signed_sabrina | for rosie

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rosie

for rosie

It's not like Sabrina has never been on date, and it's not even like Sabrina has never planned a date. A truthful audit of her romantic experiences would suggest, perhaps a veritable rainbow of moments from which she can draw.

Only...

Only she's never been a girl planning a date for a girl, and more than that, a girl trying to plan a date for the girl she already loves and is trying to reverse-woo into a real relationship. Some furry little forest goblin she knows implies she's never had to work at this before, so he gets to sleep outside the night before the date. (Only she's pretty sure someone lets him back inside, this house of Judases.)

Sabrina just barely keeps from texting Charlie on each quarter of each hour, and just texts him on the half hours. There's no way he doesn't know she's cutting it down, and she loves him very much. It would be too easily to just crawl into his lap, and she's got a Rosie to court.

All the men in the house where she lives would be absolutely useless bisexuals, and though she's not sure about Neil, she does know she's otherwise being raised by useless bisexuals.

So when she finally gets to the boardwalk, dressed up just a little more than usual, a sunflower in her hands, she's on her own. Just as she ought to be.

She can do this. It's what Rosie wants, what Rosie deserves, and Sabrina will make her happy, or summon hell pterodactyls trying.

It's not out of the realm of possibility.

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"Perfect," she says, and as giddily pleased as she is, her smile turns softer and more reassuring when she sees the seriousness in Sabrina's dark eyes. They're both making an effort here, both trying to see what this could be in Nick's absence--but Sabrina is the one with worries and a history not even Rosie can dispel entirely.

They walk through the gates, hand in hand, following the delighted screams to the line for the tilt-a-whirl. It's only a minute or two before the operator points them to a car, all shiny chrome and sparkling paint. "Now or never," Rosie says.

Surprise, surprise, Sabrina loves a bit of adrenaline.

If they're talking amusement park rides, she'll take about any challenge, but it's the ones that spin and tumble her around that really have her heart. The lights and the sounds, the whir of the machinery under their feet-- none of it has anything, though, on how she feels when Rosie stands there and looks at her like that.

Now or never, Rosie says, and Sabrina feels the way she smiles in response, right down to that thrum in the ground. Her lips part, gravity pulling her ever so slightly toward Rosie, and then she remembers, biting her lip with a delighted, promising flash of her eyes. "Now," she says, and tugs Rosie up the stairs with her, handing off their tickets and claiming the last car.

Time does seem to halt for a moment, catching and snagging as Sabrina looks at her and ever-so-slightly leans forward--and then it's done, the stairs rattling under their feet as they go hand in hand towards their assigned car. She would have let it happen, Rosie realizes, a thought that's nothing but warming and wanting. She's had the time to want that, now.

Rosie slides into the car first, finding her side of the safety belt and handing it to Sabrina to cinch tight across both of their laps.

Sabrina happens to want very badly to kiss Rosie.

But she's not going to, not until Rosie does it first, until Rosie wants it enough to make that first move-- this is something Sabrina's had time to think about now. She won't make any strange games out of it, but so much of this has to be initiated by Rosie.

As they buckle in and the huge machine starts to circle, she knows she doesn't mind. She can wait, especially for something she wants so badly.

At the first dizzying spin of their car, she lets out a delighted shriek, clinging to Rosie's hands.

The ride lurches and whirls, their car spinning and dipping and wheeling near the others in a way Rosie knows is calibrated but feels like absolute, thrilling terror. Sabrina grabs her hands, and Rosie holds on tight, their fingers laced together as they both scream and laugh in equal measure. It's so easy, just for this moment, to let go of everything else.

Something about the spinning, feeling weightless and pinned down at the same time, glued to Rosie's side, helps further unstick Sabrina. Despite what some might have to say about a general lack of critical thinking skills, it's never good for her to be in her own head, thinking too hard.

There's other rides after they've done the Tilt-a-Whirl a few times, chasing the last of the summer heat, and by the time they're sitting on a bench near the beach, ice cream in hand, Sabrina's begun to think she might have pulled this off.

She still feels like asking, though, bumping her knee against Rosie's. "So," she says, only the slightest air of hesitance. "I mean, we've still got ice cream but. Did you-- did you have a good time?"

The afternoon passes in a blur, rides and games all bleeding into one another for a long, delightful few hours. Both she and Sabrina, through effort or desire or a combination of the two, find it simpler than either of them might have thought to let everything else go, moving easily from one ride or booth or fattening food stall like it's the only thing that matters in the world. For today, right now, maybe it is.

Ice cream in hand, Rosie looks out at the water, the sun only just starting its descent towards the horizon and coloring the waves in gold and bronze and silver. The pressure of Sabrina's knee is enough to bring her out of her thoughts, and she turns her head towards the other girl, a soft smile on her face. "I did," she says, catching the faint hesitancy in the way Sabrina asks the question. "And not just because of the ice cream, or the rides, or...it was all wonderful. The whole afternoon."

Sabrina tries to be cool enough that she doesn't look as relieved as she feels, but she suspects she's unsuccessful.

So she rolls with it.

"I want to make sure you know," she says, "how serious I am about this. How serious I am about you, and making you happy." Having come to grip with her nerves, and feeling some measure of calm, she's able to keep some of the newfound tranquility to her, staying solemn and warm.

There are days when Rosie doesn't know how well all of this is working, whether her hesitancy and need to be careful, to be sure about each step they take, isn't just a symptom of some larger incompatibility. That without Nick, she and Sabrina are too misshapen to fit together no matter how hard they try or how much they want it to be otherwise. The doubt of it fills her head, sometimes, hard and painful and difficult to ignore.

But the days like today, when things are easy and sweet and like some magic created just for the two of them, are starting to add up, too. The longer they try, doing this together, the less daunting all those doubtful days start to seem.

"I know that," Rosie says, turning a little on the bench to take in Sabrina's serene and solemn face. "And I want...I want to make sure you're happy, too. I want to make sure we're all happy, even if that happiness is a little different now." Looking down, she moves her free hand a little closer to Sabrina, hesitating a moment before she brushes her fingers lightly along the back of Sabrina's hand. "We get to have that, on our own terms."

Sabrina can't help the soft, relieved intake of breath, or the way her mouth curves up happily at the touch.

She hadn't known how much she would miss being able to touch Rosie until suddenly she couldn't just drape over the other girl's side or kiss her neck or fingers or mouth. Touch, she's learned, grounds her and the clamor of feelings and impulsivity she'd like to call infernal, but is probably more Sabrina than anything else.

"It feels like," she says very softly, her eyes pricking with warmth, "like I lost you too that day, sometimes. And I can see the path back, and I'm going to keep following it. I'll keep going, I promise."

Rosie's gentle touch grows a little more solid and assured, her fingers lacing with Sabrina's as she listens to each soft and whispered word. "I think," she says, swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat, "I think I lost myself a little bit, too. Just for a moment, when it felt like nothing would ever be alright again."

She squeezes Sabrina's hand, and looks deep into her eyes. "But I know I want to find my way back with you."

Sabrina closes her eyes, because she's not going to be the kind of person who cries on a first date. It doesn't count as crying unless the tears get out; that's a rule.

But she opens them again, dark and shining, to meet Rosie's gaze.

"Good," she says, squeezing Rosie's hand. "I'm not exactly known for just giving up, after all. I guess that's up to you whether it's a good thing or not," she adds, able to tease very gently.

"I suppose I can put up with that. You not giving up on me, or I on you." She breathes out a laugh, the gentle bit of teasing enough to break the heavy turn of their conversation. So too, the feeling of melting ice cream running across her knuckles, and Rosie's grin turns slightly helpless as she moves to lick the stray drips from the side of her cone.

"Oops."

Oh, that's not fair.

"Rosie, you tease," she says, delightedly, but her own voice feels so much lighter. "That's not fair at all." She's never been accused of not speaking her mind. There's a flicker of heat passing through her, something both very familiar and still a little new.

Get your mind out of the gutter, Spellman.

She carefully turns back to her own ice cream, almost prim and definitely compensating.

"How on earth is that a tease?" she says, all laughter and playful offense. It doesn't mask the pleased flush that colors her cheeks, or the gentle pull of something--or everything--that settles in her chest. "I'm only trying not to make a mess of us both."

Sabrina turns away, her posture so straight and proper that it's absolutely an exaggeration. Rosie grins, only hesitating a moment before she leans in to brush a light kiss against her cheek, her lips still cold from the ice cream.

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