Admit It I
“You wanted to see me?” Clara leant on Ezri’s office doorway with a playful smirk.
Ezri smiled. “Indeed. Shut that.” She gestured at the door.
Clara did, curious.
“I wanted your thoughts on this,” Ezri said, and unlocked a desk drawer, pulled something out of it, held it out.
Clara examined it, though realized what it was fast enough she didn’t touch it, just looked. The gray byzantine chain was almost familiar. It would've been very familiar in black. The lock, keyhole facing the back, the side facing her bearing the network symbol and Lalia in a simple but pretty script, was new. “You don’t want my opinion on the collar,” Clara told her, with lethal gentleness. “You want my opinion on the fact you already have it.”
“Yes,” Ezri admitted.
Clara bit her lip. “It’s beautiful. She’ll love it.” She sighed. “She’s everything you’ve ever wanted, isn’t she?”
“Yes.” That was even more obvious but sounded even more like a confession.
“When did you get this?”
“It was on order six weeks ago.”
They had met eight weeks ago.
“Well,” said Clara, because it had to be said, “not like I can talk.”
“Married and collared at seven days.” Ezri closed the little box the collar was in, set it back in the drawer, locked it. Set the key in a different drawer.
“At least we admitted we already knew.” She didn’t take back the words but didn’t like the slightly wounded look. She tempered the sentence with a light kiss on the cheek. “I’m happy for you. Both of you.”
“Do you think… she’ll say yes?”
“Oh, fuck, come on. She’s already said yes. She’s told you yes a thousand times. Whether you like it or not—you already own her.” Quieter, “It’s in her eyes. She worships you.”
And, years ago, Ezri had known—well before the end of that week—Jen already owns you. Whatever Ezri’s paperwork or the county clerk’s office or FetLife said—she already owns you. It’s in your eyes. “Okay,” she relented now.
“Let yourself be happy, okay? You were always very good at no. Even to yourself. Maybe learn when to admit yes.” Wrapped her arms loosely around her neck, Ezri’s arms at her waist, the embrace casual and familiar. Ezri had told her no a thousand times even when they both wanted it, and in the end, maybe Clara should’ve listened, and in the end, maybe it didn’t matter.
“Okay.”