Laws of Attraction - Chapter Forty-Three: No Time Like the Present [Part Three]
Title: Laws of Attraction
Author: Major Roon
Fandom: The Closer
Pairing: Brenda/Sharon
Rating: NC-17/M
It wasn’t just about sex.
In fact, it was very little about sex, although, it was quite good, Sharon had to admit.
It had become apparent, or rather crystal clear, that she preferred the soft plains and curves of a woman’s body yet Sharon couldn’t help but think that there was more to being a lesbian - god, she hated that word - than mere sex with women.
Wasn’t there supposed to be a ‘lifestyle’?
Sharon nearly grimaced - that sounded horrible and, ironically, quite homophobic.
She wasn’t though, not at all, she hated nobody.
Technically speaking, she feared nobody.
Sharon had never given it much thought before: Homophobia. No. Not really.
But then it occurred to her, as if somebody had slapped her in the face and doused her with cold water, that she was indeed afraid. Of her own sexuality.
Perhaps getting married to her buddy, her good friend that she thought she quite loved, hadn’t been the best of ideas.
She had always looked at it as something her parents had wanted. He had come from a good Catholic family, he had the potential to become a great man, a great husband and father and that was what she had gone with.
But maybe it wasn’t so much her parents she had tried to please.
Sharon felt her palms go sweaty with the realization.
No, it wasn’t about sex; it was about having what she had always wanted, and the fact that she thought of it as wrong, in more ways than one, made it all the more necessary.
She contemplated Brenda’s advice - take a breath, have more wine, eat a big, giant cake and get over it.
She had to accept the things she couldn’t change, and her sexuality was one of them.
Was it that simple?
Could she let go of a lifetime of denial?
“Captain?”
The voice startled her, interrupting the quiet in the media room. “Yes, Buzz?”
“I’m going to order pizza and I was wondering if you wanted one as well. That is, if you don’t tell anyone we’ve been eating it in here.”
Sharon smiled at him. “That’s very nice of you to offer.” She rubbed her tummy a little, realizing she was quite hungry. “I think,” she wanted a salad. “I’ll have a big, giant one. With everything.”
“Everything?”
“Yep,” Sharon nodded, shocked she had just done that. “My treat.”
“Oh,” Buzz said slowly, just as shocked but he knew not to protest. “Okay then. One with everything...”
The brunette gave him a smile and stared at him while he ordered. Buzz, she didn’t even know his name, seemed like a very well mannered and well spoken young man and, admittedly, she had a bit of a soft spot for those.
Her son came to mind. She wondered what they were all doing at that very moment. Perhaps having dinner at the restaurant they always went to. Her father would order a big lump of barely cooked meat and her mother would pick on her filet mignon for half an hour.
The Pope was effectively ruining her Christmas.
She couldn’t really blame the boy - he was just a boy - but Pope? She wanted to rip him a new one.
“Don’t worry,” Buzz said suddenly, having hung up the phone. “Chief Johnson will come up with something. She always does.”
Sharon gave him a weak smile, wanting to pat his knee but refrained from doing so. “You hold her in very high esteem...”
“We all do.” He picked up his earphones and put them around his neck. “She is very good at what she does.”
“I’ve come to realize that.” Sharon picked at the hem of her shirt. “So,” she said, changing the subject. “You cook?” Buzz gave her a surprised look. “I overheard you saying you were defrosting two turkeys...”
“Oh, yes, well, I’m helping my mom prepare Christmas dinner this year. My sister is out of town.” He shrugged a little. “Plus, she never lets her take all the credit, my mom kinda likes the compliments.”
Sharon smiled again. “Sounds nice,” she replied quietly, wanting to say something else but conscious of the fact that Buzz was neither her friend nor her colleague, really - she hardly knew him.
When the pizzas arrived, Sharon found herself surprised at their size. They ate with their fingers, no knife, no fork, and she tried to remember when the last time was she ate anything without silverware that wasn’t a bread roll. Buzz had his headphones on and was piecing together the tapes, his gaze very focused on his work, and beside his clicking and typing the room was silent.
Sharon chewed on a piece of crust absentmindedly, having had enough of the pizza already, and drifted off once more. She wondered briefly whether to go home or not but there she would sit with a bottle of wine and her misery and sulk about her almost missed Christmas.
For somebody who hardly ever drank, Sharon found herself drinking a lot lately.
That had to end.
Wine had tons of calories.
Leaning back in her chair and stretching her legs a little, Sharon contemplated her next move. Coming to terms with things was easier said than done. She wondered how her parents would react because she would have to tell them eventually, that much was clear.
No more hiding, no more deceit and lies. No more.
“Back in a minute,” she said and stood, suddenly feeling rather antsy. She breezed out of the room and strode down the hallway towards the toilets.
Her life had become a nightmare.
Sharon came to a halt in front of the sinks, holding on to one as she stared at herself in the mirrors. She was trapped in this endless pas de deux, dancing back and forth with a married woman. No ending, no coda, no final goodbye.
She wondered what their last dance would be, where this would go? Sharon felt as if it was out of her hands, beyond her control, the great unknown.
It shouldn’t be like this. She shouldn’t be like this.
Defenseless, succumbing to her desires, blindly reaching for every little morsel of attention and affection Brenda merely tossed her way, seemingly indulging her, uncaring of her feelings and her own ‘tales of woe’.
Her life threatened to disintegrate, to shatter, and still Sharon wanted to engage in sex, mindless, incautious, desire-filled, all-consuming sex, the kind she had never had before, and throw herself at the woman with a desperation never experienced prior to one Chief Johnson.
The despicable truth was that, as long as she persisted in her avoidance of the facts, she wouldn’t be able to drag herself away from the woman. Brenda made her feel what nobody else had ever made her feel - regrettable, but fact.
What was it about her?
The answer was there, she could feel it.
Sharon wanted to cry in frustration.
“Are you alright?”
The brunette jumped and turned, holding onto the sink for dear life.
There she stood, her nemesis, Brenda.
“I’m sorry,” the blonde said, dimples forming in her cheeks, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Sharon shook her head a little. “That’s okay,” she said.
“I thought you’d gone home..?”
“I was just about to,” she lied, not wanting to seem sad or to be pitied. “Are you leaving?”
“Yes,” Brenda washed her hands right beside her, glancing up at her from beneath her eyelashes. “My mama’s puttin’ on a big dinner...she probably cooked for a whole army.”
Sharon nodded slowly, releasing the sink and crossing her arms. “It’s hard to go back to cooking for only yourself once you’ve had to cook for four.”
“Six,” Brenda dried her hands on a paper towel. “I’ve got three brothers...”
Brothers then. Sharon bit her lip, an uncharacteristic gesture on her part, and sighed.
“What are you doin’ for Christmas? Usually, I mean...”
“Well,” she tilted her head, “We don’t really cook. But my Dad makes pancakes in the morning.”
“And?” Brenda prodded.
“We open our gifts...” Sharon smiled to herself. “I got my parents a wine tasting weekend away, in Napa.”
“I got my Daddy wrenches,” the blonde commented dryly.
The brunette spared her a smile. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate them.”
Brenda said nothing for a moment, leaning against the sink with her hip and stared at her, studied her. Sharon hated the scrutiny, Brenda always made her feel as if the blonde had all her secrets and thoughts figured out, as if she knew everything, which of course was ridiculous but Sharon couldn’t help it.
She shifted from one foot to the other.
“You know,” Brenda said suddenly, slinking closer. “Sometimes I regret tellin’ him...about the kiss.”
Sharon nodded slowly, wondering where this was going.
“If I hadn’t, I’d invite you over for dinner tonight.” The blonde shrugged self-consciously. “Whether you’d wanna come or not, I don’t know but--” She cut herself off.
“But?” Sharon asked with a raised eyebrow.
“But...sometimes I wish we hadn’t started all this.”
The brunette met the blonde’s fearful gaze and smiled. “Me too, honey.”
“We coulda been friends.”
Sharon exhaled slowly, toying with the idea of a friendship then tilted her head. “Woulda, coulda, shoulda?”
“That sounds just wrong,” Brenda slapped her arm a bit, “but yes, somethin’ like that.”
“Well, uh, I should...” Sharon pointed at the general direction of the door.
The blonde just nodded, smiling, and came closer, her lips pursed, ready for a kiss that, in Sharon’s opinion, was completely uncalled for but before their lips connected, Brenda drew back, eyes flashing curiously.
“Is that pizza on your breath?”
Sharon blinked, her heart less achy after their conversation, and decided not to be a bitch this time. “I had a big, giant one of something...could’ve been a pizza.”
“Big, giant...” Brenda mumbled, remembering the advice she herself had given. “I like the sound of that...”
Sharon said nothing, she merely stared back, no words necessary.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
The brunette nodded once, unable to speak as the woman came closer once more and kissed her, gently, gently, on her cheek.
“Night, Sharon.”
Part Four
Author: Major Roon
Fandom: The Closer
Pairing: Brenda/Sharon
Rating: NC-17/M
It wasn’t just about sex.
In fact, it was very little about sex, although, it was quite good, Sharon had to admit.
It had become apparent, or rather crystal clear, that she preferred the soft plains and curves of a woman’s body yet Sharon couldn’t help but think that there was more to being a lesbian - god, she hated that word - than mere sex with women.
Wasn’t there supposed to be a ‘lifestyle’?
Sharon nearly grimaced - that sounded horrible and, ironically, quite homophobic.
She wasn’t though, not at all, she hated nobody.
Technically speaking, she feared nobody.
Sharon had never given it much thought before: Homophobia. No. Not really.
But then it occurred to her, as if somebody had slapped her in the face and doused her with cold water, that she was indeed afraid. Of her own sexuality.
Perhaps getting married to her buddy, her good friend that she thought she quite loved, hadn’t been the best of ideas.
She had always looked at it as something her parents had wanted. He had come from a good Catholic family, he had the potential to become a great man, a great husband and father and that was what she had gone with.
But maybe it wasn’t so much her parents she had tried to please.
Sharon felt her palms go sweaty with the realization.
No, it wasn’t about sex; it was about having what she had always wanted, and the fact that she thought of it as wrong, in more ways than one, made it all the more necessary.
She contemplated Brenda’s advice - take a breath, have more wine, eat a big, giant cake and get over it.
She had to accept the things she couldn’t change, and her sexuality was one of them.
Was it that simple?
Could she let go of a lifetime of denial?
“Captain?”
The voice startled her, interrupting the quiet in the media room. “Yes, Buzz?”
“I’m going to order pizza and I was wondering if you wanted one as well. That is, if you don’t tell anyone we’ve been eating it in here.”
Sharon smiled at him. “That’s very nice of you to offer.” She rubbed her tummy a little, realizing she was quite hungry. “I think,” she wanted a salad. “I’ll have a big, giant one. With everything.”
“Everything?”
“Yep,” Sharon nodded, shocked she had just done that. “My treat.”
“Oh,” Buzz said slowly, just as shocked but he knew not to protest. “Okay then. One with everything...”
The brunette gave him a smile and stared at him while he ordered. Buzz, she didn’t even know his name, seemed like a very well mannered and well spoken young man and, admittedly, she had a bit of a soft spot for those.
Her son came to mind. She wondered what they were all doing at that very moment. Perhaps having dinner at the restaurant they always went to. Her father would order a big lump of barely cooked meat and her mother would pick on her filet mignon for half an hour.
The Pope was effectively ruining her Christmas.
She couldn’t really blame the boy - he was just a boy - but Pope? She wanted to rip him a new one.
“Don’t worry,” Buzz said suddenly, having hung up the phone. “Chief Johnson will come up with something. She always does.”
Sharon gave him a weak smile, wanting to pat his knee but refrained from doing so. “You hold her in very high esteem...”
“We all do.” He picked up his earphones and put them around his neck. “She is very good at what she does.”
“I’ve come to realize that.” Sharon picked at the hem of her shirt. “So,” she said, changing the subject. “You cook?” Buzz gave her a surprised look. “I overheard you saying you were defrosting two turkeys...”
“Oh, yes, well, I’m helping my mom prepare Christmas dinner this year. My sister is out of town.” He shrugged a little. “Plus, she never lets her take all the credit, my mom kinda likes the compliments.”
Sharon smiled again. “Sounds nice,” she replied quietly, wanting to say something else but conscious of the fact that Buzz was neither her friend nor her colleague, really - she hardly knew him.
When the pizzas arrived, Sharon found herself surprised at their size. They ate with their fingers, no knife, no fork, and she tried to remember when the last time was she ate anything without silverware that wasn’t a bread roll. Buzz had his headphones on and was piecing together the tapes, his gaze very focused on his work, and beside his clicking and typing the room was silent.
Sharon chewed on a piece of crust absentmindedly, having had enough of the pizza already, and drifted off once more. She wondered briefly whether to go home or not but there she would sit with a bottle of wine and her misery and sulk about her almost missed Christmas.
For somebody who hardly ever drank, Sharon found herself drinking a lot lately.
That had to end.
Wine had tons of calories.
Leaning back in her chair and stretching her legs a little, Sharon contemplated her next move. Coming to terms with things was easier said than done. She wondered how her parents would react because she would have to tell them eventually, that much was clear.
No more hiding, no more deceit and lies. No more.
“Back in a minute,” she said and stood, suddenly feeling rather antsy. She breezed out of the room and strode down the hallway towards the toilets.
Her life had become a nightmare.
Sharon came to a halt in front of the sinks, holding on to one as she stared at herself in the mirrors. She was trapped in this endless pas de deux, dancing back and forth with a married woman. No ending, no coda, no final goodbye.
She wondered what their last dance would be, where this would go? Sharon felt as if it was out of her hands, beyond her control, the great unknown.
It shouldn’t be like this. She shouldn’t be like this.
Defenseless, succumbing to her desires, blindly reaching for every little morsel of attention and affection Brenda merely tossed her way, seemingly indulging her, uncaring of her feelings and her own ‘tales of woe’.
Her life threatened to disintegrate, to shatter, and still Sharon wanted to engage in sex, mindless, incautious, desire-filled, all-consuming sex, the kind she had never had before, and throw herself at the woman with a desperation never experienced prior to one Chief Johnson.
The despicable truth was that, as long as she persisted in her avoidance of the facts, she wouldn’t be able to drag herself away from the woman. Brenda made her feel what nobody else had ever made her feel - regrettable, but fact.
What was it about her?
The answer was there, she could feel it.
Sharon wanted to cry in frustration.
“Are you alright?”
The brunette jumped and turned, holding onto the sink for dear life.
There she stood, her nemesis, Brenda.
“I’m sorry,” the blonde said, dimples forming in her cheeks, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Sharon shook her head a little. “That’s okay,” she said.
“I thought you’d gone home..?”
“I was just about to,” she lied, not wanting to seem sad or to be pitied. “Are you leaving?”
“Yes,” Brenda washed her hands right beside her, glancing up at her from beneath her eyelashes. “My mama’s puttin’ on a big dinner...she probably cooked for a whole army.”
Sharon nodded slowly, releasing the sink and crossing her arms. “It’s hard to go back to cooking for only yourself once you’ve had to cook for four.”
“Six,” Brenda dried her hands on a paper towel. “I’ve got three brothers...”
Brothers then. Sharon bit her lip, an uncharacteristic gesture on her part, and sighed.
“What are you doin’ for Christmas? Usually, I mean...”
“Well,” she tilted her head, “We don’t really cook. But my Dad makes pancakes in the morning.”
“And?” Brenda prodded.
“We open our gifts...” Sharon smiled to herself. “I got my parents a wine tasting weekend away, in Napa.”
“I got my Daddy wrenches,” the blonde commented dryly.
The brunette spared her a smile. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate them.”
Brenda said nothing for a moment, leaning against the sink with her hip and stared at her, studied her. Sharon hated the scrutiny, Brenda always made her feel as if the blonde had all her secrets and thoughts figured out, as if she knew everything, which of course was ridiculous but Sharon couldn’t help it.
She shifted from one foot to the other.
“You know,” Brenda said suddenly, slinking closer. “Sometimes I regret tellin’ him...about the kiss.”
Sharon nodded slowly, wondering where this was going.
“If I hadn’t, I’d invite you over for dinner tonight.” The blonde shrugged self-consciously. “Whether you’d wanna come or not, I don’t know but--” She cut herself off.
“But?” Sharon asked with a raised eyebrow.
“But...sometimes I wish we hadn’t started all this.”
The brunette met the blonde’s fearful gaze and smiled. “Me too, honey.”
“We coulda been friends.”
Sharon exhaled slowly, toying with the idea of a friendship then tilted her head. “Woulda, coulda, shoulda?”
“That sounds just wrong,” Brenda slapped her arm a bit, “but yes, somethin’ like that.”
“Well, uh, I should...” Sharon pointed at the general direction of the door.
The blonde just nodded, smiling, and came closer, her lips pursed, ready for a kiss that, in Sharon’s opinion, was completely uncalled for but before their lips connected, Brenda drew back, eyes flashing curiously.
“Is that pizza on your breath?”
Sharon blinked, her heart less achy after their conversation, and decided not to be a bitch this time. “I had a big, giant one of something...could’ve been a pizza.”
“Big, giant...” Brenda mumbled, remembering the advice she herself had given. “I like the sound of that...”
Sharon said nothing, she merely stared back, no words necessary.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
The brunette nodded once, unable to speak as the woman came closer once more and kissed her, gently, gently, on her cheek.
“Night, Sharon.”
Part Four