Chapter Text
"So, does it hurt?"
She puffed on her cigarette, arms on each side of the hot tub. The green tips of her hair were dangling into the water, their mascara smudged from sweat.
"Does what hurt? The shots?" Lee questioned, glancing down at Isla's chest without thinking, remembering she was topless.
"Yeah," Isla muttered as a thin trail of smoke drifted up into the night air. She shifted, adjusting the way she was sitting. "Just wondering."
Lee blew out a quiet breath, leaning back against the opposite edge of the tub. The water moved gently around her shoulders, carrying the faint scent of Isla's cigarette smoke.
"I mean, sometimes," she said, tapping her fingers against the rim. "The needle itself isn't terrible… just a sharp pinch if you hit a weird spot. It’s more of the anxiety right before I do it. I sit there holding the syringe like an idiot for five minutes waiting for my hands to stop shaking."
Isla took another hit, the tip of her cigarette glowing orange in the dim lighting. She watched her through heavy eyes, her smudged mascara giving her the look of a tired raccoon.
"Sounds thrilling," she grunted. "Does it make you sore after?"
"You're nosy," Lee teased. Isla never knew how to keep to herself, but she was used to it by now. "But kinda. It's like a dull ache for an hour or two… Feels like you got a small bruise. But honestly? Kinda worth it."
Isla smoked the last of her cigarette, looking around for a safe place to toss it. She stood up to put it out, fully exposing herself, wearing only her bikini bottoms. She didn’t make a show of it. They just stepped up onto the wooden decking, stepping hard on the smoldering butt with the heel of her bare foot before turning around to lean against the porch railing, cooling off for a second. Lee’s eyes flicked up instantly, fixed on the dark outline of the tree line beyond the deck, refusing to look down again.
"You're unbelievable," Lee muttered.
"Not much to see, anyway," Isla hummed before slinging their legs over the edge of the hot tub, dangling her feet in the warm water as she sat on the side.
Lee let out a breathy scoff, the tension in her shoulders easing just enough for her to relax back into the water. "That's not the point, Ribbit."
Isla just shrugged, the cool air raising goosebumps along her bare arms and stomach while her feet swished lazily through the water.
"Just tryna cool down," Isla replied smoothly, resting her back on the deck behind her. She tilted her head up, watching the mist rise from the hot tub as they glanced at the stars. "Besides, you're the one making it weird."
"I'm not making it weird," Lee insisted. She reached down, idly tracing the swirling water around her knees. "Most people would give a heads-up before taking their top off.
"It's nothing you haven't seen before. And most people aren't me," Isla muttered with a dry, satisfied little smirk. She kicked a droplet of water off her toe, watching it splash near Lee's shoulder. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, but the silence between them was calming.
Lee couldn't help the small grin that tugged at the corner of her lips, finally letting her eyes shift over. "If I get lucky, maybe I'll turn out lookin' like you."
"Shame," Isla hummed, leaning back a little further. "You're a pretty girl, Lee. Envy is a waste of energy."
Coming from anyone else, it might have sounded heavy, but from Isla, delivered with that flat, unbothered drawl, it was just a plain fact. She sank back into the water, floating over to Lee, pushing right into her space.
"Can we make out now?" Isla tilted her head, the ends of her hair dripping cool water onto Lee's skin.
"Whatever."
——————
Their relationship was odd, if you'd even call it a relationship to begin with. Friends with benefits, maybe. Most of the time their conversations were a solid mix between small talk you'd have with a stranger and absurd personal questions that they'd never ask anyone else.
Do you think you'll ever get over her? Want me to give you your estrogen? I'm tired of microwaving pasta; can we get takeout? What're you doing Thursday night? There's a movie I gotta see, and I'm dragging you with me. How many times do you think I can make you cum before you tap out? Do you think it'll be warm enough to go to the lake this weekend?
But in a weird way, it was the most exposed, yet most comfortable, Lee had ever felt with anyone. For all the chaotic, boundary-less absurdity Isla dragged into her life, there was a strange safety in the bluntness. No guessing games, no carefully constructed masks. Monday night came, and Isla was getting off her late shift, clocking out right at ten o'clock on the dot. Outside, the night air was heavy, carrying that damp, late-summer humidity that made her green and blonde hair curl into unruly tendrils around her face. She pulled her phone from her back pocket. No missed calls, just a single text from Lee sent two hours prior: Left the back door unlocked, don't wake the neighbors.
By the time her battered car pulled into Lee’s driveway, the neighborhood was completely dark. Isla didn't bother knocking, but instead pushed the back door open, the floorboards giving off their familiar, faint creak as she stepped into the cool house. Lee was curled on the couch in her comfort hoodie, the TV turned down and casting low blue light across her face. She looked up, dark circles under her eyes, but her shoulders visibly dropped the second Isla shut the door behind her.
"God, you smell like fryer grease," Lee mumbled as Isla kicked off her shoes and dragged herself over to the couch. "C'mere"
Lee stood up, pulling Isla close in what seemed like a half-assed hug, ending with her fingers on the waistband of her work pants. She looked at Isla with a knowing glance, waiting for her permission.
"Go for it," she agreed. "I could use some stress relief after that shift anyway."
Lee turned her around, bending her over the back of the couch and slipped her pants down just enough to expose her underwear. "Tell me about work," she said, as if they were having a casual conversation. She slipped her underwear down to her knees, putting two fingers in her mouth to cover them in spit before sliding them between Isla's thighs. Isla let out a low hum, resting her forearms over the plush back of the sofa and letting her forehead drop onto her folded hands.
"Night shift was a fucking disaster," Isla said, her voice muffled slightly by her sleeve. "One of the new managers burnt a batch of wings, blamed it on the timer, and then tried to hand off a six-top to me five minutes before ten."
Lee didn't stop, her thumb brushing lazily over Isla's sensitive skin as her fingers worked inside her. She carefully pulled her fingers out, lifting them to her lips again to taste her arousal.
"Did you take the table?" Lee asked, her tone as light and casual as if they were standing in the kitchen making coffee. She lined herself up with Isla's wet cunt, pressing against her entrance to give her a heads up.
Isla let out a rough exhale through her nose, her hips instinctively tilting back to meet the pressure as Lee pushed in completely, bottoming out in her before setting a steady rhythm.
"Hell no," Isla hummed, her knuckles tightening around the soft fabric of the sofa. "Told him if he wanted them served, he could walk his lazy ass out there himself. I- fuck. I clocked out when I was supposed to."
Lee smiled as she tangled a hand in Isla's hair, the heat off her skin radiating onto her own. Isla’s breath hitched at the feeling of her hands on her skin, gripping hard into her blonde strands.
"Good," Lee praised softly, her free hand taking a firm grip on Isla's hips to pull her back against her own body, establishing a heavier pace. Sounds like he deserved it."
"He... ah... he definitely did," Isla choked out, a shaky laugh catching in her throat as Lee hit a spot that made her knees almost buckle beneath her.
The cool air of the living room hit her bare skin where Lee had raised her shirt, but the rest of her body was burning hot. She rested her forehead back down on her forearms, her eyes closing tight. It was all so ridiculous… ranting about her minimum wage while pinned over the back of her best friend's couch. But the strange absurdity of it was exactly why Isla enjoyed it.
Lee’s fingers tightened in Isla’s hair, holding her head back just enough to expose the flush rising up her neck. She shifted her angle, and Isla gasped, her back arching just a bit. Her grip on Isla’s hip was bruisingly tight, holding her right where she needed her.
"Tell me how much you hate your job again," Lee said, out of breath, her voice dripping with lust.
"Fuck you," Isla choked out, her words completely shattered into a breathless whine as she pushed back hard into Lee's touch.
Her orgasm followed before she could find it in her to form another sentence. Lee pulled out quickly, finishing on Isla's back as her knees finally gave out, slumping forward over the back of the couch.
"Fuck," Isla mumbled, catching her breath in between Lee's pathetic whines. "Go get a towel, asshole."
Lee let out a breathy, humiliated scoff, her chest heaving as her own breathing slowly leveled out.
"I'm going, I'm going," she muttered before she finally dragged herself upright.
Her legs were shaky as she stood, but she managed to stumble down the dark hallway toward the bathroom, returning a minute later with a damp hand towel. Isla hadn't moved an inch, still sprawled lazily over the plush back of the sofa, her hair a tangled mess across her face. Lee leaned down, gently wiping the mess from Isla's lower back. Her touch was surprisingly soft now as the cool rag hit her body.
"You're a real romantic, aren't ya?" Lee mumbled, tossing the towel onto the coffee table before collapsing onto the cushions beside her. She pulled the oversized hoodie tighter around her shoulders, staring up at the low blue glow of the TV.
Isla finally pushed herself up, swinging her legs over the couch and letting out a satisfied grunt as she pulled her underwear back up, leaving her work pants on the floor. She didn't look flustered in the slightest. She just ran a hand through her hair, her mascara slightly smudged under her eyes.
"Says you," Isla said, slumping right back into the cushions and resting her heavy legs across Lee’s lap without waiting for an invitation. "Now pass me the remote… You gotta be tired of watching this garbage."
Midnight came, and the two were still slumped on the couch. Lee was dozing off to sleep while Isla stared at the TV screen, their vision becoming blurry from how long she'd been watching it. But there was nothing else to do, never was. And Lee's presence was enough to distract them from the fact that she had to return to work in the morning.
"Lee," she grumbled. "Imma have to leave soon. Gotta get up early."
"Mm, wait," Lee hummed, swinging her legs over to the floor and standing up lazily, dragging her feet to the kitchen.
She dug through the mess on her counters, grabbing a bag that held her needles and a vial of her estrogen labeled with a fancy pharmacy sticker. Isla turned her head, resting her cheek against the back of the sofa to watch Lee's subtle movements. The fluorescent light over the stove cast a sharp angle across the clutter on the counters. She could've watched her all day, just simply existing. Could've devoured her, if she'd let her.
"You haven't done that yet?" Isla asked, fumbling with a cigarette in her jacket pocket as Lee dragged her feet back into the living room, setting the small plastic bag down on the coffee table beside the discarded towel.
"Kept putting it off," Lee mumbled, sinking onto the edge of the cushion. She unzipped the bag, the sterile sound of plastic wrappers filling the room. Her hands were slightly unsteady as she lined up the alcohol wipe, the capped syringe, and the tiny glass vial.
"You're a mess," Isla hummed. "Give it here."
Lee hesitated, her thumb hovering over the foil wrapper of the alcohol pad. "I can do it."
"You're not gonna, though," Isla drawled, her voice flat, just stating a plain, unbothered fact.
Lee mumbled something under her breath, but it was so quiet that Isla couldn't hear it, nor did she care enough to ask. Instead, she shuffled to the kitchen to wash her hands, pulling her hair back with a black elastic before wetting them in the sink. She dried her hands on a somewhat clean dish towel hanging off the stove handle, her hair pulled back tight into a messy, low knot that immediately began to ache. Isla sank down onto the carpet between Lee's knees as she'd done many times before. She pulled the tiny vial closer so she could see it through her blurred vision, inserting the needle with a steady hand to draw up the thick liquid. Lee watched her through anxious eyes, focused on the way she handled the syringe.
"Pants," Isla grumbled, flicking the side of the plastic with her index finger to clear a tiny air bubble.
Lee pushed the hem of her oversized hoodie up, tugging down the side of her underwear just enough to expose the outer curve of her thigh. She took a slow breath as if she were preparing for something far more painful than an injection. Isla tore open the alcohol wipe with her teeth, spitting the corner of the foil packet onto the table. The sharp scent of rubbing alcohol filled the small space between them as she rubbed the pad over Lee's skin in a circular motion.
"Count of three?" Lee asked, her voice small as if she had lost all of her confidence from a few hours ago.
"One," Isla said, and immediately sank the needle into her thigh on two.
She kept her hand steady, slowly depressing the plunger.
"You liar," Lee said, but the bite in her tone was replaced with a whiny edge from the pain.
"You overthink," Isla hummed back. "All done."
She pulled the needle out cleanly, pressing a small cotton ball firmly over the entry point. Holding it there with one hand, Isla reached up with the other, rubbing the aching muscle of Lee's thigh. After a few seconds, she stood up and properly disposed of the needle, keeping a close eye on Lee's thigh as she pulled her underwear back into place.
"Feel alright?"
"Mhm," Lee nodded. "Guess you're going now?"
She zipped the bag of supplies shut before turning around to look down at Lee. The low, blue light of the muted TV reflected off her skin, making her look entirely exhausted, yet pretty in a way that made her nearly want to choke her. Sometimes the memory of Lee's face would get under her skin and into her head so much that she could throw up from how strongly she craved her.
"Yeah," Isla whispered, though her feet stayed firmly planted on the carpet for a few extra seconds. "Gotta get at least four hours before my manager decides to lose his mind again."
Lee let out a quiet scoff, leaning back against the sofa cushions, her hand tracing the faint ache in her thigh. "Drive safe."
"See you Wednesday night?" Isla asked, slipping her shoes back on. Her body ached, and the throbbing between her legs was no longer from arousal.
"Wednesday's fine," Lee murmured, her eyes half-closed as she watched Isla double-knot her laces in the dim light. "Bring your own cigarettes this time."
Isla blew her kiss with sarcasm written all over her face. If someone didn't know better, they'd think the two of them hated each other. When she made it to the car, she stayed parked for minutes, watching Lee through the windows like a creep. She could've done it all night… Watch the way she lit up a cigarette, the way she ran her fingers through the knots in her hair. It was fascinating, really. The way Lee could push her to her breaking point, yet make her feel like she was the only one who ever understood whatever she had to say. Maybe it was a trap. Or maybe it's two traumatized people who never learned to express any emotion, so they share their affection by getting back at one another.