Chapter Text
Carla was missing Michelle something rotten.
She missed the ease of being with someone who just got her.
Missed the way Michelle could take one look at her and know exactly what kind of day she'd had. Missed the silly laughs over nothing, the late-night gossip sessions, the looks that could pass for full-blown conversations. She missed having someone to flop on the sofa with, bottle of wine between them, no need for words.
Sure, she had other friends.
Well… people she knew . People she’d had a drink with once or twice, but hadn’t seen in yonks. And if she was honest, she didn’t much care to. Couldn’t really be arsed with the effort.
She missed someone . That one person who made the world feel a bit less grey.
With Peter, she’d had that—at least, for a while. Comfort, closeness, someone to come home to. But it wasn’t him she was missing now. It wasn’t romance, or even sex—God knows that had dried up long before the relationship had.
She was missing friendship.
Ryan had asked her out for a drink earlier. Bless him, trying to cheer her up. He was the closest thing she had to Michelle these days, and he was good company. But there were only so many conversations you could have with your nephew before it started feeling a bit tragic.
So she’d turned him down. Claimed she was tired. Which she wasn’t. And now here she was, sat on her lonesome, curled up on the sofa with a glass of red and the telly droning in the background.
Her phone pinged. She perked up—maybe Ryan’s date had flopped and he was free after all.
No such luck.
The name flashing on the screen wasn’t one she expected.
Lisa Swain.
L: Hi Carla. Sorry to message late, I just wanted to thank you again for sorting Betsy out with some work experience.
Late? Carla let out a small chuckle. Only Lisa Swain would think 8pm was pushing boundaries.
Still, it brought a smile to her face. Lisa hadn’t exactly looked uptight earlier when she’d popped into the factory. If anything, she’d looked… well, good .
Carla hadn’t even clocked her at first. Blonde hair down instead of scraped back, dressed in a fashionable jumper instead of her usual detective’s uniform of starched shirts and sensible jackets. A soft smile too—none of the usual straight-faced DS stuff.
And their chat? Actually quite nice. Easy, even.
Her daughter, Betsy—absolute handful, that one. Fierce little thing.
Lisa must have some mettle to raise a kid like that and not lose her mind.
Maybe…
Just maybe…
Lisa Swain wasn’t quite what she seemed.
C: Hi Lisa. No problem at all, like I said she’s a talented girl.
Pause.
C: What are you up to?
Bit bold, maybe. But hey—what was the worst that could happen? Lisa seemed the type to politely ignore small talk. Probably didn’t do chit-chat.
Carla was about to exit the message when she spotted the three dots appear.
Well, well.
L: Just dropped Betsy off at her friend’s. I’ve got a takeaway and telly planned for my night.
Not exactly screaming “let’s go out,” but at least she was replying.
L: How about you?
Right. Moment of truth.
C: Feeling a bit sorry for myself actually. I don’t suppose you fancy a drink at The Rovers?
The dots appeared.
Then vanished.
Appeared again.
Then gone.
Carla sighed. Yeah, sounded about right. Lisa was probably halfway into her korma by now, slippers on, crime drama lined up.
Maybe she wasn’t the type for a spontaneous bottle of red and a natter.
Probably for the best, Carla told herself. They wouldn’t have had anything in common anyway. Lisa was all by-the-book and bedtime-at-ten. Carla was… well, Carla.
Her phone buzzed again.
L: See you there in 10.
Carla blinked.
Then grinned. Wide.
Well, that was a surprise.
*
Lisa arrived at the pub before Carla.
She’d been to The Rovers plenty of times over the years, but for some reason, tonight felt different.
The invite from Carla had caught her off guard.
She wasn’t exactly used to being asked out for a drink—at least, not unless it involved statements or statements about statements. And Carla had mentioned feeling sorry for herself. It was oddly flattering, that out of everyone, she’d thought Lisa might be the kind of company worth having in that sort of mood.
Lisa liked Carla.
She wasn’t entirely sure why, or when she’d formed such an opinion on her.
Somewhere between the chaos of Stephen Reid and the mess with Roy, they’d managed to carve out a sort of understanding. A connection, even.
It was nice. This gentle move from professional acquaintance to… potential friend.
“Officer,” came the voice of Jenny, the landlady, all smiles as usual.
Lisa offered a polite nod, eyes scanning the room for a booth.
“What can I get you?” Jenny asked cheerfully.
Lisa hesitated. She didn’t actually know what Carla drank. She didn’t strike her as a lager and crisps type, but then again, she’d learned not to make too many assumptions—especially about women like Carla Connor.
“I’m meeting someone. Carla Connor. You wouldn’t happen to know what she usually orders?”
Jenny’s eyes lit up with intrigue. Before she could answer, the younger bartender leaned in from the side.
“Oh, what’s she done now?” Daisy asked, far too eagerly. “Being questioned again, is she? Got herself into some bother?”
Lisa didn’t bother with the pleasantries.
“No,” she said coolly. “Just a social drink.”
Jenny tilted her head, clearly delighted by this revelation. “Didn’t know you and our Carla were close.”
“Just a drink,” she said plainly. “So, do you know what she’d like?”
“Arsenic, if it was up to me,” Daisy muttered under her breath.
Lisa’s head turned. Slowly.
Jenny shot Daisy a warning look before rushing to recover. “Glass of red,” she said brightly. “Carla’s partial to a Malbec, if memory serves.”
“I’ll take a bottle, then,” Lisa replied. Her eyes on Daisy. “And I’d mind who you’re talking to, making threats like that.”
Daisy gave a half-snort. “Threats? It was a joke.”
Lisa didn’t so much as blink. “I didn’t find it funny.”
Jenny returned quickly with the bottle. “This one alright?”
“Fine,” Lisa said, gaze still fixed on Daisy like she was pinning her to the wall with it.
Daisy, never one to quit while ahead, muttered, “Don’t think you’d know funny if it slapped you round the face.”
Jenny’s jaw dropped. “Daisy! That’s enough .”
Daisy opened her mouth to retort, but Jenny raised a hand. “Go and stock something in the back,” she snapped, before turning back to Lisa with a much-too-bright smile.
“Take a seat, love. I’ll bring the bottle and glasses over. On the house, for the trouble.”
Lisa slid into the booth as Jenny arrived at the table, balancing two wine glasses and the bottle. She placed each glass down with care, followed by the bottle with a little flourish.
“Oh, what’s this—table service? I don’t get this kind of special treatment!”
Lisa looked up just in time to see Carla sauntering over.
Jenny’s face lit up like Christmas.
“Oh, Carla , love! It’s so wonderful to see you!” she gushed, sweeping her into an embrace that looked more hostage situation than warm welcome.
Carla, clearly bewildered, gave Lisa a quick wide-eyed look over Jenny’s shoulder.
Jenny pulled back, hands gripping Carla’s shoulders. “Don’t let me keep you, love,” she said quickly, before scurrying back behind the bar, leaving a very confused Carla in her wake.
Carla raised her brows at Lisa as if to say, What the actual fuck was that?
Lisa couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing.
“Is she drunk or summit?” Carla asked, tossing her coat onto the seat and sliding in opposite her. “That woman hates me.”
That only made Lisa laugh harder.
“I nearly slapped cuffs on Daisy five seconds ago, so now she’s overcompensating.”
Carla’s eyes lit up.
Lisa picked up the bottle and began to pour. “I got red—hope that’s alright?”
Carla nodded eagerly.
“Cuffs on Daisy, ey,” she said, swirling her wine. “Didn’t have you down as the type.”
The comment caught Lisa mid-pour. She flinched slightly, missing her glass by a centimetre, just a tiny splash landing on the table.
Carla raised a brow, smirk firmly in place. “It’s always the quiet ones.”
Lisa blushed. She could feel the warmth creeping into her cheek.
“Oh, Carla,” she said, straightening slightly, “you wouldn’t be calling me quiet if you knew me better.”
Even she was surprised she’d said it.
Carla, however, looked positively gleeful .
“Well, well,” Carla said, eyes twinkling. “Detective Sergeant—you dark horse, you.”
Lisa caught a flicker of movement behind the bar, Daisy was back, she could feel her eyes. She considered shooting her a look, but then she glanced at Carla’s smirk.
And suddenly, Daisy didn’t matter in the slightest.
“I’m sorry you’ve been feeling a bit low,” Lisa said quietly. She wasn’t someone who talked about feelings much—either her own or other people’s—but since Carla had opened that door, she wanted her to know she cared.
Carla gave a little wave of her hand, dismissing it with a flick. “Oh, that’s forgotten. You’ve already cheered me up.”
Lisa felt a warm flutter in her chest, like someone had lit a small fire just beneath her ribs. She smiled, mirroring the look Carla was giving her.
“I didn’t think you’d actually take me up on the invite, if I’m honest,” Carla said, raising her glass for a sip.
Lisa watched her—how her chin tilted slightly, how her throat moved as she swallowed. She was aware, suddenly, of just how graceful Carla could be without even trying.
“I didn’t either, to be honest,” Lisa replied, making Carla laugh softly.
“But,” Lisa added, “you’ve made quite the impression.”
“Oh?” Carla arched a brow, lips curling into a teasing smile. A trace of red wine clung to the corner of her mouth, and Lisa’s eyes tracked the motion as Carla licked it away with an effortless flick of her tongue.
“Mmm—on Betsy ,” Lisa said quickly, her tone playful. “She’s taken a real shine to you. So I thought I’d see what all the fuss was about.”
Carla laughed, head tipping back, shoulders shaking gently. “Well, I’ve clearly underestimated you.”
Lisa grinned. “Assumptions’ll send you down the wrong paths.”
Carla bit the inside of her cheek, clearly trying not to smile.
She failed.
“So I’ve heard.”
The evening slipped away from them, and before they knew it, Daisy was ringing the bell for last orders.
Carla blinked in disbelief. “Is it that time already?” she asked, lifting her wrist to check her watch—only to remember, quite plainly, she wasn’t wearing one.
She locked eyes with Lisa, who’d clocked it too.
They fell into giggles.
“God, we’re a pair,” Carla said, dabbing her eye with the back of her hand. “You want one more for the road?”
Lisa shook her head, though the grin on her face said she was tempted. “I really should be getting back. Definitely didn’t plan on sinking two bottles of wine on a school night.”
Carla raised her glass, polishing off the last sip. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve been known to be a bit of a bad influence.”
Lisa gave her a look, one eyebrow arched. “You won’t hear me complaining.”
Carla’s eyes gleamed as she stood up.
As Lisa followed suit, she grabbed the edge of the booth, chuckling under her breath. “Oh brilliant. Now I’ve got wine legs.”
Carla chuckled. “Let me order you a cab.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Lisa said, waving her off. “Cab office is just round the corner—I can walk.”
Carla slipped on her jacket, stepped forward, and without hesitation, gently linked her arm through Lisa’s. “I happen to live above the cab office,” she said, giving her a sidelong look. “So I’ll walk you.”
They strolled the short distance in easy silence.
When they reached the cab office, Carla stopped just beside the door. “Thank you for tonight, Lisa. I really needed it.”
Before Lisa could respond, Carla leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
Soft.
Polite.
Then, like it hadn’t just set Lisa’s heart tapping against her ribs, Carla stepped back and moved to open the cab door.
Lisa slid into the back seat, cheeks flushed from wine and lips she wasn’t expecting. “Thank you ,” she said gently. “Me too.”
Carla closed the door with care, and as Lisa put the window down, she leaned toward it, brows raised.
“Text me when you’re home safe, yeah?”
Lisa nodded. “I will.”
The taxi pulled away, and Carla stood watching until the lights faded down the road.
The smile Lisa had left on her lips didn’t go anywhere.
Not when she climbed the stairs to her flat.
Not when she clicked the kettle on for a before bed brew.
And definitely not when her phone buzzed on the counter.
L: Home safe. Tonight was… lovely. Thank you, Carla.
Carla picked up her phone, read the message once, then twice.
Still smiling.
Still warm.
And for the first time in a while, not feeling quite so alone.