FIC: Sometimes it Feels Just Like I'm Falling, for Rodlox
Title: Sometimes it Feels Just Like I'm Falling
Recipient: Rodlox
Pairing: Liz/Amita
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Summary: Amita finally gives her an honest, happy smile that makes Liz feel kind of warm inside.
Author's Note: Slight AU from canon; in this 'verse, Amita and Charlie never dated.
Don sends her to CalSci to drop off some data Amita's agreed to analyze. Liz doesn't fully understand the math behind it but she knows by now to trust that once Amita has worked her magic they'll be a step (or five) closer to identifying their perp.
She doesn't get lost anymore navigating the university, makes her way confidently down the hallways until she finds Amita's tiny office. The door is cracked open an inch and she can hear the clacking of a computer keyboard from inside. Liz knocks lightly, letting the door swing open a few more inches with the force, and peers around it, meeting Amita's eyes when she glances up and nods her inside with a small smile.
"Hey," Liz says. She steps into the room and gives a little wave with the hand holding the file folder from Don.
"Hi. Is that for me?" Amita smiles but it looks forced. Liz bites the inside of her cheek, unsure whether to say something. She and Amita aren't exactly friends, they're sort of... friendly colleagues, but she likes her and she doesn't think it would necessarily be overstepping to ask what's wrong.
"Yeah," she says instead, handing over the file. "These are some notes Don wrote up for you." She digs a hand into her pocket. "And here's a flashdrive with the data."
Amita's already got the file open, scanning the pages and nodding a little. "Okay," she says after a moment, like she's suddenly realized she should reply. "I don't think this will take very long. I can probably get it done by this afternoon." She glances at the top right corner of her computer screen, where the clock is, and frowns a little.
"Great," Liz says. "Thanks. We really appreciate your help," she adds sincerely, in case Amita is unhappy because she feels she's being taken advantage of by the Bureau.
"Oh." Amita sounds a little surprised, and the smile she gives Liz seems genuine this time. "It's no problem. I like being able to apply this stuff to real life cases."
"Good, that's... Good." Liz is lingering by the door, not quite ready to leave. Amita looks down at the notes on her desk, glances back up at Liz.
"Is there something else?"
"Are you alright?" Liz blurts out. She's embarrassed for a split second, until she sees Amita's face fall, and then she's glad she asked.
"Yeah, sorry, I just--I mean, I'm fine, I'm just kind of scrambling today." She sounds frustrated.
Liz feels bad. "I could have Don get one of our techs to do the work," she offers. "I mean, they're not as good as you, but--"
"No. No, this is really--" She rests her hand on the file. "This is fine, it's personal stuff, I'm kind of... unexpectedly stuck trying to find a place to live all of a sudden." She shakes her head, lets out an unhappy laugh.
"What happened?"
Amita sighs, resting her elbow on the desk and propping her chin on her hand. "I rent this place with another girl, a grad student here. We're both really busy so we don't hang out that much or anything, and apparently last month she was so busy she forgot to tell me we'd gotten a notice from our landlord that they're going to be refinishing our floors and we need to be out of the apartment for a week." She looks like she kind of hates her roommate in this moment. "I found out this morning and I have literally two days to find a place to stay."
"Damn," Liz commiserates. "Well hey, if it comes down to it you can stay with me."
"Seriously?"
Liz hadn't actually thought the offer through before she'd voiced it, but she does have a comfortable couch and she likes Amita, so it's not a bad idea.
"Yeah, of course," she tells her.
Even if Liz hadn't been sure about the invitation, which she is, the look of relief that washes over Amita's face would have made it worth the inconvenience of having an unexpected roommate.
"I honestly might take you up on that," she says. "I've got so much work to do, it's been stressing me out all day trying to figure this out." She still looks a little flustered by the situation.
Liz grins at her. "Of course," she says again. "Don't worry about it. You've got my number, right? Just let me know and I can wash the guest sheets." She winks and Amita finally gives her an honest, happy smile that makes Liz feel kind of warm inside.
**
Amita e-mails them the information she gleans from the FBI data, so Liz doesn't see her again before she gets a call from her the following afternoon.
"Hi! I was wondering if your offer from yesterday still stands?" Amita asks cautiously.
"Definitely," Liz says.
"Thank you," Amita says, voice filled with relief.
Amita's so grateful she tells Liz she'll make her dinner every night she's there, and Liz has to laugh and insist it's not necessary, it's no problem, it's just a couch, and Amita hums noncommittally in a way that makes Liz think she might be menu-planning in her head anyway.
"So, I'll see you tomorrow?" Amita says finally.
"Yep," Liz says. She taps her pen idly against her desk and frowns, trying to remember the last time she properly cleaned her bathroom. "See ya."
**
The first morning after Amita starts staying at her place, Liz wakes up to the smell of fresh coffee brewing in the kitchen, and she thinks, I could get used to this. She hasn't lived with a roommate since college, and she's always been content on her own, but it's nice to have half a pot of coffee waiting for her when she gets up, and to get a text message in the afternoon that says going to the store u need anything?, and to come home at night to find Amita cooking dinner in her tiny kitchen.
She's got her iPod hooked up to a little speaker on the counter and she doesn't hear Liz enter the apartment over the bouncy indie rock that's playing, so Liz takes a moment to watch her from the doorway as she slips off her shoes and sets down her bag. Amita's wearing the apron Liz has owned for a few years and possibly never actually worn, bopping to her music while she rinses something in a salad spinner.
"Honey, I'm home!" Liz calls out, feeling foolish the second it leaves her mouth, but Amita turns to greet her with a grin and Liz smiles back.
"Hey!" Amita says. "Good timing. Are you hungry? I was just about to put the pasta in."
"Starving."
She is starving, and the food is excellent, and it's just... nice, eating a home-cooked meal with another person for the first time in a while. She sets out cloth napkins from the drawer she usually never opens, instead of grabbing a paper towel off the roll, and they eat at the table with the music on low in the background, not cross-legged on the couch watching the news or Keeping Up with the Kardashians.
It's just really nice. Liz starts thinking she should throw more dinner parties.
**
On Friday she has to chase a suspect nearly two blocks before she can tackle him to the ground and twist her cuffs onto his wrists. He's twice her size and he bucks her off, making her tumble over to land on her shoulder on the sidewalk. She gives him a dirty look and goes to pull him up none too gently, but Colby gets there first, raising an eyebrow at her, like, are you alright? and waiting for her to nod before he marches the guy toward the truck.
She's buzzing on adrenaline for the rest of the hour, and then she starts feeling the ache in her shoulder. When the energy runs out she drinks two cups of coffee to make up for it, and by the time Don sends her home early at 4:30 she's wired again and itchy under her skin. She listens to an R&B station on the drive home and it makes her want to dance.
Amita's sitting on the couch, feet tucked up and a stack of papers on her lap. She's got a red pen in her hand and she's squinting at the paper through a pair of glasses Liz hasn't seen her in before.
After she takes off her shoes and grabs a glass of water, she goes back into the living room and hovers, no desire to sit. Caffeine shivers through her. Amita gives her an expectant smile.
"Have any plans tonight?" Liz asks.
Amita gestures to the papers in front of her. "Just grading."
"You know how to spend a Friday night," Liz says, and immediately feels bad for it, but Amita laughs genuinely and gives a little shrug.
"Let's go out."
"Out?" Amita says, and now Liz laughs.
"Dinner, drinks, dancing...? Dress up and order overpriced cocktails?" she suggests.
Amita glances down at her work and it's like she catches a glimpse of her jeans because she says, "I don't really have anything fancy in my suitcase."
Liz grins, taking that as a yes.
**
They're in her bedroom. Amita looks unsure. "I'm like, two sizes bigger than you," she points out. Liz waves her off.
"I'm sure I have something that'll fit you." She already knows what Amita should wear, if she can just find it in her closet. While she's digging, she pulls out a couple of pieces for herself and tosses them on the bed. Her hand brushes against slinky black fabric and she grabs the hanger. "Here! This always hangs on me, it'll look good on you."
Amita is eyeing the short hemline skeptically but she accepts the dress when Liz hands it to her. She sets it down and reaches for the button on her jeans, and Liz turns her back politely to browse her closet for shoes.
A minute later she looks back and her breath almost catches. The dress is slinky on Liz, slipping over her hips, but Amita fills it out, making the fabric cling at her breasts and hips, and it looks amazing. Amita is staring at herself in the mirror, wide-eyed.
"It's perfect," Liz says.
"It's... tight?" Amita says hesitantly.
"It's sexy," Liz counters, and Amita looks surprised. She looks at herself again, evaluating, and shakes her hips a little. Liz laughs. Amita looks pleased.
Liz leaves her to appreciate her own reflection, turning away to strip off her clothes. She's eyeing the pile of dresses on her bed, considering the magenta one, when she hears Amita hiss behind her. "Ouch."
Liz looks back, concerned, but Amita is staring at Liz's shoulder and she realizes there must be a bruise purpling there.
"What happened?"
Liz shrugs, turning back to the bed. "Just hit the sidewalk a little too hard."
"Ouch," Amita says again.
Liz doesn't hear her moving but suddenly cool fingers are brushing lightly over her shoulder blade. She tries not to shiver.
"Does it hurt?"
"It aches a bit."
Amita drops her hand and Liz frowns at herself for the brief shot of disappointment she feels, but when she realizes that Amita has replaced her fingertips with her mouth, pressing a light, dry kiss to her back, she doesn't know what to feel, so she just holds still and lets her eyes drop shut for a moment.
"Better?" Amita asks, and Liz knows that she's teasing, can hear it in her voice, but she still has to swallow before she can say, "Yeah," without sounding too earnest.
She grabs two dresses and spins around, stepping back to put a foot of space between them, and she holds the dresses up on either side of her, for Amita to see. "Which do you think?"
"The green one," she says, but her eyes have already moved on from the dresses, skating down Liz's body to settle on her left hip. "I didn't know you had a tattoo."
Of course she wouldn't know, Liz thinks, and it makes her remember, suddenly, that she really doesn't know Amita that well, they're not close friends or anything, and she shifts on her feet, mildly embarrassed to be standing half-naked in front of her now.
"What does it mean?" Amita's asking, and she reaches out a hand as if she's going to touch her again, run her fingers over the ink like she did with the bruise, but she stops herself this time, letting her hand drop back to her side abruptly. Liz thinks she sees her cheeks turn pink.
She looks down at the tattoo. It runs over her left hipbone, above the line of her underwear, thick black letters spelling Makai. She runs her fingers over it the way Amita wanted to and glances back up in time to watch Amita's eyes following the movement.
"It's Hawaiian," she tells her. "It means, 'towards the water.' Like if you were directing someone somewhere, you would tell them it's makai, toward the water, or mauka, towards the mountain."
"And you're towards the water," Amita says.
Liz smiles. "Always."
**
Amita sticks to the bar at first, sipping a lemon drop, but Liz can already feel the vibrations of the bass line rumbling through her body so she orders a shot and downs it quickly. She moves to the dance floor but hovers on the edge so she can keep Amita in her sights, watch her laugh at Liz's dance moves and count her drinks till she gauges she's buzzed enough to let Liz drag her onto the the floor herself.
They move together, and Liz tries to pretend it's not strange, that there's nothing different about dancing with this pretty dark-haired girl who keeps touching her, that it's no different than dancing with any of her friends. But her breath still catches when Amita holds her gaze and sings along to the dirty lyrics of the song grinding out through the thick air around them--and when we're done, I don't wanna feel my legs, and when we're done, I just wanna feel your hands all over me baby--and punctuates them by resting her hands on Liz's waist, rubbing a thumb over her hipbone and grinning up at her.
Liz smiles back, and when the song ends she gets another drink and then dances with her eyes closed until the alcohol kicks in.
**
They're both ready to leave by 12:30, energy fading and sore feet protesting the hours spent in strappy heels. Liz starts making her way through the crowd, twisting a hand behind her back, palm up, for Amita to grab so they'll stay together. They're halfway across the club when she hears Amita's voice cut through the noise, sharp. "Hey!"
She turns to look and Amita is shooting an annoyed frown at a tall guy next to her. "What happened?" Liz asks.
"He grabbed my ass," Amita says, shaking her head and already turning forward to keep moving, but Liz can see that the guy is smirking so she keeps her feet planted, catches his eye, and gives him her best I will fuck you up glare. "Step. Back," she commands him, and he physically recoils, nearly tripping over his feet as he backs away.
When they get out of the club the cold air feels good hitting her flushed skin, and she takes a deep breath and feels the rush of oxygen make her come awake and tingly, even through the tipsy haze of alcohol running through her bloodstream. They start walking toward the taxi stand a few blocks away. Amita is laughing.
"That was amazing!" she says. "He looked like he was going to crap himself. You have to teach me how to do that."
Liz shrugs. "I guess working in law enforcement you learn pretty quickly not to take people's shit. You could have handled him no problem if you'd had as much experience dealing with assholes as I have."
Amita is smiling at her, all pink cheeks and smudged eyeliner. Her hair is shiny where the street lamps hit it like a strobe as they walk. "Well, thanks."
"Yeah," Liz says. "You're alright?"
Amita squeezes her hand, bumps their shoulders together, and that's when Liz realizes they've been walking for a full block and she hasn't let go of her hand.
**
Sunday is Amita's last day at her place. Instead of her alarm Liz wakes to Amita's hand settling on her shoulder. The first thing she notices is that Amita's fully dressed, in a sweater and scarf, and her hair is pinned back but a little windswept, like she's already been out. The second thing she notices is that the apartment is freezing.
"Hey," Amita says, quiet like she's trying to ease Liz into wakefulness gently. Liz squeezes her eyes shut tight, blinks a few times trying to convince them to stay open.
"What time is it?" she mumbles. She pulls the comforter up to her chin, shivering. She feels a little disoriented, mind still clinging to the dream she'd been in a minute ago.
"Eight thirty," Amita replies. "The power went out during the night. I wasn't sure what time you wanted to get up but yesterday you mentioned going to the farmer's market, so..."
So Amita took it upon herself to replace Liz's alarm clock, dimmed and useless sitting on her nightstand.
"I couldn't make coffee so I went and got some," she adds, and Liz looks to see two grande Starbucks cups behind the clock.
"Mm," she hums, pleased. "Thanks."
But she can't quite bring herself to sit up or to lift her arms from under the covers to expose them to the cold air, even if there is a caramel macchiato in it for her. Her eyes are slipping shut again. She looks up at Amita, still hovering over her, and notices how pink her cheeks and nose are, and the little inverted triangle of bare skin exposed between the loop of her scarf and the v-neck of her sweater below.
"C'mere," she murmurs, tugging at Amita's arm to pull her down. "It's Sunday, let's not get up."
Amita's laughing. "I already got up," she protests, but she moves easily, sliding under the covers and up against Liz, because she barely moves back to make room, not wanting to feel the cold of the sheet behind her. Amita's scarf presses into her face, soft and fragrant with the sweet floral traces of her perfume, and Liz settles in a little deeper, tucking her face into Amita's chest and letting her lips press lightly for a long moment against the cold patch of skin above her neckline.
Amita sighs, shifts close to wrap her arm around Liz's shoulders, and they tuck the covers up as high as they can, and it's only moments before Liz slips back to sleep.
Recipient: Rodlox
Pairing: Liz/Amita
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Summary: Amita finally gives her an honest, happy smile that makes Liz feel kind of warm inside.
Author's Note: Slight AU from canon; in this 'verse, Amita and Charlie never dated.
Don sends her to CalSci to drop off some data Amita's agreed to analyze. Liz doesn't fully understand the math behind it but she knows by now to trust that once Amita has worked her magic they'll be a step (or five) closer to identifying their perp.
She doesn't get lost anymore navigating the university, makes her way confidently down the hallways until she finds Amita's tiny office. The door is cracked open an inch and she can hear the clacking of a computer keyboard from inside. Liz knocks lightly, letting the door swing open a few more inches with the force, and peers around it, meeting Amita's eyes when she glances up and nods her inside with a small smile.
"Hey," Liz says. She steps into the room and gives a little wave with the hand holding the file folder from Don.
"Hi. Is that for me?" Amita smiles but it looks forced. Liz bites the inside of her cheek, unsure whether to say something. She and Amita aren't exactly friends, they're sort of... friendly colleagues, but she likes her and she doesn't think it would necessarily be overstepping to ask what's wrong.
"Yeah," she says instead, handing over the file. "These are some notes Don wrote up for you." She digs a hand into her pocket. "And here's a flashdrive with the data."
Amita's already got the file open, scanning the pages and nodding a little. "Okay," she says after a moment, like she's suddenly realized she should reply. "I don't think this will take very long. I can probably get it done by this afternoon." She glances at the top right corner of her computer screen, where the clock is, and frowns a little.
"Great," Liz says. "Thanks. We really appreciate your help," she adds sincerely, in case Amita is unhappy because she feels she's being taken advantage of by the Bureau.
"Oh." Amita sounds a little surprised, and the smile she gives Liz seems genuine this time. "It's no problem. I like being able to apply this stuff to real life cases."
"Good, that's... Good." Liz is lingering by the door, not quite ready to leave. Amita looks down at the notes on her desk, glances back up at Liz.
"Is there something else?"
"Are you alright?" Liz blurts out. She's embarrassed for a split second, until she sees Amita's face fall, and then she's glad she asked.
"Yeah, sorry, I just--I mean, I'm fine, I'm just kind of scrambling today." She sounds frustrated.
Liz feels bad. "I could have Don get one of our techs to do the work," she offers. "I mean, they're not as good as you, but--"
"No. No, this is really--" She rests her hand on the file. "This is fine, it's personal stuff, I'm kind of... unexpectedly stuck trying to find a place to live all of a sudden." She shakes her head, lets out an unhappy laugh.
"What happened?"
Amita sighs, resting her elbow on the desk and propping her chin on her hand. "I rent this place with another girl, a grad student here. We're both really busy so we don't hang out that much or anything, and apparently last month she was so busy she forgot to tell me we'd gotten a notice from our landlord that they're going to be refinishing our floors and we need to be out of the apartment for a week." She looks like she kind of hates her roommate in this moment. "I found out this morning and I have literally two days to find a place to stay."
"Damn," Liz commiserates. "Well hey, if it comes down to it you can stay with me."
"Seriously?"
Liz hadn't actually thought the offer through before she'd voiced it, but she does have a comfortable couch and she likes Amita, so it's not a bad idea.
"Yeah, of course," she tells her.
Even if Liz hadn't been sure about the invitation, which she is, the look of relief that washes over Amita's face would have made it worth the inconvenience of having an unexpected roommate.
"I honestly might take you up on that," she says. "I've got so much work to do, it's been stressing me out all day trying to figure this out." She still looks a little flustered by the situation.
Liz grins at her. "Of course," she says again. "Don't worry about it. You've got my number, right? Just let me know and I can wash the guest sheets." She winks and Amita finally gives her an honest, happy smile that makes Liz feel kind of warm inside.
**
Amita e-mails them the information she gleans from the FBI data, so Liz doesn't see her again before she gets a call from her the following afternoon.
"Hi! I was wondering if your offer from yesterday still stands?" Amita asks cautiously.
"Definitely," Liz says.
"Thank you," Amita says, voice filled with relief.
Amita's so grateful she tells Liz she'll make her dinner every night she's there, and Liz has to laugh and insist it's not necessary, it's no problem, it's just a couch, and Amita hums noncommittally in a way that makes Liz think she might be menu-planning in her head anyway.
"So, I'll see you tomorrow?" Amita says finally.
"Yep," Liz says. She taps her pen idly against her desk and frowns, trying to remember the last time she properly cleaned her bathroom. "See ya."
**
The first morning after Amita starts staying at her place, Liz wakes up to the smell of fresh coffee brewing in the kitchen, and she thinks, I could get used to this. She hasn't lived with a roommate since college, and she's always been content on her own, but it's nice to have half a pot of coffee waiting for her when she gets up, and to get a text message in the afternoon that says going to the store u need anything?, and to come home at night to find Amita cooking dinner in her tiny kitchen.
She's got her iPod hooked up to a little speaker on the counter and she doesn't hear Liz enter the apartment over the bouncy indie rock that's playing, so Liz takes a moment to watch her from the doorway as she slips off her shoes and sets down her bag. Amita's wearing the apron Liz has owned for a few years and possibly never actually worn, bopping to her music while she rinses something in a salad spinner.
"Honey, I'm home!" Liz calls out, feeling foolish the second it leaves her mouth, but Amita turns to greet her with a grin and Liz smiles back.
"Hey!" Amita says. "Good timing. Are you hungry? I was just about to put the pasta in."
"Starving."
She is starving, and the food is excellent, and it's just... nice, eating a home-cooked meal with another person for the first time in a while. She sets out cloth napkins from the drawer she usually never opens, instead of grabbing a paper towel off the roll, and they eat at the table with the music on low in the background, not cross-legged on the couch watching the news or Keeping Up with the Kardashians.
It's just really nice. Liz starts thinking she should throw more dinner parties.
**
On Friday she has to chase a suspect nearly two blocks before she can tackle him to the ground and twist her cuffs onto his wrists. He's twice her size and he bucks her off, making her tumble over to land on her shoulder on the sidewalk. She gives him a dirty look and goes to pull him up none too gently, but Colby gets there first, raising an eyebrow at her, like, are you alright? and waiting for her to nod before he marches the guy toward the truck.
She's buzzing on adrenaline for the rest of the hour, and then she starts feeling the ache in her shoulder. When the energy runs out she drinks two cups of coffee to make up for it, and by the time Don sends her home early at 4:30 she's wired again and itchy under her skin. She listens to an R&B station on the drive home and it makes her want to dance.
Amita's sitting on the couch, feet tucked up and a stack of papers on her lap. She's got a red pen in her hand and she's squinting at the paper through a pair of glasses Liz hasn't seen her in before.
After she takes off her shoes and grabs a glass of water, she goes back into the living room and hovers, no desire to sit. Caffeine shivers through her. Amita gives her an expectant smile.
"Have any plans tonight?" Liz asks.
Amita gestures to the papers in front of her. "Just grading."
"You know how to spend a Friday night," Liz says, and immediately feels bad for it, but Amita laughs genuinely and gives a little shrug.
"Let's go out."
"Out?" Amita says, and now Liz laughs.
"Dinner, drinks, dancing...? Dress up and order overpriced cocktails?" she suggests.
Amita glances down at her work and it's like she catches a glimpse of her jeans because she says, "I don't really have anything fancy in my suitcase."
Liz grins, taking that as a yes.
**
They're in her bedroom. Amita looks unsure. "I'm like, two sizes bigger than you," she points out. Liz waves her off.
"I'm sure I have something that'll fit you." She already knows what Amita should wear, if she can just find it in her closet. While she's digging, she pulls out a couple of pieces for herself and tosses them on the bed. Her hand brushes against slinky black fabric and she grabs the hanger. "Here! This always hangs on me, it'll look good on you."
Amita is eyeing the short hemline skeptically but she accepts the dress when Liz hands it to her. She sets it down and reaches for the button on her jeans, and Liz turns her back politely to browse her closet for shoes.
A minute later she looks back and her breath almost catches. The dress is slinky on Liz, slipping over her hips, but Amita fills it out, making the fabric cling at her breasts and hips, and it looks amazing. Amita is staring at herself in the mirror, wide-eyed.
"It's perfect," Liz says.
"It's... tight?" Amita says hesitantly.
"It's sexy," Liz counters, and Amita looks surprised. She looks at herself again, evaluating, and shakes her hips a little. Liz laughs. Amita looks pleased.
Liz leaves her to appreciate her own reflection, turning away to strip off her clothes. She's eyeing the pile of dresses on her bed, considering the magenta one, when she hears Amita hiss behind her. "Ouch."
Liz looks back, concerned, but Amita is staring at Liz's shoulder and she realizes there must be a bruise purpling there.
"What happened?"
Liz shrugs, turning back to the bed. "Just hit the sidewalk a little too hard."
"Ouch," Amita says again.
Liz doesn't hear her moving but suddenly cool fingers are brushing lightly over her shoulder blade. She tries not to shiver.
"Does it hurt?"
"It aches a bit."
Amita drops her hand and Liz frowns at herself for the brief shot of disappointment she feels, but when she realizes that Amita has replaced her fingertips with her mouth, pressing a light, dry kiss to her back, she doesn't know what to feel, so she just holds still and lets her eyes drop shut for a moment.
"Better?" Amita asks, and Liz knows that she's teasing, can hear it in her voice, but she still has to swallow before she can say, "Yeah," without sounding too earnest.
She grabs two dresses and spins around, stepping back to put a foot of space between them, and she holds the dresses up on either side of her, for Amita to see. "Which do you think?"
"The green one," she says, but her eyes have already moved on from the dresses, skating down Liz's body to settle on her left hip. "I didn't know you had a tattoo."
Of course she wouldn't know, Liz thinks, and it makes her remember, suddenly, that she really doesn't know Amita that well, they're not close friends or anything, and she shifts on her feet, mildly embarrassed to be standing half-naked in front of her now.
"What does it mean?" Amita's asking, and she reaches out a hand as if she's going to touch her again, run her fingers over the ink like she did with the bruise, but she stops herself this time, letting her hand drop back to her side abruptly. Liz thinks she sees her cheeks turn pink.
She looks down at the tattoo. It runs over her left hipbone, above the line of her underwear, thick black letters spelling Makai. She runs her fingers over it the way Amita wanted to and glances back up in time to watch Amita's eyes following the movement.
"It's Hawaiian," she tells her. "It means, 'towards the water.' Like if you were directing someone somewhere, you would tell them it's makai, toward the water, or mauka, towards the mountain."
"And you're towards the water," Amita says.
Liz smiles. "Always."
**
Amita sticks to the bar at first, sipping a lemon drop, but Liz can already feel the vibrations of the bass line rumbling through her body so she orders a shot and downs it quickly. She moves to the dance floor but hovers on the edge so she can keep Amita in her sights, watch her laugh at Liz's dance moves and count her drinks till she gauges she's buzzed enough to let Liz drag her onto the the floor herself.
They move together, and Liz tries to pretend it's not strange, that there's nothing different about dancing with this pretty dark-haired girl who keeps touching her, that it's no different than dancing with any of her friends. But her breath still catches when Amita holds her gaze and sings along to the dirty lyrics of the song grinding out through the thick air around them--and when we're done, I don't wanna feel my legs, and when we're done, I just wanna feel your hands all over me baby--and punctuates them by resting her hands on Liz's waist, rubbing a thumb over her hipbone and grinning up at her.
Liz smiles back, and when the song ends she gets another drink and then dances with her eyes closed until the alcohol kicks in.
**
They're both ready to leave by 12:30, energy fading and sore feet protesting the hours spent in strappy heels. Liz starts making her way through the crowd, twisting a hand behind her back, palm up, for Amita to grab so they'll stay together. They're halfway across the club when she hears Amita's voice cut through the noise, sharp. "Hey!"
She turns to look and Amita is shooting an annoyed frown at a tall guy next to her. "What happened?" Liz asks.
"He grabbed my ass," Amita says, shaking her head and already turning forward to keep moving, but Liz can see that the guy is smirking so she keeps her feet planted, catches his eye, and gives him her best I will fuck you up glare. "Step. Back," she commands him, and he physically recoils, nearly tripping over his feet as he backs away.
When they get out of the club the cold air feels good hitting her flushed skin, and she takes a deep breath and feels the rush of oxygen make her come awake and tingly, even through the tipsy haze of alcohol running through her bloodstream. They start walking toward the taxi stand a few blocks away. Amita is laughing.
"That was amazing!" she says. "He looked like he was going to crap himself. You have to teach me how to do that."
Liz shrugs. "I guess working in law enforcement you learn pretty quickly not to take people's shit. You could have handled him no problem if you'd had as much experience dealing with assholes as I have."
Amita is smiling at her, all pink cheeks and smudged eyeliner. Her hair is shiny where the street lamps hit it like a strobe as they walk. "Well, thanks."
"Yeah," Liz says. "You're alright?"
Amita squeezes her hand, bumps their shoulders together, and that's when Liz realizes they've been walking for a full block and she hasn't let go of her hand.
**
Sunday is Amita's last day at her place. Instead of her alarm Liz wakes to Amita's hand settling on her shoulder. The first thing she notices is that Amita's fully dressed, in a sweater and scarf, and her hair is pinned back but a little windswept, like she's already been out. The second thing she notices is that the apartment is freezing.
"Hey," Amita says, quiet like she's trying to ease Liz into wakefulness gently. Liz squeezes her eyes shut tight, blinks a few times trying to convince them to stay open.
"What time is it?" she mumbles. She pulls the comforter up to her chin, shivering. She feels a little disoriented, mind still clinging to the dream she'd been in a minute ago.
"Eight thirty," Amita replies. "The power went out during the night. I wasn't sure what time you wanted to get up but yesterday you mentioned going to the farmer's market, so..."
So Amita took it upon herself to replace Liz's alarm clock, dimmed and useless sitting on her nightstand.
"I couldn't make coffee so I went and got some," she adds, and Liz looks to see two grande Starbucks cups behind the clock.
"Mm," she hums, pleased. "Thanks."
But she can't quite bring herself to sit up or to lift her arms from under the covers to expose them to the cold air, even if there is a caramel macchiato in it for her. Her eyes are slipping shut again. She looks up at Amita, still hovering over her, and notices how pink her cheeks and nose are, and the little inverted triangle of bare skin exposed between the loop of her scarf and the v-neck of her sweater below.
"C'mere," she murmurs, tugging at Amita's arm to pull her down. "It's Sunday, let's not get up."
Amita's laughing. "I already got up," she protests, but she moves easily, sliding under the covers and up against Liz, because she barely moves back to make room, not wanting to feel the cold of the sheet behind her. Amita's scarf presses into her face, soft and fragrant with the sweet floral traces of her perfume, and Liz settles in a little deeper, tucking her face into Amita's chest and letting her lips press lightly for a long moment against the cold patch of skin above her neckline.
Amita sighs, shifts close to wrap her arm around Liz's shoulders, and they tuck the covers up as high as they can, and it's only moments before Liz slips back to sleep.