A/N: This fic contains potentially triggering subject matter including but not limited to: suicidal references, gun violence, sexual trauma, homelessness, drug abuse, depression, homophobia, and cancer. It may contain inaccuracies. No copyright infringement intended. Thanks for reading!
BOOK ONE - PART TWO - CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
"You sure? Nothing at all?" Cat slid her hand slowly up Sam's thigh. "'Cause I'll do anything."
Sam looked intrigued. "Anything?"
Cat smirked, leaned in and pecked her on the lips. "Whatever you want."
Still, Sam hesitated.
"I know you have fantasies about me. Tell me what happens in your favorite one."
"Only if you tell me one of yours first."
Cat challenged, "You already know about my armpit thing. It's your turn."
Sam was silent for several seconds. "You have to swear you won't laugh."
"I promise," Cat told her.
"Okay. Well, uh… in my favorite fantasy… you get naked and I cover you in gravy. And then I fuck you on my motorcycle," Sam explained.
Cat had promised not to laugh, so she threw her hand over her mouth. In all honesty, she wasn't particularly surprised. After several seconds, she managed to ask, "Why gravy?"
"I like gravy," Sam shrugged, a bit defensively. "I don't know. You asked me what my favorite fantasy is—that's it." She could see Cat attempting to hide a smile and felt embarrassed suddenly. She'd never shared this with anyone but her twin sister. "It's just a fantasy, okay? It's not like we'd ever actually do it," she muttered.
"No, it's okay," Cat giggled, "I'd let you cover me in gravy, if that's what gets you excited, Sam. Only if it's warm, though. And we can pull your motorcycle into the garage. No one'll see us there."
Sam looked at her tentatively. "Are you being serious? You're just gonna go along with it like that?"
"This is probably the last night for a while that you'll feel okay enough to have sex with me," Cat explained, looking into her eyes. Then she moved in and kissed the side of her neck, whispering, "I just figured we should make the most of it."
"Well, I'm not complaining." Sam stood up and took her hand. "But where are we gonna find that much gravy?"
"We can just buy a bunch of jars of it and heat it all up together," Cat suggested, determined to make this happen. "C'mon, let's go to the store."
Together, Sam and Cat rode Sam's motorcycle to the nearest grocery store. It took some searching, but eventually they found the gravy. Sam immediately singled out the chicken gravy, claiming it was much better than the turkey gravy.
"How many jars do you think we'll need?" Cat asked, looking up at them on the shelf.
"At least eight," Sam decided.
Cat's eyes went wide. "Let's just start with eight, okay?" She began pulling the big, heavy jars off the shelf and handing them to Sam. Then she gathered more into her own arms. They were each carrying four jars. "That's all we need, right?"
"Yeah. And we should get a clear shower curtain," Sam replied.
Cat was confused—she hadn't realized showering would be part of the deal, although it did make sense. "Why buy a curtain? Why not just watch me with the curtain open?"
Sam explained, "It's not actually for showering. I need it to cover my motorcycle, so it doesn't get gravy on it. I figured a shower curtain is probably the easiest thing," she explained, then gave Cat a playful look while they made their way there. "I'll definitely take you up on that offer to watch later, though."
Cat grabbed Sam's good shoulder and pulled her to a stop, then kissed just underneath her jawline. Then she murmured, "Can't wait." She flicked her tongue against the shell of her ear.
Sam inhaled sharply with excitement. It was loud enough to draw the attention of multiple people nearby. She and Cat backed off from each other, both blushing.
"Okay, as much as I'm… really enjoying that, let's save it for later at home. Deal?"
"Deal," Cat agreed with a giggle. They arrived at the bath section and grabbed the largest clear curtain they had. "Is that everything?"
Sam hesitated. "Are we on a budget?"
Cat looked at her as if she didn't even know the meaning of the word. "You can get what you want, Sam. I told you that before."
"Okay, well, uh…" Sam bit her lip. "You're not much of a drinker, are you?"
"No, not really. I have to stick to only one drink per hour," Cat replied. "Why?"
"I just thought… a little liquid courage might help us enjoy it more," Sam told her. "Why only one per hour? Are you a crazy drunk or something?"
"Oh, no," Cat forced a nervous smile, "It interacts bad with my medicine. It makes me get drunk really, really easily."
"Oh." Sam looked a bit disappointed.
"Let's go get some drinks. I'll drink with you, but I have to drink really slowly, and you need to respect that," Cat said firmly.
Sam found Cat's new level of confidence extremely sexy. "No problem," she agreed as they made it to the alcohol section. Sam picked up a six-pack of Coors. "Do you like beer?"
"No," Cat answered. She picked up a can of Hard Lemonade. Strawberry. It was one of the few alcoholic drinks she could tolerate the taste of. "Is this okay?"
Sam chuckled. "You can get what you want. Is that all?" Cat nodded, so Sam said, "Great. Let's go checkout."
When they made it to the registers, the cashier gave them a strange look as he rang up their selection of items. They avoided eye contact until they were back on Sam's motorcycle, headed for home.