Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There’s no going back. The letter’s gone now, tucked away somewhere at the front desk of the hotel. Greta makes sure that he won’t open it. You both press, double make sure, before you grab your slippers from the counter and giggle off back to your room, Greta following behind.

At some point, while going up the stairs, you put your slippers back on, but you don’t really remember. Between leaving the front desk and getting to your room, it’s all foggy. You end up taking them off again anyway, shove them by the door that Greta closes. 

“You need to sit,” Greta says, taking your hands to guide you to your bed. “I don’t want you to fall again.” 

Fall again? When? On the stairs? 

“You could’ve hurt yourself.” 

You’re not one to get drunk, at least not as drunk as you are now. You’re a housewife who makes pies for the choir you’re in and for neighborhood gatherings and birthday parties and… a lot of things. 

You don’t really drink. You don’t really drink. On occasion, maybe. This much? Never. Nope. 

If you wrote the letter drunk, is it even comprehensible? Hell, you couldn’t even read it by the time you licked the envelope closed, attached the stamp, and left it with Henry. 

Wait, he’s not going to open it, right? No. No, he won’t. He wouldn’t. Right? 

You sit down on your bed, and weight that doesn’t belong to you settles on the mattress, too. Greta. “Why are you still here? Hmm, you need sleep.” You bow your head, close your eyes because somehow with only the bedside table’s lamp on, it’s too much light. 

“I had to make sure you got back to your room okay. You tripped up the stairs, Carson.” She rubs your back in circles, up and down. Sometimes, her hand finds your hair and runs through the newly trimmed locks. “You know, I’m really proud of you, Carson.” 

A fit of giggles hits you. “Pfff. I told him how I feel, like you said I should. I did that.” You pause, crashing from the high of your laughter. “I do sometimes feel like something is wrong with me. Have you ever felt like that? It’s normal. So normal.” 

Greta stops her movements and exhales. “When I was younger. Of course, then, I didn’t really get it.” She stares down at her lap, fiddles with her hands. “But I’m glad that I had Joey. We helped each other understand it and…” 

You want her hands to still because watching them battle and collide is bothering you, and you’re losing your focus, drowning out her words. Nothing but muffled mumbles. Maybe she’s just not talking anymore. That has to be it. Yet, her lips are moving, probably saying something important. You’re missing it. You’re missing it. 

You shake your head and pull her hand off her lap and on to your own, holding it, tight. “Greta.” 

“Yes, Carson?” 

“What were you saying?” 

She smiles and squeezes your hand. “It’s nothing. Just get some sleep, okay? We have a big day tomorrow.” She leaves, your room, you, and your drunk mind in the quiet. Too quiet. 

You lie down.

You don’t remember when you fell asleep. 

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“Greta, where are you — ?” 

“Shhh.”

“But the shed is —” 

She guides you through the woods, hands rest in each other with tangled fingers. The dark cloaks you, your connected hands. So does the brush and the many trees that surround you. 

Perfect spot. 

Perfect for kissing her against the rough bark. Breathing her in like Shirley does her humidifier. With your hands on her waist and her lips on your neck and—

She lets go, and you stop at the loss of contact. The woods is now the street. Empty. Open. Houses on each side of you, lights inside turned off for the night. 

“Greta.”

She giggles and looks over her shoulder at you, where you stand a few feet behind her. “Where did your mind go, hmm?” 

You bow your head. “I—” 

“It’s okay. C’mon. Just a bit farther.” 

You know this place as the field the team practices on. Or the practices everyone knew about, except Lupe and Dove, when the practices you got weren’t enough. Waking up at sunrise, riding your bike down the street to the large area of grass with make-shift bases. Greta instructing stretches. 

Greta’s voice. A song you never want to stop listening to. 

Greta sliding into home. 

Gotcha. 

And that night under the stars. Tonight under the stars, but this time, you’re alone with her. It’s just you and Greta, lying down on the grass—you know why she told you to wear pants. 

You stare up at the sky, the little dots that stare back at you, watch you as you wrap your arm around Greta. As Greta listens to the thumping of your heart. Fast. At least, you think it is, because of her, this closeness. You feel… 

“Are you okay, Carson?” she asks, tracing shapes into your side. 

Home. Here. 

“Yeah.” You rub her arm, right by her shoulder. “I’ve never really felt like this before. For someone.” 

Greta hums and lifts her head just enough to kiss your cheek. “What is that like?” 

The first time you won a game. And there’s this rush that you wish doesn’t end. Something like adrenaline, a high. Every time you touch her, feel her, hear her, it comes back even harder than the last. When you kiss her, when she kisses you, lost constellations are glued back together. You’re whole. 

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Your blouse goes first. You tug it out from your skirt and reveal to Greta what is underneath. Skin, and a white bra that you guide her to unhook and slide the straps from your shoulders. Like your blouse, your bra finds the floor. 

A few minutes, and Greta takes you in, fingertips feeling your chest and tracing each freckle. “You’re beautiful, Carson.” 

She sees you, all of you. You step out of your skirt and lie with her on the bed once her clothes join yours. You’re tangled in bedsheets, an exchange of heated kisses back and forth. Some land on your neck, and you grip on to her hair to keep her close. You want her close. 

You want to feel her. Your skin against hers, a soft plush cloud wonderland. Each touch elicits shivers down your spine and goosebumps in the open air. The way her lips kiss every part of you… How her hand slips below the surface, touches you. 

She whispers to you as she brings you home. Hips lift from the mattress to meet her. You let go, pulling the curls at the nape of her neck. 

Once you settle with a hum, your head hitting the pillow, Greta watches you, studies you like how you read over your own game cards—with the intention of memorizing them, you. You caress her cheek and bring her down to kiss you. 

“Are you okay?” Greta asks, pressing her forehead against yours. “That was okay?”

Your hand wanders, moves from her cheek to her waist to her back, brushing your fingers along her skin, and you can feel her melting under your touch. “I’m more than okay. I actually wanted to… um…” 

The contact from connected foreheads fades as eyes meet yours. “Hmm?” She props her head up with her hand, her elbow digging into the pillow. “What do you want, Carson?” 

You lean in, hover your lips over hers, noses kiss. You tease her with anticipation as she waits for lips to collide. But they don’t, a whimper climbing from Greta’s throat. 

“I… I want…” You exhale, and your breath grazes her cheek. You ask for the confidence you had earlier to come back. It doesn’t, right when you need it. Instead, you drown in dust. 

Greta closes the gap herself, only for a moment, before pulling back. She twirls a strand of your hair. “It’s okay.” 

You bow your head because looking at her makes it harder. “I want you, Greta,” you mumble. 

“Mmm.” She lifts your head up with her index finger, then pressing her thumb to your chin. “Say it again.” 

Just like that, you forget how to breathe. Yet, somehow, the words you need to say, ones you know Greta craves, manage to leave your tongue. “I want you, Greta.” 

So, she teaches you. What she likes, where to touch her, how to touch her. And let’s say that you’re a quick study, picking up her tells. How she bites her lip, gasps, claws at your back, your skin—which you whisper for her to be careful because you don’t want the girls questioning it in the locker room. 

And her moans… You know your hand is right where she wants it.

“Carson? Baby?” Hand strokes your hair, then a kiss to your temple. 

You fell asleep, with her, tucked in her arms, your head on her chest. Everything you could ever want. Waking up to her voice, her soothing words. Gentle. Warm. Like her. To have this every day… You can’t. You know that. Maybe, maybe someday. 

You have a place in California, and a room to yourselves. Alone. Endless nights just like this one. Shared kisses and heat. A window open just a crack to allow for a breeze to blow through. In the mornings, you eat breakfast with her, wave her goodbye when she goes to work. You wait for her to come home. 

Then, you start all over. Another day, wrapped up in her. Her perfume. The red curls of her hair. How they sit on her shoulders. How they match her red lips. They kiss you goodnight. 

But Charlie—

“And September will be coming soon and you’ll go back with Charlie…”

Is that what you really want? 

“Carson?” 

You stir and force your eyes to open, greeted by the dark room. What time is it? “Greta.” 

“I’m here.” She holds you close. “I’m here.” 

“The game—” 

Greta chuckles. “We don’t have to leave for another hour.” 

“Then why did you wake me now?” 

“Would you rather me wake you five minutes before?” 

The mattress moves under you as you shift to sit up a bit. “No. No. Besides, I think I would want to be awake for this last hour. Really feel… everything. You.” 

She finds you in the dark and kisses you. Something soft, but alive. A spark that travels through your veins, your hands up your arms to settle in your chest right where your heart is. 

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“Thanks for believing in me. I don’t know if anyone has ever done that before.” 

“The pleasure’s all mine.” 

Hands linger between you and her, fingers grasping for anything. Any sense of realness, subtlety. Soft tangles of small joints and bones. Skin. Each other. 

Despite all odds, you won the game. Balls being thrown and caught in the dark of night with blinding lights at every corner. Esti pulling the team through with her steals, her quick strides from one base to the next with ease. 

Tonight, you took a risk. Several risks, calls that you don’t make. Never make. You got through. And now, laughter and celebration on the Peaches’ bus. Terri, Esti, Shirley, and Ana shared conversations and jokes at the front of the bus. Lupe announced her hope that maybe you can do this. 

But, there was something missing. You glanced over your shoulder, and past all the seats towards the back, Greta sat alone, in her own world. 

You took another risk, sat down beside her. 

Another risk not long after. Minutes of secret semi-hand-holding and smiles, you guide a sleeping Greta to rest her head on your shoulder. 

The remainder of the journey back to Rockford, you watch her. Her chest rising and falling with each breath that flows through her nose. Each hum that lies in her throat. You refrain from stroking her hair, as much as you want to. Pulling her closer so she can wrap her arm around your waist. Be comfortable. Safe in a world that isn’t safe for her, for you. 

At least today. Tomorrow. Maybe for the rest of the week, but not forever. 

Chapter Text

i.

She shows you the car, the new place where kisses will be shared and tender conversations will float between lips and stay tucked under the car’s seats. A place that is safe. A place no one else knows about, except you and her because you can’t even have the woods anymore. You want to be alone with her, have time alone with her. And if this car is the only way it can happen… 

It’s worth it then, isn’t it? 

Sitting on the leather seats, Greta kisses you, her hand on your cheek and your own on her thigh. And despite the very… nice distraction, thoughts run in circles with no sign of stopping. You becoming coach when you don’t want to be. The possibility of all of this ending, to be forgotten in a few weeks like it never happened. Then, you would have to go back to Idaho, go back to being a housewife to a man you only see as your best friend. To that little suburb where you weren’t really happy because that Carson isn’t you. Just someone you pretended to be because it made the people you care about happy. 

Greta opened your eyes to what you truly want. Who you are. How you’re supposed to feel, and it’s freeing. You’re finally breathing. 

She cuts off your rant and unbuttons her shirt. “I think you need to relax a little bit.” 

You chuckle, and she pulls you in. A swirl of lips you can’t let go of, each kiss dragging you deeper and deeper into her atmosphere. Her arms. You lose track of time. 

ii.

The next day, you find her alone in front of the wheel. 

You didn’t see her at breakfast, so you asked around, maybe if the other Peaches had seen her. Nothing. Not even Jo knew. Worry bubbled up inside you, and Shirley, although not really understanding, tried to calm you down. 

By lunch, your stomach twisted. You couldn’t eat. 

Lupe asked if she could warm up with you for a bit. At the front of the house, you had a catch, and your mind steered away from Greta for a moment.

Until Maybelle pulled you aside. She grabbed your wrist and led you to the shed. 

“What are you—?” 

“Esti saw where she went this morning,” Maybelle said, opening the door. “When she tried to tell me, I didn’t understand what she was saying, so she just brought me here.”  

You exhaled and peeked inside. “She’s here?” 

“You bet. Go get your girl.” She winked. 

Beside her now, you settle your hand right above her knee, right where the hem of her skirt is. “Greta? Are you okay?” 

She avoids your eyes, stares out the window even though there’s nothing to look at. Just a cream sheet. A boring cream sheet. “Time goes too fast, Carson,” she whispers, her voice breaking with each word spoken. “Soon, all of this will be over.” 

You shift closer to her. You don’t say anything, a comfortable silence rising like heat. Instead, you wait. You wait for her. If she wants to say more. If she wants you to hold her. 

No, if she needs you to hold her. 

You reach to wrap your fingers around Greta’s palm, and you rub the back of her hand with your thumb in slow circles. 

She hiccups and glances down at tangled hands. She squeezes, and relief floods you. “God, Carson.” 

“What do you need, Greta?” you ask, your tone soft, delicate because you know she’s broken. But she’s also right. 

This will be over soon. The season, baseball. You and her. Back to Idaho, and you’re still not sure if that’s what you want, after everything. After this. After each kiss, each touch, each laugh. Each whisper. 

She has grown attached, hasn’t she? 

You have, too. 

Finally, finally, she looks at you. The lost tears that sit on her bottom lids, threatening to fall. And all the dry streaks already present on her cheeks. The slight quiver of her chin. 

“I… I d-don’t…” She breathes. “I don’t want to be alone.” 

“Okay. Okay. I can sit here with you. Is that what you—?” 

Greta lunges towards you, sealing your lips in a kiss. Heavy. With a passion you’ve never felt her kiss you with before. Something like longing. Like a kiss you would give when you’re saying goodbye, except, it’s not because she keeps going. And you reciprocate. 

This is what she needs.

iii.

She strokes your hair as you come down, breaths heated, but slowing. “Wow, Shaw. Ease up a little bit, huh?” 

You don’t realize how tightly you are holding her, gripping on to the back of her blouse so much that you’re sure Greta can feel your nails through it. “I’m sorry.” You exhale into her shoulder. “That was…”

“A lot?” 

You shudder. An aftershock, feeling Greta remove her hand from under your dress. It pools at your waist, fabric dangling off Greta’s lap. The whole upper half of you is open for her to see. And your bra, you don’t remember where you put it. Maybe on the floor, or thrown in the back. Somewhere in this car. “A lot, but a good ‘a lot’,” you mumble. “A really good… ‘a lot’.” 

She giggles and kisses the side of your head. “Good.” 

It seems like another hour, maybe two, that you stay on her lap in her embrace. Some words pass between you, whispers and laughs. Your head buried in her shoulder, she rubs your back, fingers tracing your spine. 

When you shiver, Greta helps you lift your dress back on, slip on the sleeves and button it up, despite your bra still discarded somewhere. Right now, you don’t care. She’s here, with you. Blessing you with all the warmth you need. Everything you’ve ever wanted. Home. 

This tall redhead you’ve grown to care so much for. More than you can comprehend. In less than a month, that’s all going to go away. But it doesn’t have to be like that. Here, this moment, all you have is time. 

“You know what you told me once?” You pull away from her a bit, enough to see her. Enough to caress her cheek, which she leans into. 

“Hmm.” She scrunches her nose. “Don’t be boring?” 

You shake your head with a chuckle. “Remember, ‘however long this lasts, let’s rob the bank.’ Make the most of—”

She kisses you. A kiss that ingrains itself in your head and builds its roots. Even when it ends, you still feel it in your lips. She touches her forehead to yours. “Let’s rob the bank.” 

Chapter Text

She opens up to you, tells you of a lost love. Her name was Dana. And at seventeen, they were caught, and Dana was put… She was put away. 

You can see it. Greta in Dana’s bedroom. Lips linger on lips. They forget, too caught in each other. Dana’s mom kicks Greta out, and Greta never sees her again. Alone, walking back home where she crumbles in Jo’s arms. Just like she is now, except in yours. 

On the bed, you leave no gaps between you. Greta’s face finds your shoulder, and you don’t mind that her tears crash there. She’s here, with you. You hold her, this vulnerable being of light that falls apart in one delicate touch. 

“We’re gonna be okay,” you whisper to her. “Okay? Greta?” 

“Don’t let go.” Your shoulder muffles the breaking of her voice, almost like shattered glass. 

You stroke her hair, the red curls that you know must take her forever to do, but are still perfect every time. Her dedication—that’s one of the things you… love about her. 

Love. It feels weird, yet right. Maybe because you’ve never truly felt that way before. Not with anyone, not even with Charlie.

“I don’t want to, but I’m gonna have to sometime. We have a game tomorrow. You know that?” 

She laughs. Through her tears, she laughs, and you pull away just a bit, your hands on her waist, to bless yourself with her smile. The smile that first caused a fuzzy feeling in your stomach, a good kind of fuzzy.

Or something like that. You couldn’t focus. That’s what you mean. Even now, you’ve lost that focus as you go to lean in, forgetting that the door is wide open. You can’t do anything. You shouldn’t do anything. 

You glance over your shoulder at the door, into the light of the empty hallway. The glance becomes a stare, afraid that at any moment, one of the girls could walk by and see that you and Greta aren’t just friends. Then, what next? 

Your fate is the same as Dana’s? 

“Darling?” Greta rubs your arm, tries to bring you back. “Carson? They’re all down stairs, remember? Celebrating our win?” 

“I know, I just…” Empty. It’s still empty. It’s empty. You peel your eyes away from the door and meet Greta’s, grounding you like they always do. “Yeah.” 

She tilts her head to the side. “What are you thinking, huh?” 

You lift your hands to caress her face. And for a moment, you brush your thumbs along her cheeks, before lowering her head so you can kiss her, right above her eyebrows and the bridge of her nose. 

Greta closes her eyes with a hum and rests her hand atop one of your own. It’s then you know that what you said is true. You’re going to be okay. 

Chapter Text

For the first time, you hold her hand and show the world that she’s yours. You need to remember how this feels because it won’t last forever. 

Warmth, fingers curled around hands. Real. Because it’s not just you and her anymore. Other people like you in the bar know too, see you. 

You wish it could always be like this. 

Free. Alive. With her. 

“What would happen if I came to California with you?”

“I think a lot would happen.” 

Together, you sway, Greta’s hand in yours, to a song that sinks into your veins with each line of lyric. People are around you, but somehow, it feels like it’s just you and her, in your own world. A world where things are different. Where you can be with her and not have to hide. Where you can just… be. For now, this bar is that place. 

This is how you celebrate. After a game that would decide whether or not you’re staying in Rockford for just a little longer. After a win you didn’t expect to happen, but did. You celebrate in a bar with your fellow teammates, your friends, your… Greta. You introduce Greta to Vi and Edie. Have a drink. Dance. 

Dance. 

The only time you may ever get to. 

The only time you don’t have to go somewhere in the shadows when you want to kiss her. Somewhere you won’t be seen. Can’t be seen. The car. The woods. The shed. That room in the convent. Yet, there’s something about them that makes them special. 

It was just you and Greta. 

Moments of stolen glances and linked hands. All smiles as your lips collide with hers. You’re pulled into light, the warmth that you can’t help but swallow whole even if you end up burning your tongue. You don’t want to stop because it feels good. 

She brings your hand to her lips, and everything is okay, like it should be, what you dream of it to be.

You’re okay. 

You’re okay. 

Chapter Text

She leaves without saying goodbye, and you rush down the stairs to ‘get a thing’. Past Maybelle, past all the others, past the door, Greta, with her belongings in hand, almost at the end of the sidewalk that leads to the house, the stairs of the porch. 

“Greta.” 

As you walk back up the stairs, Greta trailing behind you, you hold back from reaching for her hand. You want to reach for her hand. You want to savor each and every bit of her touch, because you know this will be the last time for a long time. And Greta must know that, too, as she chases your kiss. 

Against the wall of the house, on the porch that carries weights and weights of memories with your team, your Peaches, you learn to let go so you can find yourself. 

In the years you lost who you are, pretended to be someone else, you need that time to gain it all back. Every last thought your mind erased because it wasn’t ‘normal’. Every moment of the past where you felt different, nothing like the people around you back in Lake Valley, Idaho. 

You can’t go with her to New York. “But I had to do that one more time before you left.” 

But you aren’t going back to Idaho either. “I don’t know where I’m headed.” 

She fiddles with the small pendant of your necklace, then runs her fingers through the ends of your hair. The hair she cut that first night. You’ll always remember that because that’s where it all began. 

“You’ve changed my whole life.” 

“You opened me up again, Carson.” 

You exhale and press your forehead to Greta’s. Breathe in the last few moments you have with her until you have to go. Until she has to go. 

During the off season, you’ll try to write to her as often as you can. Each night, you’ll drift off thinking about her, about the next season where you’ll see her again. 

You hope that maybe she’ll think about you, too, as she gazes at New York’s many skyscrapers and the people walking on the streets below from her apartment balcony. 

Those days, she’ll wait for your letters, look at the stars and see you in them.