DISCLAIMER: Still not mine. Still AR's, and I'm still mucking about sans
permission, but isn't that what makes this so much fun.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: A strange piece that starts out weird and somehow becomes sweet; consider it to follow 'perfect'. Written as a response to a plea for a change of pace from the dark, angsty theme that seems to be the mood at All Things DEBS in the fanfic board. Since, I'm one of those sorta responsible, this was my penance to R. As always, much and many thanks to Lex for the beta and indulgence of my...preoccupations.
STYLE: I live in Aus, therefore, the 'u' is not superfluous, and neither is the 's' a lazy 'z.' Beyond that, you'll see things like double space following all sentences and even that irritating final comma in a series. I'm not wrong, it's what was thumped into my head through school.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
"You lied to me." It was a simple statement.
"I what?!" A not so simple question and exclamation.
"You lied." Another statement, again lacking an accusation and more the observation of facts as they were perceived.
"When?" An indignant, defensive demand.
"When you said you'd never been perfect at anything." An amused explanation accompanied by a warm smile.
"Huh?" Dumbfounded confusion.
"Back in LA. You told me you'd never been perfect at anything. You lied."
Complete and utter confusion. "I did?"
A nod. "Yes. You are perfect."
Another nod. "Yes."
"How?" A genuine question coloured by genuine confusion.
A laugh. "You just are." A cryptic response spoken with adoration and a smirk.
"I am." A slow statement to taste the words and see if they fit. They didn't. "How?"
Another laugh as she was drawn closer. "Because."
Lucy pulled back a little, confusion still very clear in her dark eyes as she stared into warm, laughing blue. "I am not," she disagreed with utter conviction. Despite the denial and confusion plaguing her mind, her body reacted accordingly and her arms snaked their way around the trim waist.
Laughing and shaking her head, sun-bleached blonde hair fell into Amy's tanned face. "Yes, you are," she persisted, grinning unabashedly the entire time. "Everything about you is," she continued.
"I'm a reformed criminal mastermind and diamond thief. I stole how much, was probably responsible for some death and suffering, and have a spot reserved rather high on every 'most wanted' list in the world...how in the hell can I be perfect?" she demanded, still very much puzzled.
With the same smile she'd given the brunette when informed of Lucy's preference to being a pirate over a criminal, Amy rolled her expressive blue eyes. "Because in spite of all that, you aren't all of that," was her cryptic and bewildering response. "You're perfect, because you aren't."
"Huh?" Lucy continued to watch her lover with an expression that was equal parts confusion and speculation on the blonde's mental state.
Amy grinned. "You want to know something?" she asked, seeming to completely hop subjects without warning.
Blinking at the snap change, Lucy wondered even more about what in the hell Amy was dancing around. Normally, she was all about the vague and a master of cryptic phrases and confusing conversations -it being a hazard of the job and all- but for once in her life, Lucy was adrift in a very large sea of bemusement. She refused to show it completely though, and with the sort of relaxed nonchalance normally used in shady dealings, Lucy gave a shrug and a nod. "Sure."
She grinned even more as she saw and read Lucy's game. "I don't believe in perfect."
"You don't," Lucy repeated, her words somewhere in between a question and a statement.
"No. On principle, I don't."
"Because being perfect means that something can never improve and it can't get better. The thought of that being reality is kinda scary too," Amy explained with a sweet smile.
With a bit of a frown, Lucy watched the blonde with a puzzled expression. "Ya wanna explain that one again, Miss Perfect Score?"
Laughing, Amy reached up and casually draped her arms around the dark haired woman's shoulders. "Take this moment for example, some might consider it perfect. I'm here, you're here, and we are in this gorgeous house with a fantastic view of the Mediterranean, and I've never been more in love in my life than I am with you. But, this moment, right here, right now, isn't perfect."
Amy smiled and responded, "Because it can always get better." She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to Lucy's, tracing the brunette's lips with her tongue playfully before leaning back. "See? Didn't it just get better?" Amy asked with a touch of a smug smirk.
A silly grin found its way across the former thief's lips. "Okay, I'll give you that, but why can't perfect exist?" A little confusion still remained from before, but beneath it, a devilish and mischievous plan lurked.
She grinned and took the remaining step that separated them, sliding her body close against Lucy's. "Well, if perfect exists, doesn't that mean once you reach that point, there is nothing else to strive for? No other point?" Leaning in, Amy caught Lucy in a thorough, exploring kiss. When she pulled back, the grin was once again firmly in place. "Perfect terrifies me. I don't want to know perfection because if I did, nothing else in my life would ever top it."
"Okay," Lucy drawled slowly, a little dazed but very triumphant. There was nothing like a plan that worked flawlessly!
"People always called me perfect my entire life. Everything I did was perfect; everything I was was perfect. I was perfect, but I never felt that way. I felt like I had to strive harder and harder because if I didn't, then with as much pressure as was already on my shoulders, there would be even more," she explained. "It's also impossible to be something you can't even believe in."
"Is that why you didn't believe in yourself?" As always, Lucy found the heart of something and had the infallible ability to cut straight to the middle of it.
With a very warm and loving smile, Amy nodded. "Yes. They expected me to be something I could never be, and the harder I tried, the less I knew I could."
"So what changed?"
"You. Well, me, but you helped me," the blonde said with a quirky smile. "You let me be me. You let me see what I'd always known; that you don't have to be perfect to be happy or good at what you do." Her expression became one of adoration and warmth. "The pressure to be perfect was gone, and I realised that you would be happy and content with me no matter how good I was at something."
Reaching up, Lucy tucked a loose lock of blonde hair behind Amy's ear, letting her fingers slide into the strands of gold. "I am and always will be," she said with utter conviction. "All I really want is for you to be happy." The brunette smiled. "That makes me happy."
Amy leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Lucy's cheek. "I know." Sliding one hand down, Amy caught the end of Lucy's shirt and slipped her fingers beneath it and across the dark skin. "See, things are never perfect, because of something called potential."
Sucking in her stomach at the tickling feather-light touches, Lucy had to swallow before she could respond. "'Potential'?" she repeated.
"Uh-huh." Leaning in as her hand continued to play across the tanned skin, Amy gave the brunette's neck a friendly nibble, tasting the salt on the warm skin from a day's worth of sea-spray. "No matter how good or great, everything -everyone- has the potential to improve," she spoke against Lucy's neck, her lips brushing her lover's throat. "Like us. It." She brushed her nose against the underside of Lucy's jaw. "Just." Her fingers played up the length of the brunette's side, counting ribs as they skipped. "Keeps." She leaned back and grinned, her sapphire gaze alight with both affection and mischief. "Getting." She leaned in boldly and caught Lucy in a breath-stealing kiss. "Better."
"So, ah." She had to fight to string her thoughts together and swallow thickly to free her throat to speak them. "If you don't...uhh." She found herself distracted as Amy leaned down and found that place on her neck that managed to arrest any and all coherency. "Believe in perfect..." She squeezed her eyes closed tightly, inhaling deeply at the warmth spreading across her skin. "How come you told me I'm perfect?" she exhaled in a groan. "Don't you believe in me?"
The lips playing across her neck departed with a playful nip. "I believe in you more than I believe in anything else," Amy responded with a chuckle that was all liquid seduction and very nearly made the dark, sagging woman whimper and sincerity that stole her breath again. "You're perfect because you aren't."
Again, the cryptic statement confused her, though that didn't quite bother her as much this time. Distractions were rather nice that way, you really don't give a damn if you're puzzled; you just want those lips back against your skin making you feel on fire, doing things to you that make you feel like you're turning inside-out. "Ya wanna explain that one again?" Lucy asked in a breathy, hoarse whisper. Oh, look at that, she could still think and speak...
Amy chuckled again, and this time, Lucy groaned instead of whimpering. Oh, this just wasn't fair, was it? Wasn't she supposed to be the seductress, constantly wooing her blonde, leggy girlfriend? Wasn't...oh, never mind...Amy was doing that delightful thing against her neck again... Oh, that was nice. No, not nice...effing brilliant!
"For me, perfection is in the faults and short-comings of a creature," she explained against Lucy's neck. "Because those flaws mean that it can improve, that it can change and evolve and reach new heights of magnificence. It's a contradictory statement to say that perfection is found in one's Achilles heel; that it is in what makes them imperfect that also shows their utter glory, but that's just the way we are. You're like that. You aren't perfect, but you are, because you're flawed."
"That...makes absolutely no sense, whatsoever," Lucy declared, drawing another liquid-like laugh from the blonde. Her skin blazed and her heart thundered, and as she stood against the assault of torment and sensation, she finally was beginning to understand what in the hell Amy was on about. She was right; this moment wasn't perfect because as long as Amy kept doing that to her neck, or that hand kept playing across her too-hot skin or sliding down her spine, it just...kept...getting...better.
"I know it doesn't, but that's why it works," Amy confided. "We don't make sense and the less we think and more we accept, the better off we are."
"As long as you keep doing that, I don't care what in the hell you say," she stated with a grin.
"This?" Amy asked, nipping along the corded muscle of Lucy's neck, pressing her tongue flat against the tan skin, feeling the skipping pulse beneath. "Or this?" She slid her hand down passed the waistband of Lucy's loose -white- cotton pants.
Laughing, Lucy shrugged a shoulder. "A little from column A. A little from column B."
Sharing the laugh, Amy pulled back a little. She remained close against her darker lover, but put enough distance to be able to focus. "You've never claimed to be perfect and you freely acknowledge that you are flawed. That's why you lied." Amy smiled. "For all intents and purposes, if perfection is found in the flaws and the constant attempt to improve them, then you're perfect."
A single, dark eyebrow arched as Lucy gave the blonde a clearly unconvinced look. "You're crazy," she declared. "Absolutely, completely, and utterly insane. Then again, you did run away from your friends, career as the perfect spy, and generally your entire world to live with a somewhat-reformed criminal mastermind in a completely different country after knowing her only a week, so that's kind of a given."
"Hey!" She smacked Lucy on the shoulder, laughing. "I resent that!"
"Resemble it too!" the dark woman shot back with a cheeky grin. "I did not lie to you, anyway, and I am not perfect!" she vehemently proclaimed.
Amy favoured Lucy with a sweet smile, brushing dark bangs out of her face as she did, her eyes filled with the sort of adoration Lucy couldn't fathom its source. Oh, she knew what it was like, her own dark gaze tended to reflect it, but why she was looked at with that expression, that emotion, well, that she still couldn't figure out. She wasn't objecting though. No, she might not get the reasoning, but she sure as hell wasn't going to turn it away. "It's all a matter of perspective, babe," was Amy's response.
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