"Thank you," she says.
"Pas de problème," Delphine responds, offering up a smile of her own, another peace treaty laid on the table for her to examine. The driver of the cab they hired to take them to the airport puts their bags in the trunk for them. Delphine opens the door for Cosima, letting her slide in first. They don't speak during the trip, their hands between them on the seat. Once, Cosima brushes her pinkie finger over Delphine's. Delphine responds by linking them, hesitant, her heart drumming. Cosima doesn't pull away. It feels like a good sign.
The flight, at least, is uneventful. Delphine can't help but feel relieved that Cosima is still waiting for her when she gets through customs, by baggage retrieval with their things at her feet.
It's very strange being back in Cosima's apartment. Everything is the same, maybe a bit cleaner, without clothes and books strewn across everything. She feel like an invader, hovers in the doorway while Cosima happily walks in, obviously content to be back in her own space. Memories flutter about in her brain. The flat reeks of the scent of her, the different things that make her up. Shampoo and perfume, the soap she uses on her clothes, the faint residue of all the weed she's smoked. Cosima sees her hesitance, and, with a slightly apologetic look, softly takes her elbow and gives her a gentle tug, a reassuring smile. It's all she needs. The closing of the door behind her makes it final.
Cosima heaves her suitcase onto the bed, then coughs. It's only once, but it stops Delphine in her tracks. Cosima clears her throat and waves her off, smiling. Delphine tries to take up as little space as possible, constantly glancing around the room. There's one, very large, glaring problem about them both staying here, rather than at Delphine's flat; there's no sofa, and only one bed. Her nerves flare, catching her breath in her throat and forming a lump. Sharing the couch at Felix's had been different. It wasn't the same as a bed, and Sarah was a "blanket hog" Cosima had said. This bed, though... Delphine remembers very acutely what happened in that bed. What happened in front of the desk she's standing by. Every detail, every gasp and moan and touch. She feels her face begin to burn, and quickly pushes the thoughts away. There's no room for them, now.
"I need to go shopping," Cosima states dully. "There's hardly enough for me here. Wanna come with?"
"Yes," Delphine replies, "if you would like me to."
"Yeah," Cosima tells her, shutting the fridge door. "I have no idea what kind of stuff you like. Aside from truffles and wine." Delphine's heart aches.
"And cigarettes," she adds. Cosima giggles softly in response.
"Yeah, and cigarettes. Come on, then, we can unpack later. Food is so more important than clothes right now."
It all feels rather domestic, shopping with Cosima, and makes a warm feeling bloom through her chest, even though she's basically been relegated to cart duty while Cosima flounces ahead of her, stopping periodically to gather an armful of things before returning and dumping them in the basket. It's enough to make Delphine forget everything that's happened for a while, enough to let her pretend that they're nothing more than a young couple doing their food shopping.
"Have you ever had this?" Cosima asks constantly. "Do you know what this is? Oh, you have to try this! We can check out what French food they've got if you want." Delphine smiles at everything, nods or shakes her head in response, picks out a few things of her own and pretends not to notice when Cosima slips sweets among the other items. It's something she didn't know before, how much Cosima loves food. By the time they've finished it seems like there's enough food in their cart for an entire household of people, far more than the two of them should ever have needed, but if it made Cosima happy, she'd buy the entire store.
The woman behind them in the check out line keeps staring at them. Cosima doesn't seem to notice, consumed with putting their items on the belt while the person in front of them finishes up and starts to pay, but Delphine is aware of it. She doesn't look cross, but is smiling at them both, and when she catches Delphine looking her grin widens, a happy look forming on her face. Delphine smiles awkwardly back, moving to help Cosima with the last of the food. The woman taps her on the shoulder. Delphine looks over curiously.
"You two make a very lovely couple," she says, still smiling. "How long have you been together?" Delphine feels her face burn, and is sure that her cheeks are as red as Cosima's jacket. Cosima looks awkward, the tips of her ears red, and stumbles over her words as she tries to explain that Delphine's just a friend who's visiting for a while as part of some exchange program. The woman apologizes for wrongly assuming, which Cosima waves off with a smile, saying it happens all the time, and scoots down the line to bag their groceries. Delphine joins her when she's placed the last few items on the belt, rolling the cart behind her.
"Do we really look like a couple?" Delphine asks, her arms full of bags, with those she can't hold on the ground by her feet while Cosima searches for the key to the door. She shrugs in response, keys jingling and knocking lightly against the wood, and doesn't answer until the door is open and she can relieve Delphine's load somewhat, shoving a few of the lighter bags across the threshold with her food. Delphine squeezes in behind her, apologizing when their bodies brush.
"I don't know. I guess maybe we give off that kind of vibe. I mean, we have, like, done shit." Her voice grows awkward as she speaks, trailing off into a loud silence. Delphine piles her bags on the counter, not looking at Cosima. There wasn't any particular organization to Cosima's food cabinets, not like her books, which were alphabetized, or the files on her laptop, which were precisely labelled and easy to find. Her kitchen was more like her dresser, things pushed this way and that, shoved wherever Cosima had been putting things at the time. She tries to be neater when she puts things away, almost obsessively so, but it gives her something to focus her mind on, and something to fill the air between them. Cosima folds up the bags and stores them away, tucking them in a cabinet. Delphine listens, putting the last cans away, as Cosima tosses her coat somewhere and unzips her suitcase. In the quiet, she can hear the soft thump of clothes hitting the bed, the squeak of Cosima's dresser and rattle of the wardrobe doors. When there's no food left, she spins around and leans against the counter with her arms over her chest, unease settling over her once more. She tries not to watch Cosima, freezes when the brunette coughs twice, then relaxes when it doesn't go any further.
"Cosima?" she calls, softly, her voice betraying far more of the anxiousness she feels than she's comfortable with. Cosima hums and briefly glances over to her, carrying a pile of clothes around one side of the bed to the other and vanishing from sight. When Delphine doesn't continue she stops at the foot of the bed and stares at her, head cocked to the side. "Where am I going to sleep?" Delphine finally asks, digging her teeth into her lip and looking away. Cosima exhales into a sigh. Delphine hears her start to move again.
"In bed," she says. "Obvs."
"Yes," Delphine breathes out, rubbing her forehead, dragging her fingers through her hair. "Yes. Of course."
"I mean, it's not a big deal is it? We shared the couch, and that's way smaller than my bed. No problem. I've made some room for your stuff, do you care if I put it away or do you wanna do it yourself?"
"I'll do it," Delphine replies. She pushes away from the counter, taking a deep breath and sighing. "No, no problem," Delphine repeats, softly, to herself, crossing the room and stepping into the space Cosima occupies, where she's shifting some of her clothes around to make more room for Delphine's.
"Might be a bit cramped, sorry," she says, trying to sound casual but the tension between them is thick enough to cut with a spoon, let alone a knife, heavy and suffocating, weighing down on her shoulders and compressing her chest. She takes up as little space as she can with her clothes, packing them small and tight next to Cosima's and trying very, very hard to ignore how right it feels to see them beside each other, because she's still not sure if that's a privilege she'll ever be able to earn back. She removes herself from the room with her laptop as soon as she can, hesitating before allowing herself to sit in Cosima's desk chair, determined to make a start on her research now that she's back in a place where she has the things she needs to do so. Thankfully, or perhaps not, she knows Cosima's symptoms without having to ask, knows that things are only going to get worse from here, knows that Cosima is going to die if she doesn't find the right information to fix everything. It's her motivation, even if it is one that strikes fear into her very soul.
She'll never get used to the sounds of Cosima coughing, which tear her from her laptop a few hours later until it's passed and Cosima waves her off with a weak smile.
She feels a hand on her shoulder late that night, stirring her from her position at the desk, falling asleep with her head resting in her hand, laptop screen having long gone black. It doesn't take more than a touch to wake her, and she sits up, blinking and waiting for her brain to adjust to the sudden pick up in her heart rate. She clears her throat and reaches for the glass of water by her hand to relieve the dryness that's settled in her mouth and throat, listening to Cosima move off and tracking her with her head, giving her a smile of thanks when the brunette looks back at her.
"It's late," Cosima tells her. At some point she'd changed into clothes more suited for sleep. "Come to bed. You can work more in the morning." The words do nothing to help the pounding of Delphine's heart, which only increases again as she realizes what going to bed really means. Sharing the sofa was one thing, she thinks again, but this is far different. This is Cosima's bed, the place where Delphine truly realized her feelings, the ones she was never supposed to have harboured in the first place. Cosima gives her privacy so she can change and brush her teeth, wash her face and try not to gawk at her reflection in the mirror, at the defeated look in her eyes and the dark bags under them, at the pallid complexion of her skin. She sighs and rubs her hands across her face again, steeling herself, preparing her mind, her heart, for what the night is going to bring.
Cosima's left her plenty of room on the bed, and entire half of it for herself, the other occupied by her and her laptop, balanced on blanketed knees, the noise blocked from Delphine's ears by the buds Cosima has in hers. Cosima waits until Delphine's in bed, then bites her lip and turns off the light, leaving only the blue-tinted hue to highlight her face. It feels very odd, sharing a bed with her. She almost wishes for Felix's very lumpy, rather uncomfortable sofa, just because it felt less... she doesn't quite know what, but she knows that Cosima's body posture is tight, controlled, even on the comfort of the mattress. Delphine rolls onto her side, away from her, closes her eyes and tries to relax. She thinks about the kiss in the bathroom, about Cosima's smile, the way it lights up her face, shines in her eyes. She listens to Cosima's breathing, waits for a fit that doesn't come, although she does cough several times. They're light, like the inside of her throat is being tickled.
When she wakes up in the morning, before Cosima does, it's to the feeling of the brunette's fingers lightly curled into her shirt, even though Cosima's still on her side of the bed.
She makes them both breakfast. It's the smell of it that wakes Cosima up. Delphine hears her shift in bed, followed by the familiar coughing. She waits with baited breath. Cosima slams the door to the bathroom shut to try and mask the sound, but it does little good. Between the coughs, Delphine can hear her sucking in deep breaths, like she's fighting against someone who's trying to hold her head underwater. She moves the pan off the burner, unnerved by the silence. Her hands shake as she reaches for the doorknob, knocking gently before turning it. Cosima's hunched over the sink when Delphine peeks in. She looks over her shoulder, in the middle of wiping blood off her lips with the back of her hand.
"I'm not dead yet," she jokes, voice rough. "I'll be out in a second." Delphine bites her lip, retreating without so much as a nod, gently shutting the door again. She resumes her cooking, and is dishing up everything when the bathroom door clicks then creaks softly as it opens, and she hears Cosima's bare feet padding softly across the wooden floorboards. Cosima smiles when she takes her plate, their fingers brushing. "This smells good," she says. Delphine examines her. The resemblance to Sarah strikes her again, now that Cosima's face is clear of cosmetics, her glasses still sitting on the bedside table, but there still something distinctly different about her, something that makes her Cosima, and not Sarah, or Alison, or any of the other clones. She eats in bed, and Delphine in the desk chair, computer already booted up, hands tapping at the keys between mouthfuls of food. She can feel Cosima's eyes on her, but doesn't look back.
That's how it goes, for a while. For a week. For two. Delphine gradually feels less like a stranger, but she's tired. She's hardly slept, putting as much of her energy as she's able into digging up what information she can, trying to take care of Cosima as much as the brunette will let her, and there's still been no good news from Sarah. She knows Cosima is aware of the severity of her illness, and there have already been times when Delphine's come home from the library or from the lab, clutching books and papers and her laptop to find Cosima asleep in the middle of the day, or hacking up her lungs in the bathroom. She knows that Cosima's trying to hide it from her as much as she can, trying to stand on her own two feet and keep Delphine from worrying. She knows Cosima's trying to help her as well. She finds notes on her computer in the morning with websites or terms and phrases for her to research that day but she's not finding anything. Nothing. She could scream. She wants to. Cosima's getting worse and worse and she still can't isolate what it is that's causing the problem so she can figure out the best way to treat it, no matter how many samples of Cosima's DNA she examines.
"Delphine, please come to bed," Cosima says, sounding frustrated. Delphine's head is pounding, her entire body tense with the stress of the past few weeks, with the ache she constantly feels for Cosima's touch building and building as time goes on. She wants to kiss her, she wants to hold her, she wants to prove that she's a good lover. Being so close to her, and not being able to, wearing herself down to the bone with researching but not finding anything, are both slowly killing her. She hears Cosima shuffle across the room to her and feels her slim fingers wrap around her arm. Irritated, more with herself than with Cosima, she pulled her arm away, then shrugs Cosima's hand off when it moves to her shoulder, shoving both her hands into her hair and bending over her laptop. It's the third time Cosima's asked her in the past half an hour. Delphine knows it's late, she knows she's tired, she knows that Cosima is only trying to look after her, but she just can't deal with any of it. She can't deal with Cosima's concern, with the way they've been flitting around each other, with the constant urge to crush their lips together, with the fear that each fit the brunette has is going to be the last.
"Delphine, please," Cosima tries again. "Don't tell me you're not tired, I know you are."
"It doesn't matter," Delphine mutters in reply, rubbing her temples.
"It does matter." Her voice sounds closer. Delphine lifts her head to see her standing by her side, with her hands on her hips, staring her down. "You're working yourself to death, okay? I can't stand seeing you like this."
"And how do you think I feel, watching your life ebb away day by day!" Delphine erupts, unable to help it, her emotions bubbling over the edge. "I have found nothing, Cosima, do you know what that means? Nothing."
"It's only been a couple weeks," Cosima tries, looking somewhat shocked at Delphine's sudden outburst.
"Ce n'est pas une raison! " Delphine interrupts before she can continue, slamming the lid of her lap top down, throwing the book next to it across the room. "Merde! Fuck!" Violently, she pushes away from the desk and stalks to the other side of the room, tugging at her hair, wrapping an arm around her waist and chewing at her nails, pacing. "You're dying, Cosima. This is going to kill you, like it would have killed the German, and I can't figure out what causes it so I can't fix it! I can't stop working, I don't care how tired I may be, I will not stop until I have found a way to cure this. I cannot just stand here and let you slip away from me! It is. So. Difficult, Cosima. You have no idea." She shakes her head, takes a shuddering breath and pushes away the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "I don't even know what I'm doing," she whispers. Cosima is by the desk, her fingertips hovering on the back of the chair Delphine had vacated, looking torn between wanting to leave the room and wanting to go to her. Delphine can't look for long. She turns away, hugging herself tighter, fighting tears.
She doesn't hear Cosima's approach, her bare feet making no sound on the floor, but she feels her fingertips against her spine. Arms slide around her waist, a familiar body pressing against hers. Cosima's cheek warms the back of her shoulder. Her hands pry, fingers wrapping around Delphine's elbows and loosening her arms. They snake up then, fingers threading into the spaces between Delphine's own, squeezing gently. Delphine closes her eyes, squeezes them tightly. Her heart thumbs, flesh burning where Cosima's skin touches it, like it always does, like it has since that first handshake. A mouth brushes against the side of her neck, right where it connects to her shoulder. Delphine sighs, feeling suddenly like she has sandbags tied to all her limbs, the fight leaving her in a rush. Her skin tingles. She feels Cosima's breath wash across her neck, lips meeting her again, kissing a line, slow and gentle, down her shoulder. Her fingers flex, leave Delphine's to settle on her hips. Cosima's nose presses against her. She feels more than hears her sigh.
"Cosima," Delphine says softly, hating how defeated her voice sounds. She knows what's coming, she can feel it, deep in her bones, in her soul. Cosima shakes her head, tightens her grip on Delphine's hips and gently turns her around, head tilted back slightly so their eyes can meet. Her thumbs slip under the hem of Delphine's shirt and push against her hipbones, rubbing circles, pressing softly. It would be relaxing if her heart wasn't slamming against her throat, and if her chest wasn't full of anticipation so strong it was painful, but they are. Cosima doesn't answer her, takes a step forward instead, closing all distance between their bodies and gently brushing their lips together, a stark contrast from the last kiss, but not like the first, after dinner, Cosima's coy looks, somehow managing to be sure and unsure at the same point in time. Not like the second, when Delphine was so afraid that she'd mess or chicken out and blow the entire thing, and then her desire had hit her like a truck and she hadn't be able to stop. It's the same now, the way it builds up inside, Cosima's touch feeding the fire that started in her stomach, but the kiss is gentle, tender. It makes her want to cry. Cosima's testing both of them, with her lips and fingers, pushing at the boundaries that they've been tiptoeing around, seeing how much pressure she can use before they break, and probably ready to break them anyway.
Cosima takes Delphine's reaction as a good sign, and responds by digging her nails into Delphine's hips and kissing her again. Harder, faster, her teeth scraping over lip, hands moving, feeling, travelling up her sides and splitting briefly from her body only to tangle in her hair. She stands on her toes, pressing forward, nearly toppling them both over. Delphine's hands shoot out behind her, meeting the wall to keep Cosima's weight from tipping them. Cosima moves with her, hips banging into hers and pressing her back flat against the structure behind her. Her tongue teases, fingers twisting. Delphine touches her jaw, sliding her fingertips along its ridge and down her neck, thumb pressing against the underside of it. There's no blood in the kiss, only Cosima, a trace of mint from her toothpaste. The brunette's fingers shock across her skin, reaching down for her hands and pulling. They stumble their way across the room until Cosima's hip bumps the desk and Delphine pins her against it, hands against its surface, trapping Cosima between her arms. She drapes them around her neck and shoulders. She pushes, dislodging Delphine's footing enough for her to gain the upper hand, tugging her shirt over her head, hands exploring the flesh she's revealed.
It's static, electric. Delphine feels the goosebumps raising along her stomach. Cosima takes a step forward, forcing her a step back, fingers plucking at the fastenings of her jeans. It's quick and frenzied, but Delphine has no trouble keeping up, letting the dam that's been holding her back finally collapse, flooding her feelings and needs and desires through her. The button on her trousers pops open, Cosima's fingers just barely touching the band of her underwear, but not moving, not until they've sloppily guided each other to the bed and fallen onto it in a heap of tangled limbs. Cosima's lips find her neck, her collarbone, her chest. She tugs at the brunette's clothes, needs to feel her skin, soft and warm and pliant against hers. They're desperate, their motions, like no matter how much they kiss and bite and claw and touch it won't be enough. She knows what she's doing now, almost. She remembers how different it is, touching and being touched by a woman, and she has so much that she needs to say, to show, an entire dictionary of things that Cosima needs to know and understand.
Cosima's talented fingers find her, face pressed into her stomach, kissing next to her navel, the bottom of their ribs, moving slowly up at Delphine's urging. She pauses at her breasts, nipping gently at their curve, her breath cool against Delphine's warm skin. Delphine shifts, rocking her hips against Cosima's hand, finding the rhythm that they settle into, feeling slick heat against her bare thigh when Cosima moves, finally lifting herself to mash her lips against Delphine's when her pleading finally draws enough of the brunette's attention. She can feel it building in the pit of her stomach but she wants it to last, needs it to last. She doesn't want this moment to end, hanging on the tipping point with skilled hands drawing gasps and moans from her throat, with soft lips tugging at her own.
Cosima's fingers guide her into her climax, through it, linger when her back relaxes against the bed and her grip on Cosima's hair loosens. She feels them, wet against her inner thigh, while her blood rushes in her ears like ocean waves and her heart hammers an erratic beat against her ribs. Cosima's kisses stay gentle, tender, bringing her back to the present while she comes down from her high, while her body recovers and her brain kick starts into gear. When it does, she takes the lead, putting pressure into her kisses, pushing up, hands on Cosima's shoulders to roller her onto her side, following through until she's on top and Cosima is arching into her, pulling on her hair and tilting her head back, exposing her neck to Delphine's attentions.
She's nervous. She can feel it in the quick stuttering of her heart, see it in the trembling of her hands as they wander along the curve of Cosima's stomach and the ridges of her ribs, feelings the rises and dips, dipping her head down to trace the edge of the brunette's collarbone with her lips. Cosima's hands rake through her hair to grasp at her shoulders, pulling her closer, stroking her skin soothingly, even as her hips grind up, seeking pressure. Out of instinct, she presses back, but this is where she grows unsure, the same as that first time, even though she knows what Cosima likes, even if she never had the time to discover all the little places that make her squirm or gasp. Cosima notices and slips her legs around until she can press herself against Delphine's thigh, rubbing along it with a satisfied groan, leaving Delphine free for a moment to lavish more kisses on her throat. She listens to the pace of Cosima's breathing, feels her pulse race beneath her lips.
"I need you to touch me," she whispers, rough, breathless, and Delphine distantly hears herself half-sigh, half-moan at the words, burying her face against Cosima's neck. She obeys, nudging her fingers between Cosima and her leg, experimenting, slipping, trying to find the right spot and the right motion, using the noises the brunette makes as encouragement. Cosima jerks at the contact. Delphine feels the answering moan vibrate in her throat. She kisses the brunette's pulse, presses her fingers, lets Cosima guide her by the wrist to where she's needed the most. Cosima holds her so tight it's hard to breathe, but she wouldn't possibly have it any other way. She tries to hold back, to draw it out, to make Cosima feel what she does. She doesn't want it to end, afraid of what will happen when it does.
She has no reason to be. When Cosima's clenched around her fingers with a cry muffled by her neck, she hardly wastes any time before her hands are clawing at Delphine's skin again.
It's almost dawn by the time they're both spent, and it's the closest to sleep Delphine's been in days, short of passing out in the middle of research at Cosima's desk, or in the library where the quiet gives her nothing to concentrate on to stay conscious. She cries, then, for the first time since she'd left Cosima's apartment after their fight, when she hadn't been quick enough to shut the door and the sound of Cosima's pained sobs had set off a trigger in her brain that made her break down almost at the same instant. Cosima holds her close, and strokes her hair, and she doesn't deserve any of it for what she did, didn't deserve to be shown what she was, to share that intimacy with Cosima again, no matter how much she yearned for it.
"I'm not some naïve college girl, Delphine," Cosima says softly, when Delphine's finally calmed some, her tone gentle. Her fingers tangle in Delphine's hair and rub the back of her head. "I know what's happening, I did the research, I looked at Katja's DNA and mine, and I know what all of this means. I-" She pauses. Delphine can hear the uncertainty in the silence. "I care about you. A lot. I don't want you hurting yourself on my account so just..." She sighs. "I trust you." Delphine's chest tightens, tears building in her eyes again. Her lip quivers. She turns her face into Cosima's sternum again, like doing so will hide her well enough that she'll just disappear, but Cosima doesn't allow her. The brunette pulls away, grips Delphine's chin and forces her to look up.
"I'm so sorry," Delphine whispers, her voice choked, wispy.
"I trust you, Delphine," Cosima repeats, firmly. Her fingers stroke along Delphine's jaw. "And I forgive you."