A/N: The usual, lovelies. Pic-sets under the tag 'AoT' at the tumblr patience-elizabeth-mount. I very much hope you enjoy, I know you've been waiting for this, and there's plenty more to come.

Delia

Lectures were in full swing again, her bag was unpacked – it took her long enough –and she had caught up with the vast majority of her mates over coffee or on nights out, not to mention she'd got herself back into a good library routine. Everything had returned to normal, almost.

There was only one thing in her life that didn't feel settled down, didn't feel comfortable, after her break at home. Delia was very much used to taking everything in her stride, with a wide smile or a skeptical eyebrow raise, not much could ruffle her, and not much had the capacity to play on her mind. She was kind to people, so she never had lingering feelings of guilt about things said in haste or cruelty, she was confident, so she never thought on a word stuttered over, an awkward hug, from hours before either. In fact most of the thoughts that filled her head were rather happy ones. Her mam even called her soppy sometimes.

It was just that she couldn't stop turning this one thing over in her mind, or one person rather. And to say it was getting her down was something she didn't want to admit, but knew was the truth. Delia thought the sooner she accepted it, embraced it, the sooner she would work through it. But it wouldn't go away, lurking in corners sometimes, but coming to light at the slightest reminder of her – and there were many. Not just because they lived in such proximity, but because she seemed to see her everywhere. Walking past the record shop and spotting something she'd like in the window, grabbing coffee during her lecture breaks and almost ordering a double espresso to go with her own drink, or any bloody redhead on a bike with a sports bag slung over her shoulder, and Delia's thoughts would be occupied by Patsy once more.

They had talked, finally. After those agonizing first few days back, when it felt like it was fresher's week again and they didn't know each other. Except that was a stupid comparison to make because, even if they weren't talking, they did know each other. Delia knew what time she came and went to her various commitments, Delia knew how to garner that sideways smile from her, how to make her laugh, Delia knew how burnt she liked her fucking toast for god's sake. But what she'd realised was that Patsy didn't want to be known any more than that. And she had been mistaken in believing otherwise. She kept thinking about what she could have done differently, if it would have been right for her to hold onto her knowledge about Patsy's mother and pretend to be shocked when the time came for the other girl to tell her from her own lips, to lie to her face for the sake of preventing the anger and pain she'd unleashed but never expected. She kept wondering if Patsy would have been quite so upset with her if Delia hadn't seen all those girls when she first got here, none of whom seemed to matter in the fleeting romances she'd had with them now that all she could think of was the redhead who was so terribly awkward around her, and who would probably never want much to do with her again.

It was not like Delia Busby to be hung up like this.

Perhaps it was because she never really got hung up on much at all – it took a lot. But she supposed that only showed Patsy meant a lot. Usually she expressed herself so openly, and she knew that was why nothing seemed to make a home in the ruts of her mind – for the state of her room, she kept things pretty bloody tidy in her head. But she couldn't, when it come to Patsy. Honesty would make things worse in this situation, and that pained her, because she was nothing if not always honest.

So yes, they had talked. And she was genuinely surprised that Patsy had slipped into her room after they had got back from finding Trixie. Delia would have done the same to her ages ago if she'd known it was alright to, but she didn't want to invade the other girl's privacy, especially considering she seemed to value it so much. At first Patsy had thanked her for finding their friend, for being kind to Barbara, but she knew that the real reason she had come was because they needed to break the ice. Nothing like a crisis to throw people together. It was concluded that they should stop being so stupid, and they had both apologised to each other, though for what she didn't know. Delia knew that, despite having upset Patsy, she'd had to tell her she knew about her mother. And she knew that she shouldn't be sorry for having seen other girls before they'd even…well, she didn't really know what they'd been doing. Equally, Patsy had nothing to apologise for either – her mother had died for god's sake, and even if Delia didn't know how or why, or even exactly when, she was allowed to feel however she wanted about that. It was stupid then, for them to be saying sorry, but it seemed like there was nothing else they could say.

For a moment, just one, she had thought Patsy might stay. She knew the other girl had trouble saying what she felt, what she wanted, that it was impressive enough she'd even come to her room, and she never needed to ask Delia – she would give her anything. But she excused herself quickly after most of the awkwardness was out of the way, saying that she should go and knock on Cynthia and see if Trixie was alright and then go to bed, that it had been a long night.

But despite clearing the air, and even if they were back to casually chatting in the kitchen, maybe even sharing the occasional joke, there was no grabbing coffees in between lectures, no lounging in each other's beds whenever they got the chance. There was something off, a wedge between them that shouldn't really be there. They hadn't fully recovered it seemed, and Delia was afraid to even attempt nursing them back to health. She was never afraid. Especially not of girls. And she wasn't really afraid of Patsy – just of loosing her. She could bear to have her around like this, but couldn't bear not to have her around at all. So she didn't press, and there continued to be an arm's length between them, occasionally bent at the elbow when Patsy allowed, when she made the other girl laugh or blush, but only a little before it snapped right back into place.

In an attempt to try and forget about all of this, as if it were even remotely possible, she had reluctantly accepted an invite to Paradise from some friends in the year above. They'd just had some medicine pre-lims, and were desperate to celebrate, and she supposed they reminded her that there was going to be precious little time for fun as her degree went on. It wasn't bad she supposed, though the only affordable thing was their two-for-one jager bombs, and despite having a proud Welsh gut of steel, that was the one thing it couldn't handle. So she'd already whittled most of her money on overpriced beer, and not for the best of times either. She wished she'd gone to Bunker if she was honest, but she liked this lot – they were pretty cool – and she knew it would do to have older friends on her course when it came to her end of year exams. Besides, she hadn't been out in absolutely ages. In fact, she'd been rather uncharacteristically reclusive and people had begun to wonder where she was, and as such she kept bumping into friend after friend. She supposed this was a good idea after all. Delia danced a bit, accepted tequila shots from a mate – hey, they were free – and decided to retire to the smoking area, because she wasn't quite sure she could deal with one more minute of the Vengaboys.

She escaped just as the DJ started playing Steps. God help her.

Of course it was then that she spotted Patsy. Did she think she would never bump into her on a night out again? Not bloody likely. Delia watched her for a moment – she was alone, lighting a second cigarette after flicking her first at her feet and pressing down on it with her shoe, drawing on it deeply in the way she did when she was stressed. She was staring down, her lip between her teeth. She looked upset.

Maybe Delia should have left her alone, god knows Patsy didn't like to be bothered when she wasn't in a good mood, but they couldn't keep doing this forever, and she had quite a lot of alcohol sloshing around her bloodstream, which was telling her this was a fantastic idea. She dodged a few smokers, parking up next to her against the wall silently.

"Hello." Patsy seemed to swallow the word as she said it.

"Hey, Pats." She replied, pushing some hair out of her eyes.

Silence hung in the air uncomfortably long, and they almost spoke at the same time, but Patsy got there first, "What are you doing out here? You don't smoke. Unless you want one."

She flicked the underside of her pack with her index finger, a cigarette jumping out. Delia shrugged and accepted it, letting the other girl hold the lighter to it's end. "The music is killing my soul."

"Oh, come on. What's wrong with the music?" Patsy challenged her, sinking to the floor against the brick wall so that she had no choice but to follow.

Delia tried to look casual as she smoked, she done this often enough, but not quite enough times to look as natural as Patsy about it. "If I have to listen to S Club one more time, I think I'm going to claw my eyes out."

Patsy blinked at her, "But nobody hates S Club. It's like, everyone's first CD."

"I didn't listen to them growing up. We didn't have CDs in Wales until around 2006." She quipped, gazing at her with intense seriousness.

"Oh, really?"

She couldn't help it then, she cracked up laughing, "Oh, come on. Now it's just getting offensive that you believe everything I say about Wales." It had been something of a game to her, once upon a time – though it really wasn't all that long ago – to see just how far fetched she could make stories about her childhood sound before Patsy called bullshit.

"Well, I've never been to Wales. You're the authority on the subject."

"I thought people like you went on walking holidays with their family to their house in Tenby and Powys and shit like that." She said. She swore half the people she met who spoke like Patsy filled the beaches of her childhood every single summer without fail, got lost on the walks she took the dog on and asked for directions, left their holiday homes empty all year.

Patsy frowned, suddenly focused on her feet again, "People think a lot of things about people like me."

Delia's heart sank, and she cursed herself. There was so much more to Patsy than what there seemed, and perhaps it was that which was causing her mind to wrap itself around her and not let go. In any case, she really ought to remind herself to hold her tongue. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I keep fucking things up with you, don't I?"

She smiled, a small smile, but one all the same. "You? God, no. This is all my fault." Patsy rubbed her brow, taking another drag before opening her mouth – Delia sensed she had something more to say. "Look…I…everything's just a bit-fuck. I don't know." She sighed heavily.

"I do know." Delia stated. "I want to make things right again." So maybe Patsy wouldn't want the same, but if she couldn't say it now, then when could she?

"Me too," She breathed. "Well thank fuck for that." Delia couldn't help but smirk at how hilarious it sounded when she swore, but she thought now wasn't exactly the time to point out her accent.

"Okay, well now that's out the way, why don't you tell me what's wrong? I'm not egotistical enough to think that it might be me, when you were probably trying to enjoy a nice night out."

Patsy sighed, "I managed to get into it with those girls I went to school with. Trixie's not come out tonight, and she wasn't there to make them half as tolerable and be the buffer than she is. So we had it out…one of them cried. Apparently I can be quite cutting. I'm just…I'm just so worried about Trixie in general, and I felt so guilty for going out anyway, I just wanted to get away from the block. And-fucking hell-" She reached into her pocket for her phone, pulling it out and hanging up on the caller, gripping it till her knuckles turned white, "And my aunt won't stop calling me."

Delia was shocked by her outburst, if one could call it that. Though in reality it was, by Patsy's standards. She took a moment to absorb everything she'd said before replying carefully, "Sounds like a good thing that you finally shook them off, if I'm honest with you. You never liked them, I could tell. You don't have to feel guilty about Trixie, she's doing the right thing, and she wouldn't want you to stop having fun because of her – that's like, the polar opposite of what that girl's about." She paused before continuing, "Why is your aunt calling you then?"

"Because she wants to speak to me." She said, almost childishly.

"You seem upse-"

"Oh, god, give me strength." Delia thought she'd done it then, overstepped the mark – but it was so confusing, it kept shifting about and she couldn't keep up with what was allowed with Patsy and what would chase her away – but it wasn't her this time, it was some boys she wasn't acquainted with. Patsy looked like she could not be living up to her name any less in this moment.

"Alright, ladies? Don't reckon we could buy two pretty girls a drink?"

"We don't like cock." She said, absolutely deadpan, before grabbing Patsy by the hand and leading her away.

"Are we going?" She asked.

"Yeah, fuck this place. Let's just head."

Patsy obliged, and they made their way to the exit, the other girl not letting go of her hand as they moved through the crowd. And once they were through it, she still clung on, lacing their fingers together. A smile tugged at the corner of Delia's lips, and she squeezed gently. Patsy jokingly berated her for inadvertently outing her to that unsuspecting boy, despite having promised she'd keep her secret, and they went to the only place in this bloody town that did curry sauce with their chips, because Patsy just had to try it. And despite the cold, they found a bench to perch on briefly – mostly Delia's idea, since one had to be sitting to fully appreciate the beauty of their meal, especially if it was one's first time. Whether Patsy pretend to approve or not, she couldn't tell, but they ate happily until their fingers were too numb to pluck chips from the takeaway box. It was no matter though, because their hands quickly found each other's again, and then Delia's arm was around Patsy's waist, and though the briskness of their walk and the weather that accompanied it sobered them somewhat, they didn't draw back from one another.

"Patsy, have you ever thought of just turning your phone off?" Delia asked, as the familiar sounds of her ring tone began to sound in the street.

"Believe me, I have. I'm keeping it on in case Trixie rings me."

She was quiet for a moment, not wanting to push her, "You're so cryptic, Patsy."

"I know." She sighed. "I'm sorry."

"What is it? Last time it was your dad."

Patsy didn't pull away; she leaned closer, their heads touching as they walked. "My aunt tries to look after me."

"Tries to?"

"I tend not to let her. She was here, when I lived in Singapore, and my mum and sister-"

"Your sister?" Patsy had never mentioned any siblings before and she had a sinking feeling as to why she could have omitted such an important detail about her life.

She could feel that Patsy was so far on the edge of being overwhelmed, that she was holding the other girl to her by a single thread, "Deels, I can't…Not now."

"It's fine." She assured her gently, "We don't have to talk about it."

Patsy relaxed then, painting on her brave face – or maybe it was genuine, Delia wanted to believe that it was – as she drew laughs from her with her quips and her unrelenting sarcasm, the rest of the way home. Before they went in though, before they were going to have to hide the yet again shifted nature of their relationship – though hopefully it had settled well and truly now – Delia thought she should do one thing. She reached for Patsy's hip, uncurling numb fingers, and pulled her close. The redhead's eyes flickered down, as they always did, but with a burgeoning smile the other girl wound her arms around her waist in return and tucked her chin, angling her face. Delia kissed her, gently at first since she knew Patsy's tentativeness all too well. But rapidly, it was as if they had never been apart, as if there had been no argument, no Christmas holidays followed by excruciating awkwardness. And she never expected that it would be Patsy pressing her lips to Delia's this hard, Patsy whose tongue urged her mouth to part, who would pull away breathlessly to suggest they go upstairs. Delia wondered if she herself would have done all that, knowing the other girl's fear, so unbelievably thrilled to have her back that she wanted to do nothing to scare her away.

It seemed though, that Patsy wanted to reassure her in that respect, to show her that she wasn't afraid. She took her hand and they climbed the stairs quietly, though it wasn't that late. Before they could even hover awkwardly in the hallway, still ironing out the creases of the situation that had existed before tonight, neither quite wanting to test the limits of where they stood, Delia suggested they get a cup of something hot down them. The January bitterness had crawled under their skin, and their faces were red, hands white. Patsy looked more porcelain than ever, and Delia was fairly sure she looked like her cheeks had erupted into hives. She opened cupboards whilst Patsy laughed at her brazenness until she grabbed something that looked reasonably like hot chocolate, except it wasn't.

"Deels, not Winifred's Bournvita." Patsy protested quietly.

"Yes, Winifred's Bournvita." Delia rolled her eyes – she did this all the time, everyone had kind of just accepted it. Hey, everyone was welcome to her Supernoodles and microwave meals.

Patsy stood up from her seat at the dining table, opening the fridge, "Fine, but Patsy's almond milk. It'll make it halfway bearable."

Delia screwed her nose up, inspecting the carton she'd been handed, "Trixie really is rubbing off on you, isn't she."

"Hey, it's good."

It was a slapdash attempt at pouring an estimated amount into a measuring jug, pathetically trying to mix in clumps of the powder before heating the milk in the microwave – rookie error – and shoving it in there for probably far too long. The Bournvita was long forgotten even before it was an idea in Delia's head though, and they both knew that. Her now thawed hands found Patsy's sides, tracing them until she had her hips yet again, and Delia urged her against the counter top. The blue of Patsy's eyes was unmistakable in the low light. In fact it seemed to slice through it somehow. She looked mesmerised, but no less than Delia was.

Delia shook her head, "Fuck it." She half laughed, her fingers trailing the curve of the side of her neck, thumb rubbing her cheekbone before she tangled her fingers in the other girl's hair, bringing her down to her level. They kissed until Patsy was urged onto the countertop, until palms were rubbing thighs and fingers pressing into flesh to get a better grip, to feel closer and to feel more of each other. Until necks were bruised beyond repair, beyond all hope of not being ridiculed if tomorrow was braved without a hefty layer of concealer and a scarf. Until, quite frankly, it was ridiculous that they were using some sort of long congealed malt-drink as a farce. Until it was bordering on an absolute joke that one of them hadn't asked the other-

"Do you wanna go to bed?" Delia just came out with it, albeit slightly muffled against the other girl's neck. They couldn't stay here all night, god knows what unspeakable things might happen in the kitchen – they were already pushing their luck, and Delia wasn't the most loved member of this communal space. Patsy nodded and smiled, with far more certainty than Delia thought she'd see. Nothing had to happen, god knows Delia meant that from the bottom of her heart, and she knew that it didn't need to be said – though she'd be happy to remind Patsy if she seemed for one moment to doubt that. But somehow Delia could tell that it probably would – the implication didn't make her pull away like it had before, in fact it made her lean in. She hopped off the counter and pressed a kiss to Delia's shoulder, winding their fingers together. It was Delia who faltered then, taken aback by her willingness, before leading her into the hallway.

A/N: I just wanted say I've been waiting to write "We don't like cock." for ten chapters. I'd also like to say that at this important point in the story I'm just gonna switch PoV to my sweet-repressed-child Patsy, so please don't be angry with me for cutting you short, you won't miss out. Though please, feel free to vent your frustrations into the review box.