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drariellevalentine · 3 years

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This Is Me Trying- pt.2

Hey everyone! Hope you’re having a beautiful day! Sorry this took so long, I have exams going on currently. Here’s part 2 and here’s to hoping y’all won’t kill me for this.

If you haven’t read part 1, click here for the link!

Pairing:- Ethan Ramsey x Arielle Valentine

Characters:- Ethan Ramsey, Arielle Valentine, Harper Emery, Sienna Trinh, Elijah Greene, Naveen Banerji, Jackie Varma and Bryce Lahela

Warnings:- Angst, Swearing

Inspiration:- This Is Me Trying and the rest of the Folklore album by Taylor Swift

Harper’s PoV:-

Thirty minutes later, you stand in Naveen’s office, his face completely torn and yours betraying the slightest of sadness.

“Naveen?” He turns to look at you. You shoot him a look.

“I thought they would be fine, and now look how it’s turned out. They both have been arguing every single time and now Arielle’s…”

“She hasn’t transferred her residency yet, at least officially. I’m sure Ethan would have talked her out of it.” Naveen looks at you.

“Yes?”

“Nothing…” You raise an eyebrow. “Well, I mean you dated him…”, he trails off. You laugh.

“I wouldn’t call it dating, we would occasionally have dinner and sleep together, that’s it. Have you seen the way he looks at her?” You chuckle. “He’s like a completely different version of himself, a better version.”

Naveen smiles. “Well I’m happy to hear that, I was about to head out for a quick

coffee, join me?”

“Of course, I’d like to.” You both head out and have a coffee and a quick bite of pastry.

“That pastry was quite good.”

“You should try Dr. Trinh’s treats! Her and Sunshine stop by every now and then with a box of them, they’re quite delicious!”

“Oh, I’ve heard of them alright. Dr. Lahela raves about them during many surgeries.” Just then your pager beeps. “Speaking of surgeries…” You see it’s a page from Bryce. “Where are you?! You needed to be here five minutes ago!”

Naveen sees the page. “This sounds important, let’s go.” You nod and rush back to the hospital.

Bryce’s PoV:-

You’re just coming out from an OR when you spot him.

“Dr. Ramsey!” He looks around and winces as he spots you.

“Yes? Make it quick, I have urgent matters to attend to.”

“You mean Elle. She just sent me a text saying I’m transferring my residency back to New York. I was about to look for her but an emergency lobectomy came in and Dr. Emery was on break.”

“Well um yes, we sort of had a argument which got a bit out of hand.”

“ Go talk to her. Oh! And apologise! I’m sure everything’s alright, besides we all know she makes impulsive desicions sometimes.”, you say.

“...it wasn’t an impulsive desicion, Arielle’s signed all the damn paperwork.” Your eyes widen as you spot a head with the familiar balayage heading towards the atrium.

“There she is! Go, fast!” Ethan doesn’t give you a second glance as he runs after her. You shake your head with a slight smirk. “She’s got him wrapped around her finger.”

“Bryce! Did she tell you?!” You turn to see the whole gang in tow.

“By text. Turns out the old couple had an argument, the old man told me himself. He’s gone to make things right.”

“Oh he better apologise, he’s been treating her like some random person and if he doesn’t I will-“

“Woah, woah, woah. Cool your jets, Jackie.”

“I don’t know, Bryce. Jackie’s right. I’m worried that she’ll go back to New York, I saw her looking at the website a few days ago but I didn’t think it meant anything.”

“Did you see where they went?”, Elijah asks.

“Yeah, they were heading towards the atrium but”- Suddenly you hear a deafening crash sound.

“Oh my god, that sounded like”-

“It came from the atrium.”, Jackie finishes Sienna’s sentence. You all rush towards the atrium to find smoke pouring out of the central elevator, a huge crowd gathered by it.

You notice Raf and a few other paramedics assessing the damage and other staff ask questions. You quickly go and inquire Rafael about the situation.

“Dude, what happened?”

“Not sure, Bryce. It looks like a chain snapped, the elevator crashed down and a few nurses are saying that they saw Dr. Ramsey go inside but they’re not sure if he got off. They’re checking the security footage right now.”

Your eyes widen as you realise if Ethan was inside, then Arielle could be inside too. “What’s the matter?”

“If he was there, that means she was inside too! Oh god…”

“Bryce, calm down first. Who are you talking about?”

“...Arielle. They had a fight and he was going after her.”

“Oh my god! Guys, what do we do?”, you find Sienna and everyone else.

His eyes widen. “We’ll go check the security camera ourselves. Authorities are on their way already, it’s the only thing we can do.” You all rush to the security office.

Spotting Bobby combing though the footage, you head towards him.

“Bobby, any luck?”, Raf asks.

“Not yet, I’ve checked the footage but so far nothing.”

“Oh god, what if she was in there? You guys saw the elevator…”, Elijah rambles as

Sienna’s face pales.

“Guys, don’t panic. It won’t help us until we know what exactly happened.”, Jackie says but you can see the fear evident in her eyes.

A familiar face on the screen catches your eye. “Bobby stop! Scroll a bit back. There!” You point to Ethan’s face on the monitor entering the elevator, Elle’s half clearly visible.

“This was at 3:28. Check all the other elevator entrances around that time to see if they got out.”

“9th floor! She’s getting out!”, Sienna shrieks. But the relief doesn’t last long as she steps back inside.

“That was at 3:40. The time the elevator crashed.” Everyone is shocked, not knowing what to do as Bobby announces the victims on his walkie-talkie.

You pull out your pager and page Dr. Emery. You run your hand through your hair, trying and failing miserably to calm yourself.

Harper’s PoV:-

As you enter Edenbrook, you sense something is amiss. Naveen turns to look at you, understanding. You both enter to see a huge crowd gathered near the left side of the atrium, smoke billowing from the elevator. You spot Dr. Lahela amongst the crowd and call him. He and the other residents run towards you both.

“Thank god you guys are here!”

“Dr. Lahela, tell us exactly what happened.”, Naveen says.

“We’re not exactly sure ourselves, the authorities haven’t arrived yet. But the elevator crashed down from 9 floors above...and both Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Valentine were inside.”

“...they both were inside?”, Naveen asks as pain flits across his face. Bryce nods somberly.

“I have to go. Contacting the authorities is all we can do.” Naveen walks away sadly.

“Lahela, go with him.” Bryce nods and follows him.

“Dr. Emery, does Dr. Ramsey carry his phone with him? We could try calling them to see that they’re…”, Sienna stops not being able to finish the sentence. You nod and quickly pull out your phone. The ring continues as you place it on speaker, once...twice...thrice...you’re about to end the call when the familiar baritone tone greets you.

“Hello?” Relief washes over everyone’s features

“Oh thank god, Ethan! We were so worried. How many people are inside? Is anyone hurt?”, you ask.

“No, it’s just me and Ari-“ Suddenly, Ethan’s voice cuts off.

“Ethan? Ethan?! Ethan, can you hear me?!” You hear him shouting her name. Tears form in the corners of everyone’s eyes.

“Ethan, talk to me! What happened?”

Ethan’s PoV:-

You check Arielle’s pulse and other vitals. “Damnit!”

You hear Harper and the other residents shouting. “She’s unconscious. Her pulse is low, and she’s suffered major blood loss. Her injuries are...extensive. It’s impossible for me to determine how bad they are considering the conditions.”

“Naveen’s working on it. What about you? Are you alright?”

“I’m perfectly fine. Just work on getting us out of here, we need a CT and MRI and multiple drugs to stop further bleeding as soon as possible.”, you respond with the only thought on your mind being her, it always was and always will be.

“Got it. Does your phone have enough battery?” You check it and curse.

“Only around 20%.”

“Check if Arielle has her’s.” You carefully slide your hand into her back pocket, and pull out her phone covered in blood. “It has almost 90%.”

“Okay, I’ll call you when I have an update. Call me if anything happens.” Harper ends the call, leaving you alone.

You look at her as worry and fear takes over your mind.

“Hang on there, okay? You’re going to be just fine.”, you say, unsure if you’re promising her...or assuring yourself.

You spend the next 30 minutes checking her vitals again and again and try to assess her injuries to distract yourself, not wanting to think about what-if’s.

Harper’s PoV:-

“What the hell is going on here?! It’s been 30 minutes and there's still no action taken!”, you shout as you come back from Naveen’s office. You offered to take over as Chief, knowing that both of them mean a great deal.

“We’re trying, but the elevator is wedged sideways and stuck between the first and ground floor.” You sigh.

“Have you tried prying open the doors?”, you ask.

“That’s what we’re about to do. If this works, then get everything you need and assemble on the ground floor.” You nod.

“Dr. Emery! Any progress?” You turn to the young paramedic.

“Not yet, but we’re about to.” He nods. You quickly arrange for all specialists to be on stand-by and the other surgeons who can.

Naveen comes back from his office. You lead him to the site, filling him in.

“Everything’s prepped, Dr. Emery. Can we start?”

“I’ve got most doctors on stand-by and two ICU beds prepped. Let me call them first, it’ll be better with a communication source.” He nods.

Ethan’s PoV:-

A tune cuts through the eerie silence. You accept the call.

“Any progress, Harper?”

“It’s me, my boy.” Your eyes sweat as you hear your mentor’s cracking voice.

“Naveen?”

“Yes, don’t worry, we’ve almost gotten past the securit for the elevator. Now we’ll just need to pry open the doors. You both might be slightly jerked so be careful.”

“Alright. Do it fast. She’s going to need an oxygen mask any minute.” You hold Arielle’s body closer to yours as the elevator slightly jerks. The doors are finally starting to open, the heads of Naveen, Harper and Arielle’s friends clearly visible. They gasp as their eyes spot the blood.

“Thank god. Just a little bit more, we should be able to pull them out.” Just then, you feel a hand hit your chest. Your eyes widen as it dawns on you.

“She’s having a seizure… but why?...” You quickly check her for symptoms of an ruptured blood vessel, it matches.

“Damnit! She’s having a seizure! Get me an IV injection with Activase!” You pull her even closer, holding her body. A nurse climbs up on a ladder and hands you the syringe. You swiftly inject it into her arm, your own pulse finally normalises as her petite body stops jerking, The paramedics step up and help Arielle out of the lift. She’s placed on a bed, quickly wheeled away with Harper, Bryce and more specialists in tow. Rafael helps you slide out of the small space when you realise you’ve hurt your shoulder. He notices you wincing.

“Dr. Varma, do a full checkup on Dr. Ramsey.”

“I’m fine, which OR is Arielle in? I’m scrubbing in.”, you say not bothering to use her title. You quickly get up when Naveen stops you.

“That’s the last thing you’ll be doing. Dr. Varma and Dr. Trinh will be examining you, and then you will wait like everyone else.”

“But-“

“Nothing.”, Naveen cuts you off as you wince once again. You slump in defeat as the two doctors wheel you away.

They help you sit up on an examination bed, and remove your bloodied shirt. You can see them wincing as they see the amount of blood stained. The pair doesn’t say anything as they quietly check your vitals, examine you and dress your shoulder.

“I’m assuming both of you are quite angry.”, you say not knowing what to do.

“Quite angry?! Let me tell you we’re fucking furious”-

“Jackie!”

“What?! Because of him, she almost died, Sienna! Died, do you hear me?!” You wince. “She almost died because of you! Don’t you understand?!”, she shouts jabbing a finger in your chest. “Because of your damn ethics and morals, she ALMOST DIED.” Tears glisten in her eyes.

“Do you even know how hard it was for her? Every. Single. Time when you pushed her away? Do you know how much she cried, sobbed when you ran away like a damn coward?! She was heart-broken, barely ate or slept peacefully and turned into someone else. We would all find her crying in supply closets, on-call rooms, you name it! God, she loved you so much and you, YOU”-

“Jackie, stop! That’s enough!”, the petite resident shouts, pain etched on her face.

“Do you even love her? Because she’s irrevocably in love with you and she says that you might too someday. If not, then she'll be an idiot. But do one thing, tell her fucking EXACTLY what you feel. Don’t say some half-assed sentences then go back to your stone cold self again. Tell her what she means to you, even if it was just a fucking casual hookup.”

“She was never-“

“Save it for her.” Jackie storms off.

You both stand there in silence, knowing that every word the fiery resident said was undeniably true.

“...I really fucked up, didn’t I?” The look on her face says it all. “Lord...I never meant for this to happen-“

“We all know you didn’t, Jackie’s mad, that’s all. But even if what she said was harsh, it’s true. You know how badly she’s been suffering, and I can’t watch anymore. You need to make a decision.” You watch the resident fight back a tidal wave of emotions as she replies coldly, completely unlike herself.

“I’ve dressed the wound, get someone to change it after a few hours and don’t do it yourself.” She turns around to leave, not able to look at you.

“Sienna.” Her breath hitches as she turns around. Her wall collapses, the wave of bottled-up emotions finally being freed.

“She- She almost d-died. It’s- not fair. She doesn’t deserve this, she doesn’t deserve any of this! It’s not fair, nothing’s fair! She can’t just come into our lives and just completely leave us like that! It’s not fair, it’s just not fair!”

You put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, knowing it’s the least you can do. But what you don’t expect is for her to throw her arms around you. You return the favor, both of you stay there in utter silence, not daring to speak.

Harper’s PoV:-

“Go take a break, Bryce. You’ve been on-call from last night.” You enter to see Bryce with one eye open, multiple textbooks propped up.

“I will, once I-“

“Once I nothing. You’re taking a break or else I’ll have you excluded from surgeries the whole week. We’ll update you if there’s any change in Arielle’s condition.”

He sighs, running a hand over his face. You can sense the worry.

“Bryce, Arielle went through brain surgery. You very well know all the possibilities that can take place. No matter what you do, nothing can change the outcome.”

He’s even more dejected now. “What do you think?”, he asks you. You look at him.

“I mean do you think she’ll be alright?”

“Well as a doctor, I already told you, not to mention you already know. As someone who knows her personally….I think she’s going to be alright. She’s a strong woman and she’ll pull through.”, you respond. He looks up meeting your eyes, his own eyes betraying the slightest amount of hope. He nods in an act of thanks before leaving the room. You follow him in pursuit to find Ethan. After inquiring about them to a few staff members, you find him and Dr. Trinh in the residents’ lounge.

“Ethan.” They whip around hearing your voice. Ethan opens his mouth to speak but he’s too slow.

“Dr. Emery! Is everything alright?! Did something happen? Why did she have a seizure?! Dr. Ramsey said that-“ The young resident rushes forward bombarding you with question after question.

“Sienna, calm down. Let her speak.” She finally notices she’s been rambling and smiles sheepishly.

“Oh, um... sorry Dr. Emery.”

“It’s alright. But to answer your questions, Arielle had a blood vessel rupture in her brain like Ethan said, which was most likely caused by hitting her head. That caused her brain to be deprived of blood, and the seizure. That caused an acute subdural hematoma. Luckily, the blood vessel only burst just before we got her into surgery so there wasn’t any permanent brain damage. The blood vessel was also repaired perfectly, courtesy of Dr. Lahela. The seizure was caused due to the pressure in her brain.” They nod solemnly.

“She was in a lot of pain, barely able to speak.”, Ethan responds, wincing as he relieves the memory.

“Her body was exhausted from the trauma, also most of her ribs are bruised. We did more scans to rule out other diagnoses, so far she’s clear.”

“Thank you, Harper.”

You nod. “Now both of you take some rest and meet me later. I have Dr. Varma and Dr. Greene strictly monitoring her, not to mention Naveen hovering over her.”

“I’ll just check on her and then I’ll go rest.” You sigh, knowing that you’ll lose this battle.

“Fine, Ethan. Only five minutes, then you’re going back to bed. Or else I’ll have you on bed rest for the whole week. Dr. Trinh, make sure he actually goes back to bed will you?” She smiles lightly, nodding.

Sienna’s PoV:

You stand at the entrance of Arielle’s room, as Ethan hesitates to go in. You lead him inside, both of you softly gasping at the sight. Multiple IV’s hooked up to her, her body wrapped in several casts, not to mention her head. Her usually glowing skin now lightly pale.

“Ethan!” Naveen spots him and wraps him in a tight hug, carefully of his shoulder. Jackie and Elijah are nowhere to be found.

“Ah, Dr. Trinh. How are you doing?” He unexpectedly wraps you up in one too. ”I’m...okay I guess.” He nods understandably.

“I sent Dr. Greene and Dr. Varma on a break. They looked tired and then they told me that they both were on the night shift.”

“I’ll catch up with them later. How’s she doing?” Naveen looks back, looking at her now completely unrecognisable body.

“Considering what she’s gone through, she’s doing alright. Only time will tell.” Ethan only stands there, still as a statue, staring at her. Naveen follows your gaze.

“Ethan, do you want some privacy?” He doesn’t look at him, only shakes his head.

“Alright then.”

“Dr. Ramsey, let’s go back. You need to rest.” You lead him back to his room, worries about both of them filling your mind to the brim.

Ethan’s PoV:-

Sometime later, you’re lying in bed unable to fall asleep. You decide to pay a visit to Arielle, and slowly walk to her room making sure no one sees you.

Entering her room, you see that the bed’s empty. Your mind races for an explanation when you spot her in the corner of the room. You rush over to her, pulling her in for a hug.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re alright…. Do you know how worried I was?” You pull back when you don’t hear a response. But you only see a sheepish smile on her face.

“Oh...well I didn’t know that doctors cared this much about the well-being of their patients. I must have gave you quite a scare if you’re this happy I’m okay”, she responds with a laugh.

“Don’t joke around, Arielle. You’re acting like you barely know me.”, you respond.

”Well that’s the case!”, she laughs. You look at her sternly.

“Oh, I’m extremely sorry but I really don’t remember meeting you. Was it at one of the medical conventions perhaps? My brain is foggy, and I don’t remember much of how I even got here.” Your eyes widen at her words.

“This can’t be true right? She’s obviously just deflecting about what happened before.”, your mind says. “Arielle, this isn’t the time to be joking around. Hours ago, you told me you love me and now you’re acting like you don’t know me.” With that she erupts into laughter.

“I’m sorry doctor, but I think you’ve hit your head. Besides, how can I even say that to someone I don’t even know.”, she says with a clueless smile.

“That can’t be true….this can’t be true. There’s no way...” But deep inside, you know that one of the factors is memory loss.

“No, no, no! Stop lying to me!”, you shout.

“Okay, now you’re freaking me out. Hello?! Is someone else here?”, she calls out.

“Arielle, stop. Don’t do this to me, I know I’ve hurt you innumerable times and I’m sorry but this isn’t fair.” She ignores you and keeps calling for someone else.

“Arielle, listen! You need to stop. Think! Try to remember!”, you shout.

“Let go of my hand! I’m sorry but I don’t know what to say. I’ve never met you in my entire life and you just can’t expect me to believe you!”, she shouts back. Her words are impossible to digest.

“What’s going on here?!”, Harper enters the room with a few more doctors in tow, shouting.

“Oh finally! This doctor here claims that he knows me when I haven’t even met him!” Her head whips around meeting your eyes.

“Ethan, we’ll talk later.” Just then, Arielle starts seizing again.

“Damnit! Nurse, administer another IV with tBa.”

The doctors crowd over her, attempting to stop her seizures as you stay there.

You stand there as your life crumbles before your eyes. The only person who’s out ever gave a damn about, the only person who truly understood you, got to know you, cared about you… now doesn’t even know your name.

And you know that it’s all your fault.

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Author’s Note:- Okay, I know y’all are probably livid and extremely angry at me but I’m sorry?! Part 3 will be out sometime soon... Bye for now!

Ask box Taglist:- @aylaramseycarrera

@openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

Love,

@drariellevalentine

#open heart #playchoices #ethanjonahramsey #ohsy #ethan x mc #thank you for never getting tired of them #from the bottom of my heart #open heart fanfic #diyaa writes #queenmalinocent #ethan ramsey #dr ethan jonah ramsey

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, 4 (Branjie) (and background everyone) - Ortega

a/n: something something strictly rewrite something something pls love me something something love u bye. in all seriousness thank u for reading and bearing with me in amongst this clusterfuck…next chapter is the last of the rewrites and so a new one coming ur way within the next week!

fic summary: Strictly Come Dancing enters its 18th series and its producers, after being goaded by a rival dance show on its inclusivity, commission it to be an all-female cast. Unlike Akeria who’s just here to bone her potential dance partner, dancer Vanessa is ready to act like a professional.

And then TV presenter Brooke Lynn walks into the rehearsal room.

***

3rd October 2020

Vanessa takes a deep, nervous breath and looks to the ceiling. The disco ball hangs high from it and creates tiny little square reflections, chunks of glitter against the light rigging. The lights themselves are purple and blue, matching those that snake along the balcony and up the stairs and arch over the huge projection of the show’s title card at the other end of the room. There’s another projection, a yellow one that dances across the shiny lacquered ballroom floor as if it’s practising too. The judges’ table is silver and glittering and intimidating to Vanessa’s right, despite the fact that none of the judges are even sitting at it yet. The band and singers are all set up underneath the huge arch of the stairs that Vanessa has practised walking down with Brooke and the other girls and knows she’ll be walking down again in just a few hours’ time.

“Right, Brooke and Vanessa, please. You’re up!”

A little “woo!” goes up from the couples assembled in the dark shadows of the empty studio. Peppermint and Shea are leaning with their backs against a pillar, their eyes supportive but analytical. Crystal and Gigi are sitting in some of the chairs at the far back row, clapping loudly with each new routine they manage to see and whispering to each other secretively between dances. Yvie and Scarlet are both in the front row off to one side, as Jaida and Plastique are off getting some last tweaks done to their costumes. They don’t seem to mind that their partners are away and are talking excitedly to each other, Yvie every so often making Scarlet laugh so hard that she reaches out and grabs her arm or knee or hand. And Monet and Monique are on the chairs behind Vanessa and Brooke, currently screeching their heads off and pushing them forward onto the dancefloor.

It’s Saturday, the day of their first show. It’s half past four and the sky had just been starting to take on that threateningly Autumnal look halfway between grey and navy when Vanessa had arrived at Elstree studios with Akeria, her friend having to listen to her excited babbling at the thought of getting to actually participate in the competition for the first time. Vanessa hadn’t stopped talking since- not when she’d greeted all the dancers and celebrities with similar excitement, not when she’d given all the hair and makeup artists a hug and thanked them preemptively, and not when she’d been non-stop texting Brooke. To be fair, her partner had started it, so excited was she since rehearsal that morning that she’d texted her practically every available moment since. When Vanessa had finally seen her at the studios they had squealed and joined hands and jumped excitedly on the spot in anticipation of seeing their costumes, trying them on, getting to dress-rehearse and experience their first live show together. So Vanessa has been chatting excitedly the entire day.

The only point where she has fallen quiet is when she had seen Brooke in her dress for the first time.

It’s light blue with satin straps that criss-cross at the back, a bodice that is studded with dimantés, and a long skirt with ostrich feathers along the hem. It’s not the most gorgeous dress in the world but Vanessa knows it’s going to look incredible during the routine, and besides, Brooke could wear a bin bag and still look effortlessly beautiful. Brooke had looked bashfully to the floor as she emerged from her dressing room in the dress, her face ever-so-slightly red.

“It’s hideous,” she’d whispered to Vanessa, out of earshot of the costume girls who Brooke hadn’t wanted to offend. Vanessa, without knowing what had possessed her, had put her hand on Brooke’s upper arm and given it a squeeze.

“Shut up. You look stunning,” she’d smiled reassuringly at her, and the flash of gratitude in Brooke’s eyes had been all Vanessa had needed in return.

She’s in her dress now and Vanessa’s in hers too, the exact same but a royal blue instead of the sky-blue shade of Brooke’s. Vanessa’s stomach is fizzing at the thought of them both dancing in full costume, makeup and hair with an audience watching them as well.

The dress rehearsal doesn’t always run in the running order of the show and today is one of those days. Brooke and Vanessa have had to wait for some of the other couples to run their routine through whereas this evening they’re up first. They’re the ones kicking off the whole show, and Vanessa would be lying if she said she isn’t nervous. They have practised as much as they can, they can do the routine well. Now all they have to do is show the other couples what they’re up against. It’s hard, though, for Vanessa to put everything she’s seen out of her mind and focus on her own dance with Brooke. Jaida and Yvie have just finished their Jive, huge smiles on both their faces as they hit every single beat throughout, the moves coming to Yvie effortlessly as if it’s a partnership of two professionals. Before that, Jan and Jackie rehearsed their Cha Cha Cha which contained so much tension and chemistry that Vanessa became convinced that their lips were going to meet at some point in the routine.

“How you feelin’?” Vanessa whispers to Brooke as they move onto the ballroom floor. The band swap around and tune up and the singers glug water behind them. Brooke looks the most nervous Vanessa has ever seen her.

“I’m fine,” Brooke lies. Her eyes dart around in a panic, wide and white. It unsettles Vanessa so she takes Brooke’s hand, rubs her thumb over her knuckles comfortingly.

“Hey. You don’t need to be nervous,” she reassures her, despite the fact she’s swallowing down her own nerves as she speaks. “You’ve got me. It’s going to be okay.”

Brooke takes a deep breath, her lips forming a tiny “o” as she breathes out. She manages to shoot a smile Vanessa’s way, and Vanessa is slightly more at ease.

“Ready to go?” she hears a producer shout.

“Yeah!” she shouts over, as Brooke Lynn drops her hand to give the producer a thumbs up. They sit in the two chairs that form part of the beginning of their routine, there is a click of drumsticks, and a silence falls across the studio. Two notes from a trumpet, the shuffle of papers on a music stand. Vanessa’s throat is so dry. Launch show feels like a walk in the park compared to this.

There’s a one…two…one-two-three-four click from the drumsticks, the music begins, and the pair of them are off. Straight away, Vanessa can tell something isn’t right. Brooke is too in her head and it shows. When they move into hold she can feel Brooke’s hand shaking, feel her pulse through the hand on her back so fast and heavy that Vanessa wants to make eye contact with her, but she can’t- it’s dress rehearsal, and she needs to be a professional. She can feel Brooke’s feet opposite her, though, and she just knows they’re not doing what they’re meant to be doing. Brooke is trying to keep up and failing, and it’s so hard for Vanessa to push through and keep dancing when she knows it’s going so wrong. They reach their bit on the steps and Brooke stumbles, the steps all coming at the wrong time and in the wrong direction. The smile is still plastered to Vanessa’s face even though she wants to stop right there, cut the band off and just talk to Brooke, calm her down and reassure her. There’s a point in the middle where she finally gets to meet Brooke’s eyes and she tries her hardest to make them comforting and gentle in the few seconds they’re facing each other. It hurts Vanessa to see Brooke’s own full of resignation and disappointment. She manages to pick things up a little near the end of the dance but there are still a few mis-steps and blunders, and by the time it’s over and the others are clapping and cheering Vanessa can already see the hurt in Brooke’s fake smile and the slump of her shoulders. She takes her by the hand, squeezes it urgently.

“It’s just the dress run, okay?” she murmurs to her, panicking as she sees what could be tears welling up in Brooke’s eyes. “You can do this, baby. You know this.”

Brooke nods harshly, blinks once, twice, three times, and the tears- if they were ever there to begin with- vanish. Vanessa wonders whether or not to hug her and then allows her heart to take over. She pulls her in, reaching up to loop her arms around her neck and burying her face against her chest. As Brooke squeezes her waist, she decides that it was a good decision.

Of course the hug can’t last forever but their hands are joined as they leave the dancefloor and return to their seats. Nobody from costume comes over to make adjustments so they can watch some more couples, not that Vanessa particularly wants to. Monique and Monet are still in their chairs. Vanessa is reluctant to face her friend but a tap on her shoulder prompts her to turn around anyway.

“Hey,” Monique hisses, and as Vanessa turns around Brooke does too. Monique’s smile is caring and comforting as she addresses them both. “Don’t worry. First dress run is always off-puttin’, it’s a new environment and the lights are down and the band’s so different to a track. You’ll be great tonight.”

Vanessa is thankful for her words as they seem to put Brooke at ease a little more. She thanks Monique and, wanting to move the spotlight off the pair of them, asks Monet how she’s feeling.

“Ready! Excited! We’re gonna wipe the floor with all you bitches,” she teases playfully. Monique laughs supportively beside her and Vanessa wants to roll her eyes at how much of a ridiculously obvious lovesick puppy her friend is.

“Well, it won’t be hard after what just happened there,” Brooke jokes, her tone not dissimilar to Eeyore’s. Vanessa raises her eyebrows at her and points a finger in her face, channels a bit of her Abuela’s tough love.

“Hey! I’m not letting you talk like that, you’re amazing. We’re gonna be flawless tonight. Just you wait.”

She punctuates her telling-off with a tap to Brooke’s nose, which finally makes her crack a proper smile. A producer shouts over for Monique and Monet, and Vanessa and Brooke clap for them and wish them luck as they take to the stage in matching little glittery playsuits, assembling themselves in their starting positions. Vanessa takes the opportunity to talk to Brooke properly now they’re alone.

“What happened?” she asks. Brooke lets out a heavy sigh.

“Just like Monique said. It’s all so different to the studios and everything just…I don’t know…threw me off, I guess,” she mutters, picking at a bit of feather. Vanessa takes her fidgeting hand and holds it gently between both of hers. The gesture seems to surprise Brooke, and all of a sudden their eyes meet, green opposite brown.

“Brooke Lynn, listen to me. I want you to know this. You can do this fucking dance.”

“I know I can!” Brooke whines, exasperated. Her expression is pained and pouting. “That’s what fucks me off about the whole thing. We’ve done it literally perfectly before. I feel like the only time I was worse than when I just did that dance was the day we started learning it.”

“Well, that’s good! I’m glad you know that,” Vanessa says firmly, enthused by Brooke’s determination. “So. What’s our game plan for tonight?”

“Do it perfectly again,” Brooke says instantly, and Vanessa squeezes her hand between the both of hers. She can’t stop the grin that creeps onto her face at Brooke’s decisive tone.

“Let’s do that, then.”

Brooke’s returning her smile and hasn’t taken back her hand and the world seems right again.

Monet and Monique’s Cha Cha Cha is the best they’ve seen so far- granted it’s the only one they’ve seen so far, but it’s good. Monique’s choreography is funny and clever and as they dance the pair tell the story of a backing singer (Monet) upstaging the star (Monique). Despite the fun they’re having the pair of them manage to only make a couple of mistakes, and Vanessa is cheering for them at the end. Courtney and Blair are next, and God, Phi Phi had been right when she’d said they had a lot of work to do. Blair plods her way through their Tango and visibly shows the mistakes she makes on her face, but Vixen still claps and cheers once they’re done as if she’s just witnessed a piece of modern art. Their performance seems to cheer Brooke up significantly, and Vanessa can practically read her mind- at least we won’t be as bad as that. As if Brooke’s able to read hers, she leans down and gives Vanessa a smug grin which makes her heart skip a beat.

They don’t stay to watch the rest of the couples. Instead they practise as much as they can in Brooke’s dressing room, which embarrassingly makes Vanessa nervous to even be in. Brooke’s all business, though, and they mark as much as they can of the dance in the space that they have.

They do it perfectly all three times.

Hair and makeup’s waiting for them, though, so they eventually relent and join the other couples who are all assembled in the huge room either getting combs and brushes swept through their hair, sponges dabbing at their face, or sitting and chatting. The pair of them are out of breath after their impromptu rehearsal, and when they enter the room a whoop goes up from Willam, who’s sat beside Courtney. Come to think of it, they both seem to be joined at the hip despite not being partnered and it’s as if the two of them are salt and pepper shakers, never one without the other.

“Oh! Strictly curse! Strictly curse! Dressing-room fucking!” she cries out, eliciting a laugh from half the room to Vanessa’s embarrassment. Before either of them can defend themselves, Phi Phi cuts in from her position in the hairdresser’s chair.

“They were probably rehearsing. Which is what we should be doing after that fuck-up of a dress run.”

Vanessa’s intrigued by the mention of how their dance went, but instead she ignores the comment and nods her head gratefully. Brooke replies, and Vanessa doesn’t miss the blush that’s crept onto her face. “Yeah, post-rehearsal sweats, not post-sex sweats. Sorry, Willam.”

Willam’s undeterred, and she shrugs lightly as she chomps on a cereal bar. “Give it time. I’ve never been wrong yet. I gotta sixth sense for this kinda shit, y’know.”

“Ooh, how come?” Courtney asks, crossing her legs and batting her lashes Willam’s way. Willam immediately swivels away from Vanessa and Brooke to give Courtney all of her attention, and Vanessa rolls her eyes long-sufferingly at her partner.

“Strictly curse, Jesus. As if,” Vanessa laughs, but it comes out more bitter than she’d wanted it to. There are still memories she associates with that phrase, she can’t help them, and even though time has passed she’s still got scars that are slowly healing.

Brooke gives a snort beside her, but Vanessa sees the way she doesn’t smile with her eyes, the way she looks almost wounded. Is Brooke…disappointed? Vanessa scrambles to follow up her comment.

“I mean, you know, some good comes out of it all the time. Obviously like Shea with Sasha…I just think…”

“It’s not something you’d ever fall victim to,” Brooke nods slowly, understandingly. Vanessa shakes her head.

“No, no, that’s not it at all! Like if I developed a connection to someone on the show like that, then of course!” she explains quickly. All at once she sees a small twinkle appear in Brooke’s eye, and it sends a spark of electricity up her spine. She feels she has to justify her earlier remark and she swallows before deliberately forcing her tone to be light. “It’s just, you know…obviously after what happened last year.”

Brooke makes a face as if someone’s just dropped a very heavy object on her foot. “Right. Right. Of course. Fuck, sorry, of course you have every right to hate people talking about it so much.”

Vanessa gives a soft laugh. It still hurts and the humiliation might never dissipate but she tilts her head and smiles at Brooke. “Don’t worry. It’s fine.”

They drop the topic, chat about the show instead and Vanessa explains to her how it’ll all work. The pros will do their group number first (Vanessa will change into her costume for that later, a strappy silver leotard with a fringed skirt that hangs low on her waist), which the dancers have been rehearsing all week. Then the judges come out and sit at their table and do a bit of chit-chat with Michelle. Then each of the couples come down the famous stairs and are introduced, and after that the show kicks off. With them. They are opening the whole show, Vanessa’s brain reminds her, and her stomach does a somersault. While they chat a couple of the other girls join in. Scarlet sits herself down in a free chair opposite them and chips in in between bites of mango, and Yvie pipes up every so often from her position in the makeup chair.

“Are the judges really terrifying?” Scarlet asks nervously, biting down hard on a piece of fruit. Vanessa shrugs, pulls a face.

“I mean, I wouldn’t know really. Never competed before, remember?”

Vixen pipes up from her place in the hairstylist’s chair. “Bianca can be a bitch but she’s alright when she ain’t behind the judge’s table. I think half of it is just her playing into the panto villain stereotype. Kennedy is just happy to be there, she always gives fair scores. Laganja is on a different planet, she’s hilarious. Always marks high. Shangie is lovely but you know she undermarks half the time and plays favourites the other half.”

“Well, I’ll just need to make myself one of her favourites,” Scarlet flips her perfectly curled hair and shrugs.

“You’re already one of my favourites,” Yvie says nonchalantly. Scarlet fixes her photoshoot-ready smile onto her.

“The only correct decision,” she points at her approvingly. Yvie laughs a too-loud laugh that makes Vanessa roll her eyes at just how lovesick and useless everyone in this cast seems to be. Then again, she supposes she can’t really talk. Scarlet’s talking to Yvie now as if they’re the only two people in the room. “How’re you feeling, baby?”

“Just excited! Ready to go and get some tens,” she laughs, although Vanessa knows she’s not really joking.

Vixen raises her eyebrows, amused by the girl’s cocky remark. “Reign it in, girl. They never give out tens on the first night. You wanna score above twenty-five, that’s a successful first week,”

“Well, at least nobody’s going home this week,” Scarlet shrugs easily. She’s right- there’s no vote in the first week, and all the scores are instead carried over to next week’s show. But Vanessa doesn’t see that as a chance to relax. Scores are combined with the public votes so she knows a high score in the first week puts them in a good position for the next. She knows she’s thinking ahead too much but she can’t really help it. This is a long game, like Akeria said on launch night, and Vanessa is playing it to win.

“How’re you feeling, Scarlet?” Yvie asks back. Scarlet pouts. Vanessa thinks it’s more than a little for Yvie’s benefit.

“I’m just nervous! I hope I do okay.”

“You’ll be amazing,” Yvie tells her, and Scarlet’s smile is back on her face. Yvie smirks as she finishes her sentence off with, “Like me.”

The girls all laugh. Brooke takes out her phone and scrolls it a bit, nudging Vanessa after a while.

“Cute backstage video?” she offers, and Vanessa nods happily, glad to see Brooke a little less subdued. Vanessa leans into her as Brooke tilts the camera at them both.

“Hey family, we’re just about to get our hair and makeup done, hoping they can do something to fix this,” Brooke jokes, gesturing around her entire face. Vanessa shoves her.

“Shut up, girl, you’re gorgeous.”

The compliment is out before Vanessa can stop herself, but she doesn’t miss the way Brooke’s smile gets slightly wider. She ignores the compliment with her words but her face acknowledges it. “We’ve just done our dress run, it went horribly-”

“Oh my God, the lies you are telling today!!” Vanessa’s jaw drops. She knows it hadn’t gone well, but she just doesn’t want Brooke being so down on herself.

“Tell me we weren’t bad.”

“We weren’t bad!!”

“Well we weren’t good, either,” Brooke laughs, and Vanessa has to hand that one to her. “So you guys better vote for us next week, because we’ll need it.”

“Yeah, vote, vote, vote!” Vanessa nods enthusiastically.

“For Willam and Phi Phi!” Willam ducks her head into shot, and Vanessa pushes her away as she bursts out laughing.

“Brooke and Vanessa!” someone from hair calls, and Brooke pulls a face at the camera.

“Ah! Right, that’s us! See you all later, love you,” Brooke squeals into her phone and stops recording. In lieu of a story she decides to post the video on her grid, with the caption:

bhytes: 1 hour to go! Mood: terrified! Lucky I have @vanessavanjie dancing with me!

Vanessa is heartened by the tag, promises herself she’ll reply with something later. As the hair stylist sprays Brooke’s hair to within an inch of its life, Vanessa watches in the mirror as Brooke scrolls her phone, then pauses, a stifled smile creeping across her lips and a hand reaching up to touch her face self-consciously. Vanessa narrows her eyes with interest and, refreshing the page, finds that five new comments have popped up on the video Brooke’s posted. Three of them are a series of emojis, one is well-wishes from Brooke’s One Show co-star Nina, and one in particular catches her eye.

branjie5ever05: you GUYS i can’t take it you’re so good together!!! like an old married couple!! can’t wait to see you dance! branjie 5ever!!

Vanessa allows herself to wonder if that was the comment that had made Brooke’s face light up before her mind tells her how utterly ridiculous she’s being.

Hair and makeup is a blur and once they’re done, Brooke takes Vanessa’s breath away for a second time. The pair of them never really get to see each other with a full face of makeup on- they would just sweat it off in rehearsals- so this is unfamiliar territory to Vanessa. Brooke’s beauty hits her all over again just as it had on launch night, and Vanessa feels herself dissolving into a bashful mess whose tongue has been cut out.

“Wow,” Brooke says quietly, her tone of approval sending another little spark through Vanessa’s body. The atmosphere is already so electric and Brooke doesn’t need to add to that but she won’t complain. Brooke gives her a small smile that’s almost shy as she manoeuvres herself out of the makeup chair. “You look so good.”

Vanessa smiles, mutters a soft thanks to her. Brooke keeps going.

“I mean, better than good, obviously. Really pretty,” she stutters out, and Vanessa has to try not to laugh at how endearing she’s being.

“Well, same to you, boo. If anything goes wrong, which it won’t, all you need to do is smile at the judges and then maybe they’ll ignore it.”

Brooke rolls her eyes, gives a small laugh. “Ugh, please. I’m not Scarlet, I’m not going to simp for the judges.”

Vanessa lets out a howl of a laugh which causes some of the other girls to turn their heads. She yells an explanation. “Brooke Lynn just used the term ‘simp’!!”

“What? Did I not use it right?” she blinks, unamused. Vanessa butts her head into her arm and hugs her, trying to explain how funny she finds a thirty year old TV presenter using a term she’s only ever seen on Twitter.

If Brooke’s Insta post is a countdown to the show starting, then their time is eventually up. Vanessa feels like Brooke hugs her extra tight before she goes out to do the pro dance, clingy in the best kind of way. They won’t be separated for long but Vanessa still feels her heart hammering in her chest as the dancers begin to assemble on the ballroom floor, walking through the audience who are silent in anticipation (or perhaps under strict instructions from the producers). There’s a countdown and Vanessa tries to forget that, unlike the launch show, this is live, her dancing instantly beamed into the living rooms of everyone watching. The lights begin to come up, and the commentator’s voice booms through the studio.

“Live on Saturday night, this is Strictly Come Dancing!”

The audience cheers, and the band play the first notes of Boogie 2Nite. Vanessa can hardly breathe as she watches Akeria and Phi Phi open the dance, not a single error between them as they kick and spin each other around the floor. When Vanessa and the other pros join in at the swell of the chorus there is another excited cheer that ripples through the studio and makes Vanessa’s smile hurt her face. She gets to her solo and feels as if she’s igniting as the lights beam down hot onto her and she spins, kicks one leg high into the air, melts and then finishes with a stag jump that she knows wasn’t perfect but she’s too full of adrenaline to care. She partners with Monique and the two of them have matching grins on their faces as they dance, Monique spinning Vanessa round, round, round until she’s almost dizzy. As the dance comes to a close, Vanessa hits her pose right on the last beat, holds it, and then after waiting for the audience to finish applauding she runs backstage along with the other girls, hurrying into costume to change into her quickstep dress. The wardrobe team help her change and before she knows it, she returns into the line that the partners are all forming at the top of the stairs, waiting for their names to be called out. As soon as Brooke sees her, her face lights up in a smile and she wraps her in a tight hug. She smells of hairspray and fake tan and peppermint chewing gum, and Vanessa never wants to step out of her arms.

“You were so amazing. Well, everyone was. But you were the best,” Brooke murmurs into her ear before she lets her go, and Vanessa’s whole body tingles at the praise. There’s hardly time to reply, however, before a runner is telling them that they’re to come down the stairs in just twenty seconds, and stand in the spot they’d been given earlier that day during the dress run. Vanessa’s palms are sweaty and she’s self-conscious of them as Brooke takes her hand.

“Introducing your Strictly Come Dancing stars!”

The commentator’s voice is loud through the speakers and Brooke’s thumb strokes Vanessa’s skin between her thumb and index finger as they look at each other affirmingly before stepping out onto the stairs. The lights are blinding in Vanessa’s face but she’s still smiling and waving at the top of the stairs as the audience cheers for her and Brooke.

“TV presenter Brooke Lynn Hytes, and her partner Vanessa Mateo!”

Vanessa sneaks a look at Brooke and she’s already looking at her. The coincidence makes them both giggle before they walk carefully down the stairs, Vanessa telling herself not to trip on her way down. They make their way to their space and watch and clap for the other couples while the anticipation fizzes in Vanessa’s chest. They’re first. They’re first. They’re first. If she’s this nervous, she doesn’t know how Brooke must be feeling. Eventually all the couples are assembled, and Michelle is introducing them.

“And kicking off the whole show…it’s Brooke and Vanessa!”

As the audience gives a whoop and their VT plays Vanessa takes Brooke’s arm and looks at her, making sure she’s okay. To her relief Brooke returns her gaze steadfastly and there’s a little sparkle in her eye. She doesn’t seem as anxious as she was before. The couples leave the ballroom floor, Monique, Akeria and Crystal making sure to tap Vanessa on the shoulder on their way past and whisper a quick “good luck” to her and Brooke. They sit on the chairs that the set people are running about assembling, and Vanessa hisses across to Brooke.

“You good?”

Broke nods to her. “We’ve got this.”

Vanessa’s nerves instantly leave her body. Brooke’s truly back in the room and her head is in the game. There’s a countdown of five from a runner and the commentator’s voice booms overhead again.

“Dancing the quickstep…Brooke Lynn Hytes and Vanessa Mateo!”

The drum kicks in and their performance has begun. Already it’s nothing like the dress rehearsal. Brooke’s smile is genuine and easy during their silly interview-style bit, and when Brooke takes her hand as she rises from the chair Vanessa can feel her pulse again but it’s not heavy and frightened like before. It’s full of adrenaline and excitement and as Vanessa rests her hand on her upper arm and Brooke rests hers between her shoulder blades, something just seems to click. They’re off across the dancefloor and Vanessa knows Brooke’s steps and hops are in time with hers, the intricate footwork coming so naturally to her. As they go to cross the floor again, Brooke’s smile seems to falter as she stumbles. Vanessa doesn’t let this deter her and as they meet each other’s eyes she gives Brooke a wink.

“Beans on toast!” she reminds her mid-dance, and Brooke’s confidence is back as they do the next set of steps perfectly. Their feet are going so fast that Vanessa can’t even pick up on whether or not Brooke’s made any more mistakes yet, but the majority of their first dance has been good.

They reach their little section on the steps, and Brooke gives the slightest little falter as she makes eye contact with Bianca. The judge never gives anything away so her steely gaze might have rattled her, but as soon as they’re off the steps and back in each others’ arms Vanessa gives Brooke’s hand a squeeze.

“Almost there, last section!” Vanessa tells her encouragingly. They’re back to kicking, stepping and hopping their way across the ballroom floor to their seats where they finish, and as Brooke hits her final pose and Vanessa hits hers the audience gives a loud cheer. As soon as they’ve held it for a few seconds, Vanessa squeals, jumps up and meets Brooke’s waiting arms. She knows they’ve got to go over to Michelle to be interviewed but she holds the hug for a few more moments than necessary, raising her voice over the roar of the crowd as she speaks against Brooke’s rapidly rising and falling chest.

“You did it! So incredible!!” she gasps, all out of breath. To her shock, Brooke rests a hand on one side of Vanessa’s face and plants a kiss against the other.

Vanessa doesn’t know if the past five minutes could get any better.

They make their way over to Michelle. Brooke’s got one arm slung around Vanessa’s shoulders and Vanessa’s not moved her arm from her hips since their hug. Michelle is waiting for them with a bright smile on her face, seemingly as happy with their performance as they are.

“Congratulations you two, what an opening to the show!” she smiled encouragingly, and Vanessa gives Brooke’s waist a squeeze. “Brooke, how did it feel performing tonight?”

Brooke’s out of breath as she talks. “So amazing. So, so amazing. Dress run went so badly and just having the real thing go so well…wow. Just the best feeling.”

“I told y’all she was good!” Vanessa pipes up proudly beside her, and Brooke gives a laugh and pulls Vanessa in closer to her side.

“Judges! What did you think? Shangela?”

Vanessa’s heart stands still as she comes to the first judge, smiling gently at her desk.

“Well first of all, what a way to open the show! So much fun, and Vanessa, so great to have you as part of a pairing this year, that choreo was something else.”

Vanessa can feel Brooke’s eyes on her and she flushes pink from the praise, stutters out a thank you.

“Brooke, great job tonight, you lost your footing a little bit on the steps there, but overall a gorgeous start. Just work on strengthening your core, holding your frame a little bit better, and once you do that? Lovely, gal!”

Vanessa turns her head to see how Brooke’s reacting, She’s smiling and nodding and taking it all on board. Laganja speaks next, growing animated as she gives her feedback.

“I think we have one to watch here, mama!” she cries, and the audience gives a cheer. Vanessa looks up encouragingly at Brooke, gives her waist another squeeze because she can. “So much amazing potential! You just have a natural eleganza, all light and frothy like a latté! A couple of mistakes, girl, work on not showing that on your face. Cuz when you show it, we all see it, you know? But all that aside, well done.”

Bianca’s up next, and Vanessa clenches her core in preparation. The woman could watch Torvill and Dean dance Bolero on ice and still find something to say. “Uh, I thought the footwork needed tightening up, there were bits that were just a little bit too haphazard for me, your elbow was drooping just a little bit which is not great, you did lose your footing on the stairs here…”

Vanessa can feel Brooke drooping a little beside her, a bit like her elbow had allegedly been doing. The audience boos Bianca like the pantomime villain that Vixen had mentioned, but the woman’s face cracks into a small smile as she finishes her remarks. “But what I do love about you is your energy, you have a lot of great potential as Ganja’s pointed out, and I’m looking forward to seeing what you can do when you get just a little bit more technical.”

The audience seems appeased and claps her comments, and Brooke has perked up at Vanessa’s side like a flower that’s been given a drink. Michelle turns to Kennedy, the final judge to give her comments.

“Brooke! I think you started out a little bit nervous, and what was nice was that as the dance went on you kinda came out into your own a bit. You have a lovely feminine and elegant way of moving which is really nice to see in an all-female partnership, and you seem really comfortable in hold with Vanessa, which is lovely.”

Vanessa tries to fight the blush that washes her face at Kennedy’s comment and doesn’t succeed.

“Just work on your presentation a little bit and your confidence and…yeah. I’m living for you, miss, you’re gonna be dangerous.”

Vanessa is heartened by the way Brooke’s face lights up at the praise. Michelle thanks the judges and waves them off upstairs to be interviewed by Divina, her co-host, and the pair of them pick up the hems of their dresses and entwine their hands as they dash upstairs to the auditorium (or, as it’s commonly known between the dancers, the Divinatorium). Most of the other pairs are there having watched them dance while they wait for their turn, and they all clap the pair of them as they nudge their way through.

“You did it!” Divina smiles, giving Brooke a hug as she meets them both. “Congratulations! Now, nice comments from the judges- I know Bianca got a bit pernickety there, but how do you feel about them?”

“Really happy, yeah! I just can’t believe what Vanessa’s managed to do with me in the space of two weeks, she’s been amazing. It’s all been down to her.”

Vanessa can’t help the rays of sunshine that feel like they’re emanating from her face as she looks at Brooke. Divina turns to her.

“Vanessa, you’ve been benched for a couple of years now, how does it feel to have a partner finally?”

“You know what, it was worth the wait. She’s been an absolute star,” Vanessa beams, wrapping her other arm around Brooke’s waist and pulling her close just like Brooke had done once their dance had finished.

“Worth the wait! Too cute, you two. Well, the judges’ scores are in.”

Vanessa’s stomach gives a dip. She feels Brooke’s grip tighten on her shoulder as the voice of the commentator rings across the studio. This is the moment they’ve both been waiting for. They’re about to get their first ever scores.

“Will the judges please reveal their scores. Bianca Del Rio.”

Bianca holds up her paddle. Vanessa blinks and tries not to pull a face. Because what’s on the paddle is a number, a number that doesn’t correlate with the dance they both just did.

“Five.”

Hardly wanting to look away, she keeps her eyes fixed to the screen.

“Kennedy Davenport.”

“Five!” Kennedy is holding up an identical paddle. Vanessa can’t help it- she scrunches her face up, turns to Brooke.

“Five?” she shakes her head. Brooke shrugs and smiles but Vanessa knows the scores are hurtful to her. They’re being undermarked- okay, she knows the dance wasn’t perfect and they made just a couple of mistakes, but it was at least a six, perhaps even a seven.

“Shangela Wadely.”

“Five.”

Vanessa shakes her head, trying to keep a smile on her face but wanting to storm down the stairs and give those judges a piece of her mind.

“Laganja Estranja.”

“Six!” the girl cries happily as she holds up her paddle, and the audience lets out a cheer. Vanessa relaxes a little, and she can feel somebody pat her on the back encouragingly.

“Happy with those?” Divina asks a little gingerly, and Vanessa jumps in before Brooke can say anything.

“You know what? It’s week one, and it’s a start!” she shrugs firmly. She’s not going to let this dent her confidence or Brooke’s. This isn’t the first time she’s been undermarked or disappointed in her career and it sure as hell won’t be the thing that knocks her or Brooke down.

“The only way is up,” Brooke agrees beside her, nodding fiercely.

“Well, we all thought you did amazing,” Divina reassures them both, and Vanessa flashes her a grateful smile. Divina explains to the TV audience that they can’t vote until next week, and that the judges’ scores will be carried over to the next show. She closes their interview and the audience claps them and just like that, after all the buildup, their first dance is over and they head backstage.

The moment it’s just the pair of them, Vanessa instantly pulls Brooke into a hug because God knows if Brooke doesn’t need one then she definitely does. They’re in the cream-painted corridors where the dressing rooms are, and the light is harsh and bright around them when all Vanessa wants is just a moment of darkness. She wants to be under her duvet, pulling it up high over her head and letting the shadows envelop her. As her arms circle around Brooke’s waist she lets out a sigh. Brooke returns the hug and Vanessa takes a deep, calming breath as she feels the older woman’s strong arms wrap around her shoulders and pull her in close to her chest. Vanessa’s back is against the cold paint of the wall and it’s contrasting so much with the warmth Brooke’s body is giving off. They stand like that in silence for a moment, each of them grounding the other, and Vanessa can feel Brooke’s heart through her chest. It’s intimate and gentle, and not a single word has been spoken between them but Vanessa can sense a shift in the atmosphere. She feels something change between them, a difference that somehow pulls them closer together and connects them in a way that they hadn’t been before.

“That was undermarked. You were amazing,” she whispers in annoyance against Brooke’s chest. Brooke’s arms tighten around her in response.

“We were amazing,” she whispers back. Vanessa’s not sure why they’re whispering, but she likes it, makes the moment seem more theirs somehow.

The thought appears in her head and it’s out before she can stop it. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Brooke shakes her head above her and repeats her words back to her instantly. “No, I’m lucky. So, so lucky.”

Giving another sigh, Vanessa lets her arms slide down to her side and, taking her cue, Brooke slowly releases her, but not before resting her hands on her shoulders and giving her a smile that seems to say so much without saying anything at all. Vanessa wonders how long that hug could have gone on for if she’d let it.

“Put it out of your mind. We move,” she says decisively, and Brooke gives a single nod.

“Tomorrow’s a new day, and next week’s a new week.”

They link arms and go to be interviewed for the socials and, after the moment she’s just shared with Brooke, Vanessa knows that her smile won’t have to be faked.

#rpdr fanfiction #bet you look good on the dancefloor #ortega #strictly au #lesbian au #branjie #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #monique heart #monet x change #willam belli #courtney act #phi phi o'hara #scarlet envy #yvie oddly #background jankie #background momo #background scyvie #background crygi

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artificialqueens · 6 years

Text

Maybe We’re Helping Each Other Escape (Bengela)- Ortega

A/N: it’s crazy how fast i can work on something if the idea niggles away at me for long enough, i do much of my writing on google docs on train journeys, and i have three days off work because of the bastarding snow. welcome to whatever this is- technically it’s set within the Just The Game We’re In universe but i have tried my best to make sure it can be read standalone. i’m no good at summaries, so this was based off the idea i had the other day when i got asked about Game headcanons:

“i don’t think i’ve given Dela a role in Game so far so OF COURSE she’s the new flirty intern at the Daily Mail who gets put under Shangela’s wing and who makes Shangela very nervous because she works for the Daily Mail and she should not be having these feelings towards female colleagues”

((if you’re American and struggling with the whole idea of the Daily Mail as a newspaper, compare it to ummmmmm idk some media outlet that Trump really loves))

Shangela never thought her journalistic career would peak with her writing a 1,000 word article about the Prime Minister’s wife’s cankles, but she supposed the only way was up. Finishing the final sentence and emailing it to her senior editor to get it haphazardly checked for spelling, grammar and rogue left-wing views, Shangela took a sip of her coffee only to find it cold. Damn. She was annoyed that there were no young, terrified work experience girls to get her another. Rising from her desk chair, she grabbed her cup and made her way to the small office kitchen. Many of her friends had asked her why she took the job at the Daily Mail and she’d often reply lightheartedly, laughing something about being broke and having no morals. But as she passed by desk after desk in the small, stifled office she worked in, she found her heart sinking as it did every other day. The part about her being broke, there was truth in that- there wasn’t a whole lot that a third in Communication, Media and Culture from Oxford Brookes could get you in the world of journalism. She’d had her sights set on the BBC, but that had been for the Raja Geminis of this world, and Shangela still bristled when she saw her on the ten o'clock news remembering how the girl had befriended her for her study notes when they were in first year together. She now understood how brutal the industry could be and how easy it was to be backstabbed, but at the time eighteen-year-old Shangela just thought she’d made a friend. That was until the head of her faculty called her into a meeting to discuss plagarism allegations, and revealed that her final essay had been very similar, almost identical in fact, to Raja’s, the very same essay that Shangela had sent to her to look over to help her out. Raja’s had just been “more finessed” as they had put it. In the end, Shangela’s essay was void- 0% for an essay worth 80% of her grade for that module, dragging her down from being on course for a first class degree to having to settle for a third. BBC out the window, Shangela had set her sights on ITV, Channel 4, fuck, even Channel 5 received an application. Hearing nothing back she’d started to lower her expectations and set her sights on print journalism- The Times, The Telegraph, The Guardian. Then once she got the rejection emails from them, she begrudgingly scraped the very bottom of the barrel- The Sun, The Star, and The Daily Mail. She got a job offer from the lesser of three evils- as an editor for the section of the website dedicated to women, “Femail”- and before she knew it, she’d been trapped in the same pink offices for two years. But it was better than sitting in a freezing cold Soho flat struggling to pay the rent. Morals, though, that was still a problem. No amount of money could buy those away, and it still stung whenever she had to write an article about whose dress looked the most like a dehydrated camel’s turd at whatever awards ceremony. She’d love to be writing on the situation in Gaza and she’d love even more to be researching the emerging refugee crisis in Syria, but that was Raja’s domain. Shangela’s domain was different entirely. At least she was writing, she reminded herself, as she got to the small kitchen, washed out her mug and spooned in more coffee granules. Flicking the switch on the kettle, she was surprised when her senior editor entered the kitchen, looking as smug as he always did as if he was constantly being reminded of the gender pay gap. In his hand he held what Shangela recognised as her article- same paragraph structure and indents, but with a green highlighter across one sentence. Stiffening, she struggled to hold in her annoyance- that had to be a record for most skim-read proofreading of all time, and it hadn’t even been as much as five minutes since she had emailed the article to him. “So um, Shangie…babe. The article’s brilliant. Just a little problem with your grammar on paragraph two.” Trying to suppress her rolled eyes at the nickname she hated, Shangela examined the highlighted text on the printed sheet in front of her. Narrowing her eyes, she looked up at her editor. “Um. What’s the issue here?” Her boss took the paper from her and read from it in faux-patience. “From beneath the ankle strap, the fat gained from the baby weight four years ago tried to escape from its fleshy prison.” Cringing, Shangela screwed up her face. “And?” “You missed the apostrophe in ‘it’s’.” “No I didn’t,” Shangela explained calmly. “An apostrophe in this case means that two words have been combined to make one. ’It is’ becomes 'it’s’. Its with no apostrophe is possessive. So, “from it is fleshy prison” makes no sense.” The editor gave a sort of choked laugh. “They really taught you a lot at Oxford Brookes, huh?” Shangela found herself casting her eyes to the floor. Her skin prickled as if she’d been stung. Working up her dignity again, she met her boss’ eye. “I do pride myself on knowing basic grammar, Sir.” The senior editor slid the piece of paper slowly out of her hands. “Well I’m your superior and I’m saying that your basic grammar is wrong. So just fix that up and the article should be good to go. Okay?” Shangela simply gave a curt nod, swallowed, and returned to her desk. The Prime Minister’s wife was a lovely woman, too. It was unfair that she had to be eviscerated by the media like this, for something as shallow as her appearance. But it was in Shangela’s job description, and so it would be done.

Settling down at her desk and resentfully changing correct grammar to an error, she felt her eyes flicker above the monitor screen to see some sort of activity in the office. Gia from Fashion was showing around a girl- looking to be around Shangela’s age, or perhaps younger. Her hair was in a neat beehive which fell over her shoulders, long and straight and dark with a sort of gloss to it that Shangela thought only existed in Pantene adverts. Her makeup was simple- a sort of 60’s cat eye with some light blusher and simple pink lipgloss on her lips which were currently set in a smile as she greeted Delta who sat one row in front of her. She wore a pink dress patterned with yellow flowers, and Shangela wondered why she was bothering to notice so much about her. Narrowing her eyes, she swirled her chair around to her left to face Vivienne, the colleague at the desk beside her and possibly the only person Shangela got on with at work.

“Vivienne,” she hissed in a sort of hushed whisper, causing the other girl to turn from whatever she had been working on and flip her hair over her shoulder to listen. “Who is that that Gia’s showing around?”

The other girl rolled her eyes. “Some new intern they got. Journalism graduate apparently. I’m not convinced as to her authenticity. Look at how she’s going round the office. I’ve never seen anyone smile that much.”

“Well it’s the right attitude to have if you want to be a journalist. Be equally fake to everyone,” Shangela considered, shrugging slightly as she watched the girl. Vivienne was right- she hadn’t once broken her smile since Shangela had set eyes on her, which she found intriguing. Watching Gia turn and face her way, Shangela got a shock as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Trying to focus on her article, she blocked out her peripheral vision until the two women were right beside her desk.

“Shangela,” Gia’s voice forced Shangela to acknowledge them. “I’d like you to meet Dela, she’s our new intern and she’ll be staying with us for a couple of months.”

Shangela cast her gaze up to meet the perfectly lined pair of blue eyes smiling back at her. Up close, the girl was relatively pretty, but she couldn’t shake the annoyance of having someone just waltz into an internship right after they graduated meanwhile she had to practically beg the Daily Mail to give her a job. Swallowing her slight jealousy, Shangela forced a smile.

“Nice to meet you,” she offered a hand for the other girl to shake, only to be taken aback by her enthusiastically strong grip.

“It’s so good to meet you too! I’ve heard lots about you and read so much of your work. It’s a real honour getting to work beside you!” the girl gushed, the blush on her cheeks going a little pinker as she let go of Shangela’s hand. Shangela felt like blushing herself, taken aback that the girl seemed to have done her research so thoroughly. “Well I’m not exactly sure how much of an honour it is getting to work alongside the author of that show stopping article Floral Shirts to Work- A Yes or a No?, but I’m sure you’ll take something from it.”

Something inside Shangela lit up when Dela responded with a snort and a small giggle concealed under her hand. Gia, however, was not as easy-going and just stared Shangela down with an unimpressed glare. Great. That was a disciplinary on the cards, clearly.

“Well, by the by, since Jackie isn’t coming back from maternity leave anytime soon I said it would be fine if Dela had her desk, meaning she’ll be working beside you and Vivienne. That all okay?”

The resentment tipped over inside Shangela’s stomach again out of nowhere, Dela suddenly feeling like new competition for her. She couldn’t give anything away though, so she simply smiled and nodded.

“Good. I’ll leave you to it- I’ve given Dela a login and email address as well as some articles to proofread, but if she has any questions I trust you’ll handle them?”

Shangela bit her tongue and restrained herself from saying something about having an intern palmed off onto her, but again just nodded. Gia said a polite goodbye to Dela and then flounced off, Shangela’s face immediately setting into a scowl as she left.

“Have fun guarding the gates of Hades,” she muttered, unwittingly loud enough for Dela to hear and laugh.

“You’re a funny one, Angela. I think we’ll get along just fine,” she smiled, Shangela instantly annoyed at the misconception of her name.

“Shangela. We’ll get along even better if you get my name right,” she deadpanned, the other girl just blushing slightly and laughing apologetically.

“My bad. Sorry. Lots to take in, you know?”

Shangela raised an eyebrow and smiled briefly, although she couldn’t help but feel her defences were being worn down by Dela’s constant cheerful demeanor. Looking at her full coffee cup and then at the annoyingly smiley girl, a sly thought took place in her mind- power play. There was no way that Shangela was having this intern see herself on the same plane as herself.

“Hey, Dela? I’ve got a job for you,” she smiled, injecting cheer into her voice and feeling momentarily guilty at the way the other girl whizzed round in her wheely chair, eagerness painted over her face.

“Sure!”

“Would you mind possibly getting me a coffee?”

Dela’s smile faltered slightly as she gestured to the preexisting cup on Shangela’s desk. “Absolutely! But, um…you do already have one?”

Shangela kept her smile level as she gave a throwaway glance at the cup. “Yep, got that. Registered that. I’d just love another- long day, and I need a lot of caffeine to get me through it, you know?”

Still slightly confused, Dela nodded and dutifully made her way towards the kitchen. Turning back to her screen, Shangela smiled. She had one up on her now, and she would now know who was in charge.

Something that felt like guilt seemed to poke at her stomach, but later she’d conclude that it was probably just down to the fact she’d skipped breakfast that morning.

***

As the weeks went by, Shangela couldn’t work out if Dela was slowly growing on her or trying to annoy her to death. It started with the mornings- Shangela would walk into the office to find that yes, Dela was still there and no, unfortunately she hadn’t been taken out by a passing truck on the way into work. The intern would flash her a beaming smile, give her a cheerful good morning, and then, Shangela had noticed, would proceed to give her a different compliment every day. Sometimes it would be her makeup, sometimes her perfume, sometimes her hair or clothes. She couldn’t work out if the girl was a fake bitch or just aggressively nice, but the main thing that stumped her was why she was always so chirpy in the mornings. By about halfway through week two, Shangela snapped and decided to ask her.

“Is there a reason why you’re always so damn bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 8am?” she borderline hissed, glaring at her. Dela sort of shrugged apologetically and then pointed to a bright pink keep cup.

“…coffee?” she guessed, then lifted up the keep cup and gave it a little shake. “In fact I’m almost out. Can I get you any?”

As Shangela shrugged off her coat and made to sit down at her computer, she found herself giving Dela a look. She’d just admittedly been pretty rude to her, and here she was offering her a coffee. Surely the girl had to be a droid or some shit? Holding her gaze and noticing again how blue her eyes were, Shangela simply nodded and held out her cup. Dela smiled back.

“Black, two sugars, right?” she asked, pausing for a second. It had been weird that she’d remembered that as well, but then Shangela supposed she did make her a coffee every day. Then it had occurred to her that the only time she’d ever had to ask Dela for one was that first day, and ever since then the girl had offered. Not really completely sure how to address the information that had just registered with her, she only nodded again. Dela gave a little nod back and made to walk away, before looking at her again and casually saying, “Your eye makeup’s lovely today, by the way. Really brings out your eyes.”

As the intern walked away, Shangela blinked a little self-consciously and began her work.

It continued the next again week. Shangela had been warming to Dela and, though she tried not to speak to her much during the day, sometimes she’d be subjected to a small anecdote about what her turtles had been up to (she, for some unknown reason, had pet turtles), sometimes she’d have to fix some sort of email or Microsoft Word-related problem for her, and sometimes she’d ask Shangela about her life. When she thought about it, Shangela supposed there wasn’t a whole lot to tell- work basically was her life, that and her Mum.

“So, um. No other half then?” Dela had asked without much expression, Shangela bristling in response.

“I hate that term. ‘Other half’. Like I’m me, I’m not incomplete in some way, you know? It’s stupid,” she rolled her eyes, thoroughly unimpressed. For the first time ever, Dela seemed anything other than bright and upbeat.

“I’ll take that as a no,” she raised her eyebrows and continued typing away. Shangela somehow regretted barking at Dela. By way of extending an olive branch, she turned and faced her.

“What about you, there a man in your life?”

Dela gave an inexplicable snort and shook her head tersely. “Nope. And there won’t be one for a very long time. Possibly ever.”

Shit. Shangela regretted asking even more- Dela had clearly been the victim of a messy breakup and her heart was obviously still broken from some dickhead ex. Clearing her throat, Shangela wanted somehow to make things better. Giving the girl a genuine smile, she gave an apologetic shrug.

“What do you say to keeping the subject off-limits for both of us and pretending this conversation never happened?”

Dela’s smile was suddenly back, and Shangela didn’t know why that made her heart light up, but it did. “I’d like that very much.”

Sure enough, the both of them kept to their word and didn’t bring the topic up again. But Shangela did find herself starting to engage in actual conversation with Dela a lot more often. She’d even venture to say she enjoyed hearing her stories and liked being asked her opinion on things, and it actually turned out they had a few things in common. It was the sort of thing that she was maybe missing out on, having never been able to commit to a boyfriend before. Really, she’d always just been too focused on work, and it was nice to just talk to someone else. She started to look forward to seeing Dela at work, just for the conversation.

Shangela turned up to work one day on a chilly day in September, about a month into Dela’s internship. By this point, she no longer really remembered what had ever annoyed her about Dela and genuinely enjoyed her company. Arriving at her desk, she was disappointed to find an empty chair where Dela usually sat. To her intrigue, however, there was a printed sheet of paper on top of her own keyboard- paragraphs of typed black with pink highlighted words and sections and scribbled notes all over it. Stuck on top of it was a pink sticky note, identical to the post-it notes that sat on Dela’s desk. Shangela picked up the paper and read the note.

About three minutes later she finally found Dela in the kitchen after frantic and furious searching. She’d seemed happy to see Shangela initially, but her face fell when she saw her expression- hot anger flushed against Shangela’s cheeks and her face was set in a scowl as she crushed the paper in her hand.

“What is this?!”

Dela blinked a couple of times, looking first at Shangela and then to the paper in her hand. “Well it’s like I said…I just proofread it and tweaked it a little. I just thought I’d be helping…I’m sorry that you don’t like it-”

Frustrated, Shangela crumpled her own article up into a ball and launched it into the bin. She turned to Dela with dark eyes, all warmth she’d ever felt towards the girl completely gone.

“Don’t ever fuck with my work again, or I’ll make it my business to get your internship cut as short as it possibly can. Got it?” she snapped, earning a sheepish nod from Dela. Fuming, she walked out of the kitchen and out of the office, being unable to bear being in the same building as Dela. She was so annoyed, so angry that a girl on an internship thought she could just waltz in and start editing the articles of someone that had worked there for almost three years. It took her all the way back to university, to her plagarism hearing. Just because Raja had changed a few words her essay was “more finessed”, just as Dela thought she was finessing her article. Shangela didn’t get to where she was today without any talent.

Fuck her, she thought, as she reached Starbucks and ordered herself the most poisonous, inky-black-looking coffee available.

As she sat and sipped at it and looked out the window, though, she felt her own words starting to chip away at her. Had she been too harsh? No- Dela had no business interfering where she didn’t have any right. She said she’d been trying to help. Maybe she genuinely wanted to. With the smallest stab to her heart, Shangela thought back to how kind and happy the girl always seemed. Fake? No- there was no way someone could keep up that charade for that length of time. As time ticked on and her cup became drained, Shangela began to feel more and more as if she’d kicked a puppy. Sighing and rising from her seat, she made her way back to the office. Dela still wasn’t at her seat and Shangela wondered if she’d ever returned. Making her way to the kitchen, she looked in the bin and plucked out the ball of paper. Opening it up, she began to read over her article, looking at the things Dela had written in.

Shit. She’d fucked up.

She hurried along the office in her heels, hoping that Dela was back so she could talk to her. She wasn’t. Mind in overdrive, Shangela went to the second most probable place and found herself at the ladies’ toilets a few moments later. To her horror, she could hear a quiet sniffing coming from the only locked cubicle.

She paused before speaking. “Dela?”

The sniffing stopped abruptly, but there was no sign of the door opening. Sighing, Shangela’s heart sank as she looked at the ceiling. “Look, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I was a total asshole.”

She paused. Still nothing. “I read the changes you made. They were really good. It was pretty poorly-written if I’m being honest so, thanks for making it better. And despite what I said, I do appreciate it.”

Another pause with no movement from inside the cubicle. Shangela could almost feel herself getting frustrated again, but she took a deep breath. “Look, can you please just come out of the cubicle so that we can talk, because I’m starting to get nervous that the person in here isn’t actually Dela.”

There was a beat of silence before the lock turned and Dela emerged from the cubicle, her cheeks red and puffy from crying and small specks of mascara dotted around her eyes. Shangela felt like a Grade A shit.

“I’m sorry- I don’t know why I’m crying, I’m such an idiot,” Dela started, her face flushing redder from embarrassment. Shangela shook her head.

“No, don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. For being such a dick.”

Dela smiled sadly. “I guess I just thought I’d made a friend.”

A sudden thud caught in Shangela’s heart. “I mean, I’m not that great at the whole friendship thing on the whole.”

Dela gave a small laugh. “Clearly.”

“But I mean…I guess I could try?” Shangela said hesitantly, earning another smile from Dela. Christ, she was so glad her smile was back.

“We could start with a hug?”

“It’d be a start.”

Returning her smile, Shangela walked forward into Dela’s open arms and wrapped her own arms around her, giving her a little squeeze. She was so glad she’d been forgiven, and felt relieved as she relaxed a little and rested her head on the other girl’s shoulder. She felt inexplicably safe.

The hug was eventually broken. Shangela smiled at Dela and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Come on, bitch. Tell me more about how shit my writing is.”

As Dela howled with laughed, it occured to Shangela that Dela had been the one to break the hug, and she didn’t know why that bothered her.

***

The next fortnight was filled with what Shangela was overjoyed to find was a real friendship. They messaged outside of work hours, laughed and chatted at work and went for lunch together. Dela just made Shangela happy in ways she couldn’t remember anyone ever doing before. There was a certain element of excitement to it- the butterflies she’d get whenever Dela had sent her a new message, or the anticipation she’d feel walking into work and knowing they’d see each other. It was nice.

Today, though, was a little more nervewracking. Tomorrow she was interviewing a Cabinet Minister, Sharon Needles from the Department of Social Affairs and Citizenship, and she wanted to make sure she was completely prepared. It had been a long time since she’d interviewed anybody. As Shangela arrived in the morning, she vented all of her feelings to Dela.

“You’ll be absolutely fine. You’ve got all your questions, right?” she asked her, Shangela rolling her eyes and gesturing to the editor’s office.

“I’ve got all MY questions. I need to get them vetted from HIM. He’ll probably make me ask all sorts of embarrassing, sexist bullshit.”

Dela laughed then blinked, a little shocked. “Wait, really?”

“Dela, come on, girl. We work for the Daily Mail. Offensive shit is their currency.”

The other girl shrugged in acceptance. “Still, I never thought they’d actually ask people blatant stuff like that.”

“It’s bullshit.”

There was a small pause in which Shangela considered the venom behind her words. Dela seemed to be considering the same thing. “So how come you work here?”

Because I’m broke and I have no morals? Shangela sighed. “Because I couldn’t get a job at any other media outlet and I have no integrity.”

Dela gave a half-hearted laugh as Shangela realised how much more serious she sounded than she’d meant to. Giving a suspicious gaze around the office, Dela then moved her chair closer to Shangela.

“I sort of feel the same. Given the choice, I wouldn’t be working in a newspaper like this. It’s all that accepted me, though, so I have to just go along with the narrative of whatever they want me to write and stick it out until my internship is over.”

Shangela ran her tongue over her teeth. “You and me both, girl.”

Feeling as if the conversation had taken a sort of dark left turn, Shangela inched her chair away slightly and tried to think of a different topic. Seemingly getting the same vibe, Dela smiled and spontaneously took Shangela’s hand.

“Whatever they make you ask her at the interview, I know you’ll nail it. It’s impossible not to like you,” she beamed, giving Shangela’s hand a squeeze then returning to her work without waiting on a response.

Shangela didn’t know why, but she felt disappointed.

That was until about 10 at night when she was getting ready to go to sleep and her phone pinged from her bedside table. Turning rapidly over in bed, Shangela read the message.

D: Good luck for tomorrow! You will be amazing. Anything I can do, phone me xx

And Shangela’s heart was soaring again, and she couldn’t really explain why.

***

The day of the interview arrived, and Shangela woke up full of nervous energy. She was so excited at the thought of getting to interview an actual politician, when the pinnacle of the Daily Mail was usually the latest twat off I’m A Celebrity. The speed of her heart thrumming in her chest only increased when, just as she was about to leave her flat, her phone buzzed with a text from Dela.

D: I’m getting us pastries before work because I know you won’t eat. You can thank me with cocktails after work xx

Shangela couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face as her fingers flew across the screen texting back.

S: Alllllllllright!!! xx

As she hopped onto the tube and made her way to Notting Hill, her anticipation grew and grew wondering what her day would bring.

It turned out the first thing it brought was being practically met at the door by her senior editor, who was holding a small poly pocket with paper inside.

“Good morning, Shangie. You’re looking very lovely this morning,” he smiled nauseatingly. Shangela grimaced at him. She didn’t know why, but she felt as if she’d feel a whole lot better if Dela was with her at this moment. Really, she was the only person Shangela cared to receive compliments from nowadays.

“Thanks,” she replied briefly. “Can I help you?”

“Uh, yeah, these questions for Sharon Needles today…not quite cutting it. We want to reach out to women, not completely alienate them by boring them with politics.”

Shangela narrowed her eyes. “But…she’s a politician. So what else should I ask her about?”

“Things that women want to read about. Her love life! Her fashion! Makeup tips! You know?” the editor laughed, handing the unimpressed girl the poly pocket. “Look, I’ve got some new questions for you. They’re much more suitable for the vibe we’re going for here. No need to thank me!”

Shangela’s heart sank with disappointment as she read the first few questions. “Forgive me if I’m sounding a little naive, but you know that women can actually engage with and understand politics, right?”

The editor gave a smirk. “You write for Femail, Shangie. Not the New Statesman. Know your place.”

With that, he walked away, leaving Shangela standing at the office door and looking blankly at the questions in her hand. She was angry, but most of all she was upset. Her editor was right- although she was an editor too, it was only for the crappy, sexist supplement of a total bigoted mess of a publication. What the fuck was she doing here? Looking through the glass, she could see Dela at her desk working away, and two pastries and a coffee sitting on her own desk. In her emotional state, Shangela felt a lump rising in her throat. She swallowed, cleared her throat then blinked a couple of times before pushing open the door.

“Hey!” Dela smiled up at her, before Shangela watched her face fall as Dela saw the anger painted on her face. “Oh shit, are you alright?”

Shangela wordlessly shook her head and sat down, Dela fixing her with a look of sympathy.

“If it helps, you look really good today?” she offered. For some reason, it did help. Sighing, Shangela tossed the poly pocket onto Dela’s desk.

“Have a read of them,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “That’s the questions my senior editor wants me to ask Sharon Needles later on today.”

As she read, Dela’s eyes grew a little wide. Finishing the first page, she snorted with laughter. “I’m sorry. That’s laughably bad.”

“Right?! I can’t believe I actually have to go in there and ask them,” Shangela sighed, throwing her head back against her chair. She was jolted back to reality when she felt a warm hand rest on her arm, and her eyes flew open to find Dela looking at her.

“Hey. This doesn’t mean that you can’t put yourself across as at total sweetheart, because you are a total sweetheart. Now eat your damn croissant and drink your coffee.”

Once again, Dela seemed to know just what to say to put the smile back on Shangela’s face. “You’re the sweetheart for all of this. Thanks.”

Dela simply looked at the ground bashfully. She could have been blushing- Shangela couldn’t really see from the way her dark hair hung over her face- but if she was being honest, Shangela was blushing a little too. Smiling to herself and reaching forward, she took a sip of the coffee that Dela had bought her.

“Fuck, that’s bitter.”

“Ugh, I told them to put more sugar in it. You sit there, I’ll get you more.”

As Shangela smiled after Dela while she walked to the kitchen, she became aware of somebody’s eyes on her. Turning around in her chair, she saw Vivienne.

“Can I help you?”

Vivienne smiled apologetically, then leaned on her desk. “Shangela. Be careful.”

Shangela blinked. “What?”

“Look, I get that you and Dela have this cute gal pal thing going on, but just…if you don’t want people to talk, then tone it down.”

“Talk? What could they-” Shangela began, but trailed off. Was Vivienne trying to imply that people were thinking that she and Dela were together? Self-conscious, Shangela cast an eye over the office. “Oh, no, that’s really not- there’s nothing going on. I don’t feel…like that. Towards other women.”

Giving her a sympathetic look, Vivienne continued. “What you choose to do in your private life is none of my business, girl, but just…be careful. You work for the Daily Mail. That’s all I’m saying.”

As Vivienne turned back to her work, Shangela stared at her blank computer screen, a small feeling of sickness taking root in her stomach. She didn’t feel that way about girls. And sure, she got excited to see Dela and always looked forward to the time they spent together and felt happy and warm whenever she texted her, but that was just what friendship was, right?

It wasn’t exactly as if Shangela had anything to compare it to.

Pushing down the slight nausea she was feeling, Shangela powered up her monitor and tried her best to eat some of the pastries that were in front of her. She had nothing to hide, and therefore she had nothing to worry about.

That was until her interview with Sharon Needles was over, and everything basically went to shit. It was like the Murphy’s Law of interviews- everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong: Sharon hated the questions and therefore hated her, dropped the f-bomb and walked out before the interview was even finished. Shangela felt as if she’d blown the whole thing, although her journalistic brain was a little excited at the thought of getting to write an article on something so scandalous. She’d told Dela all about it, the intern’s eyes lighting up with the drama of it all.

“I mean. It wasn’t quite what you wanted, but it’ll make good reading, right?” she reasoned, Shangela giving a smug smile. As she thought back to the interview, she turned to Dela again. She thought a little bit before opening her mouth, thinking about what Vivienne had said before.

“Hey, um. Did you know that Sharon Needles was gay?”

Dela looked down at her desk then brushed a bit of dust off her skirt. “No. Did she mention it in her interview?”

“Yeah. It sort of came up when I asked her that question about if she was seeing anyone.”

Dela gave a contemplative hum, then continued typing. Shangela still felt a little weird.

“And that doesn’t…bother you, no?”

Instantly, Dela looked at her with a screwed-up face. “No? It’s her life, it doesn’t affect me. Come on, Shangela, you know me well enough to know I wouldn’t judge somebody like that.”

Shangela silently nodded. So Dela was accepting and fine, and wouldn’t judge anybody for that sort of thing. Why was she thinking so much about this?

“Do you think it’s something I should put in the article?”

Dela furrowed her brow. “I wouldn’t.”

“But she mentioned it in front of me. Surely that means it’s fine to put out there?”

“People are different with that sort of thing,” Dela said quietly. “Besides, it would depend what context you use it in.”

Shangela looked at the article that was already half-finished on her screen. “I’ll maybe just mention it in passing.”

One hour went by. Shangela submitted the article to her senior editor and before long she was called into his office. He looked disgustingly gleeful, rubbing his hands together and giving the occasional little clap.

“Shangie, this is gold, baby. Amazing work. I’ve contacted the news outlets about the audio and they’re all willing to buy it too. The article is almost perfect but I just think we could add in a little bit more about the whole lesbian thing.”

The pride she’d felt at being complimented suddenly faded rapidly away. “What do you want me to add in?”

“Oh, just some sensationalist language, maybe call her leadership skills into question. You know what lesbians are like, they’re always pushing their own agenda.”

Shangela bristled. She didn’t know why she felt so defensive. “I’m not putting that in the article.”

The editor smiled smugly. “I think you’ll find that if you want to keep your job, you will.”

Heat pricked at Shangela’s cheeks as she felt herself go red. Turning to make her way out of her office, he stopped her suddenly.

“Oh! And I have a great title. I want you to use it. It’s Plug that Dyke.”

Shangela began to feel sick. “Isn’t that word pretty offensive to lesbians?”

Another smirk. “And how would you know that?”

Looking to the ground, Shangela just opened the office door and made her way back to her desk, her hands shaking a little. She quietly sat down at her desk, opened up her word doc, and carried on editing the article. By the time she was finished it was late, and people were packing up to go home, including Dela.

“Are you still up for cocktails? You know you owe me one,” she gave Shangela a cheeky smile which normally would have made her stomach flip over. Today it flipped over for all the wrong reasons- looking up at Dela she had this horrible feeling in her stomach as if she’d betrayed her in a way. She forced a smile on her face and shook her head sadly.

“I’m actually not feeling too good at the moment. Can we reschedule?” she asked. It wasn’t really a lie, and she only felt worse when Dela pouted and leant down to give Shangela a hug. Murmuring a goodbye against her hair, Dela grabbed her bag and left the office, leaving Shangela to rot in her own misery.

She was still feeling miserable hours later, at home curled up on her sofa and watching everything unfold on the news. She felt like a terrible person. She’d put her name to all sorts of things that she didn’t believe, but she’d done it before. Why did she feel so terrible this time? Everything from the day gnawed away at her, especially Vivienne’s words. She felt so lost and confused and not in control of anything, and thinking about Dela, which usually made her feel better, suddenly made her feel worse.

What she didn’t expect was for her buzzer to go off and a furious Dela to be standing on her doorstep. Without waiting for an invite from Shangela, she stormed in, standing in the middle of her living room where they’d both been one or twice before for movie nights or dinners.

“What the fuck did you write?” Dela almost whispered, her eyes cold as they pierced into Shangela’s. She, for her part, couldn’t say anything. She looked meekly at the floor and fiddled with a thread on the sweatpants she’d thrown on when she came in from work. Dela snapped her out of it. “Shangela! Why?”

Shangela raised her head slowly to meet Dela’s again. “My editor was telling me to or I’d have been out of a job. I’m sorry, Dela, I had to-”

“Bullshit, you didn’t have to do anything. You didn’t even have to even mention it! Why did you think it was relevant, why the hell did anyone think it was relevant?” Dela hissed, muttering the last part softly in a confused tone as she rubbed the back of her neck. Shangela felt awful.

“I completely fucked up, I know. But I didn’t mean to offend you- I know you said be careful the context you use it in, but…” she trailed off. She couldn’t think of anything else to say. Dela frowned at her.

“You were right when you said you had no integrity, you know that?”

Shangela felt like crying. She couldn’t work out why it felt as if she’d betrayed somebody, but moreover she couldn’t really work out why Dela was so upset.

“Why did you come round if you’re so angry at me?” she asked softly, part of her perhaps seeking the validation and comfort that they were still friends. Dela shook her head and gave a twisted smile.

“I wanted to know why. That was all. I wanted to know why someone I thought I knew, someone I thought was my friend, would write such disgusting things!”

Shangela couldn’t hold it in. Frowning at Dela, she narrowed her eyes. “I get that you’re upset, but I don’t get why you’re this upset? I mean, it’s not as if Sharon Needles is one of your closest friends?”

“Oh my God, Shangela, I’m a lesbian!” Dela raised her voice, tearing her hands through her hair immediately afterwards. She couldn’t look at Shangela. There was only one thing going through Shangela’s mind.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit

She’d just ruined their friendship, completely ruined anything she had with Dela because of her own stupid lack of backbone. Instinctively Shangela stepped forward, making to open her arms for a hug, but Dela just drew back, throwing her hands up defensively. Her face was one of heartbreak, and if Shangela had a mirror she could have seen that her face was the exact same. The churning in her stomach was only getting worse, her breathing quickening.

“Anyway. Now that I found out why you’re apparently a raging homophobe, I’ll be going,” Dela said in a sort of choked voice, making for the door. Shangela felt helpless. She couldn’t leave, not now, not while there were so many things she was feeling and thinking, not while her mind was such a mess. She suddenly reached her hand out, grabbing Dela by the wrist and only softening her grip a little once she was sure she was staying.

“Dela, please,” she said softly, her insides churning as she looked at Dela’s eyes, still cold. “Please stay. I’m really sorry, okay? There’s been a lot going on in my head today and…I don’t know how to explain it. I’m really confused and I don’t feel…I don’t feel normal.”

She didn’t know if she imagined it, but Dela’s eyes seemed to soften just a little. Her voice stayed cold. “Go on then. Say whatever it is you’ve got to say.”

“I just-” Shangela cut herself off as she looked at the ceiling. How could she articulate to Dela what she was feeling if she didn’t even know herself? “I don’t know what’s going on with me. Vivienne said something to me earlier and since then…it’s all I’ve been able to think about. Like…we’re friends, right?”

Dela looked away from where she’d previously been looking at Shangela. “Fuck, Shangela, I don’t even know any more-”

“Okay, okay, you’ve got every right to feel that way. But before, we were friends, right?”

Dela gave a non-committal shrug.

“But that’s the thing. Sometimes it didn’t feel like friendship. Sometimes it felt like something…” Shangela felt the heat hit her cheeks as she looked away from Dela, things starting to piece themselves together in her mind. “…more than that. And I’m messed up, and I don’t know what’s going on because I have no idea how the fuck I should feel, and I’m just…all the while I was editing that article to put in all the shitty bits, I felt like I was betraying somebody. Maybe it wasn’t you, maybe it was myself. I might not…be straight.”

Deciding that was probably all she needed to say, she looked back at Dela again. Her expression hadn’t changed, and Shangela felt more embarrassed than ever. She couldn’t quite believe that she’d actually said it out loud, the thing she’d been suspecting but had never wanted to entertain. Holding Shangela’s gaze, Dela finally spoke.

“Well you know there’s a definite way to find out, right?” she said, her tone level as she took a single step towards Shangela, slid both her arms around her waist and pulled her closer.

And suddenly Dela was kissing her, and her mind fell silent for the first time that day. Something seemed to click into place, something that immediately made her feel calm, as if nothing else mattered. As Dela tangled her fingers in Shangela’s hair, Shangela brought her arms up around the other girl’s neck, one hand cupping her jaw as she deepened the kiss, completely in awe of how soft Dela’s lips were and how absolutely fucking perfect her mouth felt, how all of this felt.

It was all just…right.

Shangela was the one to break the kiss, only because she was desperate to see Dela smile at her again. Sure enough, she had a sort of intoxicated grin on her face, her eyes glazed over as if she was high.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do that for about a month and a half,” she smiled languidly, not yet removing her arms from around Shangela’s waist.

Shangela bit her lip shyly. “So…this means I’m gay, right?”

Dela shrugged. “Well, you could be. Could be bi. Could be pan. But I’m happy to stay with you to help you find out. Especially if it means we can do that again.”

Then she scrunched up her face in disgust. “Sorry. That was really cringey, I’ll never say that again.”

Shangela always prided herself on being the total opposite of shy and yet here she was, redder than a fire extinguisher and completely smitten. Dela said she’d stay with her. It was way too early to say if they were together or not- girlfriends, she supposed- but the thought of getting to try and figure out who she was with Dela helping her sounded pretty fucking amazing.

“So…does this mean I’m forgiven?” she asked softly, looking at the other girl from under her lashes. Dela snorted.

“Only if you promise to grow a damn backbone,” she gave Shangela a little squeeze. Laughing, Shangela pulled her in closer and kissed her again, purely because she could.

This time it was Dela who broke the kiss, taking Shangela by the hand and leading her over to the sofa. “We’ve had a shitty day so we’re getting takeaway and you’re showing me this Game of Thrones you keep going on about.”

Happy, Shangela threw herself on the couch and wrapped herself around the other girl, head resting against her shoulder. She was almost content until she drew her head back and gave Dela a questioning glare. “Who pays for the food if it’s two girls?”

Dela simply burst out laughing and shook her head. “Oh, Shangie. You are such a princess it’s adorable.”

She wasn’t really satisfied with her answer, or her nickname, but cuddling closer to Dela she supposed she was satisfied with everything else that was happening right now.

***

Shangela awoke on the sofa at 6am. Her alarm hadn’t been set until 7.15, but the light from a streetlamp was streaming through the curtains, nearly blinding against the dark October sky. Although her neck hurt from her night on the sofa, she didn’t really mind- Dela was there behind her, her face nuzzled against Shangela’s neck and her body warm despite the thin blanket they’d pulled over themselves doing nothing to protect from the cold. Ordinarily, Shangela would have gone back to sleep, but there was something running through her mind that was preventing her. Dela had been so kind and so forgiving, and Shangela had hurt her badly. She needed to fix things somehow.

Gently sitting up, she reached under the sofa and retrieved her Macbook. Opening it up and screwing up her eyes at the blinding white light from its screen, she mashed the brightness leveller until she could comfortably see. Opening up a blank document, she began to type. It didn’t take her long to finish the article. She fixed the formatting, skipped emailling it to her senior editor, and instead posted it straight to the website. Her stomach felt fluttery, as if she’d just taken a leap into the great unknown- and Shangela supposed she had- but she had Dela and for now, that was the most important thing.

As Shangela closed the laptop, she felt Dela stir on the couch beside her. Her eyes slowly blinked open as she took in her surroundings, at first confused but then remembering where she was.

“Shangie? What are you doing?” she asked, in a voice thick with sleep.

Shangela just gave a smirk and stroked the other girl’s cheek gently before laying down next to her again. “Oh, you know. Just growing a backbone.”

She didn’t see the confused expression over Dela’s face as other girl pulled her closer to her and wrapped her arms around her. Shangela didn’t mind as long as they were both happy.

***

Later that morning, Cabinet Minister Sharon Needles woke up, made herself a coffee, and began to scroll through the day’s headlines. In one bizarre turn of events, it seemed the insufferable journalist who had interviewed her just yesterday had made waves by quitting her job quite spectacularly. The article had been taken down, but every news outlet was reporting on how Shangela Wadely had written a featurette for Femail entitled 25 Things the LGBT Community Should Just Avoid Doing, with every bullet point being quite simply “Don’t read the Daily Mail”. There had been a short, but to the point sentence at the end of it all basically telling her senior editor in so many words where he could stick his job.

Sharon was confused by it all, but not as confused as when she answered the doorbell to a man from Interflora who was holding a huge bunch of flowers with a note sticking out the top of them. Shutting the door and taking the flowers back to the kitchen, she narrowed her eyes as she began to read the note.

Dear Ms. Needles,

Thank you for being such a great ambassador for the LGBT community. I’m sorry it took that disasterous interview and my shitshow of an article for me to realise that.

Regards,

Shangela

She was just getting her head around things when she heard her girlfriend emerging from another room. Sure enough, Alaska made her way into the kitchen wearing a huge t shirt and yesterday’s makeup.

“Noodles, it’s 10am on a Saturday. What are you doing awake?” she drawled, walking over to the minister and hugging her from behind. Sharon looked once again at the note and smiled.

“I think Shangela Wadely might be gay.”

“Okay, you’re still drunk from last night. Come on. Back to bed.”

#ortega #oneshot #maybe we're helping each other escape #intern/journalist au #bendelacreme #rpdr fanfiction #shangela laquifa wadley #dela x shangela #lesbian au #as3

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