A HERO FOR A LOST CAUSE

LIKE A HURRICANE IN THE HEART OF DEVASTATION, SHE’S A NATURAL DISASTER

Aggie is an open book.

In general, she’s very free with herself and her body; moreover, she’s about as tough as tough gets, a lioness in human skin. She has no problem wearing borderline scandalous outfits; has no problem with plunging necklines or backless dresses or just about anything that she wears on a day-to-day basis. Aggie is confident in herself- a luxury that makes life a little easier, and she tends to wear her confidence like a good coat.

But there are few individuals who get to see her like this; bare skin under twisted sheets, the smooth slope of her shoulders moving up and down with the gentle cadence of her breath, golden hair a shroud behind her head. She’s not much of a light sleeper- on occasion, she’d more than likely be able to sleep through nuclear warfare, but today is a rare instance in which she’s on the verge of waking- just barely there- when a pair of arms curl around her waist and her eyes snap open fast as the crack of a whip.

Aggie stiffens- momentarily- her pupils blown wide in the early morning light. The window from her bedroom is just barely uncovered by curtains, and the beam of sunlight that cuts through her room illuminates the figure of a woman- smaller than Aggie by a little more than a foot, with bubblegum pink hair and the biggest blue eyes that Aggie thinks she’s ever seen.

So, she wonders absently as she returns the woman’s sentiments with an easy smile and a squeeze of her arms. How’d I score this one? Goosebumps rise on her forearms when she feels the woman’s breath ghosting past her shoulders, and Aggie becomes very painfully aware of their respective states of clothed-ness.

The night before is clear enough- she’d been buzzed, talking to a woman about her age during a rare visit to the bar down the street- there’d been a party, dancing, talking, laughing- and then she remembers, like she remembers her own name, the night after- the night they’d spent in her bed, clumsy teeth and seeking hands and the ache for something more.

Well, she thinks helpfully. That explains why she’s naked.

Aggie leans down, one hand spread-eagled across her partner’s bare back, fingers splayed between two smooth shoulder-blades. She presses her face- tired, bleary- into the curve of her partner’s (it was Adrian, wasn’t it?) neck. A few slow kisses dropped on Adrian’s collar, neck, shoulder- and then Aggie sighs contentedly, for once happy about the person she’s woken up with- and says softly, ”Good morning.” And for good measure, she adds, lips brushing against Adrian’s neck- ”Sleep well?”



ADRIAN DE'REGE ;; this is cute

A HERO FOR A LOST CAUSE

LIKE A HURRICANE IN THE HEART OF DEVASTATION, SHE’S A NATURAL DISASTER

Of the few things that had followed Aggie from her youth into adulthood, it seems as though her immense capacity for emotion is- and has been- the most prevalent and persistent little bastard when it comes to these sort of things. Aggie’s quite good at dishing out the love she’d never received as a little girl, and in these instances- waking up with a new individual in her bed after a night of irresponsibility- she finds that she has the most love to give. Many of her partners choose to leave afterwards- no strings attached, no hard feelings. She doesn’t take it personally, and for the most part, neither do they. Aggie certainly isn’t the type to hang onto any one individual more than is absolutely necessary.

But the more fleeting kisses that Adrian presses to her shoulders, neck, jaw, collar-

The more she begins to think that maybe she shouldn’t count on a one-and-done. Sure, there might not be any strings attached, but the affection she’s receiving from the pink-haired woman is just as wonderful (and exciting) as the intimacy they’re shared only hours before. It's not like Aggie hasn't brought someone home before- but she's never been this content, to this capacity, about anyone. For some strange reason, she feels safe- as if she could spend the rest of the day in bed, just like this, catnapping the hours away. But then Adrian shifts, drawing Aggie closer, and for a moment Aggie can’t quite fight the goosebumps that rise on her spine and arms as Adrian’s wandering hands drift further away from the daylight seeping through the window. 

Aggie feels pleasantly warm- and whether it’s from the sunbeams turning the gold of her hair into a certifiable inferno or from the love-bites that Adrian is leaving on Aggie’s shoulders is unbeknownst to the designer. Her cheeks are warm (not to mention her hands), and after a moment of blissful stillness she decides that she ought to return the favor. She lifts a hand and brushes a piece of Adrian’s pink hair out of her face, looking down at the smaller woman almost fondly.

She’s never done this before- endured the stillness and the silence of the morning after with someone who looks equally as content with the affection as Aggie feels. She can’t rightly say that she doesn’t enjoy it, because she does- almost too much. She drops another kiss onto Adrian’s hairline, a blissful smile painting itself across her lips as she drapes her arms around Adrian’s neck. ”I slept great,” She admits. ”Better than usual.”

She tilts her head, fingertips brushing the base of Adrian’s neck with the utmost care. Aggie figures that she’s gotta address the elephant in the room, so with a low voice, she says, ”I had a great time, as long as you did.” Her voice is almost playful, but on an entirely different level, she's anything but- she's got to make sure, first and foremost, that she and Adrian harbored the same feelings about this- that consent was offered, and given, by both parties. They'd both been buzzed to begin with- Adrian moreso- and if Aggie's gonna have some piece of mind, she's gotta make sure that Adrian had enjoyed every shared moment and every moment, however brief, of physical contact.

Although, judging by the almost gentle burn of her shoulders, the other woman had obviously enjoyed Aggie’s company enough to dig her fingernails a bit too heavily into the skin of Aggie’s back. Aggie fights a smile- but she loses the battle, and instead buries her face in Adrian’s neck, cheeks growing hot as she grins against Adrian’s throat. ”You hungry?” she asks. Seattle or not, Aggie’s never quite shaken the notion of southern hospitality- and she’s certainly got a functional kitchen. It wouldn't make sense to send Adrian home hungry, one-night-stand or not. Aggie's a pretty decent cook, too, and who knows- kitchen countertops are notorious for their multiple uses.


ADRIAN DE'REGE ;; this is CUTE 

A HERO FOR A LOST CAUSE

LIKE A HURRICANE IN THE HEART OF DEVASTATION, SHE’S A NATURAL DISASTER

If there’s one thing about the encounter that Aggie doesn’t think she’s ever going to get tired of, it’s the absolute reverence with which the pink-haired woman regards the designer- as if she’d built the world with her own two hands, piece by piece, brick by brick.

Nobody had ever looked at Aggie like that- not Nikki, not her brothers, not even her own coworkers-

But now, today, this pink-haired woman- this woman who’d seen the most private parts of Aggie, the most vulnerable version of herself that she’d ever willingly display to the outside world- is looking at Aggie like she’d hung the stars herself, and the sudden warmth in her chest feels like a car crash behind the hollow of her ribs. In the moment, it’s overwhelming, and Aggie finds herself pushing herself away from Adrian, sitting up on the edge of the bed and bending to scoop an old t-shirt off the floor. She slips it over her head, relishing the feeling of soft cotton against the burn of her skin, and although she’d love nothing more than to turn around and finish what the two of them had started the night before, she stands, slides on a pair of loose pajama shorts, and tugs her long, tousled blonde locks into a low ponytail.

”Clothes are-” Aggie gestures vaguely around the room, turning to face the woman in her bed. ”Everywhere.” She takes the moment to assess the damage- apparently, she and Adrian had done quite a number on the furnishings of her room. A lamp is skewed sideways, a stack of books toppled onto the floor- there’s a flash of a memory in Aggie’s mind, Adrian’s legs hooked around Aggie’s waist as the taller of the two women lowers the two of them onto the bed.

A fiery blush erupts in Aggie’s cheeks, and she uses the heel of her hand to rub at her neck. She’s fairly certain that she’s got hickeys everywhere- a dull ache on her inner thigh confirms her suspicion, and she’s certainly not in the most presentable condition. But Adrian doesn’t seem to mind, and Aggie takes another moment to appreciate the curve of Adrian’s hip, the spare brush of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

Aggie nods. Not bad, she thinks. Not bad at all. ”You can cook,” Aggie agrees. She’d love nothing more than to hose herself down, but she figures it might be rude to shower so soon after their encounter. Instead, she turns to let Adrian figure out the situation as far as clothes are concerned and traipses down the short hallway and into the little kitchen. Aggie pours two glasses of water and leaves one on the countertop for the woman in her bedroom.

Rubbing at her cheek with a clenched fist, Aggie wonders just how much she’d gotten away with the night before. She’d always been better at sleeping with women- and if the cat-scratches down the length of her back are any proof, she’d done a damn good job with Aidan. She hides a smile behind the rim of her glass as she downs the ice-cold water. She’ll have to ask. No use not getting proper feedback.


ADRIAN DE'REGE ;; S-SOFT

A HERO FOR A LOST CAUSE

LIKE A HURRICANE IN THE HEART OF DEVASTATION, SHE’S A NATURAL DISASTER

Only after Adrian arrives in the kitchen does Aggie realize that she hasn’t been the most generous host. Of course, the night before, she’d given quite a bit- but as far as hospitality, she’s certainly slipped up on her manners. She lifts a hand to the skin behind her ear, scraping a bit of glitter away with her fingernail as she regards Adrian’s outift- tight, revealing, certainly not leaving much to the imagination.

Last night, it may have been Aggie’s saving grace- and she remembers, very distinctly, the feeling of wanting nothing more than to get rid of the skintight ensemble. But that had been the night before- and if Aggie’s going to come out of this whole encounter with a clear conscience, she can’t rightfully let Adrian traipse around the kitchen in an outfit as impractical as the one she’s currently got on. 

Aggie frowns, lifting a finger in a gesture of wait. "One second." She’s up from her stool and heading off down the hall in moments. Something in her chest pulls and squeezes when she sees that the room has been tidied- somewhat. Aggie’s clothes from the night before are still strewn across the floor, the majority of which had been tossed carelessly aside in the heat of the moment only hours before. The designer resists the urge to clean up (she's always been a bit of a neat freak) as she makes a beeline for her wardrobe. She decides on a plain black t-shirt with a pair of gray sweats to match- Aggie figures that the sweats are going to swallow Adrian up, but there’s nothing that a bit of waistband-cuffing won’t fix. And, if worst comes to worst, it’s not like Adrian has to wear pants.

Aggie pads back into the kitchen and sets the clothes on the counter, momentarily freezing as she watches the pink-haired woman stand on her toes to reach something from the top of Aggie’s cabinet. Right, she thinks, tearing her eyes away from the place where Adrian’s skirt is riding up in the back. She’s short.

Like a phantom, Aggie moves across the kitchen and reaches above Adrian’s head to pull down the spice rack that the shorter had been reaching for.

After a moment of deliberation, Aggie places both hands on Adrian’s shoulders and bends down to plant a slow, easy kiss on the back of Adrian’s neck. ”Cook anything you want,” Aggie says. ”And get changed,” she adds, gesturing to the clothes she’d picked out. ”I’d be more than happy to watch.” She prompts with a smile, tilting her head.


ADRIAN DE'REGE ;; “i totally wasnt staring STRAIGHT at ur butt”

A HERO FOR A LOST CAUSE

LIKE A HURRICANE IN THE HEART OF DEVASTATION, SHE’S A NATURAL DISASTER

Aggie takes a certain amount of pride in her ability to dress people- after all, she is a designer, and creating clothes for the consumption of the general public is right up her alley. It’s her very livelihood- the reason why she has this sort of apartment anyways, a decent loft in a decent building in a decent neighborhood in the city.

But there’s a difference between herself and a stylist- in that while she, a designer, creates her own clothes from scratch- a pencil to a sketchbook and bolts of linen under a sewing machine- a stylist takes garments from other brands and companies and matches them together to create an entirely new outfit to be worn in magazines and commercials and public performances. It’s a whole different branch of art- one that Aggie hasn’t yet tried on anyone but herself-

But looking at Adrian, swallowed whole by Aggie’s pajamas, the designer begins to wonder if she should try her hand at styling after all. She’s not half bad at it, although she has to wonder whether she thinks her outfit looks good on Adrian because it’s good, or because Adrian is the one wearing it. (It’s probably the latter- there’s nothing particularly remarkable about a t-shirt and sweats, put together by a high-end designer or not. Aggie’s good, but she isn’t that good.)

In moments, the kitchen is filled with the smell of food, and it seems that only minutes later there’s a steaming plate of the classics- bacon, eggs, toast- being set before Aggie. The designer blinks owlishly at the food before her, and it’s as though every nerve in her body has been set aflame- eat! Her stomach prompts her, Eat!

It’s amazing what a good roll in the hay will do to a girl.

Aggie pats the space between Adrian’s shoulderblades in thanks, then begins to eat- all manners aside, eating like it’s her last meal. And Aggie- motormouth extraordinaire, most talkative woman on the planet-

She forgets how to speak altogether. Not only is the food good, but she’s hungry enough from the night before that she can only focus on the fork in her hand and its passage between her plate and her mouth. After what can only be minutes of silence, Aggie leans back on her stool, plate efficiently cleaned. She washes her breakfast down with a swig of icy water, then sets her glass down with a sigh. ”Damn,” she says helpfully. ”That was great. Thank you for that.” A laugh bubbles past her lips and she stands, taking her plate to the wash up on the other side of the counter. There’s enough of a disconnect between now and the activities of the night before that once Aggie sets her dishes in the sink, she takes a few moments to really get a look at Adrian-

Of course, she’d been a sight for sore eyes the night before, but that had been Aggie knee-deep in a tequila-flavored buzz. Now, she’s sober- enough so that she can see every freckle on Adrian’s face, the shining blue of her eyes, the dip of her collarbone, the hickey that’s bloomed just underneath Adrian’s left ear. Aggie tilts her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. ”You wanna stay a little longer?”


ADRIAN DE'REGE ;; owo whats this?

A HERO FOR A LOST CAUSE

LIKE A HURRICANE IN THE HEART OF DEVASTATION, SHE’S A NATURAL DISASTER

Aggie laughs. ”I never thought you’d ask,” she tells Adrian, a smile twisting up the ends of her mouth. ”Sweat is not my thing.” she adds, and she can practically feel her shirt sticking to her back as she finishes cleaning her things and putting them back where they belong.

But then the girl with the pink hair grows serious, and for a moment Aggie wonders if she’s said something wrong- if she’s somehow turned this morning into something it never should’ve been, if she’d grown too fond of Adrian too quickly. But then Adrian laughs, a burst of sunlight on a cloudy day, and the tension in Aggie’s frame quickly melts away, as if it had never been there to begin with.

Adrian’s giggles are music to Aggie’s tired ears, and after a moment of hard deliberation, she nods accordingly. ”You might be right,” she says. ”I’d probably get lonely in there, all by myself.” Aggie steps around the counter and places a hand on Adrian’s shoulder, her thumb finding a hickey from the night before and ever so carefully applying a bit of pressure. ”Plus, there’s only one shower, and we both need one. Water conservation, and all that.” She adds with a debonair wink, using a hand to brush her hair over her shoulder.

Aggie’s not quite an expert when it comes to these sorts of things- and whether or not it’s because she’s out of practice or because she’s never quite had a partner like Adrian is trivial information in the long run. Aggie takes Adrian’s hand and leads her down the hall- around the corner and into the bathroom, a smile on her face every step of the way.

The water is hot, but not much of an issue when Aggie has other things to think about.

Shampoo lathered, bodywash applied, clumsy kisses and wandering hands so generously given- the bathroom is a steam-bath by the time they’re finished, and for far more reasons than one.

By the time Aggie is wrapping herself in a towel, every nerve in her body is unwound- loose, like she’d just spent hours stretching and meditating. But perhaps that’s the effect that Adrian has- relief, a sudden blow of built up pressure that escapes Aggie like she’s a popped balloon.

It’s gone in a blur- and Aggie, smelling much fresher and feeling far less sticky, is re-clothed in a new set of pajamas and sitting idly on her bed waiting for Adrian to do the same. She’d set out another bundle of clean clothes for the pink-haired woman, and as Aggie waits, she begins to sift through her memories of the night before- and before she knows it, her ears are blooming red, and she thinks carefully about asking Adrian to stay just a little longer.



ADRIAN DE'REGE ;; >:T

A HERO FOR A LOST CAUSE

LIKE A HURRICANE IN THE HEART OF DEVASTATION, SHE’S A NATURAL DISASTER

”I can just wear my clothes home,” says the pink haired woman.

Aggie scowls, unable to control the way her mouth pulls down and her eyebrows pinch together. ”Absolutely not,” she says, standing up and sweeping her arms out wide. She ushers the woman away from her discarded clothes from the night before, a stern look on her face. ”You take mine,” She affirms, a smile flitting across her face. ”They look good on you.”

And then, without giving Adrian much of an opportunity to protest, Aggie scoops up the pink haired woman’s old, tight clothes from the floor and carries them out into the hall, where she drops them in her laundry basket without much fanfare. Might as well wash them before the woman has to put them back on. No point in climbing back into dirty clothes after a nice, relaxing shower. 

Aggie’s not one to make friends with her hookups, but Adrian seems different somehow -- friendlier, kinder, more invested than anyone that Aggie had gone to bed with before. Aggie wouldn’t mind spending a few more hours lounging about, chatting, maybe even picking up where they’d left off the night before.

”Stay,” Aggie says firmly, without checking to see if Adrian’s within earshot or not. She pads back down the hall, a few droplets of water from her hair rolling down the plane of her shoulders and sending a shiver racing up the length of her spine. ”If you want to,” She tacks on, not wanting to sound too commanding. She's fully aware of her own overpowering nature -- and if she doesn't keep herself in check, she doesn't think she'd be able to stomach scaring someone like Adrian away.

”I like you,” she says, stating her claim as calmly she’d state a scientific fact. ”It’d be cool to get to know you.” Aggie pauses, then nods. ”Outside the bedroom, of course.” 

ADRIAN DE'REGE ;; ha HA!