“Well,” says Claire, breaking an uncomfortable silence. Kate bites her lip, because she did not mean for this to happen. She can feel the disgust in Claire’s voice, why is she so reckless, she won’t be able to see Aaron anymore, and then-
Claire takes her hand.
(it’s calloused, and rough, and the dark purple on her nails is chipping. claire’s hands feel soft in hers, she got some new lotion she won’t shut up about.)
“You alright?” asks Claire, and her voice is somewhere between gentle and flirty.
Flirty.
“Yeah,” says Kate, and blows a strand of hair out of her face, and thinks she should have straightened it this morning but she was feeling lazy, but that’s not relevant, “yeah, I, uh, didn’t know how you’d react.”
“It was great— you’re good at it. Kissing. Really, really, good,” and she stops and giggles— giggles— like a teenager. It’s hard to see Claire happy, a lot of the time, Claire laughing, Claire leaning in and kissing her again, oh God.
(she tastes like vanilla ice cream and her lips are chapped but it doesn’t matter, it feels so right, and is that—)
Claire breaks away, and tells Miles, who is right outside the room, laughing his ass off, to go fuck himself. Kate would call her out for language, because Aaron’s awake, but she, frankly, has some choice words for the kid too.
(he’ll never shut up about this.)