Counterpoint: Clarisse's face is just like that. It makes Abby think of weird shit her dad used to say when she was a kid. If the wind changes, your face will stay like that. What does that even mean??
"You wouldn't, but you've officially put the most thought into it of the two of us."
She's teasing, her eyes lazy and bright. She stretches her legs out a little further, and tips her head back to stare at the ceiling. "Sex with guys is... overrated, anyway."
Clarisse's face is just like that, and she won't apologize.
"No," she argues, "you did, when you made me play this dumb game in the first place." She's conveniently forgetting that she was the one who brought up Maul's dick and what it might look like, but if Abby knows anything about her, it's that she'll never admit to being wrong about it.
And anyway, there's a new and much better topic of discussion, so. Clarisse opens her eyes and sits up, maybe a liiittle more enthusiastic-seeming than she intends. Her cheeks are even a tiny bit redder than they were a second ago. "Yes. Gods, it's so much better with girls."
Abby laughs, breathy and warm, and lifts her head to eyeball Clarisse as she practically straightens her spine. She's so funny whenever Bella comes up inadvertently in conversation... she gets shiny. That's the only way Abby's weed-fuzzy brain can think to describe it right at this second. It's love. She's really happy for them.
"Yeah," she agrees, even though her experience with girls boils down to the grand total of: none, "It's– girls are..."
Thoughts... Abby isn't really sure what she's going for. She makes a vague shape in the air with both hands. "Soft."
"Mmm," Clarisse agrees sagely. Soft. Yes, that's a good way to describe girls. Also, they smell better and aren't as stupid, full offense to boys everywhere.
She's about to sink back against the couch when a thought occurs to her. "Hold up," she says, lasering in on Abby, "I didn't know you fucked girls."
Abby doesn't really talk about this stuff. Well, it's not like Clarisse does either; she just happens to have a girlfriend, so it's sort of obvious. Abby, though? As far as Clarisse knew, she just has terrible taste in guys. This is a revelation.
Abby pauses with her hands held aloft in the air, making up half of the shape from before. She looks at Clarisse through the two of them, and furrows her brow.
"I haven't," she admits, "Fucked a girl before. But I would." So it counts, right?? Maybe not Korra, but still.
Hold on, she's thinking... Finally, "I'd fuck Kassandra."
"Doesn't count," Clarisse says flatly, almost before Abby's done saying the name. "Kassandra's jacked and she wears that sexy little chlamys. Anyone would fuck her."
She watches Abby for a few moments more, almost sizing her up, then leans her head back against the couch. "Pick someone else." She's not going to let it go, typically. "Someone attainable." Is she mostly just trying to give Abby a hard time? Yes. Is she also a little bit thinking about whether she and Abby could've potentially hooked up in the timeline where they were both single? Yes.
"Hold on," said with the deepest offence, as Abby struggles to sit up. The couch is super slouchy and her elbow sinks in when she jams it against the cushion, "You don't think I could pull Kassandra?"
She glares at Clarisse. The outrage is not fake, it's real, "Why the fuck not? I'm a catch!"
Okay that part is– she's being dramatic on purpose, for fun, but she genuinely wants to hear the reasoning. Clarisse is watching her lazily, and Abby is, conversely, trying not to think about how she's clearly set the standard for what kind of woman she'd fuck to 'has muscles' and 'is strong'.
Clarisse is laughing, incredulous. "No," she says, then quickly adds, "Not because it's you, because she's one of those women who are like... too good for anybody. Anybody normal, I mean. She's descended from Hermes and in good with Zeus and Aphrodite. Those are two of the hardest gods to get to give a shit about you, and they both look out for her. Lord Zeus is literally my grandfather and he has no clue who I am. Fucking Kassandra would have scary implications, like, I'd be worried for you."
If she were high she wouldn't be saying this, but... listen, whatever, there are people related to the gods and then there are people the gods actually pay attention to. She's not bitter or anything.
Anyway, that isn't the point. "Plus she gives me this vibe like she'd start correcting your grammar in the middle of it," she adds.
Yeah yeah, Kassandra would most likely go for somebody else who is god-touched or whatever, which is something Clarisse is and Abby isn't. "I get it." She's probably right, but that doesn't stop Abby from sinking back into the couch with a disgruntled huff, and giving Clarisse's hip a knock with her ankle, bone on bone. "Asshole."
Clarisse doesn't even know she's just as amazing as Kassandra is... and she doesn't deserve to know right now, because she's being an asshole. Abby will tell her later if she remembers. If she's feeling nice.
Besides, "She doesn't need to correct my grammar if all I'm doing is screaming her name." Fucking Kassandra would probably be like that.
"Hey," is Clarisse's only response, nudging Abby back and then leaving her foot sitting on her friend's leg. She isn't totally sure why she's being called an asshole, because she wasn't including herself in the list of people Kassandra would willingly hook up with, either. But her brain is buzzing too much to articulate this, and so she only gives Abby a sort of sulky look, instead.
Besides, then Abby says that. It makes her laugh, distracts her from pretending to be annoyed.
Abby kicks back but half-heartedly, and their legs end up tangled together. It's not comfortable, but it is warm. She makes a sound in the back of her throat, kind of frowny and disapproving. Confused.
"I'm a–"
Oh, she gets it. "No, I'm not. Not all the time."
Owen wasn't always on top. Abby liked it better when he wasn't, actually, because it felt like having more control. And it was easier to get off that way. She doesn't say any of that though, she's too busy looking thoughtfully at the ceiling... sex stories probably aren't any fun if the guy you were having sex with is dead.
"Are there people who only do it one way like that?" Weird.
Clarisse, who has had actual sex with four people ever, and two of them were drunken college hookups, is fully leaning into her role as the expert here. "Yeah," she says, "some people do."
Not her, obviously, but... some people. She shimmies her butt down so that she's sprawled more comfortably with her legs tangled up with Abby's. "If I ask you something, promise you won't freak out."
Abby half-laughs, but it's nice, that Clarisse takes the time to wiggle around a bit so they fit together better. She feels pretty good right now, all loose and hazy. Happy.
Eugh, until Clarisse asks that question and she has to raise an eyebrow and make a face. "Yikes." Is this going to be some kind of... too much information question about her and Owen, or something, "I don't think you can really freak me out with anything at this point, you know."
Considering all they've been through. While they were in that stupid fight Abby had dark thoughts about Clarisse not wanting to be her friend any more, and very little could be worse than that. "Shoot."
"Don't fucking yikes me," but Clarisse is smiling, slow and almost lazy. Sometimes she thinks she should smoke less, because it must be fucking with her reflexes and all, but being high is so... nice. Here, especially, it's like she's trading her battle readiness for the ability to have a functional personality. Maybe something she should unpack later. Huh.
"Would you have wanted to hook up with me or Bella if we hadn't already been together?" she continues after a long moment, raising her eyebrows and watching Abby's expression.
Her voice seems far too loud. She clamps up for a second, and does a big, slow squirm on the couch while she thinks about how much she wants to admit to, exactly.
A beat of furious, internal thought. Her insides squirm like snakes. Clarisse wouldn't be asking this if she didn't want to hear Abby say yes to it, so she's not gonna get king-hit in response, just do it–
"Yeah." Whewf.
Fuck, her ears are hot. She realises with a jolt that she didn't clarify whether it was Bella or Clarisse that she would have hooked up with. Let Clarisse parse that as she wishes. "Why?"
Clarisse doesn't say anything for a few long seconds. Her own face feels hot as she watches Abby squirm, and she isn't sure why, because—they're just messing around, this doesn't mean anything. Yeah, maybe in some other dimension things could've gone another way, but they didn't, and this is where they are, and she's fine with that.
But it doesn't mean she's not allowed to think thoughts. Right?
"Because," she says finally, and almost leaves it at that, a complete sentence. Then, "I would have, too."
"Oh," Abby says, because she doesn't know what else the fuck to say to that, and she's suddenly all too aware of how entwined her and Clarisse's legs are, how casually they're touching. Sure she's thought about it (them) once or twice, but almost as a joke to herself, imagine if we had–? It wouldn't ever actually happen.
It couldn't. There's no point going there.
"I've kinda been the other woman before though," she adds, because she knows saying it will make Clarisse chase after the details and leave whatever this is alone, "It's not really my thing."
"You think I want you to be the other woman?" Clarisse asks with an incredulous laugh. Part of her wants to sit up and tuck her legs against her chest, just so Abby knows she's serious about being offended, but in the end she doesn't move. It would be too weird, make it seem like she's serious about all this in a way that she doesn't want to be.
"In case you start thinking I've been, like, pining after you all this time," she says, tilting her head back to stare up at the ceiling, "I'm not." After a few seconds, "I bet you suck at kissing anyway."
"Oh, is that not what you're asking me?" She knows all too well that Clarisse isn't, but it's easy to press and lean into the taunt because this is what they are, friends who give each other shit. This is what's comfortable to her. She's reminded of the time her and Manny made out just to check they weren't anything more, and the memory leaves her grimacing. God. So fucking embarrassing.
She is the one who sits up, abruptly.
"Sounds like something somebody who has been pining after me all this time would say." Her grin is sly. She had a premonition of Clarisse scrambling away from her, and thinks to untangle them suddenly so she can sit on her thighs, and trap her in place. Ha. "It's okay if you want this, I get it. And you don't have to pretend I'm bad at kissing just to make yourself feel better, either."
"No, you idiot," Clarisse says, but she's laughing, even as she pretends to try and push Abby off of her. If she wanted to for real, she could, and they both know it. Instead she reaches up and grabs Abby's wrists to prevent any kind of tickling nonsense, and then they're just sitting there like that. The grin fades from Clarisse's expression, and she stares up at Abby.
"Listen, Abigail," she says, sounding very, very serious. "It's okay if you're embarrassed that you suck at kissing. I won't tell anyone." She's managed to keep the smile off her face, but now it reappears. "I also won't tell anyone you've had a thing for me this whole time. Don't feel bad about it."
Clarisse doesn't let herself be pinned unless she wants it; conversely, there is absolutely no way Abby is getting her wrists back unless Clarisse decides she wants that, too. It's fine. She's good to sit here on Clarisse's hips, hands sort of at her stomach but being held tightly prisoner.
"You're just copying what I said." So unoriginal. "But you know I'm gonna have to defend my honour now, right."
This is deeply fucking stupid. Even so, she thinks Clarisse will keep hold of her but let her move her hands up, and plant them on either side of her shoulders so she can lean in. Her braid slithers off her shoulder, into the gap between them.
"I know I'm a good kisser." It has been... far too fucking long since she has kissed anybody, and she has no idea how she rates. She's grinning anyway, "And I can prove it."
If you're okay with that. Left unsaid, but definitely there.
Clarisse—holding onto Abby's wrists and straight up allowing Abby to straddle her hips—rolls her eyes like she thinks this whole thing is just ridiculous. Kind of giving it away that she isn't pushing Abby off of her, though, or loosening her hold on Abby's wrists. Abby leaning over her like that is making her feel... conflicted, like this is somehow both the dumbest shit they've ever done and also weirdly, perfectly natural.
"Okay," she says, and if there's any hesitation it's in that single word, before she manages to cover it up with her usual swagger, "prove it. Put your money where your mouth is."
It's the weed making her think that this is funny, or at least that's what Abby tells herself. To be fair there is something hilarious about how little coaxing it took to get to the point where she's pressing Clarisse into the cushions, weight on her hips and stomach.
In her mind she's going to do a really bad job on purpose. They're going to laugh about it and Clarisse will buck her over, tip her off the couch and sprawl her out on the floor. She can see it playing out like that.
What she does is pucker up and press her lips to Clarisse's for an instant– before she takes a breath and kisses her again, properly, out of curiousity. It's the unexpected softness of her mouth that does it. Has her wondering what other parts of Clarisse aren't as hard as they seem.
Clarisse, not wanting to be outdone, tilts her head up to meet Abby's mouth with her own. Abby's lips are soft on hers, the slightest bit chapped, and she tastes like smoke. It's good. It's weird. It's... she doesn't know what.
She and Abby touch each other all the time, and she never thinks about it much, but right now Clarisse is acutely aware of Abby's weight straddling her hips and the smell of her soap and the way the end of her braid is tickling the side of Clarisse's neck.
She doesn't want to be the one who backs off first. She lets go of one of Abby's wrists so she can reach up and cup Abby's jaw with her hand. Feels her pulse tapping against Clarisse's palm, and wonders if Abby's conflicted about this at all, the way she is.
It's nice, but in the way that kissing somebody and being kissed back is... fundamentally nice? There's little heat behind it. They're just kissing. Abby thinks that she could probably sink down into Clarisse and kiss her for a lot longer, really drag it out, that Clarisse would go along with it because they're both high and warm and this feels good. She doesn't really want to do that, though.
She feels a little weird about it. Especially because they just talked about Bella. The thought of her is lingering uncomfortably at the back of Abby's mind, holding hands with the memory of fucking Owen on the goddamn boat, and that's the last thing she wants to think about while kissing her best friend.
So she disengages with a soft breath a moment later, and looks at Clarisse.
"I can't."
This is so stupid. Suddenly, she has the wild urge to laugh. "You're just so bad at this."
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"You wouldn't, but you've officially put the most thought into it of the two of us."
She's teasing, her eyes lazy and bright. She stretches her legs out a little further, and tips her head back to stare at the ceiling. "Sex with guys is... overrated, anyway."
Her hot take.
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"No," she argues, "you did, when you made me play this dumb game in the first place." She's conveniently forgetting that she was the one who brought up Maul's dick and what it might look like, but if Abby knows anything about her, it's that she'll never admit to being wrong about it.
And anyway, there's a new and much better topic of discussion, so. Clarisse opens her eyes and sits up, maybe a liiittle more enthusiastic-seeming than she intends. Her cheeks are even a tiny bit redder than they were a second ago. "Yes. Gods, it's so much better with girls."
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"Yeah," she agrees, even though her experience with girls boils down to the grand total of: none, "It's– girls are..."
Thoughts... Abby isn't really sure what she's going for. She makes a vague shape in the air with both hands. "Soft."
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She's about to sink back against the couch when a thought occurs to her. "Hold up," she says, lasering in on Abby, "I didn't know you fucked girls."
Abby doesn't really talk about this stuff. Well, it's not like Clarisse does either; she just happens to have a girlfriend, so it's sort of obvious. Abby, though? As far as Clarisse knew, she just has terrible taste in guys. This is a revelation.
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"I haven't," she admits, "Fucked a girl before. But I would." So it counts, right?? Maybe not Korra, but still.
Hold on, she's thinking... Finally, "I'd fuck Kassandra."
But who wouldn't. Jesus.
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She watches Abby for a few moments more, almost sizing her up, then leans her head back against the couch. "Pick someone else." She's not going to let it go, typically. "Someone attainable." Is she mostly just trying to give Abby a hard time? Yes. Is she also a little bit thinking about whether she and Abby could've potentially hooked up in the timeline where they were both single? Yes.
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She glares at Clarisse. The outrage is not fake, it's real, "Why the fuck not? I'm a catch!"
Okay that part is– she's being dramatic on purpose, for fun, but she genuinely wants to hear the reasoning. Clarisse is watching her lazily, and Abby is, conversely, trying not to think about how she's clearly set the standard for what kind of woman she'd fuck to 'has muscles' and 'is strong'.
... Goddamnit, now she's considering Scorpia too.
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If she were high she wouldn't be saying this, but... listen, whatever, there are people related to the gods and then there are people the gods actually pay attention to. She's not bitter or anything.
Anyway, that isn't the point. "Plus she gives me this vibe like she'd start correcting your grammar in the middle of it," she adds.
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Clarisse doesn't even know she's just as amazing as Kassandra is... and she doesn't deserve to know right now, because she's being an asshole. Abby will tell her later if she remembers. If she's feeling nice.
Besides, "She doesn't need to correct my grammar if all I'm doing is screaming her name." Fucking Kassandra would probably be like that.
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Besides, then Abby says that. It makes her laugh, distracts her from pretending to be annoyed.
"So you're a bottom." It's not a question.
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"I'm a–"
Oh, she gets it. "No, I'm not. Not all the time."
Owen wasn't always on top. Abby liked it better when he wasn't, actually, because it felt like having more control. And it was easier to get off that way. She doesn't say any of that though, she's too busy looking thoughtfully at the ceiling... sex stories probably aren't any fun if the guy you were having sex with is dead.
"Are there people who only do it one way like that?" Weird.
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Not her, obviously, but... some people. She shimmies her butt down so that she's sprawled more comfortably with her legs tangled up with Abby's. "If I ask you something, promise you won't freak out."
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Eugh, until Clarisse asks that question and she has to raise an eyebrow and make a face. "Yikes." Is this going to be some kind of... too much information question about her and Owen, or something, "I don't think you can really freak me out with anything at this point, you know."
Considering all they've been through. While they were in that stupid fight Abby had dark thoughts about Clarisse not wanting to be her friend any more, and very little could be worse than that. "Shoot."
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"Would you have wanted to hook up with me or Bella if we hadn't already been together?" she continues after a long moment, raising her eyebrows and watching Abby's expression.
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"Um."
Her voice seems far too loud. She clamps up for a second, and does a big, slow squirm on the couch while she thinks about how much she wants to admit to, exactly.
A beat of furious, internal thought. Her insides squirm like snakes. Clarisse wouldn't be asking this if she didn't want to hear Abby say yes to it, so she's not gonna get king-hit in response, just do it–
"Yeah." Whewf.
Fuck, her ears are hot. She realises with a jolt that she didn't clarify whether it was Bella or Clarisse that she would have hooked up with. Let Clarisse parse that as she wishes. "Why?"
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But it doesn't mean she's not allowed to think thoughts. Right?
"Because," she says finally, and almost leaves it at that, a complete sentence. Then, "I would have, too."
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It couldn't. There's no point going there.
"I've kinda been the other woman before though," she adds, because she knows saying it will make Clarisse chase after the details and leave whatever this is alone, "It's not really my thing."
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"In case you start thinking I've been, like, pining after you all this time," she says, tilting her head back to stare up at the ceiling, "I'm not." After a few seconds, "I bet you suck at kissing anyway."
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She is the one who sits up, abruptly.
"Sounds like something somebody who has been pining after me all this time would say." Her grin is sly. She had a premonition of Clarisse scrambling away from her, and thinks to untangle them suddenly so she can sit on her thighs, and trap her in place. Ha. "It's okay if you want this, I get it. And you don't have to pretend I'm bad at kissing just to make yourself feel better, either."
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"Listen, Abigail," she says, sounding very, very serious. "It's okay if you're embarrassed that you suck at kissing. I won't tell anyone." She's managed to keep the smile off her face, but now it reappears. "I also won't tell anyone you've had a thing for me this whole time. Don't feel bad about it."
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"You're just copying what I said." So unoriginal. "But you know I'm gonna have to defend my honour now, right."
This is deeply fucking stupid. Even so, she thinks Clarisse will keep hold of her but let her move her hands up, and plant them on either side of her shoulders so she can lean in. Her braid slithers off her shoulder, into the gap between them.
"I know I'm a good kisser." It has been... far too fucking long since she has kissed anybody, and she has no idea how she rates. She's grinning anyway, "And I can prove it."
If you're okay with that. Left unsaid, but definitely there.
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"Okay," she says, and if there's any hesitation it's in that single word, before she manages to cover it up with her usual swagger, "prove it. Put your money where your mouth is."
So to speak.
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In her mind she's going to do a really bad job on purpose. They're going to laugh about it and Clarisse will buck her over, tip her off the couch and sprawl her out on the floor. She can see it playing out like that.
What she does is pucker up and press her lips to Clarisse's for an instant– before she takes a breath and kisses her again, properly, out of curiousity. It's the unexpected softness of her mouth that does it. Has her wondering what other parts of Clarisse aren't as hard as they seem.
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Clarisse, not wanting to be outdone, tilts her head up to meet Abby's mouth with her own. Abby's lips are soft on hers, the slightest bit chapped, and she tastes like smoke. It's good. It's weird. It's... she doesn't know what.
She and Abby touch each other all the time, and she never thinks about it much, but right now Clarisse is acutely aware of Abby's weight straddling her hips and the smell of her soap and the way the end of her braid is tickling the side of Clarisse's neck.
She doesn't want to be the one who backs off first. She lets go of one of Abby's wrists so she can reach up and cup Abby's jaw with her hand. Feels her pulse tapping against Clarisse's palm, and wonders if Abby's conflicted about this at all, the way she is.
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She feels a little weird about it. Especially because they just talked about Bella. The thought of her is lingering uncomfortably at the back of Abby's mind, holding hands with the memory of fucking Owen on the goddamn boat, and that's the last thing she wants to think about while kissing her best friend.
So she disengages with a soft breath a moment later, and looks at Clarisse.
"I can't."
This is so stupid. Suddenly, she has the wild urge to laugh. "You're just so bad at this."
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