Chapter Text
“Fuck, Beltran,” Amelia moans out, tossing her head against the door behind them. Monica kisses her jaw to her neck to her collarbone, where she bites and then sucks, leaving a mark behind. Amelia rocks her hips against Monica’s hand, needing more of her. Her mouth falls open in a moan. Monica, not wanting anyone walking by to hear, takes her free hand and places it over her mouth.
“Shhhh,” Monica hisses, “Keep quiet baby, not everyone needs to know that I can make you scream my name in a matter of seconds.”
Amelia breathes heavy against Monica’s hand, she nods a bit, still rocking her hips as fast as she can against her.
Just as Amelia loses herself there’s a beeping noise. That won’t stop. Then she opens her eyes. Fuck , she groans. This was the third wet dream she had- they were all about Monica. She sits up, still very much feeling the effects of her dream in real life. She feels her shorts sticking to her and suddenly everything is too hot. She turns off her alarm, stands, and walks into her bathroom. Her normally pale blue eyes are now a rich, deep, ocean blue. She looks in the mirror, her face flushed red, her hair a mess, and the most noticeable thing, her nipples sticking out through her tank top. Amelia splashes water on her face, trying to get out of her dream-like state. She strips out of her clothes, changing her underwear after using the bathroom, knowing her panties are a mess. She switches into a pair of black jeans and a loose maroon crewneck, leaving it untucked. She brushes her teeth and her hair, simply putting her hair up in a bun like usual.
After cleaning herself up and getting ready, she goes to the kitchen. Lucas had finally stopped being petty and moved back into the house with the other interns. Amelia loved Lucas, but god was she grateful. She finally had her house back. There weren’t piles of clothes all over anymore, she could see the ground, it didn’t reek of fratboy, and, most importantly, she wasn’t losing her things anymore. With Lucas out that also meant she could start having people over. No, not for dinner parties, but for stress relief after a long shift. There was one specific woman she wanted over. She hadn’t realized but she zoned out, back in her fantasy. She only snapped out of it when she felt hot coffee on her shirt. She looked down, seeing what was obvious, hot coffee pouring down the front of her.
“Shit,” She groaned, turning off the coffee machine and stripping her shirt in the kitchen. That’s when there was a knock at the front door. She walked over to the door, still in just her bra, looking through the peephole. Monica Beltran. Was she forgetting something? Did they have brunch today? What day is it?
“I know you’re in there Amelia, if you don’t want my help you can just tell me.” Amelia hears from the other side of the door.
That’s what she’s missing. She opens the door, revealing herself. Monica looks her up and down, amused, but Amelia gets suddenly self-conscious.
“That’s one way to greet me,” Monica teases.
“Shut up. I spilled coffee and it got on my shirt.”
Monica lets herself into the apartment, setting her stuff down on her counter. She happily greats Grand-Paw, who is oh so elegantly sitting on the windowsill. Amelia shuts the door walking over to where the coffee spill is. She grabs a paper towel and a floor cleaner and starts cleaning up the mess she made.
“How do you not see a bunch of coffee spilling?”
“I was uh, lost in thought I guess.”
"What about?”
Amelia freezes for a moment, choking slightly.
“Uhm,” She says, blanking. Her mind was immediately filled with thoughts of Monica holding her against the door as she pumped her fingers into her mercilessly, whispering phrases like “Good girl,” and “Take it for me” and “I want to hear you say my name” to egg her on, the feeling of her inside of her-
“Amelia?” Monica asks, now squatting in front of her. “What’s going on with you?”
Amelia looks up, the snap literally snapping her out of her daydream.
“Nothing, I’m fine.”
Monica sets her hand on Amelia’s.
“Hey,” She says, causing Amelia to look up at her. “Talk to me.”
“Seriously, I’m fine.”
Monica takes a shaky breath as Amelia stands.
“You didn’t-”
“I didn’t relapse. I promise.” She says, making eye contact with Monica so she believes her- because it’s the truth.
“Good girl,” She teases.
“I-,” The shorter brunette starts before catching Monica’s eye again. As they make eye contact they both start laughing. Grand-Paw however, is not amused. He hops off the counter and leaves the kitchen, off to find another window to stand like a prince in.
“Tough crowd,” Monica says, taking a grape off the counter and popping one in her mouth. (She was secretly hoping Amelia was watching as she licked her fingers clean one by one, but that’s beside the point.) “What are we starting with?”
Amelia walks back into the kitchen, now slipping a tank top on instead, tucking it into her jeans.
“Pshhhh,” She says, looking around, “Probably the living room, it’s where Lucas spent most of his time sulking. Are you sure you’re okay with helping? I feel bad.”
“I told you, I have nothing better to do. I mean, the only other companion I have at home is my dog and he’s not the best conversationalist,” Monica winks, walking over to the living room.
Amelia smiles a bit. Before following her she grabs out a trash bag from under the counter and goes to the living room. Monica already has a handful of trash left behind by Lucas. She stuffs it in the bag. When Lucas moved out he didn’t bother cleaning up his trash. By trash, she means beer bottles. While Amelia had been sober for years now, that didn’t mean the temptation was gone. She didn’t think she could handle it alone. So she called someone she knew wouldn’t judge her, Monica. Monica happily agreed, happy to have something to do on her day off. It also meant she got to hang out with the pretty brunette who made her stomach turn any time she saw her. Double win.
Monica got to work cleaning out the beer bottles, not even leaving Amelia a chance to look at them. She grabs out a second bag for them, dumping them in.
“I have an air freshener somewhere either in my bag or my car if you would like it. I don’t have any use for it.”
“You’re the one who just moved to Seattle, shouldn’t I be giving you housewarming gifts?”
Monica shrugs, picking up napkins off the table and stuffing them in the trash bag.
“Maybe. But who needs tradition? I like to do things the way I want,” Monica says, making eye contact with her for a moment and swiftly looking Amelia up and down.
Amelia blushes a bit, stuttering for a moment, not being able to think of a response; So she just starts cleaning up the pillows. Monica laughs a bit, turning back to the coffee table. She cleans up the rest of the trash she can and tosses it. She brushes past Amelia, her hand moving gently against her back as she passes by.
“Where do you want this?” Monica calls from the other room.
“You can just set it by the counter, for now, I’ll take it down later.”
Amelia folds the blanket on the couch and throws it over the back. She goes to the closet that holds her cleaning stuff. She pulls the vacuum out.
“Monica, will you put Grand-Paw in my room? He hates the vacuum and I don’t feel like dealing with his whining.”
Monica laughs, “Yeah, I got it.” Monica walks to where Grand-Paw is. She swiftly picks him up and walks into Amelia’s bedroom. Out of earshot, she speaks to the cat.
“Be a good boy in her bud,” She says, kissing his head and petting him. “Oh you’re so soft, yes you are,” She says in a high-pitched voice, one of the ones she throws on to comfort kids at the hospital. “Scrap is gonna think I’m cheating on him when he smells you all over me,” She smiles, kissing his head once more before setting him on the windowsill. “There, enjoy your perch. I’ll be back for you.”
As Monica turns to walk out of the room she notices something on Amelia’s nightstand. Pictures. No, Monica, it’s wrong to snoop- before she can finish her own thought she's holding the picture of Amelia and her son. She smiles looking at it. She sets it back down and turns back for the door. She walks out and hears the vacuum already going. Monica goes to the kitchen and sits on a bar stool, pulling her phone out. She opens it up and sees a new text message, from her ex-wife . She clicks on it, hoping it’s just something about more paperwork for lawyers. Of course, it isn’t. As she reads the message her face contorts. She was so focused on the message making sure she read it right that she didn’t even hear the vacuum stop.
“Monica?” Amelia says, curious as to what she was looking at. Monica doesn’t respond. “Hey,” She says, placing a hand on her shoulder. “What’s up with you ?”
Monica finally looks up.
“Uh, it’s nothing.” She says, turning her phone off and putting it face down.
“You’re such a liar.” Amelia scoffs. “C'mon, I’ll listen. No filter. Just say what’s on your mind.”
Monica opens her mouth, not sure how to start. Coming up with nothing, she closes it.
“No, it’s fine, thank you though. What’s next?”