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ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Her New Me
By bank_farter


Elliot watches Molly sometimes. Well, not, like, watches watches. Just looks watches. In a way that's totally normal and platonic and not weird at all.

Like five seconds ago: when the elevator finally came to Elliot's floor, Molly was already on it. She was studying the file in her hands pretty intently (maybe because it was upside down), but she still broke her concentration long enough to offer Elliot a friendly nod as she stepped into the car.

And, you know what? Old Elliot might have been a little weirded out by the fact that her first impulse was to blush and grin stupidly at her, but new Elliot is a different person. A rational person. And, rationally speaking, friends are usually happy to see each other. That's why they're friends in the first place, right? Who would be friends with someone they didn't like being around?

(No one, that's who.)

And it totally isn't strange that her next thought was, "Wow, her hair looks so bouncy and shiny and gorgeous even in these stupid florescent lights." Because friends envy each other's hair all the time. And women are always noticing that other women have nice smiles. It doesn't mean anything.

Why would it mean anything?

"I'm not gay," Elliot says abruptly and in a voice that was, unfortunately, an outside voice.

Molly glances up at her, blinks, then smiles. "Cool."

"'Cool?'" She hates the way her face scrunches then because it's really unattractive, but she can't help it. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, it usually means that someone is ok with something. Or that they approve of it. But I guess in this case, we could say that it also meant, 'good morning,' since I'm pretty sure I forgot to say that before."

Elliot pauses and glances at her watch. "Molly, it's almost two in the afternoon."

"Really? Bummer. I guess that means I missed dinner again, huh?"

For a brief moment, Elliot considers responding, but she shakes it off. Sometimes, it's best just to let that kind of thing go.

"So, is that all you're going to say about it?"

Molly shrugs. "Dinner's not that big of a deal to me."

"That's not what I meant."

"Right," she nods. "Did you want me to say something more?"

"Um, yeah. Something other than a one word response would have been nice."

"You sounded pretty sure of yourself. Why would you feel like you needed my opinion on the matter?"

Elliot rolls her eyes for the second time in as many minutes. "Okay, it's totally not fair to use that shrink stuff on me."

"What makes you think I'm using 'shrink' stuff on you?"



"That!" Elliot snaps. "You're turning everything I say around!"

"Oh." Molly pauses, gives her a sympathetic look. "And how does that make you feel?"

Elliot can't tell if she's joking or not, so she's left in this awkward place where she can't decide whether she wants to laugh or storm away in a huff. The latter isn't really a viable option because, hello, she's in an elevator. So, she should probably go with the first one.

Only, she doesn't. She opts for the wild card, which apparently involves stalking towards Molly and pinning her up against the side wall. That doesn't help so much with getting rid of the awkwardness, but, in her own defense, she doesn't even realize she's doing it until her lips are pressed firmly against Molly's and Molly's hands are reaching up to tangle in her hair.

When she does realize it, her reaction is more or less this: oh my god, oh my GOD, FRICK, FRICK, FRICK!

"I am so sorry," she gasps as she pulls back, a little breathless. "I don't know why I just did that."

"Me neither," Molly agrees. Then, she pulls Elliot forward, crushing their mouths together and running her tongue along Elliot's lower lip in a way that makes Elliot weirdly tempted to just let this happen.

"No," she says as she tears her lips away from Molly's again. "We're in an elevator, and any minute—" She frowns. "Wait, why aren't we moving?"

"You forgot to press the button," Molly replies as she brushes her lips against the pulse point on Elliot's neck. She says it like it's the most natural thing in the world, like it somehow makes sense that, before Elliot got on, she was apparently just standing by herself in a stationary elevator. But, again, if there's one thing Elliot's learned about Molly, it's that you have to let those kinds of things go.

So Elliot pushes it out of her mind, inhales sharply as Molly's tongue runs over the shell of her ear, and lets her hand drift up to Molly's perfect, golden, shiny hair. And she learns something else about Molly then: she is an absolutely phenomenal kisser.

She also has surprisingly toned thighs, which Elliot notices for the first time when Molly eases her leg forward and presses it between her own. And, god, this is so wrong, but her scrubs bottoms are really thin, and she can feel Molly's muscles tense, and, and…

Elliot hears a sound like a whimper and realizes with some embarrassment that it came from her. Molly just smiles as she toys with the soft blonde hairs on the back of Elliot's neck and presses her thigh up more firmly, and Elliot has the good grace to blush. It doesn't stop her from smiling right back at Molly as she leans in for another bruising kiss, though (not that she's mad at her or anything like that; she just knows from dozens of girl-talk session that Molly likes it a little rough). And then they're moving together, straining and pushing and rocking the elevator car in what is probably a very unsafe way.

It feels amazing, which is good because it almost balances out the fact that she's totally ruining her pants at the moment. Molly's skirt is going to be fine because it's ridden up around her hips in a way that's kind of dirty and sexy at the same time, and Elliot can't help but be a little jealous. But Molly's hands are moving around to cup her ass, and Molly is breathing hotly against her shoulder as she moves against her faster. And everything is fine then. It's perfect, really.

Molly's lips part after a minute or two, and her eyes squeeze shut as she grinds down on Elliot's leg. Elliot barely has time to wonder if she's going to come before she's stiffening and shuddering and digging her nails in as she grasps at the backs of Elliot's thighs.

Elliot feels a deep, dull throb in her belly as she watches her, but it's not enough. She can't even contain the frustrated noise that escapes her mouth as Molly stills, relaxing against the side of the car. But, just like before, any less-than-positive thoughts disappear quickly enough. Molly opens her eyes, smiles apologetically, and slides her hand down Elliot's belly and past her waistband.

And there's another Molly-related lesson, which is that Molly has extremely talented fingers that can make her writhe and buck and moan and grip the side rail so hard that she can hear her knuckles cracking over the sound of her own heavy breathing. When Molly looks her straight in the eye, unwavering, and strokes her fingertips over her clit, it's too much. Elliot feels herself tensing and untensing, moaning into Molly's mouth as she comes.

Molly removes her hand when Elliot slumps against the wall, and they smile tentatively at each other.

"Wow." Molly says, her voice every bit as calm and perky as usual. "I can't say I expected that."

"Pretty much," Elliot agrees. It might be the understatement of the year, but what else is there to say? Sometimes, you just have to let things go.

…At least until you realize that you just had totally non-platonic sorta-sex with your female friend in an elevator. But Elliot figures she has at least another five minutes before that one really hits her. And new Elliot is all for enjoying those while they last.

The End

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