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When Rosemary asked Laura to come and live with her early on, the idea being that Laura didn't have a place to stay and would be working with Rosemary anyway, so might as well stay with her too, Laura had readily accepted. With, of course, the caveat that she'd pay an equal share in things, as she refused to be a burden, and that established, it all went swimmingly.
Laura liked things neat and tidy, and what Rosemary lacked in similar sentiment, she made up for in enthusiasm and good humor.
All in all, things went along rather well. It was funny, in Rosemary's mind, just how quickly they'd found each other, and how completely they'd adopted each other into their lives. One day, Rosemary was living alone, plenty of friends but no one particularly close and perfectly happy about that, and the next, she had Laura. Laura, in her house, Laura, driving her car, Laura with her every day at work. Rosemary had never been happier.
She should have been more upset, really. After all, she had enjoyed her solitary lifestyle. She'd loved living alone. She'd loved having things that were just hers. Not once had she been able to picture herself. Just letting someone else invade her space and her life so completely.
And then Laura had come along. And Laura was funny, and intelligent, and strong, and Rosemary's very first thought after meeting her was simply, I have to spend more time with this woman. Her second thought after the first few days was, I love her, and her third after she'd had time to evaluate, was, if I let this one go, I'm idiot, and will probably miss this near stranger for the rest of my life. So she's asked Laura to move in with her, and Laura had accepted.
The thing about Laura was that she was above all, thoroughly decent. She was kind and respectful of Rosemary's space, and instead of feeling like her space and her life was being invaded, Rosemary felt like the brightest, warmest light had been added. Suddenly Laura was there ,bringing her tea, asking her about her day, gracing Rosemary's lounge with her presence, and then- there she was at work too.
It was a wonder.
Sometimes Rosemary would catch herself watching Laura, having utterly forgotten her work, simply marveling at how bloody lucky she was. Of all the people in the word, people who deserved everything, doctors, humanitarians, cancer researchers, of everyone of them somehow Rosemary was the one who got to have Laura in her life. And not just her life, her house.
Laura was there every day. Rosemary got to be there when she was grumbly in the mornings and chipper after she'd eaten, and- and well, Rosemary must have been doing something right.
She had Laura, and she really did love her so very much.
Alright, she didn't have her, not in that way. That wasn't them, no matter how much Rosemary's heart ached for Laura's or how many times she'd tried and failed to stop thinking of them as life partners. It wasn't like that.
She and Laura's relationship went deeper than that. They simply existed in each other's spaces and were comfortable with that. That's what Laura was to Rosemary. Comfort. Warmth. Home. And if some lust got mixed in there once or twice, well, who could blame her? She merely put those thoughts aside and went on with her day.
Three years passed this way, in what Rosemary privately thought of as domestic bliss, and what Laura called when catching up with a school friend, "the most lovely few years I've had in decades."
The holidays were coming up, and somehow both of Laura's children were going to be elsewhere for Christmas, so Rosemary had invited Laura to her mother's for Christmas week. It had taken some doing, as Laura didn't want to be a burden,so Rosemary had had to play dirty.
"Laura," she'd said, laying it on very thick, "please come. It'll be the first Christmas in three years that I won't spend missing you."
And Laura had given in with an over dramatic roll of the eyes and a "Well, if you put it like that…" And that was that.
They were only going to Rosemary's mum's for Christmas week, and that winter had been predictably nearly work free, so the lead up to the holidays was spent decorating and baking and abusing their discount at all the local nursery's to purchase all manner of Christmas flora to up around the house.
They made hot chocolate and apple cider when the cinnamon was on sale, and Laura tried new recipes, while Rosemary did the cleanup (she'd long since been banished from the kitchen whenever Laura was attempting a recipe she didn't know well, too distracting, apparently) and generally tried to make their winter more cozy than destitute, and were largely successful.
It was on one such day, well into November, that Rosemary had her socks knocked off her. Figuratively. literally, she'd barely been out of a pair of socks for anything beside the shower for over a month. English Novembers were devastatingly frigid.
Regardless, it was on one such day that the very much sock wearing Rosemary (two pairs) had been dispatched to the grocery store to purchase the last few necessary ingredients for a dish that Laura insisted Rosemary knew and liked, but which was very much a surprise.
Rosemary tore through the store in record time, anxious to get home to a roaring fire and a hot meal, and Laura.
Laura, who was actually going to the death of Rosemary some day soon. Rosemary had long since given up any hope of getting over Laura. Oh, she would have tried it if Laura had expressed a desire to start dating again or something, but she very much hadn't, and as long as Laura was content to let them be them, so was Rosemary. Now, though… what with Christmas coming up and the talk of the two for them going to and doing highly domestic family things, as a unit, Rosemary thought the sheer coupliness of it all might kill her.
And now she was out shopping for the woman she loved while said woman, though blissfully oblivious, was busy cooking a surprise meal just for her.
She had absolutely got to stop thinking about it in such romantic terms, but good Lord, that was exactly what was happening.
Rosemary allowed herself just one more moment to revel in the absurdity of it all, as she shivered through the dairy section, before she was firmly reminding herself just how lucky she was, and burying those thoughts deep in that part of the brain that is only accessed when one is tired or very inebriated .
Laura was doing nothing more than cooking for her friend. A good friend, yes but a friend nevertheless. Cooking for one's friend was a very normal, perfectly platonic thing to do. There was nothing romantic between them, it was all in Rosemary's head.
Even if they did fit together like puzzle pieces, and stick together like glue. Even if there were times when they would look at each other and Rosemary would think, surely, surely the feeling must be mutual. But of course, it wasn't, and Rosemary was supposed to be burying those thoughts. She was deluding herself by having them, there was nothing more to it. Rosemary grabbed the green beans and she was away.
She arrived home just as raindrops had begun dotting her windscreen again.
She fairly dove out the car door and with only the slightest of mad scrambles, she managed to get the groceries out the land rover and inside the front door before she or them could be properly soaked.
"I'm back!" she called over Laura's greeting, and wondered not for the first time why they didn't have some sort of table in the entryway. It was alright in the summer, but how was she supposed to take off her jacket with her arms completely full? And the alternative was going to put them in the kitchen and dripping water everywhere. Ah well, it had never been a problem before Laura had moved in. Fewer groceries. Rosemary shook her head fondly. She'd put up with any number of things being tracked over her carpets if it meant Laura bustling about the place. Rosemary didn't bury that thought so much as brushed past it.
With a sigh, Rosemary committed to getting water on the carpet, toed off her boots, and made her way into the lounge.
That was when Rosemary noticed the smell, wafting in from kitchen and nearly drowning Rosemary in a sea of chicken and mushroom goodness.
In a flash, it hit her. Weeks ago now, they'd been talking about foods that were just better in the winter. Stews, soups, and Rosemary had told Laura about how she use to eat chicken and mushroom pie nearly every day in the winter during university. "One couldn't get them made the same way now," she'd said. "The shops all use ready made pastry, and there's nothing so good as chicken and mushroom pie with nice flakey homemade pastry," she'd said. And now… The scent of hot, buttery pastry mingled with the other aromas, drawing Rosemary back to her days cozied up on the floor with her textbooks and her papers, drinkng her tea and cramming food into her face while she reveled in the joy of learning something she was actually passionate about.
"Laura," she called, disregarding sense. "I could kiss you!"
A sharp pang of anxiety, and then Laura was replying cheerfully,"Buy me dinner first, you heathen," as she emerged from the kitchen, wiping flour covered hands on a dishtowel and looking generally pleased.
"Oh!" said she, on viewing Rosemary's grocery predicament. "You have." Her eyes sparkled, and before Rosemary knew which way was up, Laura was coming over and pushing past the groceries to kiss her with so much pure affection that Rosemary's brain stopped working. Laura pulled away and waited, probably for a reaction. Something. Anything. All Rosemary could manage was a strangled squeak. Laura raised her eyebrows. She was still smiling.
"I'll take these," she said, and Rosemary let the grocery bags be pulled from her arms. "Just going to get the beans started," Laura said, conspiratorially, and then she was gone, leaving Rosemary to her thoughts.
Laura had kissed her. Laura had kissed her. And- and maybe Rosemary was an idiot. Maybe those glances they'd shared meant something. Maybe the feelings were mutual. Maybe- maybe she needed to get off her arse and actually ask her, since clearly drawing her own conclusions wasn't working. They did say communication was key, after all.
Rosemary forced her arms to move. Laura had kissed her. She took off her jacket. Laura had kissed her. Rosemary went back into the corridor and hung up her jacket, stumbling a little as her foot caught on the doorframe. Laura had kissed her.
Rosemary turned on her heal and made for the kitchen.
She found Laura standing over a casserole dish and looking a touch guilty.
"Laura," Rosemary started.
"I need to apologize, don't I," Laura interrupted sheepishly.
"Please don't," replied Rosemary. Their was the last thing she wanted to hear. "But an explanation would be nice."
Laura turned back to the green beans but made no move to touch them.
Rosemary waited.
After a beat, Laura looked back at her, something pleading in her eyes. "Is- I wanted to kiss you enough?"
"Wha- no! Now that you mention it. No, it isn't!" Rosemary nearly spluttered, indignation warring with delight in her tone. "I've wanted to kiss you for years, and I managed to hold myself back. Weren't you worried about our friendship?"
At that, all signs of nerves fell away, and Laura relaxed.
She turned fully towards Rosemary and held out her hand. Rosemary took it without hesitation, and for a moment, let the enormity of what was happening sink in. Laura had kissed her. She'd wanted to kiss Rosemary and she had. Rosemary's heart was nearly bursting. Sheer giddiness threatened to overcome her.
Laura bit her lip again, this time to hold back a smile. "I usually do resist, but- you did ask, and no, I wasn't worried. It's us."
Laura's eyes were dancing and Rosemary's heart was racing, and Laura's hand was warm and firm in her own. Rosemary wasn't entirely certain that there weren't birds chirping.
"Two things," she said. "I'm irreparably in love with you."
Laura took her other hand. "Good. We're on the same page. What else?"
In lieu of reply, Rosemary using their joined hands led Laura over so that Laura's back was against the wall.
Laura's eyes widened as she caught on. "Darling, the pie is in the oven. How much time do you think we have?"
"I was just going to kiss you, you ninny," Rosemary objected with a laugh and burning cheeks. "How fast a mover do you think I am?"
"Well, how am I to know-?"
Laura's objection was interrupted by a kiss, and that was only interrupted by the tragic need to breathe and then by the oven timer going off ten minutes later.
They de-tangled themselves reluctantly. Rosemary kept her hand in Laura's, unwilling to break the connection even for a moment, and Laura tugged her over to the oven.
Laura whipped the pie out with one strong hand and turned off the oven. Silence followed. "When you say you're not a fast mover—" Laura began.
Rosemary took the opportunity to brush a stray bit of flour out of Laura's hair. "We have been living together for years," she said. "I t wouldn't exactly be leaping into bed on the first night, not would it?"
Laura held Rosemary's gaze and shook her head. "Not at all." She bit her lip. "After dinner then?
Rosemary was about to suggest they hang dinner and do the very thing they were planning right there, right then, when her stomach gave a gurgle, Rosemary remembered she hadn't eaten lunch. And Laura knew this. Caring, observant tease that she was.
"After dinner," Rosemary agreed. And, an appropriate amount of time after the best chicken and mushroom pie Rosemary had ever eaten had passed…
They lived happily ever.