Chapter Text
“Beatrice.”
“Beatrice?!”
“Definitely Beatrice,” Debbie insisted. “Problem with that?”
Lou frowned. “Not the name I would have chosen for a snake.”
“What would you have chosen?” Debbie’s eyes were fixed on the mottled brown snake as it wended its way around her arm.
“Medusa.”
Debbie shook her head at the snake in exasperation. “She just doesn’t understand, B.”
Lou felt her expression soften. “I’m glad you like her,” she said.
“She’s beautiful.” Debbie stroked Beatrice’s tiny head with her thumb.
Lou smiled and kissed Debbie on the cheek as she slid past her towards the kitchen to make tea. Six weeks ago, Debbie had finally tied the final loose ends of the Met job. Claude Becker was awaiting trial in a stinky jail cell, now facing suspicion for the theft of the crown jewels as well as the Toussaint. Originally, Lou had been planning a trip. Biking the California coast had been a dream of hers for thirty years, but Debbie’s pull was stronger. There would be plenty of time for California later, hopefully with Debbie behind her on her brand new bike. For now, it was good to relax. Somewhat to Lou’s surprise, Debbie actually agreed. Since the gala, Debbie had tossed around a dozen ideas for their next flashy job, but Lou sensed she needed a break, and that’s where Beatrice had come into the picture. Deborah Ocean was never going to be one for conventional pets, but she needed something to pour her heart and soul into.
The kettle clicked. “Tea’s ready,” Lou called, taking out two mugs and dropping tea bags into them. She poured hot water, filling the room with earthy steam. Turning back to the room, Lou watched Debbie carefully set Beatrice back into her tank, which was, in itself, a work of art - pieces of wood, living plants, and glistening stones were placed meticulously throughout the plexiglass enclosure. Beatrice had moved in a month ago, and though Debbie had only just decided on a name, Lou knew that she was smitten.
Debbie looked happy as she joined Lou in the kitchen and washed her hands. “I think she’s starting to like me.”
“Hm. I’ll have to keep an eye on her,” Lou teased. “Wouldn’t want any competition.”
Debbie stepped close to her, eyes dancing. She hooked one finger into the vee of Lou’s vest, scraping her skin with the corner of her nail just enough to tease. “Oh, baby, you always come first.”
**
On the following Saturday, Lou was drawn from sleep by her least favorite sound in the world.
She couldn’t remember Debbie ever having nightmares before she left all those years ago. And indeed, she wasn’t entirely sure if these could be called nightmares, since Debbie often seemed half-awake. They didn’t happen every night, and according to the scribbled chart that Lou kept in the drawer of her bedside table, the frequency was decreasing. Still, Lou could expect to wake up to Debbie’s whimpering at least once a week, which was far too often.
She hated it.
This morning, similar to the others, Debbie was staring at the ceiling, lips moving over words that Lou couldn’t hear. Every so often a whining sob raked the back of her throat. She was gripping the blankets in her fists, so tightly that her knuckles were white, her limbs rigid. Lou sighed and propped herself up on her elbow.
“Debs,” she murmured, bending close to whisper in Debbie’s ear. She had learnt the hard way that startling her didn’t help.
Debbie’s brow knit in confusion, which Lou took as a sign that she had heard her.
“Debbie, honey, it’s Lou. You’re safe.” With difficulty, she slid an arm under Debbie’s head, embracing her as best she could in the bed.
“Lou,” Debbie said in a cracked whisper. Her eyes were still glassy and a single tear leaked from the corner of one to trail down the side of her face and into her hair. Lou kissed the salty remnant on her cheek.
“It’s not real, Debs, I promise. Tell him to leave you alone. He can’t get to you anymore, Jailbird.”
Debbie’s leg twitched and she blinked. Lou felt her breathing become deeper, matching her own.
“That’s right honey, come back to me. You’re in bed, Debbie. With me. And it’s a beautiful day.” Lou planted kisses over any part of her she could reach as Debbie resurfaced.
“It’s...raining,” Debbie mumbled, glancing towards the window, voice rough from her panic.
“Still beautiful,” Lou murmured. “Welcome back.”
Debbie sighed and burrowed into Lou’s chest. “I’m so tired of seeing him, Lou.”
“I know.” Lou kissed the top of her head.
“This time there were drugs and he wanted me to take them. I wanted me to take them.” Debbie spoke in a monotone, muffled against Lou’s skin.
“Did he ever--?”
Debbie shook her head and tilted her chin to look up at Lou. “No, just liquor, and weed occasionally - expensive stuff. Nothing stronger though.” She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. “I guess it’s just a reminder that I’m not over it.”
“Not over the drugs? Not over what he did?”
“Not over any of it.” Debbie shook her head. “I just…” She trailed off and rolled onto her back, rubbing a hand over her face.
Lou waited, gently untangling the knots in her hair.
“Sometimes I just want to take something to make the dreams stop,” Debbie mumbled at last, speaking so quietly that Lou could barely hear her. “I tell myself it won’t help, that I’ll just get sick and paranoid, and then I kick myself for even considering it. But that doesn’t help either. He’s still in my head when all I want…” She swallowed hard and opened her eyes. “All I want is to be here with you.”
“You are here with me,” Lou assured her. “And you’re right. The drugs won’t help. But Debs, it is getting better. It’s been a whole week since the last time. And look at you - you’re relaxing for the first time in your life, probably.”
The corner of Debbie’s mouth twitched. “Still trying to convince myself I deserve it.”
“I know,” Lou said seriously. “But you’re doing it. I know Beatrice appreciates it.”
“She knows I feed her, that’s for sure.” Debbie couldn’t contain her smile this time.
Warmth spread in Lou’s chest. She stroked her palm back and forth over Debbie’s stomach, pushing her loose sleep shirt up to her ribs. “Do you need a reminder of where you are?” Lou asked. The words felt heavy on her tongue, full of potential. As much as she hated Debbie’s nightmares, she loved being the one to ground her back in reality, just as she loved when Debbie did the same for her.
Debbie turned her head on the pillow, nose almost bumping against Lou’s. She caressed the side of Lou’s face. “It couldn’t hurt.”
“Mm,” Lou mused, continuing her gentle caress of Debbie’s stomach and feeling her muscles flutter under her palm. “And?” she prompted softly.
Debbie smiled. “And I want you.”
Lou stilled her hand, felt Debbie’s pulse beat in her abdomen. She leaned forward until her lips were almost brushing Debbie’s. “I want you, too.”
She kissed her before Debbie could respond. A needy whimper escaped from Debbie’s throat, and Lou drank it in, pushing Debbie’s shirt further up to palm her breast. Her nipple hardened under Lou’s palm, and Lou let it pass through her fingers, squeezing firmly. Debbie arched her back and bent her knees, letting them fall open - one against Lou and the other against the mattress. Lou’s heart raced, and as she ran her tongue just under Debbie’s jaw, she noticed her pulse was increasing to match. Debbie’s soft noises of pleasure - no longer muffled by Lou’s mouth - urged Lou onward. She thumbed over Debbie’s nipple once more before tracing down her ribs, her stomach, her hips, alternating between feather-light fingertips and the tickling edge of her fingernail. Debbie’s lacy underwear were already damp by the time Lou rubbed over them. Debbie tilted her hips, rocking against Lou’s palm.
“Mine,” Lou whispered. She tugged on Debbie’s ear lobe with her teeth and felt a shudder run through her.
“Yours, Lou,” Debbie gasped. “Please…”
“Shh,” Lou placated. She circled her fingers, massaging firmly and using the friction of Debbie’s panties to her advantage. Lou felt her warmth and wetness increase even through the fabric. “So good for me,” she whispered.
It always amazed Lou how fast Debbie could work herself up, how she opened herself to her so willingly. Debbie’s eyelids fluttered, eyes darting to Lou’s face, and Lou swallowed hard. It wasn’t the moment to be emotional, but when Debbie looked at her like that....
“My girl,” Lou murmured. She leaned in to kiss her properly again, ignoring Debbie’s whine as she slid her hand up her body. Debbie’s hips bucked, chasing her fingers. Lou teased each nipple to a peak once more before bringing her wandering fingers between their mouths. With a moan, Debbie tilted her head forward to suck Lou’s fingers into her mouth. Her tongue flicked, and Lou felt warmth settle heavy between her own legs, deeply aware of what else that tongue could do.
With slippery fingers, Lou charted a more direct path back down Debbie’s body, bypassing Debbie’s underwear with no pretense. Her body drew Lou in, stretching for three fingers right away, just as Lou had hoped.
“You feel so good, honey,” Lou told her, curling and uncurling her fingers in a steady rhythm, palm tight against her.
“So do you.” Debbie’s voice was strained with need and rough with arousal.
One of Debbie’s hands clutched at Lou’s back, short nails scratching at her skin. The other joined Lou’s between her legs, pressing her deeper and guiding her movements. Lou obeyed the pressure, fell into the familiar rhythm that marked Debbie’s desperation for release.
Sex wasn’t the only thing that brought Debbie back after a nightmare. Sometimes there were tears, sometimes talking. Lou had pieced together enough of the story to not only understand why Debbie had needed to personally destroy Claude Becker but also to come close to questioning why he was still breathing. As Debbie had said, he fucked her up, and Lou would never forgive that. As much as she craved her own revenge for what he’d done, Lou followed Debbie’s lead on what she needed. Today, she needed this - Lou’s mouth on her neck, Lou’s fingers inside her, Lou drinking in every moan and whimper.
Debbie pulsed around Lou’s fingers, every muscle taut and shivering, and Lou groaned her appreciation. “So hot when you come for me,” Lou whispered, breathing the words into the soft skin just behind Debbie’s ear.
They lay still for a long time after, Debbie’s breaths slowly returning to a normal pace and Lou sucking another mark on her neck - right under her jaw for the whole world to see. She knew Debbie wouldn’t cover it up. Lou kept her fingers inside her, stroking, holding all of Debbie in her hands to remind her who and whose she was.
“I love you,” Lou said quietly, let the words hang in the air for Debbie to examine.
She had said them countless times since that first time - the time she didn’t like to remember, when Debbie hadn’t been able to hear her. It still meant something though, and Lou knew she would never get bored of the way Debbie’s eyes crinkled at the corners when she said it. This time, Debbie’s entire face lit up, and Lou kissed her cheek as she slowly withdrew her fingers from inside her. Debbie gave a final moan and then sighed. Her eyes fluttered open just as Lou finished licking her fingers clean. Lou smiled at her.
“Feeling better?”
Debbie nodded, though Lou noticed her gaze was still unfocused, as though she was concentrating hard. “Lou,” Debbie began, “Lou, this is it , right?”
“Uh...what is?”
“ This !” “Debbie gestured between the two of them. “Us.”
“Do you really have to ask?”
“Yes.” Debbie’s response cut across the end of Lou’s question, almost cold.
Lou frowned, and Debbie winced.
“Sorry,” she said, reaching out to brush Lou’s fringe off her forehead. “I…”
“ Yes , honey,” Lou interrupted. “Yes. This is it. You and me. Every step of the way.”
“Is this a proposal?” Debbie smirked, echoing Lou’s words all those months ago at Vaselka, back when nothing was certain and all Lou wanted was to understand why there was still such distance between them.
Lou considered her, taking in Debbie’s bright brown eyes, her tousled hair, the purple love bite blooming under her jaw, her kiss-swollen lips. “Yes,” she said at last. “Is that alright?”
Debbie didn’t speak. Her face showed a mixture of bemusement, surprise, and joy, which made Lou want to laugh. Instead, she kissed her, firm and brief, trying to ignore the way her mind was whirring out of control because after everything - after twenty long years - they were finally admitting that this was forever.
“I don’t have a diamond,” Lou said, voice rough with emotions she couldn’t name. “We sold them all.”
“I don’t need a diamond, baby. I just need you.”
“That’s a hell of a line, Ocean.”
“Shut up.”
**
As much as Debbie loved glamour, pomp and circumstance, and being the center of attention, she wasn’t interested in planning a wedding. After their early morning conversation at the end of August, the topic of Lou’s proposal didn’t come up again for several weeks. Lou figured that Debbie would mention it when she was ready, though the fact that Debbie was apparently getting more out of charting Beatrice’s behavioral quirks than planning an elaborate honeymoon heist was both unexpected and endearing.
Late one Thursday evening, after making sure that the club was in good hands for the evening and the backroom business was running smoothly, supervised by Roger, Lou sped home and parked her bike in the gravel next to the old gold Toyota. The night was clear and cold, heralding the first weeks of autumn, and she relished it - more for Debbie than herself. Debbie loved the changing leaves, the brisk wind off the bay, the occasional thunderstorm with rain lashing against the high windows of the loft. She loved the lengthening nights, too, the quiet, the dark - perfect for passing through crowds unseen. Debbie’s mood had improved as the temperature dropped, and the nightmares or flashbacks or whatever they were had become even less frequent. Lou felt triumphant every morning that she awoke with Debbie wrapped around her for warmth and simple comfort, rather than for protection from the shadows in her mind.
Lou unlocked the door and stepped inside the dimly lit warehouse. The light over the stove was on, and the only other light in the room was a small LED on Beatrice’s tank next to the barometer. As Lou passed she heard a rustling sound from the snake as it raised its head to watch her. Lou flipped off the light in the kitchen and made her way up the stairs by the diffuse light of the single streetlamp by the road outside.
“Hey, baby,” Debbie called, just as Lou reached the balcony. Her voice was warm as the light pouring from the half-open bedroom door.
“Hey!” Lou replied. “How was your--?”
But she didn’t finish the question because she’d reached the doorway and saw that Debbie had lit dozens of candles and that a small table, standing between the bed and the dresser, held a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, two glasses, and a piece of paper. Debbie was standing behind it, wearing a simple black dress. One of her hands rested lightly on the dresser, and Lou could tell that she had been tapping her fingers against the wood, waiting for her.
“Always need to have the last word, don’t you?” Lou marvelled.
Debbie flashed a grin. “Maybe. Always figured I’d be the one to propose, so the least I could do was--”
“--this?”
She nodded and pulled a fountain pen from the bodice of her dress. “It just needs signatures. Nine Ball said she’d take care of the rest.”
Lou raised her eyebrows incredulously. “Don’t we need an officiant and witnesses?”
“Like I said, Nine Ball’s handling it.” Debbie stepped around the table towards Lou and held out the pen with a wink.
“How do you want to do this?” Lou asked.
Debbie frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Shouldn’t we say something? For better, for worse - all that?”
“Doesn’t sound like us.”
“Hm.” Lou smirked at Debbie, eying the pen in her hand.
Debbie blushed and averted her eyes from Lou’s. “I’m not good with words. You know that. I’m not good at any of it, really.”
“Any of what?”
Debbie sighed exasperatedly. “At this ,” she said, gesturing vaguely around them.
“Good. It would really kill my ego if I wasn’t better than you at something ,” Lou deadpanned.
“Which is why I figure the less talking, the better,” Debbie shot back, matching Lou’s seriousness.
Lou nodded slowly, as though deeply considering Debbie’s words. “I think you’re better at it than you think you are.”
Debbie shrugged impatiently. “Maybe. Can we just--?”
“You’re smart,” Lou went on, cutting across her. “You’re smart and gorgeous and based on tonight, you’re truly a romantic at heart.”
“It’s just a few candles and pulling some strings, nothing too compl--”
“I’m trying to make a vow, here,” Lou interrupted.
“Oh.” Debbie blushed again.
“Debbie.” Lou stepped forward and took the pen from Debbie at last. She laid it on the table, on top of the marriage license, and turned back to Debbie, taking both her hands. “You’ve been my life for twenty years now.”
“Almost twenty,” Debbie corrected her.
“ Almost twenty,” Lou agreed with only the slightest hint of an eyeroll. “I’m going to make sure you’re my life for the next twenty years, too, and twenty more after that, and forever, really.”
Debbie blinked rapidly, and Lou felt a swell of pride that she - and only she - could make Debbie eyes well up for entirely happy reasons. “Lou…” Debbie whispered.
“I love you,” Lou said firmly, without a hint of sentimentality, just truth and all the nuance - frankness, romance, passion - that came with it. “And I’m never going to stop.”
Debbie squeezed Lou’s hands. “That was good enough for both of us, I think,” Debbie said in a rough voice.
Lou’s heart beat high in her chest and her eyes burned. “Kiss me?” she asked.
Debbie took a step forward. Lou could feel her warmth even through her leather jacket and suddenly wished she had removed it downstairs. She wanted Debbie closer and even a few millimeters of fabric felt too far. A second later, however, Lou lost track of things, because Debbie was kissing her and wrapping her arms around her neck. Lou deepened the kiss for a moment before Debbie pulled away.
“Ready, baby?”
Lou nodded. “You should go first.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes, aware that her mascara was probably already running.
Less than thirty seconds later, the license was complete. “It’s not official yet,” Debbie said. “I have to wait for Nine Ball to enter it into the system, and--”
Lou silenced her with another kiss, nearly knocking over the little table and the champagne as she pressed Debbie against the dresser. The pen clattered to the floor and rolled under the bed. Debbie’s hands fumbled with the zip of Lou’s jacket, tugging it open, and Lou hummed her satisfaction. She drew it out, tasting a hint of salt in the kiss from her tears, or perhaps Debbie’s. It was a little messy, a little unorthodox, but that was them , wasn’t it? It would always be them.
The champagne came later, as did promises from Debbie that she could only bring herself to articulate when they were whispered into the soft skin just behind Lou’s ear. Lou didn’t mind. Debbie had always been more interested in stealing rings than wearing them, and Lou would wear the rings she stole for all the years to come.