This Wasn't Supposed to Happen
The title of this story is appropriate. This fic was not supposed to happen. I've been a low-key shipper of Stephanie & Abigail for a while now (I think it hit me at the start of Cassie & Sam's wedding episode, and when I've gone back and re-watched from the beginning, I can't unsee the chemistry between them) - and they have a storyline and end up together in my fic "It Takes a Village", but I never intended to write anything just for them. Until season 7. And the rose. And the show actually going there with "Joey". Anyway, this happened. All 5K of it.
I'm super nervous about posting this, because this was a challenge for me. I've gotten pretty comfortable writing for Cassie & Sam, and to write a GW fic with neither of them actually in it, while trying to capture Joy's character for the first time - well, it's been a ride! I've seen the first six episodes of season 7, but I still haven't seen season 6 (curse you, Netflix), so it's only as canon compliant as I can make it - not that the GW storylines themselves are particularly consistent a lot of the time!
I hope you like it - it's a little mature in places (language & sex) - and, as much as I like Donovan as a character, I just don't *get* him and Abigail as a pairing, and I think it shows.
Your feedback is, as always, appreciated.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
But ever since Stephanie has found out that it was Abigail who had sent her the red rose, well…she'd been able to think of little else. At face value the gesture has been a sweet token of their enduring friendship, a friendship that had started off as a bitter rivalry but had mellowed into something stable, which Stephanie cherished. Yet, where Abigail, or any Merriwick was concerned really, there was something more beneath the surface, even if often it was too subtle for a mere mortal to pick up on.
There was nothing subtle about red roses.
Or about Abigail Pershing.
It had taken all of thirty seconds for a curious Stephanie to google the meaning of this particular bloom. And Abigail, being a flower shop owner for crying out loud, could not have been ignorant of their significance.
Except she was engaged.
To be married.
To a man.
Stephanie had closed the laptop lid with a frustrated sigh. She was already entangled enough with the men in her own life, she couldn't - wouldn't - even consider throwing Abigail into the mix.
But the rose stared at her from the glass vase she had placed it in.
What did this mean?
Abigail stood alone in the flower shop, breathing in the calming, delicate fragrance of the blooms. Did she want to give this up? Did she really want to go back into the world of advertising? Having her own ad agency had been a dream for a long time, but she loved the flower shop. Could she bear to walk down Main Street and see something else in its place, or worse, see someone else running it completely differently? Completely wrong.
But her life couldn't stay the same.
Everything was changing.
She was getting married.
When she looked down at the engagement ring on her left hand, she couldn't quite conjure up the same feeling of completeness, of love and excitement that was supposed to be there.
And it terrified her.
She wasn't afraid of the commitment, of sharing her life with someone. She had watched her cousin and the doctor compromise on what their married life would look like, while still seeming to fall more and more in love with each other every day.
She wanted that.
She thought she had that.
But now she wasn't so sure.
Because Donovan was a wonderful man. He was the best man she'd ever dated, and on paper they seemed perfect together.
They could take on the world together.
But, what if, deep down Abigail didn't want to take on the world? What if she wanted a quiet life here in Middleton surrounded by her friends and family? She had tried big city life and she'd always love New York, but this was the place that felt like home. But Donovan's hopes and dreams, for him and for her, would mean Middleton was just somewhere they visited for the holidays, for Thanksgiving, for birthdays, marriages, and funerals.
It sent a curl of icy fear into Abigail's stomach.
She could talk to Cassie. Her cousin would understand. But there was only really one person she wanted to talk to about all of this, but, if she did, Abigail would have no choice but to face reality.
And she wasn't ready.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
This wasn't supposed to be happening to her.
Stephanie was having quite the epiphany. Not a week had passed since Abigail had revealed the flower was from her, but it felt like forever. She had certainly managed to fit a whole lot of soul searching into the time period.
It didn't matter that Abigail was engaged, not really. But it had been the wakeup call that Stephanie needed. In truth, she had needed it years ago but there was no time like the present.
She has carefully withdrawn from her French classes, and had downloaded the Duolingo app instead. It seemed a lot safer. And really, what was she thinking? She was nearly old enough to be his mother. Well, not really, but she certainly felt the age gap whenever they were together.
And Adam? Well, she'd loved him dearly and she'd been heartbroken when he had left town, but now that he was back she found that those feelings for him that remained were just the bonds of friendship.
The less said about First Kiss Kyle, the better.
After years of flitting from one man to the next, hunting down every eligible bachelor in the tri-state area, and one unsuccessful marriage, Stephanie was finally able to realise that she'd wasted all that time looking for something she didn't even want.
She was ready to give being single a real and proper try.
Two years ago, she would have had Abigail's unwavering support as she finally decided to invest the time and attention she wasted on unsuitable men on herself instead.
Now? Well, it was complicated.
Abigail slowly opened her eyes as Donovan rolled off her, feeling her body start to relax. She desperately hoped that he hadn't noticed that her participation tonight had been much less active than usual, and that she had put on a good enough performance to convince him that she'd finished. It wasn't that he was a dissatisfactory or selfish lover – no, he was good in bed, great even – it was just that being engaged and over the "forbidden love" and "breaking a curse" phase of their relationship had changed things for Abigail.
They had been through so much, fought so hard, to try to be together - and stay together - that actually having a normal, day-to-day relationship was…dare she say it, boring?
But Donovan had all these plans, and goals, and Abigail didn't want that either?
She could scream.
She was so frustrated, so confused and, damn it, so horny. But even Donovan's patience and skill had left her unmoved.
"I should go," he said, his voice breaking through her thoughts. "I've got an early morning meeting."
"Of course," Abigail replied, her voice barely a whisper. It was hard to look at him, but she leaned across the bed and gave him a long, hard kiss.
Why did it feel like it was a last kiss?
A goodbye kiss.
"I love you," he said, grabbing his jacket on the way out of the door.
"Me too," she called, before he disappeared out into the night.
She threw her head back against the pillow, dark auburn curls splaying out from the force, and frustration, of her movements.
Ah, so they were back to that.
But this time the only reason she couldn't say those three magic words back to him was because she didn't want to.
When she heard the front door close behind her fiancé, she leaned back against her pillows and tried to catch a breath. She was twisted up inside with confusion and - despite just having been passionately ravished by the man she had agreed to marry - aroused, achy, and frustrated by her failure to climax.
She slipped her hand under the covers, over her belly to the apex of her thighs. She stroked, caressed, and rubbed, but she was too wrought to find her peak.
Close to giving up and bringing out the big guns (aka, the selection of toys she kept secreted in her nightstand drawer, and that she'd probably have to get rid of her before she and Donovan moved in together), when, unbidden, Stephanie appeared in her mind's eye.
It was as if someone else was in the driver's seat, as if someone else's hands were undressing the petite blonde, pulling her always-too-tight jeans down over the curve of her hips, slipping their index and middle fingers under her underwear and into her slick heat.
The force of Abigail's unexpected orgasm caught her off guard, so much so that not a sound escaped her mouth as she shuddered through her climax.
Oh.
No.
This was absolutely not supposed to happen.
Stephanie was a grown woman, who owned three small businesses, but it took all of her self-control not to bolt back into The Bistro kitchen when she saw Abigail enter the premises.
She didn't want to think about why her palms were sweating, but she rubbed them against the thighs of her stonewashed jeans for something to do. She looked up and caught the other woman's eye, just as Abigail released her lower lip from where it had been clamped between her teeth.
Had it got warmer in here all of a sudden?
"Hey, what can I do for you?" Stephanie asked, trying too hard to sound casual. And why did it sound flirty, even to her own ears?
She watched Abigail swallow and found herself captivated. The skin on her neck was so pale and looked like it would be so soft.
It probably smelled like her perfume.
Whoa, there.
Wait a second. What was going on here?
She was probably here to fetch breakfast for Donovan, that was all. And why, oh, why did that make her, what…jealous?
"A latte and a blueberry croissant to go, please," Abigail replied, trying to be amused at how flustered the blonde appeared to be, but falling short. She could feel her own heart beating traitorously fast beneath her leather jacket.
"Oh," Stephanie replied. "Not picking anything up for Donovan today?"
She turned away under the guise of toying with the espresso machine.
"He had an early meeting, and he'll be in Chicago overnight," she replied, reaching into her purse.
"Oh, right," Stephanie replied lamely, picking up the tongs and almost dropping the croissant on the floor in her haste to slip it into a paper sack.
"Do you feel like coming over for a glass of wine after you've closed?"
Stephanie stopped trying to fit the lid on the takeout cup, afraid she'd fumble and spill the coffee all over the counter.
There was nothing weird about one friend inviting another friend over for a glass of wine. Nothing weird at all. In fact, it was perfectly normal. If Cassie had made the same invitation, she would have agreed without a second thought. Now it seemed all she could do was overthink.
Ever since that damn red rose, which could really mean anything at all.
So she decided to take the invitation at face value, and she'd accept.
It would be super weird not to, right?
"Sounds good, do you want me to pick up a bottle?" she asked, trying for casual.
"I've got it covered," Abigail assured her, handing over her credit card.
If there was a slight crackle of electricity as their hands brushed, neither of them mentioned it.
Because nothing was happening here.
Nothing at all.
Abigail was distracted all day and wished she'd been more like her cousin and chosen a calming blend of tea rather than the double shot latte. But it wasn't really the caffeine's fault.
She checked her phone constantly, but Donovan hadn't been in contact beyond telling her he had arrived safely in Chicago.
She hated that she was glad.
They had moved mountains to be together, and now she was grateful he was going to be away overnight?
Ugh.
She didn't understand it, and none of her Merriwick gifts were helping. She could still talk to Cassie, but how the hell could she explain what was going on when she didn't understand it herself?
Joy breezed into the flower shop at lunchtime, a smile tugging at her lips as browsed the display before making her way over to greet her cousin.
"Will you help me make up a small arrangement for Zoey?" she asked a little timidly. Their date had been so perfect - more perfect than she could have let herself imagine - and she wanted Zoey to know how much the evening had meant to her.
Abigail smiled, she couldn't help it - her cousin's happiness was infectious. Maybe she couldn't talk to Cassie about what was going on just yet, but perhaps she had another cousin who could be more helpful.
As they chatted about what Zoey liked (and disliked) so Abigail could put together the perfect arrangement, she broached another topic with her younger cousin. One they hadn't discussed before.
"Joy, I hope you don't mind me asking, but when did you realise that you like girls not guys?"
Joy flushed a little, but she appreciated being asked, even if she was a little confused by Abigail's interest.
"Well, I guess it started when I watched Matilda when I was a kid. Miss Honey is just dreamy," she choked on a laugh when she saw Abigail's expression. "I dated a few boys in high school…but I just never really felt anything. Not like the way I feel about Zoey. Already."
Abigail nodded thoughtfully, concentrating on wrapping up the floral arrangement carefully.
Although Joy wasn't Cassie, she was still a Merriwick, and she looked curiously at her cousin.
"Why so interested?"
Abigail froze for just a second too long.
"Just trying to get to know you a little better, I guess," she replied hurriedly.
Joy nodded. Okay, that made sense.
"I didn't really start dating women until college though. They say it's the time where you experiment, but I guess I never went back," she laughed, hoping it would lighten this very strange atmosphere. She had a feeling this wasn't really about her, but she was happy to talk about this, happy that someone was interested, so she carried on talking. Abigail's motives would surely reveal themselves. "A girl in my English lit class asked me to watch a movie with her. I was clueless, but it turned out to be a lesbian rom com: Imagine Me and You, have you heard of it?"
Abigail shook her head, but Joy thought it was just a reflex.
"Okay, well it's about two women who…wait," she paused, a bright smile lighting up her eyes. "One of them is a florist!"
Abigail dropped the roll of tape she was holding, and it bounced in slow motion across the shop, finally rolling to a stop near the door.
"Abigail, what's going on here?" Joy questioned, a frown wrinkling her brow.
"I'm just trying to get to know my cousin better," she insisted, handing the bouquet over to Joy and guiding her towards the door.
"How much do I owe you?" Joy asked as Abigail fumbled with the door handle.
"They're on the house!" she insisted, all but pushing Joy out onto the street before her cousin had the chance to finish saying her thanks.
She turned the sign around to "closed" and went back into the storeroom area.
What on earth was she going to do?
After The Bistro had closed, Stephanie collected up some of the leftover food and bagged it to take with her. She couldn't very well turn up empty handed to Abigail's, could she?
She didn't even know anymore.
She hadn't changed her outfit, hadn't even touched up her lipstick, but she didn't know - couldn't know - that her slim, shapely thighs in her skin-tight jeans had become Abigail's kryptonite.
She was a little nervous by the time she reached Abigail's house, licking her dry lips as she waited for the door to be answered.
Her whole mouth went dry when she saw Abigail.
Her friend had changed and was wearing leggings with a long flowing top over it, which skimmed over her curves but dipped low enough in front to offer a teasing view of her cleavage.
This shouldn't be happening.
She's engaged.
To be married.
To a man.
It had become a mantra to Stephanie, and she was afraid it was the only thing holding her back from potentially ruining one of her most precious friendships.
"Come on in," Abigail invited, holding the door open in such a way that Stephanie had to shimmy by her to get inside. She couldn't avoid inhaling Abigail's perfume and it left her lightheaded.
And turned on.
God damn it, no.
It had been a mistake to come here but she couldn't leave yet without it seeming weird.
Damn those Merriwicks and their sixth sense about, well, everything.
She followed Abigail through to the kitchen and set her bag on the counter, unloading the goodies while the brunette poured red wine into large glasses. She smiled appreciatively when she spotted the label on the wine bottle. Her favourite vintage.
This was already going better than her last date.
Date?
Hold up there, Stephanie, she cautioned herself.
This was not a date. Abigail was engaged. To be married. To a man. Remember?
She was in so much trouble.
It was very hard for Abigail to decipher her true feelings from her Merriwick intuition, and that just never happened. But she couldn't deny that she was feeling more for Stephanie in this moment than she had for Donovan since the proposal.
She just didn't understand it.
She had tried to convince herself that maybe she just wasn't the marrying type and this transition would take time, hence her request for a long engagement. But maybe she just wasn't she marrying a man type.
And maybe Stephanie wasn't either.
The two of them were hardly lucky in love where men were concerned. Their friendship had outlasted every single romantic entanglement either of them had ever had, and it hadn't always been plain sailing for the two of them. In truth, a spark had always been there between them, she had just never realised it could be this kind of electricity before.
"Can I be honest with you?" Stephanie asked once they had dispensed with small talk and were tucking into their snacks and wine.
"Of course," Abigail replied, pausing with a mini smoked salmon tartlet in her hand. She set it back down, sensing she needed to give Stephanie her full attention now.
"I haven't been the same since I found out that the rose was from you," she stated, looking away now that the simple truth was out in the open.
"I'm sorry," Abigail replied, but she wasn't quite sure what she was apologising for.
Stephanie swallowed another sip of wine, needing all the Dutch courage she could muster.
"I broke things off with Sean," she said, not surprised by Abigail's satisfied smile. "And I realised that even though I do love Adam, I'm not in love with him."
"Wow, you have been on quite the journey," she replied, caution making her a little...well, bitchy.
Stephanie's eyes narrowed. She was laying herself open here and all Abigail could do was, what, mock her? She finished off her wine and slammed the glass down.
"Yeah I guess I have, and now that journey is leading me home," she pushed herself up from the label, a little unsteady in her heeled boots. "Thanks for the wine."
She was surprised by how quickly she made it to the front door, her purse bumping against her side. Abigail slid to a stop in the hallway just before Stephanie put her hand on the doorknob.
"I'm sorry," she said, a little breathlessly but with sincerity this time. "I'm confused, too."
"Oh, Abigail," Stephanie replied, her tone cool now. "I'm not confused at all."
She had nothing left to lose, and screw whether this was supposed to happen or not. She pushed the other woman up against the front door and covered her mouth with hers, initiating the most passionate – most important – kiss of her life.
Abigail started to make noise of protest as she watched in slow motion as Stephanie leaned in for the kill.
The kiss.
Whatever, whichever.
But the moment that her soft, warm, wine-soaked lips pressed against hers, Abigail was lost.
And found.
And screwed.
So screwed.
Because damn. Damn it all to hell. She had never felt like that from one kiss before - not even from the man who was supposed to become her husband.
Stephanie broke away with a satisfied smile, hitched her purse up onto her shoulder, and left without even saying goodnight.
When she was gone, Abigail sank to the floor, leaning her back on the door she had just been so passionately kissed against.
This was not happening.
This could not be happening.
Oh, but it was.
Stephanie actually felt better after her evening at Abigail's. Everything seemed clearer, and she felt like she finally knew herself. And she'd taken a wild stab at something – someone – she really wanted.
She was pretty sure Abigail would brush the moment aside and go on to marry Donovan. She could even picture their life together, Abigail as the doting Mrs Davenport, always at his side as her husband rose through the ranks and became President one day.
Stephanie did nearly choke on a laugh as she tried to imagine Abigail as the First Lady.
Still, she could stand in the church on Abigail's wedding day and know that she had made her move and had moved on.
"Um, hey Stephanie?" she looked up to find Joy was trying - had been trying for some little time actually - to get her attention.
"Sorry, I was miles away," she apologised, following the younger woman back to where she was working on the re-fit.
Stephanie spent some time admiring what Joy had already achieved and they were discussing colour schemes when the younger woman's phone buzzed on the table.
"Sorry!" she apologised, her cheeks flushing red as she quickly ended the call. But not fast enough that Stephanie didn't see Zoey's pretty face on the caller display.
"Don't apologise!" Stephanie protested. "How is, uh… how are things going between you?"
"Really great actually," Joy grinned, her cheeks still pink. "She's so wonderful, I didn't know I could feel this way about someone."
"I'm happy for you. Both of you," Stephanie replied, giving Joy's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "So, um, how did you know it was women that you liked?"
Joy's laughed bubbled out unrestrained.
"That's so strange, Abigail asked me exactly the same question yesterday! I didn't realise everyone in Middleton was so interested in lesbianism all of a sudden."
She continued to giggle but Stephanie couldn't bring herself to join in. She was too busy wondering why Abigail had asked Joy this question. It could be curiosity, but with Abigail there was always another motive.
Joy's phone buzzed again, and once more Zoey appeared on the caller display. Stephanie smiled.
"Take the call, I won't tell your boss," she winked and walked away as Joy answered the phone.
Beneath her happiness for Joy, there was the tiniest sting of jealousy.
When Stephanie arrived home, there was a small square white envelope in her mailbox. When she opened it, she found a disc inside but she didn't recognise the movie title on it. Too curious to consider googling it, she slipped the DVD into her player and flopped down on the couch, kicking her boots off her aching feet.
She'd give it a few minutes, then she'd make a decision.
But she came back to reality to find it was dark outside, her front curtains still open. She couldn't quite bring herself to move her though, part of her brain was still wrapped up in the movie she had just watched.
Stephanie thought she had watched every single British rom com to exist, some more times than she'd dared admit to (she had felt a strong affinity with Bridget Jones, oversized panties notwithstanding), but she had never seen this before.
Her mind reeling, she took the DVD out and slipped it back into the envelope. Now she was left to wonder who had delivered it to her.
The obvious subject was Joy, but surely she would have mentioned it, or given it to Stephanie in person? They spent most of their working days in the same place after all.
It was the kind of subtle, thoughtful thing that Cassie would normally do, but she had been so wrapped up in Sam and his injury that Stephanie had barely done more than exchange pleasantries with her lately.
No, the only other person it could possibly be was Abigail. And she didn't know what that meant. Although the irony that one of the main characters owned a flower shop had not been lost on Stephanie. And it further illustrated that Abigail could not have been ignorant of the meaning of the red roses.
Stephanie was even more confused, but that was okay.
She'd wait.
The ball was in Abigail's court and it was up to her if she chose to hit it back or to hide it away in her closet.
"Abigail, I don't understand. We broke a curse - a fucking curse - to be together, and now you're not sure if this is working?"
He was angry. Of course he was angry.
And she couldn't blame him.
"If two people are truly meant to be together, should they have to break a curse to do it?" she asked quietly.
Donovan raked his fingers through his dark hair, he could feel her slipping away from him. She had always been hard to hold, but now he knew he was losing her.
Nothing he said now would make any difference, but he wouldn't lose her without a fight.
"Isn't that the basis for every fairy-tale?"
Abigail shook her head sadly. She didn't want a fairy-tale. She wanted real, she wanted messy, she didn't want perfect. She wanted Middleton, she wanted her friends and family close by.
She wanted Stephanie.
She just wished she didn't have to break Donovan's heart to get what she wanted.
"I'm so sorry."
He closed his eyes, he couldn't watch as she wrestled the engagement ring off her finger.
"So am I," he sighed, watching his hand reach out to take back the piece of jewellery he had expected to see her wear forever as if it was possessed.
"I did love you. I do love you," she said, Stephanie's words coming back to her. "I'm just not in love with you, and somehow that makes all the difference."
He opened his mouth to protest, but Abigail continued speaking. She needed this out in the open before she broke down.
"You deserve someone who wants to share her life with you, all of her life, and I just can't give up Middleton for your dreams. I never wanted to be a senator's wife, I don't know if I even want my own ad agency really. I'm happy here in Middleton, this is where I belong…not with you."
They weren't wrong. The truth fucking hurt. But he could respect her honesty, even if it currently felt like she'd ripped out his heart and left him bleeding all over his Hugo Boss loafers.
"There's nothing I can say to change your mind, is there?" he asked.
She shook her head, afraid the tears would come.
"Take care of yourself, Abigail."
He bent to kiss her cheek for the last time.
He left before either of them could see the other one cry.
Stephanie hadn't seen Abigail for a few days, not since she had left her house, but rumours were swirling through Middleton like autumn leaves on a chill breeze.
It seemed like her mantra was wrong. Abigail wasn't engaged. To be married. To anyone.
If those rumours could be believed, Abigail had called the whole thing off.
Stephanie couldn't dare hope that it was true. Because if it was, why hadn't Abigail told her?
Because she doesn't want you.
Not wanting to marry Donovan doesn't mean she wants to be with you.
Okay, she needed to sit her inner voice down and have a serious chat.
Her phone buzzed and she dug it out of the back pocket of her tight black jeans.
Oh, God.
She was here.
Stephanie went to her front door and pulled it open to come face to face with the woman she had just been thinking about.
"Abigail," she breathed, stepping back to let the other woman in.
Abigail held out a bouquet of flowers, their scent already filling her nostrils. She took out one of the blooms and offered it to Stephanie.
"The lily," she quoted in an unsteady voice. "The lily means I dare you to love me."
Stephanie didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but at least she knew for sure where the DVD had come from.
"What about Donovan?" she asked.
"It's over," she replied a little sadly. "It's like you said. I loved him, but I wasn't in love with him."
Stephanie nodded.
They walked through to the kitchen and she set about finding a vase for the flowers. She ran some water and placed them in. There'd be time to arrange them later.
They stood and looked at each other for a few seconds, neither of them knowing quite how to make the next step.
It would be a big one.
A momentous one.
But then, they were crossing the distance between them, heels clicking on the kitchen tiles, until they were in each other's arms.
Stephanie nearly drowned in the passion of Abigail's kiss. It made their first one seem lukewarm by comparison. They wrestled their way into the living room, scattering clothes over the couch, until Stephanie was down to her jeans.
Abigail sat down on the couch cushions and pulled the still-standing Stephanie towards her.
"Your tight jeans drive me crazy, Stephanie," she moaned, rubbing her hands over the blonde's denim-covered backside.
Stephanie groaned, closing her eyes as she felt Abigail pull down the zipper so, so slowly, followed by the pop of the button opening. She was so wet, and there was no way Abigail wouldn't notice.
"Fuck," Abigail rasped, tugging Stephanie's jeans down to her knees and running her fingertips over her drenched panties.
Her fantasy had nothing on the reality in front of her.
"Please don't make me wait any longer, Abigail, I feel like I've been waiting for this, for you, for forever," Stephanie sighed.
Abigail pulled the blonde down into her lap, their bare chests brushing.
"I'm not going anywhere, babe," she promised, lowering her lips to brush against Stephanie's, while her hand traced the outline of her breast, trying to commit every detail of her to memory. "We have all the time in the world."
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Except it was.
And it had.