I Hope Your Soul Is Changing
Over the next week and a half, Maren slowly but steadily gets better as she recovers. Because she had dealt mainly with a high fever, her lungs aren’t as compromised as many other covid patients, much to Fran’s relief. They spend the week and a half in bed, cuddling, reading books and watching movies, facetiming with Maren’s family and spending time with each other. Fran is sure to track Maren’s symptoms, watch them recede until she’s just battling off a last bit of fatigue. Fran takes great care to feed Maren plenty, her heart easing as the Norwegians appetite comes back in, her coloring returning and her smile brightening every day of her recovery. Fran hates covid quarantine, but she’s grateful for the time she gets to spend one on one with Maren. She’s suddenly acutely more grateful for it now, after Maren’s been sick. It wasn’t like the defender was going to die, but it was the first time in their relationship, friendship or dating, that Maren had been seriously ill, and to be honest it scared the absolute living daylights out of Fran. So to get to watch carefully as Maren comes back into herself eases some of the anxiety that has swirled in Fran’s chest the last few weeks. She calls with her brother and father, keeps them updated on Maren and how she’s doing, as both were obviously incredibly worried about her.
Fran luckily never manages to get it, and by the end of the two weeks, Maren is officially testing negative and determined to be covid free, allowed to return to everyday life. Fran proclaims that they can start training in another few days, that just a few more days of rest will be good before they return to a strict training regime.
Which was how Maren found herself on the couch, cuddled into Fran’s side dozing off on the brunette’s shoulder at seven at night. Her body is tucked into Fran’s, her head resting securely on Fran’s shoulder, her arms wrapped around Fran’s abdomen. The brunette is warm and solid next to her, one of her hands holding Maren’s forearm, her thumb rubbing circles into the soft skin of the Norwegians forearm. They were attempting to finish the movie they had started last night, a documentary about World War 2, when Fran’s phone began to ring shrilly.
Maren lifted her head groggily, leaning back from Fran as a few strands of hair fell in her eyes as she looked up. Fran looked over at her with amusement, reaching her hand up to tuck the hair behind her ear, and Maren smiled, leaning just slightly into the touch. Fran fights the smile that appears on her face at the reaction, pulled back to reality when her phone rings again. She looks down to see the caller ID, realizing it's her aunt, who she hasn’t talked with since she left in the middle of the night a week and a half ago.
“It’s my aunt, I should get it,” Fran said softly, and Maren nods, shifting backward to allow the brunette to push off the couch, briskly walking through their living room and moving into the kitchen, toward the floor to ceiling windows that looked out into their backyard from by their kitchen table.
One of Maren’s favorite things about their little flat was the open concept of it, that even here on the couch the Norwegian can see Fran in the kitchen, just the top half of her over the kitchen countertops. She’s still nestled into the couch, her legs pulled up and into her side. Fran is standing at the windows, looking out into their small backyard at the rain that is beginning to fall.
“Hi Aunt Alice,” Fran says as she picks up the phone, looking out at the start of another humidity rainstorm. It had been unbearably hot the past few days with the humidity building up, and it seemed that the sky had decided that now was the best time to let all of that out.
“Hi Fran dear! I was just calling to see how you were doing, how you’ve been,” Alice said brightly into the phone, and Fran paused, genuinely surprised by her aunt's answer. She had expected her aunt to at least ask about Maren, mention her name, considering that she had left in the middle of the night given how sick her partner had been. It had been the first thing out of her father and brothers mouths, and on some level Fran had kind of expected the same from her aunts. Even if they didn’t like Maren, when someone is so ill that someone leaves in the middle of the night to go be with them, you think that would warrant some sort of a response, no?
“I…you’re calling to ask about me?” Fran says into the phone, an edge to her voice, and Maren turns her head to look at Fran, an eyebrow raised at her intonation. Fran’s body language has gone from languid and relaxed to tense, a sharpness to her tone that quickly catches Maren’s attention and sets her on edge. It’s rare that Fran gets upset, and Maren can only hope that this isn’t about what she thinks it is.
“Yes, yes, how are you?” Alice repeats into the phone, either entirely missing Fran’s tone or choosing to ignore it.
“I’m doing fine…” Fran says rather calmly, her voice trailing off as if she’s waiting for her aunt to say, or ask something.
And she is waiting for her to ask something. In her mind, it’s simply the decent thing to do. She might not like Maren, but Fran would have assumed that she cared enough to ask about how she was doing after such a grave illness.
“Oh well that's lovely, I’m glad to hear it. We already miss you around these parts. I was thinking we might be able to find a time for you to come back and visit again, since you had to cut your trip short.” Alice continued lightly, and Fran felt her heart drop as her shoulders simultaneously tensed. Her head dipped until her chin was practically touching her chest as she tried to gather her thoughts, trying to think of a response above the lump that was forming in her throat. Over the anger that was swirling in her stomach, at how upset and out of control this situation suddenly felt in her mind. She takes a deep breath, and then another, and still doesn’t know what to say. She knows that she can’t chew her aunt out over the phone, but she also can’t just ignore this.
Maren was watching as Fran was on the phone, and had already stood the moment she realized that something was wrong, but she didn’t move, not yet. She watched as Fran’s shoulders rose and fell mechanically, deep, stuttering breaths, and the Norwegian has known Fran long enough to know that she’s angry. She’s angry, and upset and probably hurt by something her aunt said. The defender just can’t really distinguish what that possibly could have been, considering they’ve been on the phone less than a minute.
“Hey Aunt Alice, I’m so sorry but there’s another call coming in I have to take, it’s my manager. I-I’ll call you back later, maybe tomorrow, ok?” Fran mumbled noncommittally, and she was quiet for a few seconds listening to her aunt parrot some goodbyes and talk soon before she hung up, her hands falling to her side, her phone still in it. She was gripping the small rectangular device so hard her knuckles were turning white, and she had to force herself to loosen her grip so she wouldn't break her phone accidentally. She stares out at the rain, her chest rising and falling as she tries to piece together a coherent enough response to Maren, who she can feel is standing in the living room.
For a few moments, there was nothing but silence as Fran stared out at the rain and Maren stood motionless, watching.
“Fra-” Maren started, only to be interrupted by Fran spinning around, anger etched into her features. The rational part of the brunette's brain is telling her to slow down and begging her to just talk to Maren, but the irrational and upset part of her is upset beyond belief and feels a distinct need to do something. And it seems that the latter part of her brain is winning that battle, at least for today.
“No, no, I can’t, I…I just can’t,” Fran said, reaching forward to grab her car keys out of the bowl they kept on their kitchen counter, slipping her feet into her birkenstocks and stalking through their house, and directly out the front door, leaving the Norwegian in a surprised state, still standing in the living room.
Maren scrambles to run after her, throwing open their front door after Fran practically throws it shut behind her, following the forward out into the rain.
“Fran – wait!” Maren calls after her, her voice hoarse over the rain as she stops short, just steps outside the door. Thankfully Fran, who practically has her hand on the car handle she’s so far ahead, thankfully turns back to Maren, so the Norwegian stays where she is.
The Norwegian is standing just a pace or two from the door, and Fran is standing not maybe twenty feet in front of her, rain pouring down on the two as they stare at each other for a moment. Fran’s face is fixated in anger, Maren’s in confusion, and still the rain pours down senseless on them both, so much so that they can hardly see each others faces. Their both absolutely soaked already, but the rain is warm, and still they stand there, before Maren finally says something.
“Fran, what…what are you doing?” Maren calls after her, the hair not pulled back into a ponytail sticking to the sides of her face, as her shirt begins to stick to her skin, and she knows that the sweats she’s wearing are already drenched, and they’ll both need to strip before they can go back in the house, lest they take half the rain back inside with them. The driveway is hot underneath her bare feet, but not in an uncomfortable way. And above all, the defender is just incredibly confused as to what went down on this phone call, why Fran is so angry, and why they were out here, her girlfriends hand half on the car handle, clearly heading somewhere.
“She didn’t say ONE word about you,” Fran said in response, as if that somehow answered Maren’s question. The Norwegian just cocks her head in confusion, entirely lost as she attempts to begin crossing the minefield that this conversation has seemed to turn into somehow. Maren is able to deduce that it had something to do with the phone call clearly, but she’s not exactly sure what she has to do with any of it, or where Fran is going with this.
“I mean…she’s not exactly my biggest fan? She’s your aunt Fran, she should be asking about you when she calls you, not asking about me,” Maren reasoned easily, but Fran shook her head defiantly, in total disagreement.
“No, no. When my Dad called me two days after I got home, I could barely say hello before he was asking about YOU, and how you were, and if you were okay. And he should have, because you were really fucking sick, and I left in the middle of the night, I left my aunts house at one in the morning to come back to you.” Fran said forcefully, her voice hardened with anger, and it causes Maren to shrink back slightly, still slightly guilty at that specific fact and mildly nervous about the anger dripping from Fran’s voice.
“I left in the MIDDLE of the night because your fever was so high Guro didn’t know if you’d need to be admitted to the hospital, and she calls a week later asking about ME?” Fran fumes out, and the rain is already starting to mix with the tears that are pouring from her cheeks, but it’s raining so hard it doesn’t even matter, and she lets them fall without shame because she suddenly can’t bring herself to care.
“Fran, she’s probably just upset you had to come back so quickly, she was so excited to see you. I never meant for you to cut your trip shor-”
“Maren, I’m not mad about that. I would never be mad about that,” Fran’s voice crackles with emotion over the words, the anger finally dropping from her tone. There was no reason to take the fact that she was upset out on Maren, who really hadn’t done a single thing to deserve it. Fran softens slightly, trying once more to try and help Maren understand what she’s talking about.
“I’m just in utter disbelief that she could call asking about ME when there’s you and you were so fucking sick. How someone could be faced with those facts and still somehow choose not to ask about you. Everything about this situation is just so numbingly frustrating, I don’t even know what to…” Fran trails off, gesturing wildly with her hands, while Maren stares at her with a cocked head, on an entirely different page than Fran as to her aunt's motivations.
“Fran, she’s your family, not mine. When she calls, she’s going to ask about you,” Maren reasoned gently, her voice nearly getting lost above the sound of raindrops beating down onto the pavement.
Fran shakes her head again, trying to organize her thoughts to explain this to Maren, how she can show Maren what this is all getting at. She steps forward, through the rain until she’s standing right in front of the Norwegian.
“You are my family, and so is she, and I’m–I’m just tired of having to toggle between the two,” Fran tries to explain, but Maren just furrowed her eyebrows softly because this wasn’t how this worked. Fran shouldn’t have to choose and Maren would never ask her to.
“Fran, you don’t have to choose between us. I know that your family comes first for you, I would always understand th-” Fran cuts Maren off, placing her hand right on Maren’s chest, the warmth from her fingers seeping through Maren’s soaked t-shirt and into her sternum for a moment, until the defender falls silent, and Fran continues.
“Maren, you are it for me. You…you are the love of my life, and even if for some strange and totally unpredictable reason this doesn’t work out, you are forever going to be one of the most important people in my entire life. And I’m so sick of having to choose between the half of my family that is you, and this life here, and them.”
“You know, when we first started dating, I would let myself dream about what my Mom would have been like if she had gotten to meet you. And I might not know exactly, really, but I know, deep in my bones, that she would have loved you. She would have loved who you are as a person, she would have loved the way that you love me and the way that I love you and she just would have loved everything about you and everything about us. And there will forever be a piece of me that is so incredibly sad that you will never have the chance to meet. But it was okay to me when we first started dating because as soon as I realized how important you were going to be to me, I could introduce you to my father and brother and aunts. I never in a million years expected the reaction that we got though.”
“And they don’t…they won’t accept you but the thing is that I won’t accept that. They look at you like you’re contaminated somehow, they treat you like some blonde bimbo I picked up from a bar a week ago, not the person that I’ve spent the last four plus years building a life with.”
“I refuse to believe that the rest of our lives is going to be you having to pick between you staying behind or coming and being the outcast the entire time. I can’t do it anymore, it hurts too much Maren. It hurts to see you try to play it off like it doesn’t affect you, it’s painful that you care so much about me that you come anyway. And it is sure as hell painful every time that I leave here without you, all because they can’t even be brave enough to treat you like a human being with feelings.”
“I know they aren’t hateful people deep down, and I feel like they don’t even realize just how much it hurts me to leave you like this every time. Because I don’t need them to accept our relationship, we can act like friends around them if that’s what it takes, but they can treat you with decency and respect and kindness. They can give you the bare minimum that a human deserves. So I’m driving back to Manchester, and I am talking to them about this. I’m doing it for you, I’m doing it for me, I’m doing it for us. Because we deserve this, we both do. I won’t let their negativity stop our joy, not when there is so much room for joy with you around.”
“And I just…I love you and I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to speed home to find you halfway to your deathbed because you should have been right there with me the whole fucking time. You’re my family too,” Fran says finally, and her lungs are burning and they’re both absolutely soaked to the bone but Maren really doesn’t give two shits because she leans down and connects her lips to Fran, kissing her absolutely senseless.
It’s the only way she can think to respond to something so profound and important and touching and overwhelming and loving and–
“Du er alt,” Maren murmurs against Fran’s lips, and this time it's the brunette who pushes up, connecting their mouths. Fran’s hands come up to grip the Norwegians face gently, and Maren’s hands wind up wrapped around Fran, holding the smaller woman’s body flush with hers. Maren’s lips are soft against Fran’s, and when she opens her mouth, Fran runs her tongue along the roof of Maren’s mouth, the defender whimpering light at the motion. Fran’s hands are cradling Maren’s head when she leans back, and Maren is looking down at her with hazy and hungry eyes.
And then Fran is moving toward the door, and Maren easily follows her, her hand in Fran’s. The brunette opens the door for her, and Maren steps in as Fran slips her shoes off. Maren barely has time to close the door before Fran is turning and pressing her back against the door, her mouth back on the Norwegians in an instant. Their clothes are soaked, water dripping onto the front hall floor, but neither can bring themselves to care as Fran’s hands tangle in Maren’s hair, pulling her mouth down to meet her own.
Fran sets the pace, and it’s there and present and yet somehow there’s a note of softness beneath it all, a level of care that Fran holds Maren with that underlies the whole thing. Her lips and languid, saccharinely sweet against Maren’s, before she pulled the defender's bottom lip between her teeth, nibbling softly.
Maren gasped against Fran’s lips as the brunette pulled lightly at her scalp, tilting her head toward the side as her lips passed across Maren’s jaw and down the column of her throat.
Maren moans unabashedly when Fran scrapes her teeth along the sensitive spot behind Maren’s ear. The Norwegians head lulls to the side and back against the door to give the striker better access as one of Fran’s hands comes down to hold the other side of her neck. When Fran has lavished enough attention, she brings her lips back up to Maren’s mouth, slowing her pace down yet again. Maren’s lips are pressed against her softly, heart achingly slowly. It’s a long kiss, and it leaves Fran and Maren breathless, neither wanting to pull back.
But they must eventually, and they lean forward, bringing their foreheads together. Fran’s hands come down to brush along Maren’s side, slipping her hands under the drenched shirt that Maren was wearing, her palms warm against Maren’s bare skin. Goosebumps erupt under her touch as Maren shivers delightfully, the muscles in her abdomen rippling under Frans hand as she traces her fingers lightly over the Norwegians stomach. Fran presses her hands up Maren’s ribcage, pushing the shirt with her, a silent question poised on her face.
Maren responds in kind, raising her hands above her head and allowing Fran to peel the wet shirt off of her skin, sending it to join the puddle on the floor. Maren crowds into Fran’s space, her hands toying with the bottom of Fran’s own shirt, and the brunette does her one better by simply stripping it off herself, leaving them both breathless and shirtless in the front hall closet.
And then Fran is back in Maren’s space in an instant, pushing up to meet Maren’s in a searing, purposeful kiss. Because everything these last few weeks had been so heavy, and so much, and this somehow felt so light. Fran couldn’t give Maren everything, she knew that. But she could give her this, this was something that she could do.
Fran’s never tried to express her love more through a kiss than in this moment. It’s somehow everything in one. All of the heartache. All of the joy. All of the anger, and the sadness, and the frustration. All of the compassion, and empathy, and gratitude. All of the love.
Because there is so much love. Sometimes, Fran feels like her heart is overflowing in the best way possible. She somehow got lucky enough to be loved by one of the single most extraordinary people on the planet, and by some grace of someone or something, Maren loved her back.
And there was so much about their lives and their relationship that felt so complicated at times, but this? This was as uncomplicated as it had ever been, and Fran is grateful for it.
“Please don’t go to Manchester tonight. I’ll come with you to go but please just…don’t leave me tonight,” Maren pleads softly, her soft lips ghosting over Fran their lips are so close to each other. Fran had been looking down at her lips, but she looks up now until her gaze meets Maren, and she’s just inches away from her, but her green eyes are so concerned and so fucking gorgeous that it takes her just a moment to be able to respond.
“Never,” Fran whispers resolutely, and then Maren is pulling her back, pressing her back against the door and bringing Fran with her, and the brunette goes readily with her, their bodies pressed flush with one another. Fran runs a hand down Maren’s neck, over her collarbone and sternum and down to her chest. Maren leans forward at the sensation, letting out a harsh exhale, as Fran detaches her lips from Maren’s mouth and brings them down to her chest, and suddenly it's no longer a harsh exhale but a keening groan that is tumbling from Maren’s mouth. When Fran looks up after a few minutes of lavishing attention to her neck and chest, Maren’s head is thrown back against the door, her chest flushing up and into her cheeks.
When she looks back at Fran, the brunette staring up at her with swollen lips and a devilish grin, she groans softly, a hand at the back of Fran’s neck to guide her lips back to Marens, and she relents easily. Fran presses her lips to Maren’s slowly, her tongue soft against Maren’s as the Norwegian is trying to keep her head from spinning.
But then Fran is stepping back and dropping to her knees, right there in the hallway, and Maren lets out a noise that comes from somewhere in the back of her throat, all thoughts of keeping herself composed thrown out the window. Fran smiles up at her cheekily as she pulls the rain soaked sweatpants down and away from Maren, who is staring down at her with intense and dark eyes.
Fran kissed the inside of Maren’s thigh a few times before traveling over her quad, up her hip bone, across her abdomen, and back down to her other leg. All the while, she listens as Maren hisses and pants above her, as Fran hits all the sensitive spots because she might as well know Maren’s body better than her own at this point.
And just when the Norwegian thinks she might not be able to handle it, Fran is standing, her face suddenly right in front of Maren’s, her eyes intent as the defenders chest heaves air in, and she’s stepping forward, pushing Maren’s legs apart softly with one of her knees. The defender obliges easily, and Fran slips her hand between Maren’s leg with little preamble, sinking a finger into the molten heat she finds there as Maren lets out a strangled cry that sounds suspiciously like Fran’s name.
Maren’s hips buck up and into Fran’s hand, begging for more friction or movement or something, but the brunette simply slides her hand back, smiling quietly at the harsh exhale Maren lets out in response. But then she slips two fingers back in again, setting a slow rhythm and watching Maren intently, her eyes roving over the Norwegians face to watch her reaction.
Maren’s eyes are screwed shut, her head pressed back against the door as her hips ground down into Fran’s own hand.
“Fran, please,” Maren moans out softly, and the brunette recommits, speeding up her pace and using her thumb to provide more friction against Maren’s clit. It’s not until Maren opens her eyes to look at her that Fran finally relents and curls her fingers, she’s rewarded with a strangled whine that Maren lets out, her head falling forward to rest against Fran’s shoulder. The brunette brings her free hand around to hold Maren’s hip tightly, letting the Norwegian hold one of her hands on her shoulder as the other is bracing herself against the door that Fran still has her pressed against.
When Maren pulls her head back, her face is just inches from Frans, and the brunette never slows her rhythm but she simply observes Maren. The Norwegian is clearly close, her eyes hazy and unfocused, her chest stuttering as she flips between looking at Fran’s eyes and her lips.
But her eyes are suspiciously wet, and that is enough to cause Fran to slow just slightly. Because this isn’t just some quickie in the back of a car with someone she met online, this is Maren. This is Maren, and this is one of a million opportunities that Fran is trying to take to show the Norwegian how important she is to her.
It’s not just sex, really. It’s intimacy, and she knows that Maren feels it, hopes that somehow through this the defender can feel how cherished she is by Fran, for this and everything else.
“Fran…” Maren whispers, and Fran leans forward to connect her lips with Maren in a searing kiss as she continues working Maren up.
It doesn’t take long after that, just a few touches, the expert understanding of a body infinitely more well mapped than her own before Maren is tumbling over the edge, coming apart against Fran. Her entire body is taut, and Fran watches hungrily at the way the muscles in her abdomen and legs flex, her eyes screwed shut as a guttural moan escapes her tightly closed lips.
“Fran,” Maren cries out softly as her entire body shudders forward, her hand gripping Fran’s shoulder tightly as she tucked her head into Fran’s neck.
Fran works Maren down slowly, careful not to overstimulate as Maren’s chest heaves. Fran can feel wetness against her neck, and she somehow knows that Maren is crying. The brunette pushes her back with gentle hands, slipping her fingers out of Maren and wiping them quickly off on her own pants. Maren has tear tracks down her cheeks, but there’s no concern or sadness in her eyes, just a soft gaze, the kind reserved just for Fran as her lip trembles just slightly.
Fran smiles, her eyebrows furrowed in concern as she shifts up onto her tiptoes, bringing her hands up to hold her head, her thumbs securely on the Norwegians cheeks as her fingers curl into the hair at the edge of Maren’s scalp.
The defender's eyes flutter shut at the contact, new tears slipping down her face at the act, and Fran is leaning forward to place a gentle kiss under her right eye, and then her left, tasting the saltiness of Maren’s tears. She punctuates every single kiss with a simple phrase over and over again.
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
Maren leans into the contact, a smile tugging dangerously at her lips as Fran places a final kiss on her lips, chaste and close mouthed.
But the Norwegian just smiles as she opens her eyes, and she slips her own hands around Fran’s waist and around her back, hugging the forward to her in a tight hug.
Fran let herself by pulled into the hug willingly, wrapping her arms around Maren’s neck. She turned her head to the side, pressing another kiss to Maren’s cheek before she rested her forehead against the soft skin there, as Maren squeezed her tightly enough to lift her off the ground for a moment.
The Norwegian takes advantage of the willingness of the brunette, lifting her just slightly off the ground and spinning them around, switching their positions. When she sets down Fran though, the brunette shakes her head silently, and Maren cocks her head to the side, a silent question in her expression.
“Bed,” Fran supplies simply, and Maren doesn’t need to be told twice, helping Fran strip out of the last of her wet clothing before she takes the striker's hand, leading her up the stairs and into their bedroom. Maren allows Fran to walk in first before her as she shuts the door, and then the Norwegian turns back to her, crowding Fran’s space and forcing her to step backwards.
Maren’s hands were everywhere, over her abdomen and rib cage and over her chest and shoulders, her forward moving body pushing Fran backward until the striker felt the back of her knees hit the edge of their bed.
Fran takes the hint from Maren, sitting down on the bed, and when she looks up at Maren, the defender is looking down at her intently, her gaze hungry yet, gentle somehow. She lowered herself, joining Fran on the bed as the brunette moved up the bed, backpedaling until she felt her hand come into contact with a pillow at the top of the bed, and she laid her head back down on it.
Which might have been a mistake (or an answered prayer), because suddenly Maren’s body was on top of hers, the weight of her body pressing down onto Fran’s as she held some of her weight off of the smaller woman with her forearms on either side of Fran’s head.
And suddenly Fran’s entire world was just Maren, nothing but vanilla with a hint of jasmine and the intense warmth of Maren’s eyes and her comforting weight pressed into Fran.
Fran threads her hands in between Maren’s arms, bringing her hands up to cup the Norwegians cheeks, tilting her head down to connect their lips. It starts out slowly, nothing but a languid and soft pace until Maren finally captures Fran’s bottom lip between her teeth, biting down lightly before immediately soothing the action with the swipe of her tongue.
Fran feels herself sigh at the action, her hands moving from Maren’s cheeks to around her neck, pulling the defender down further onto her. Maren shifts to the side, her hips falling to the side of Fran's, as she holds herself up over the brunette on one elbow, her other hand on Fran’s neck.
Maren uses her hand to push gently at Fran’s head, tilting it to the side as she kisses down Fran, across her jaw and nibbling down the column of her throat, nipping and sucking and soothing. She reaches back, letting her middle and ring finger ghost over the area behind Fran’s ear to push her hair back before lowering her mouth to the area, sucking resolutely.
Fran keens, her hips jerking off the bed at the sensation as her hand comes up to tangle in Maren’s hair as her other hand scratches dully down Maren’s back. The action causes the Norwegians' abs to tense, the sensation of her muscles tightening against Fran’s bare side sending heat swirling down into her lower stomach as she lets out another breathy moan.
Maren leans back for a moment, panting practically. Her eyes rove over Fran, who is staring up at her with big, lust filled eyes, laid completely still apart from the rise and fall of her chest, the entirety of her focus on Maren.
“Så vakker,” Maren murmurs softly as she trails a finger from the base of Fran’s throat down over her sternum, between the valley of her chest, down her stomach, stopping just short of right where Fran needs her.
“Maren, please,” Fran manages to get out, and she hardly recognizes her own voice its so hoarse and wrecked, but Maren just leans back in to kiss to Fran, and the brunette can feel the defender smile into the kiss.
Maren wastes little time after that, really in no mood to keep Fran waiting or tease her. So she sets her sights on a path, kissing down Fran’s neck again, only letting herself stay to suck at the juncture between Fran’s shoulder and neck for a moment, tracing a finger lightly over Fran’s stomach and appreciating the tensing of muscles she feels under her forefinger.
Maren moves down, crawling back down the mattress as she kisses softly over Fran’s sternum and down to her chest, stopping for long enough to lavish the appropriate amount of attention to both sides.
Fran feels like she’s floating, between the kissing and the feeling of Maren’s lips against her, the featherlight touches that leave her shivering.
Her entire world begins and ends with Maren, the defenders scent in even the pillow that Fran’s head rests upon, and when Maren rolls Fran’s nipple with her tongue, the brunette cries out softly, turning her head into the pillow to muffle the sound.
She can feel Maren smile against her skin and it might be the death of her, knowing how much the Norwegian is enjoying this. But Maren just continues her leisurely pace down Fran’s body, as Fran shivers under her light touches.
But the Norwegian is merciful, and instead of fanning down to kiss across Fran’s hips, she gently lifts one of Fran’s legs up and over her shoulder, wasting no time in slipping between Fran’s legs, right to where the striker wants her.
Fran’s hips jump into Maren’s mouth before she forces them back down, a dirty and unfiltered moan tumbling out of her lips. Fran forces her eyes open, immediately regretting it when she looks down to see Maren looking right up at her and it makes Fran groan again.
The Norwegian is methodical in her approach, and she knows exactly what Fran likes, and it doesn’t take long before the brunette is on the edge.
“Maren,” Fran whines out, her back arching as Maren works her up quickly, dangling on the precipice of release. Fran’s hand pushes out as her head is thrown back against the pillow under her, unable to concentrate on looking at Maren and not falling over the edge.
Maren’s fingers thread between Fran’s and all it takes is a well placed tongue movement and a squeeze of her fingers in Fran’s for the striker to tumble over the edge, her back arching off the bed as she lets out a cry of Maren’s name again, followed quickly by a guttural moan.
As Fran regains her composure, she feels Maren get up, leaving the room for a moment to grab some washcloths and cleaning them both up before she lays down to rest next to Fran again, under the covers this time as she presses a featherlight kiss to Fran’s shoulder. The warmth from her lips radiates out and over Fran’s body, and when she looks over at Maren, there’s a softness to her gaze that’s been missing the last week and a half. It’s a softness that Maren is grateful to have back, and it makes her smile despite herself.
When Fran turns her head to the side and sees that Maren is next to her, looking at her with a tiny smile on her face that somehow manages to reach all the way up to her eyes, the outer edges of her eyes crinkling in just that Maren way that makes Fran’s heart feel like it’s overflowing with adoration for the person beside her.
Fran turns, wrapping her hands around Maren’s abdomen to pull the defender into her. Maren follows Fran’s movement easily, tucking her head into the brunette's neck as the strikers arms hold her securely, placed gently on her back. Fran relishes in the way that she can feel Maren’s body relax into her, all of the tense angles of the Norwegians body softening almost as soon as she comes into contact with Fran’s body.
Fran brings one of her hands up to cover Maren’s head, rubbing her thumb over the Norwegians hair in slow movements, breathing in the scent of her girlfriend for a few minutes, letting the relief of having her here, safe, and in her arms wash over her in waves.
“I love you, so much, and I’m not going anywhere without you, ok? Not anymore,” Fran murmurs into the darkness of their bedroom, trying her best not to let her voice crack over any of the words, failing when she finally reaches the last one.
She can feel Maren freeze for a moment, and then the Norwegian’s body melts back into hers, and the defender is pressing her nose up until it presses into the underside of Fran’s jaw for a just a moment, keeping it there before she presses a gentle kiss to the skin there, before snuggling back into Fran.
“Mitt alt,” Maren whispers gently, so gently Fran can barely hear her.
But Fran does hear her, and if it is even possible she just pulls Maren tighter to herself, resting down until her nose is pressed into Maren’s scalp, and she lets herself just rest there.
For just that moment, she lets her world begin and end with Maren.
—
Later that night, when Maren is still wrapped up in Fran’s arms but soundly asleep, the brunette knows that she’s entirely done with the divide in her family. She doesn’t know how, or what she's going to do, but she will make her aunts understand this. She’s going to Manchester, she’s going to Manchester with Maren, and she’s going to do whatever it takes to fix this, if that is even possible.
Because this love? A love like this - so pure and important and meaningful it makes Fran’s heart physically feel like it might burst, she’s so loved? The kind of love that it doesn’t even matter how complicated everything else is, because they are the only important thing and that fact alone makes it uncomplicated.
That’s something that anyone is lucky if they get once in a lifetime.
And somehow, Fran got it.
—
The next day at breakfast, when Fran comes down, it’s to Maren making eggs, with a lunch pack on the table, clearly ready for a day of travel, if Fran has to guess. Maren looks up at her, and her green eyes are soft with a smile that reaches all the way up her eyes.
And all over again, Fran falls in love with the woman in front of her. Because she just understands, and doesn't need to be told twice. Because she’s just that gorgeous in the morning, bright and cheerful and everything that Fran had never known she had needed until she had met her.
“Morning,” Maren hums lightly, and Fran smiles, coming over to stand behind her, wrapping her arms around Maren’s stomach, reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss the side of her cheek and then back down, pressing her cheek into the Norwegians shoulder. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply for a moment, inhaling vanilla, the faint thrum of Maren’s heartbeat under her ear. She stays like that for a moment, feeling Maren’s shoulders shift as she moves to take the pan off the stove and turn off the burner.
“You okay if we leave after breakfast? I don’t want to get there super late, but we can go later if you have stuff you need to do,” Fran says gently against Maren’s back, so quietly that if she wasn’t pressed into the defender, the Norwegian probably wouldn’t have heard her.
“No plans, I’m ready to go when you are,” Maren says simply, turning around to kiss Fran chastely on the lips.
Sometimes, love can be described in a phrase as short as that, and for that Fran has never been more grateful.
Which is how the couple finds themselves pulling into the driveway of Fran’s aunt's house exactly four hours later, having made the drive down from London to Manchester with relatively good time, only hitting a spot of traffic.
“How are you feeling?” Maren asks, trying to keep her voice neutral and soft as she turns the car off. Fran heaves out a sigh, squeezing her hands tightly into fists before she relaxes them, spreading them out over her pants slowly. She knows she needs to do this, but she would really rather not. There’s a pool of anxiety in her stomach she can’t quite seem to shake, the importance of all of this combined with the potential consequences all feel like they’re screaming at her in the face.
“I don’t want to do this, but I need to. For me, for you, for us. I’m tired of how our life is right now.” Fran says quietly, looking at her hands which are still, sitting in her lap. She pauses for a moment, knowing that she can’t solve all of her anxieties right now, but there is one she could probably cross off the list right now.
“You’ll still love me, even if I fuck this up, right?” Fran mutters quietly, so soft Maren barely hears the question. But the Norwegian does, and her head snaps to the side, surprise written into her features, one eyebrow raised as her lips turn down in a frown.
She reaches a hand out, uses it to lift Fran’s chin to get her to look into her eyes from their spot staring at Fran’s pants. And when green meets brown, Fran is slightly startled by how serious Maren looks.
“Unless you wake up and decide to become a serial killer tomorrow, nothing you could do could make me stop loving you. You are stuck with me, alright? Whether this goes amazing, or bombs, or anything in between. It’s you and me,” Maren says, her voice tight with emotion. Fran nods gently as Maren continues, the seriousness of her tone melting into affection in a matter of seconds.
“And I respect the hell out of you for doing this,” she continues, trying to talk around the lump in her throat. “I love that you’re doing this for yourself, and for me, and for us. I want to be with you all the time, and honestly I really don’t want to have to keep making stupid excuses to stay behind anymore,” Maren says honestly, her voice soft and truthful, and Fran melts into the seat, her resolve hardening with every word that leaves the Norwegian. She needs to do this, for Maren if nothing else. She needs to do it for herself too, but there’s something about knowing that this is for Maren as well that fills her with a bravery she wasn’t expecting to feel in a moment like this.
Fran removes the hand that is still holding her chin, kissing the back of it before she holds it to her cheek as Maren smiles at her, both blinking back tears.
“Do you think…could you maybe wait in the kitchen? I just…I’m not going to be able to keep it together if you and them are in the same room, and I just want to get everything out right and I just need fo-”
“Yes,” Maren cuts her off gently, and Fran squeezes Maren’s hand, which is clasped between her own, sitting gently in her lap.
“Ok then, I suppose I should go in then,” Fran says quietly, and Maren does her best to nod encouragingly as they both slip out of the car. Fran lets them into the house, and Maren peels off to go into the kitchen while Fran goes into the living room, where Fran’s two aunts are sitting with her father and brother. She had called the pair of her father and brother on the drive over, asking if they could be there for support and any possible fall out.
In this moment, she appreciates the no questions asked support they quickly offer up (she will later learn that both had wondered why she hadn’t done this ages ago).
“Fran?” Alice asks with surprise as the midfielder enters the room, and Harriet looks up with an identical expression, shocked to see Fran back so soon.
“What are you doing here?” Harriet asked, her voice reserved as she saw the nerves on the face of the brown-eyed woman. Fran swallowed, her brother and father nodding at her for encouragement as she began to speak.
“I actually need to talk to you two about something important,” Fran said with a calm, collected confidence, and Maren smiled softly to herself at how good she sounds, her hand clutched to her chest as she peers into the living room from the kitchen. She has just the right angle where she can see Fran in the living room, but the brunette probably can’t really see her, and she can’t see the others sitting in the room.
“I know you guys don’t support my relationship, or my sexuality,” Fran starts simply, and when her aunt's eyebrows fly up in surprise, their mouths opening with a response, she holds her hand up firmly, stopping them before they can even get any words of disagreement out.
“You guys don’t have to start. You’ve never said a good word about it. Whenever I bring up Maren, or something along those lines, you always push the conversation away. Hell, whenever I bring Maren around you act like she’s some blonde I picked up at a bar a week ago, and not someone I’ve spent years of my life with.”
“And please don’t pretend to think I don’t notice how hostile you guys are to her. She might be genuinely the most loving, gentle human being I’ve ever met in my entire life, and when she comes into your home you shake her hand like it’s a business transaction and then proceed to ignore her, or make snide comments about her outfit or impeccable manners or her lovely accent. It’s really not that hard to understand, and the fact that you can’t be won over by how wonderful and kind and compassionate she is to you after years of you treating her this way is an insane testament to her incredible character.” Fran pauses for a moment, and Maren grips her hands together in front of her chest, wringing her hands together. She aches to march into the room, tell Fran that she can stop, that this is enough, but she also knows that the brunette needs to do this for herself. This feels so much bigger than just them in this moment.
The forward had paused for a moment, looking up at the ceiling as she blinked furiously, before schooling her features to continue speaking in a calm manner.
“I always dreamed of getting to take Maren back to my mother. I would think of how she would act, how much she would have loved our relationship, how Maren treats me, hell how she would have loved Maren on her own. She would have made her feel a part of this family, because that was what she stood for.”
“At the end of the day, us, her kids were what was important to her. Our happiness was important to her.”
“And you guys will never be my mother, but damn if you haven’t come close by the role that you have played in my life. So to bring back to you the love of my life, and for you to shake her hand? Not even give her a chance, just because she’s a woman? It hurts, more than I think you realize. It hurts in ways that I’m not sure either of you ever stopped to think about.”
“Every time I go to Norway, Maren’s family welcomes me with open arms. I am a part of their family, and even though my Norwegian sucks and I stick out like a sore thumb with my accent, they always make me feel welcome. They’re Maren’s people, and they see me for who I am: a member of their family. We never have to choose between staying or going when we’re with them, we can just be. We never have to hide the way that we look at each other, or be concerned about when we touch each other or god forbid, kiss each other. Not like we haven’t been together for nearly five years or anything,” Fran continued, poorly contained sarcasm lightly rolling off her lips. She settles, taking a deep breath and trying to remain calm and reasoned. Pettiness was going to get her nowhere.
“Every time I come here, Maren and I are forced to make a choice. We either come together, and she deals with trying to hide the fact that she feels like the black sheep and I spend the time frustrated that she isn’t treated like a normal human being. Or we separate, and one of us stays and one of us goes, constantly split apart. We’ve really perfected it to this point, Maren coming up with stupid excuses to stay behind so we don’t have to argue or worry about it.”
“Because that’s the thing about Maren, she would always come with me if I asked. She doesn’t mind being the black sheep if it means she gets to be with me. But she knows that I hate it, so instead she makes ridiculous excuses to stay behind to spare my feelings and my heart. That’s who she is, that she would do that for me. She puts my needs above her own, above yours, and she always takes the high road.”
“I know you can’t accept us, can’t accept this part of me. We’re so far past that, my hopes left me years ago. But I am sick and tired of choosing between the two halves of my family. Because at the end of the day Maren is my family too, and for god's sake she deserves to be treated like a human being at the bare minimum.”
“I refuse to pick between the two halves anymore. Because Maren has always been there when I need her, and she’s important to me and so she should be important to you too. Important enough to treat like a human being. When I was injured and alone, she was there. She was there to hold me when I sobbed at night because I missed my mom, or I was lost, or when I felt alone,” Fran continues, and she’s starting to cry but she can’t bring herself to stop, the words tumbling out of her mouth with only semi-coherence at this point.
“And maybe I felt alone, but I never was alone because she was always there. Even when I pushed her away, even when I tried to make it impossible for her to love me, she was always right there. And that is what I love most about her and I just don’t understand how you guys can just…how you can just not s-s…” Fran blubbers out, her composure finally cracking as a sob bubbles out of her chest and through her lips, and Maren finally can’t stand it. She walks right into the room like she was born to be there, ignoring the aunts and Fran’s father and brother, moving walking right over to Fran.
She comes to stand right in front of Fran, just slightly off to her side, Fran’s left shoulder in front of her right. She wraps a hand around Fran’s waist, pulls her in slightly, and the brunette finally cracks, burying her head into Maren’s shoulder and letting out a sob from deep within her chest.
Maren turns her head, rests it down until her nose is pressed into Fran’s temple, her eyes screwed shut as she rubs her thumb up in circles over Fran’s side. Her other hand comes up to hold the back of Fran’s head lightly, just enough for her to know that she’s there.
“This isn’t worth your peace,” Maren breathes out, and it’s just loud enough for the whole room to hear her but it really isn’t meant for them, now is it?
“I’ll come with you, I won’t stay behind anymore. I don’t care how anyone treats me, none of that matters compared to how you’re feeling.”
“I can’t watch you do this to yourself,” Maren whispered softly, and Fran somehow leans into her even more firmly, as Maren finally brings her other hand up from Fran’s waist to lay firmly on the side of her neck, her fingers pushing into the hair at the base of Fran’s head.
“I’ll make sure she’s alright, Franny,” Jamie says gently, rising from his spot on the couch to stand before his sister next to Maren, placing a hand gently on her side.
Fran turns from Maren to wrap her brother in a hug, and the Norwegian stands there, watching Fran closely as she clutches at Jamie desperately, her tears still clinging to Maren’s top.
The two aunts are seated next to one another, their faces fallen as they looked over at the other. When Alice looked over at Harriet, her sister was sitting with her face in her hands, covering her expression.
Alice had never really stopped to think about her disdain or treatment toward the person standing in front of her. She hadn’t realized the importance of her to Fran, how deeply important this relationship and human meant to her.
It was silly of her not to realize, honestly, but she had no better answer than that exact one. Her ignorance had clouded her rational thinking, the hierarchy of importance somewhere getting lost along the way. As if who Fran loved had ever mattered more than the brunette herself. As if Fran’s love for Maren somehow made her less worthy of the love and joy that the two aunts had always tried to give her.
And when Maren looked back at Alice from her spot in the living room where she was physically shielding Fran from them, the older woman expected anger. Hatred, or hurt, or something against her, against them, something negative.
You see, Alice had been married before, but her husband had passed away several years ago. She knew, though, what it meant to love someone fully and completely, what it meant to put that person’s needs above your own. She knew what it meant to love someone so deeply you felt it in your bones, written across your heart and soul.
And if someone had made her husband feel this way, if someone had made him this upset and distraight? She would have burned them to the ground for it.
But when Maren looks back at her, it's with a tired resignation, as though Alice isn't even worth her time of day. As if she truly believes that the older woman will never accept her. A fair assumption when her and Harriet have acted the way that they have for the last four years and some change .
But, as she sat there, Alice realized that the brunette was right. Who Fran loved really didn’t matter, even if it made them both a little uncomfortable. She had been told in her childhood that this way of life was a sin, that it meant eternal condemnation. And she knew to hate the sin and not the sinner, never held Fran’s manner against her, but she had held it against Maren heavily.
But the woman in front of her, though, she made Fran happy. She was the one who was there, when even her aunts couldn’t be there. She was the one who protected Fran’s peace when her own family had broken it. She was the one who selflessly put her needs above anyone else's, held it above the aunt's discomfort, or Fran’s sadness, or Jamie’s concern. She wasn’t something to fear, or someone who had somehow corrupted Fran. She was someone Fran cared about. She was a part of Fran’s family, so she was a part of their family.
And so Alice stood finally, and Maren’s eyebrows jumped up toward her hairline as Harriet looked up at her sister, surprise evident in her eyes.
The aunts generally acted as a unit, one right there with another. But for the first time in a long time, Alice didn’t really care what Harriet was thinking, or what she wanted Alice to think. Because this was so much more important than any sort of decorum that Harriet thought that she should have.
Alice stood slowly, her eyes trained on Maren. She could see Fran and Jamie in her peripheral vision, the brunette turning to watch her aunt with a red, blotchy, tear-stained face. But Alice was focused entirely on Maren, who was standing there, her body practically shielding Fran, her eyes narrowing as Alice moved forward. She clearly expects Alice to make a move toward Fran, steps another step to the side to fully cover the brunette but Alice simply walks forward until she is standing directly in front of Maren.
The Norwegian is objectively incredibly pretty, Alice thinks for the first time. She never took the time to notice how gentle her green eyes looked, widened in surprise at the English woman's close proximity. Never took the time to see how her hair fell smoothly down her shoulders, a gleaming brown, or how delicate her features were, even if they are painted in uncertainty right now.
All they had ever seen her was as someone who was bad for Fran, who had corrupted her. But standing in front of Alice is not someone who corrupts. Standing in front of Alice is clearly someone who loves, and who clearly has the capacity to love greatly if Fran’s speech is anything to go by.
So Alice does the only thing she can think of to try and begin mending this, stepping forward again just slightly, moving into Maren’s space and wrapping her arms around the defender.
Maren immediately, almost on instinct pushes back, trying to get out of the hug, but Alice holds firmly, if a little awkwardly with the way that Maren is trying to backpedal.
After a few seconds, the Norwegian stills, before she softens, leaning into the hug just slightly. She brings her hands up to meet behind Alice’s back, and rests her chin on the older woman's shoulder slowly, precisely. Alice just grips her tightly, determine to not let Maren go, and she realizes in this act that the Norwegian smells like vanilla, so similar to the scent that Denise used to wear that Alice nearly pulls back, but she manages to stop herself at the last moment, and instead pulls Maren even tighter into her for a moment before she finally releases her.
When she pulls back, Maren is looking at her with a tight smile and watery eyes. Alice looks over at Fran, who has wiped the tears from her face and is smiling hesitantly.
“Anyone that is a part of your family is a part of ours, Fran,” Harriet says from behind her with a quiet resolve, having stood in the time that her sister had come over to hug Maren. Her eyes are red rimmed and her face is soft, sadness written over her features.
“Including Maren,” Alice finishes, looking back at the Norwegian, who finally couldn’t hold back the tears she was holding in, as they stream down her face as she offers a small smile to the two aunts.
When Maren turns to hug Fran, she crushes the brunette to her, tucking her head into Fran’s hair to hide her tears.
“You did it, Fran,” she says quietly, and Fran shifts her head to press into Maren’s jaw, her eyes screwed shut tightly.
It’s not everything. There’s so much to be done, so much to be said. There’s going to be setbacks but there’s also great hope and progress, and Fran couldn’t ask for someone better to share it with then that person who is right here with her.
Every step of the way.
“Anything for you, Maren.”