Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one, the characters belong to Ryan Murphy
A/N: Eh, Eh, nothing else I can say. (Is that a song? I don't even know.) Also, they're essentially three different drabbles. Read them as such, is my suggestion.
Prompt: Labels
Sam never really considered herself a lipstick lesbian. She was an agent of truth, and whatever haven she found in words while reporting was lost when it came to finding a label for her. She was definitely a lesbian- three very satisfying (but still not-Brooke) ex-girlfriends and Brooke were more than enough validation for her on that matter. Sure, she wore makeup, but there was worn flannel in her wardrobe, and paired with Brooke she could at least call herself a tomboy. Her reverie was broken by Brooke's entrance, all heels and loose buttons and seduction, not noticing or caring what kind of lipstick smeared where. Antiquated labels were antiquated, anyway.
Brooke never really considered herself a lesbian. Sure, she was in a committed relationship with someone of undeniable female persuasion, and would totally jump in bed with Jordana Brewster (she wasn't insane), but in general she just didn't have time to think about gender politics. And with Sam next to her, who needed to think about other options? So when life called for her to define her sexual orientation, she simply wrote in a fourth option. ("Sam" was just as descriptive as any other label, to her, at least. The person asking usually looked confused for a few moments, than wilted under Brooke's confident stare.)
Sam wasn't going to be jealous. She refused it. Jealousy was detrimental to her- it meant people had things that she wanted, and she wasn't greedy. She was above jealousy.
It's not like she was jealous of Brooke's shirt, getting to hug the blonde like that all day. It's not like her idle thoughts involved falling asleep with Brooke in her arms, wrapped in comfort and blanketed by the heavy, sweet smell of her shampoo mixing with the light, breezy smell of warm clothing. It wasn't like she noticed the tag of a new sleeping t shirt nipping angrily at the back of Brooke's neck last night, wondering in between flickers of the tv if she might replace it with more well intentioned nibbles.
She wasn't greedy, and she wasn't jealous. But as Brooke walked by, new outfit form fitting and flattering, Sam decided that she WAS, at least, human.