Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Allison walks into Bev's Saturday morning with a heavy sigh. Last night, she'd slept about half as much as she would've liked, and it wasn't even her fault, really. She had wanted to go home.

But.

Sam, ever vigilant when it comes to finding something to be talked to death, pulls her aside during a lull and asks her what is wrong.

Allison is having none of it. “You should know by now that you don't need to do that.” He had been particularly bad with it right after Kevin died. Probably for at least a year after. Eventually, though, she thought he got the picture. 

But maybe not. 

“I was being a concerned friend, so sue me,” he says in response to her dismissal.

She hops on a stool, like she's ready to chat. “Do you really want to know?”

“Well you looked tir—” at the beginning of Allison's glare, Sam changes course, “you seemed like maybe you were yawning, I saw—”

She laughs at him. “Don't sweat it. I look tired because I am tired. I was out on the stupidest date last night, and of course it had to last past midnight.”

“Where'd you go?”

“WooSox game. Extra innings.”

“You couldn't just leave?”

“This guy insisted he drive us and then he insisted that they were about to win . . . and about to win . . . and about to win.” Allison sighs again. “They lost.”

“I mean, sometimes a date going extra long isn't a bad thing . . .” Sam suggests, one eyebrow raised.

“This one, it was.”

“Well—”

“Just take my word for it. I'm pretty sure I'm done dating. I don't want another handsy guy drinking too much beer and tryin’ to feel me up during the seventh inning stretch.” Sam's face is priceless. “I don’t even like baseball that much.” The memory of that guy's sausage fingers creeping up over her shoulder makes her shudder.

Sam laughs uncomfortably and walks to the other end of the bar. “I guess maybe I shouldn't hear too many details.”

Allison turns on the stool to look over. “I think you can handle it now. It's been a couple years, yeah?” Sometimes Sam is so sensitive. She had never realized how much until they became friends. Actual friends. Sans any benefits.

Sam is wiping down the bar, not making eye contact, when she hops down, creeps around behind and approaches him without his noticing. As he turns to say something to where she was sitting, she says “boo” and he jumps back, banging his tailbone on the bar. “Allison!” he yelps. But there is no malice in his tone, only amusement.

“Don't tell me I still make you nervous?”

Sam chuckles. “Honestly? What makes me nervous is the thought of Patty asking me how your date went and me not being able to say I have no clue.” He turns back to wiping down the next section of counter.

Allison furrows her brow. Patty? “Does she usually ask you?”

Sam avoids direct eye contact.

“I always tell her how my dates go,” Allison squints at Sam. Her eyes are irritated and a little watery. Her allergies have been acting up after the five straight hours outside last night. “Why should she have to ask you?”

“Exactly,” Sam says. “She doesn't.” He tosses the rag in the bin to wash. “Which is why I'd rather not know anything.”

Allison frowns, but just then a group of people, about fifteen, including a handful of elementary schoolers in baseball uniforms, walk through the door. “Okay, I got this,” Allison says, storing the odd conversation away for later.

“Don't tell them how you feel about baseball,” Sam calls.

Allison rolls her eyes.

—

Allison gets off around three and heads over to the salon to see if Patty can fit in a trim before the end of the day. She meant to ask this morning, but she slept in too late and had to run out the door to make her shift. 

When she arrives, Patty is sitting, swivelling in the chair. When she turns and sees Allison, she jumps a little.

“Didn't hear the door?” Allison asks, pointing back behind her.

“Is someone there?” Patty asks.

“No, I meant me,” Allison offers with a shrug.

“Oh. Oh yeah, I'm out of it,” Patty says, shaking her head a little. “Busy morning, slow afternoon.” She hops down off the chair. “Missed you this morning.” There's a definite side eye accompanying this statement.

“What?” Allison can't help but get defensive. So what if I slept in?

“Oh, nothin’,” Patty says, but in a voice that implies something, and Allison can't figure out what.

“You have time to do a wash?” Allison loves to say that, even when she has no intention of Patty actually washing her hair. 

“Like Barb gets?” Patty says with a smile.

“Yeah,” Allison nods, and Patty agrees with a little smirk. Still amused after all this time.

“Seriously, though, you want something special done?” Patty says it like there's some hidden secret. “Here, I've got time, I'll do the actual wash.”

“Special?” Allison asks.

Patty shrugs. “I noticed you were out late,” she says. “Maybe you wanna—”

“Oh, god, no!” Allison realizes what she's implying. “Not for him! No.” Maybe the emphasis is not wholly necessary, but she can't have Patty thinking there’s something there when there most definitely is not.

Patty smirks again. “Okay then. Come on back,” she has Allison lean her head back into the sink, setting up the towel to cradle her neck. “What do you want me to do?” she asks as she turns the water on. 

“Oh, I—” But Allison is distracted by the warm water running over her head, Patty's able hands weaving through her hair. She doesn't know what oxys are like, but an actual wash from Patty might be the next best thing. “I was just thinking I had some split ends to take care of.

“Got it. No highlights?”

Allison, who has stuck to brown since she returned and her actual roots grew out, shakes her head. “Gonna keep it simple.” 

Patty mumbles under her breath, but the feeling of Patty's fingers kneading the shampoo against her scalp is enough for Allison to ignore it. If she felt so strongly, she would have said something, right?

Allison lets Patty slather on the conditioner next, and voices her thoughts aloud. “You can feel free to wash my hair any time you want,” she says, eyes closed in bliss. “I don't use you as a resource nearly enough.”

Patty is silent for a while, working her fingers through the tangles, and Allison lets out a deep breath, almost a sigh. There was a baseball tournament near Bev’s, as it turned out, so the groups of little kids wearing muddy cleats were tromping through all morning and all afternoon, little ketchup piles and half-eaten chicken fingers lying in their wake. It was chaos, off and on. It is nice to be off her feet now. Pampered. 

Though Patty is still working.

“Hey,” Allison says, “you don’t have to do this now if you don’t want to.” Patty starts the water but then turns it off for a second.

“What do you mean?” Allison looks up as Patty looks down at her.

“Oh, I was just thinking how nice this was at the end of a long shift, and all, but then I thought, you know, you’re still on your long shift. Maybe you’d rather sit. Rather not give a free wash to your neighbor.” Allison shrugs, to the best of her ability with her neck lying in the cut out of the sink. But even upside-down, she can tell Patty is looking at her like she’s crazy. Like she always does.

“Who says it’s free?” Patty asks.

“Oh, well, I—I can pay, yeah, I—”

And Patty laughs, a kind of low chuckle. Like she always does.

“Hey.” Allison gets serious for a second. “Obviously, I can pay. I—but maybe you just wanted to take a break at the end of the day and here I am making you do more work.”

Patty looks down at her, her smile enigmatic, and suddenly hot water is coursing through her hair as Patty washes out the conditioner.

Allison just closes her eyes and lets her work her magic. 

As Patty towels her hair off, she takes Allison’s hand lightly and pulls her away from the sink. The sudden altitude change makes her dizzy for a second and she falls forward, almost knocking Patty over, but Patty’s arms hold her steady at the waist. 

“You okay?” Patty asks, hands still holding firm.

“Always catching me,” Allison says with a laugh. She looks down, but she doesn’t move. Patty’s hands slowly move away from her side, and she feels a little off balance again. When she tries to walk she pitches forward unnaturally.

Patty’s hands shoot back out to steady her, this time by the shoulders. She gives Allison’s shoulder a squeeze. “You need to get more sleep, maybe,” Patty says. “Come on.” Patty keeps a hand at her shoulder as she leads her to the salon chair and lowers it so she can sit.

Allison sits down with a sigh. “I—yes, I do need more sleep. Damn WooSox game was fourteen fucking innings. Fourteen. And Carl refused to leave. By the time we got to our car and got out of the parking lot, I didn’t get back until like one thirty.”

“Oh,” Patty says, quiet for a second, leaving Allison sitting there. And then she unfreezes and continues, pushing the pedal to get Allison up at her level, grabbing the cape to throw around her shoulders. 

And then Allison looks at Patty through the big mirror, and she realizes something. “Did you think I stayed over at Carl's?” she asks. 

“What?” Patty looks at her, eyes a little scared like she has been called out at something.

“Did you think that’s why I didn’t see you this morning? Did you think Carl took me home with him?”

Patty schools her features but a slight frown remains. “I didn't think about it at all,” she says, adjusting the cape and taking what seems to be an extra long time fastening it at the nape of Allison's neck. Patty's fingers tickle and Allison has an involuntary shiver causing her to recoil a little. 

“Oh, sorry,” Patty says, jumping away herself. 

“Oh, it just, like, tickled,” Allison says, wondering what the hell is up with Patty today. She seems a little off. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Of course. Why?” Patty seems a little annoyed at the insinuation that she'd be anything other than fine.

“Oh, I dunno. Everyone seems a little off. It's probably me. I was telling Sam this morning about Carl getting all handsy and he's all ‘don't give me details, Patty'll wonder why you didn't tell her that,’” Allison laughs. “And it was just the most absurd—” 

When Patty says nothing, Allison looks up and sees that Patty's frown has deepened. What did I say?

“Maybe Sam should keep his mouth shut,” Patty mumbles to herself. Or at least that's what Allison hears. Was she supposed to hear?

“I told him he has nothing to worry about, I mean, I can't imagine you going to Sam to get details about some stupid date when you could just ask me directly.” Allison laughs again at the absurdity of it.

“Yeah,” Patty says, but she's not laughing, and now she's concentrating on combing some tangles out of Allison's hair with a focus that far exceeds necessity.

“Tough one?” Allison asks with a smile.

Patty looks up. “I don't see why Sam feels the need to tell you everything we talk about. Sometimes conversations are supposed to be kept private.”

Allison lets out a short, awkward, laugh. “I meant the knot you're trying to get out of my hair.” Patty has gone back to combing, and is stuck again, desperately trying to get through it. “What the hell do you talk about that's so top secret that I can't know?”

“Nothing,” Patty says, moving on to another section of hair, then parting it and flipping a layer over and clipping it in place.

“Have you been on dates I haven’t heard about?” Allison says, trying to lighten the mood. She knows perfectly well that Patty hasn't. Right?

“No,” Patty says, a little too forcefully for someone who needs to cut straight.

Allison finds Patty's vehemence a little strange, but tries to ignore it. “I get it though. I think I'm about to be done with dating. Diane keeps setting me up with these guys she meets god knows where, probably at the liquor store, and I don't think I can do it anymore. Next time I'm just gonna refuse.”

“Hmph,” Patty says, ignoring the second part of Allison's statement. “I never said I was done.”

Allison reddens. “Oh, I didn't mean—”

“I just—don't meet anyone.” Allison is about to interject, when Patty adds. “And it's not that I care.”

Allison isn't sure what to say. “You know maybe I could ask around.” She swallows. “Do you—” she wants to make sure Patty is only interested in women when Patty interrupts, annoyance in her voice.

“Oh, god. Please no.”

“What? Why not?”

“I just—you setting me up?” Patty shudders.

Allison is a little offended. “I know I don't have the best track record. I just meant, like, maybe the folks at the diner know someone, or something. Lord knows I don't know anyone anymore.”

Patty seems to recover. “Did you ever?”

Allison rolls her eyes. “Well, you know, I worked with that lawyer back in the day—”

“The old married dude?”

“No! The associate. Renée.”

“Oh.”

“She dated . . . women.” It's the best way Allison can think of broaching that subject.

“I—” Patty starts, her face possibly turning red. Allison can't quite tell.

“But I don't even know if she still lives around here. She probably wouldn't remember me.” Allison laughs. “I'm useless to you.”

Patty snorts. “Thank god.” 

“I don't really see how me setting you up with someone would be so terrible. I promise if I find someone for you—I'll meet her first. Before I make you go on a date.”

Patty closes her scissors rather dramatically, and Allison flinches. “So now this is definitely happening? Jesus, I thought you said you were useless?” She snips again, more calmly this time. Well, she didn't contradict me when I mentioned a woman, Allison is thinking. 

“Well, no promises. I really don't know anyone anymore.”

“Maybe you can promise not to do it at all,” Patty mumbles.

But Allison knows by now that Patty acts reluctant sometimes to do things she actually wants to do. And this will get Allison's mind off of her own failures. She has every intention of avoiding all dates in the future.

New goal: no more dates until she finds someone for Patty.

After that, she'll probably need something to do on her evenings off.

—

The next day at the diner, Allison is all nervous anticipation. It's stupid, she knows, but she has a purpose, and she really wants to see if she can find a date for Patty. She knows she can. 

But who should she ask first?

Sam is the only one their age—everyone else is older or younger, so he's probably the best bet. 

Maybe Jennnnnn had a friend, or—

Not that Sam really wants to get in touch with Jenn's old friends . . . 

Anyway, she’ll ask him. She feels least awkward asking him. 

Sam stops her during a break in the rush and gives her another of his signature looks.

“What's with the smirk all day?” he asks.

“Oh, so I'm not allowed to be happy? First it's ‘why are you tired?’, then it's ‘why are you smiling?’”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Smirking. And it's definitely different. But please, don't tell me you and Handsy McGee made up?”

Allison shudders. “Jesus, no. But. Hear me out—I have a great idea, and I want you to help with it.”

Sam's face falls. “What is it?”

“Come on, Sam. Don't make that face at me—that what-is-she-up-to-now? face.”

“Your last great idea was to fake your own death. Before that, it was to get Patty's girlfriend fired, and before that—”

“Okay, okay, stop right there. First of all, that was years ago.”

“Barely multiple years.”

“And second of all, this is a good good idea.” She pauses. “Though not entirely unrelated.” It does have to do with Patty's girlfriend.

“What? Allison—no. I can tell you already—no.”

“Oh come on, Sam. Here's the thing. I'm so sick of being set up on dates—I'm gonna find—” she pauses for effect, “—a date for Patty, instead.” She makes eye contact and nods at him, trying to persuade him to see the vision with her.

Instead, Sam lets out a laugh of complete scorn. It sounds as abrupt and as painful as if he just let a small rodent escape from his throat.

“Jesus, Sam, what was that? It's a good idea! A nice one! A helpful one.”

Sam raises his eyebrows. “Does Patty know you plan to do this?”

“Sure.” Absolutely she does.

“And . . . ?”

“She was reluctant, but you know Patty, she's always a little reluctant to go out anywhere.”

“Allison . . . did Patty specifically tell you not to?”

“Not in so many words!”

Sam sighs. “Maybe if she tells you she doesn't want you to do this, you shouldn't do it?”

Sam has on his serious face. “Come on, Sam. She hasn't been out on a date since she broke up with Tammy. And I understand she needed time to get over that, but that was her first, well, woman, right? Doesn't she need to see who else is out there? There are more fish in the sea!” Allison thinks about that phrase and wrinkles her nose, wishing she could re-word.

Sam grimaces. “Do you ever think maybe she has her reasons?”

“Like you think—does she still—Is it Tammy?” Allison hasn't considered that. 

Sam's head tilts in disappointment, as if Allison should know better.

She throws her hands up in frustration. “I don't know! I certainly haven't seen her pining over Tammy, but maybe she doesn't tell me everything. Maybe you and your little ‘secret conversations’—maybe that's where it all comes out.”

Sam's eyes widen and he looks away. What was that?

“Sam . . . ?”

He turns around, face a mask once again. “What?”

“Do you know something I don't?”

Sam says nothing.

“Does she still have feelings for Tammy?”

“Allison.”

“I need to know! I've been so excited, thinking maybe you might know someone, and—”

Sam smiles, but his eyes are skeptical still. “Don't you think if I knew the perfect person for Patty, I'd have already let her know? During one of those”—Sam breaks out the air quotes—“‘secret conversations?’”

“I don't know, Sam. Maybe you already did? Maybe in one of your little convos you told her about the love of her goddamn life!” Allison's voice gets loud enough that the couple at the booth in the front looks over. She gives them an apologetic wave and turns back to Sam.

He is looking at her, deep concern in his eyes. “Allison, don't do this to Patty.”

He is really worried about this. Why? “'To Patty?’ What do you mean? You make it sound like torture. I want to do it for Patty.”

“Well, maybe it is torture. For her.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Allison frowns. “Is it Tammy?” Allison has been living under a rock if Patty still has feelings for Tammy. Just the other day she was making jokes about her. There was no longing.

“It's not Tammy.”

“Then what is it?”

Sam looks torn. He sighs audibly. His lips are pursed. “You have to know by now, right?” Sam says, like he's trying to convince himself.

“I don't!” Allison can safely say she has no idea what Sam is going on about.

“Or at least you should . . .” Sam isn't even looking at her anymore, it's like he's at war with himself. He's practically pacing. 

As he turns back, she sees his face. The worry lines at his brow are . . . worrying. “What is it? Is she dying or something?”

“Jesus, Allison.” 

He didn't say no! “Is she?” The pit of Allison's stomach is sinking. This can't be happening.

“No, Allison, Patty's not dying.” A wave of relief passes over her as she recovers from the feeling of dread. Sam continues, his posture that of a man who has given up the fight. “It's just that she's already in love with you.”

As the sentence reaches her brain for processing, the room gets slightly hazy. Are the lights dimming? And then the floor drops out. 

Chapter Text

Patty is ready to smack Allison's hand away if she does that one more time. “Stop it,” she says, turning towards the mirror and considering.

Allison's long fingers are fussing at her collar again. “It's just that it's not straight,” she says, her eyes focused intently at Patty’s decolletage.

“I'm gonna think you aren't either if you keep sticking your hands down my blouse.”

Patty is gratified to see that she has made Allison blush. Point for me. She smiles.

But it doesn't make Allison stop fussing. She is now fingering the pendant at the end of Patty's necklace. “I've never seen this before,” she says, as the color in her face returns to normal. “Have I?”

“Tammy gave it to me.”

Allison steps back. “Really?”

“Yeah, sometime when you were gone. Six month anniversary or whatever. Never really had a chance to wear it.”

Allison smiles. “Well, if nothing else, this will be a chance for you to get out.”

“I get out,” Patty says, a little offended at the implication. 

“Somewhere nice, somewhere a little fancy.” Allison does a little flounce as she says this, the image contrasting with the baggy sweatpants and tank top she's wearing to help Patty get ready. Seeing Patty looking at her, she curls her posture up a little, shying away. “Yeah, well, I'm not exactly dressed to go out.”

Patty laughs. “You mean you didn't plan to join us and keep score?” 

Allison's face really reddens this time, resembling one of her bright pink cardigans. That's two points for me. “Of course not!” Allison says, as though Patty could have seriously thought she would. 

Patty chuckles. “Calm down, Barbie. You look fine and I'm not afraid you're gonna tag along on my blind date.” 

Allison straightens her posture after hearing fine and starts looking at Patty, tilting her head this way and that. “It's not about me, anyway. And you—you look good.” The way she says it is different than the way she noticed her outfit the day of the date-not-interrogation with Tammy. Patty is no longer afraid she's being insincere. She's no longer cringing inside at Allison's every compliment.

“Thank you,” Patty says, deciding the sincerity can be returned. As Allison steps back, Patty asks a question. “So who is this woman I'm meeting?”

“Someone Sam knows,” Allison says, busying herself with some unseen piece of lint on Patty's sleeve.

“And how come he hasn’t told me about her himself?”

Allison shrugs. “Didn't know you were looking.”

“I'm not.”

Allison looks her in the eye. “Not even to possibly find the love of—” but she stops herself mid-sentence.

Patty laughs. “I'm not holding you to that high a standard. I hope I can just get through it without any permanent damage.”

“Holding me to—?” Allison asks, suddenly nervous.

“You vetted her, right? You promised you would.”

“Oh! Yeah, yeah. Of course. I think you'll like her.”

Patty scoffs. “How do you know? I don't like anyone.” 

Allison looks at her slyly. “I know your type.”

Patty just hopes Allison doesn't think Tammy is her type. Well, personality-wise. She wasn't all bad. Though the experience was definitely made worse by being investigated for a number of crimes . . . “I guess it's too late to withdraw my agreement, huh?”

“Yep!” Allison says, patting her shoulder. “You are absolutely ready to go. Fucking gorgeous.” She stands there, admiration plain on her face, and Patty has to look away. Two to one.

“Hey,” Allison says, turning Patty's face back towards her, the look in her eyes utterly guileless. It's disconcerting, to say the least. “I'm happy I can do this for you,” she says, “after everything you've done for me.”

Like what? Patty thinks to herself. Sure, there were times it seemed like she was running around trying to please Allison at every turn. And then Allison . . . 

Patty can't even think about it without that pressure building behind her eyes. And everything since then—Allison isn’t the same person she used to be.

Even if she has insisted that Patty go on this stupid blind date. Patty feels like she owes it to her. Whatever makes her happy . . . 

“So what should I know about her?” Patty asks, starting to wonder what type of person Allison would pick for her.

“You know what? I don't want to give you any preconceived notions.”

Patty scoffs again. “Is she at least hot?” 

For some reason, this makes Allison blush, though Patty isn't sure she deserves a point for that one. “I—I guess—maybe.”

“It's fine, Barbie, you don't have to judge the attractiveness of women for me, I'll be glad to do it my—”

“That's not—” Allison starts, “that's not why—”

“You're fine, honey,” Patty says. She almost wants to give Allison a pat on the head. There is something so golden retriever-like about her earnestness.

“Oh, okay. Well, hopefully you think so.”

“I'll be generous,” Patty says with a laugh. And Allison just nods, her mouth slightly open like she just forgot to close it. 

Yep, Patty thinks. Definitely a golden retriever.

—

Patty sits alone at the table and looks around. Great first impression, she thinks. Although there's always a chance Allison got her here twenty minutes early just to “be sure.”

It's stupid, really, how nervous she is. She's been so preoccupied with annoyance at Allison's interference in her personal life, that she has forgotten to worry about what this woman will be like. Whether she will like her. 

How she'll measure up to Patty's bar. 

Because she hates to admit it, but if dating someone doesn't beat staying home watching a movie with Allison, there is just no point. 

And that's a high bar. 

Impossibly high, probably. 

But Patty hasn't learned yet to resent it. She's too busy being happy. 

Most of the time. 

There are moments, like when she thought a couple weeks ago that Allison spent the night at that dickwad’s place. During those moments it might be better to have someone else to think about. 

But, all told, Allison hasn't seemed to like anyone very much. And there were some decent ones, Patty thought at the time. Where she thought maybe Allison might bite. 

But she never has.

Maybe she has a high bar, too. 

Whatever the case, Patty's current date is starting several points in the hole, for leaving her here alone. To wait. And wonder.

Alone with her thoughts.

About what she wants in life. 

Yep, this one definitely has some catching up to do for leaving her sitting like this. 

A sound at the front of the restaurant has Patty looking over.  

And she does a double take.

It's Allison.

Who looks like she just ran a few miles. 

. . . in a dress?

The reasons she might be here are rapidly filtering through Patty's mind, but she can't settle on one. She has to wait until Allison spots her at her table and scurries over, an apologetic look on her face. 

“What is it?” Patty asks. 

“I'm so sorry—” she is a little out of breath, “I'm— your date had to cancel last minute.”

Patty rolls her eyes. Well, there goes that, then. A lot of worry for nothing.

“Don't be mad, though. She was so apologetic. She wants to reschedule.”

Patty looks at Allison skeptically. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Whatever.”

Allison sits down and grabs Patty's hand. “We'll figure it out.”

Patty thinks it's way more likely that her date chickened out—especially if Allison was as mysterious about Patty as she was about her. But she won't ruin Allison's dreams. She looks at Allison, who has grabbed the water glass opposite Patty and is chugging. “Did you run here?”

“Yeah, practically. I didn't want you to be waiting too long.”

“You could have called?”

“Phone died.”

“But you heard from my date?”

“Yeah it just shut off right after I hung up on her. Fucked up timing.”

Patty still finds the swear words a little jarring coming from Allison's lips. But it makes her smile. A bit of her own influence, she likes to think. 

“Why are you in a dress?”

“So, here's the thing—” Allison begins, unwrapping the silverware in front of her and placing the napkin on her lap. “I was at home, I had just dropped you off, and I got the call. Well, I thought it would suck to just have you sitting here and you don't even get to have dinner. The food here is so good. So I threw this on before I left.”

A wrap dress. 

One Patty hasn't seen before.

Patty considers the story. It seems just as likely that this woman cancelled days ago and this is an elaborate ruse perpetrated by Allison so as not to make Patty feel bad.

Which—she guesses is okay.

Allison loves a planning phase.

Patty decides not to say anything.

“So you'll be staying instead?” Patty asks.

“If you'll have me?” Allison says, her voice forming a question, as though the answer isn't pre-ordained.

“Sure,” Patty says. But it isn't until Patty smiles that Allison looks like she's made up her mind. Her mouth turns up in that silly little lopsided grin, and Patty's heart melts.

It's absolutely sickening.

—

“So how's this compare to all those dates you've been on?” Patty asks, after the appetizers have come out (they skipped the salads), and their wine glasses are almost empty for the first time.

Allison looks a little embarrassed, and Patty considers whether to award herself another point, although, in Allison's defense, she deserves at least three points for rescuing Patty, whatever the reason.

“I'm serious. You never seem to have a good time. What are they doing wrong and how am I doing it right?” Patty is feeling a bit reckless. It's probably the wine. But she knows she looks good, she's at dinner with a pretty girl and yet she's perfectly relaxed and in control. It's just Allison. What's not to be confident about? 

Allison, still looking a little sheepish, shrugs. “I never have a bad time with you,” she says. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Patty says, waving Allison's comment away. “But what's wrong with them?” Patty asks, a wicked smile on her lips. 

Allison smiles in turn. “Well. You haven't tried to feel me up over my shirt once,” Allison says. Patty tries not to choke on her garlic bread. Okay, another point for her.

Recovering, Patty takes a sip of water. “Like you were trying to do when I was gettin’ ready?”

There it is. Allison, another blush gracing her cheeks, looks like she knows she deserved that. Her face turns serious. “Honestly, though? Sometimes I think I just don't want to like them.”

Patty looks at her. There is no smile, it is no joke, no bit of irony. Patty wouldn't have expected that Allison could come up with that on her own, could be that introspective. It's more like something Patty would wonder about— has wondered about—ever since that first set up that first time. Patty doesn't say anything, she just shrugs slightly. 

“They'd better be fucking fantastic to mess up what I already have.”

It's exactly what Patty was just thinking. She shivers a little bit with the realization that they're on the same page.

“No one that great yet?” Patty asks, confident in the answer.

“No one even comes close to, well, Sam, even.”

Patty admits she wasn't expecting that. “Is that . . . a possibility?” she asks. She has never thought Sam really deserved Allison. Not after that comment when she was gone. Not even after a couple of pleasant, uneventful years. 

He has been a good friend, though. To both of them.

But Allison shakes her head. “Our time has passed,” she says, again sounding somehow wise beyond her usual self. 

Maybe Patty should cool it on the wine.

As that thought pops into her mind, the waiter comes around and fills them up from the bottle at the table. Oh well.

“All you two had were a few beautiful weeks as you plotted to do away with your husband?” Patty isn't sure how that will hit, but Allison lets out a peal of laughter, delighted by the absurdity. 

“I'll cherish it forever,” she says. “All the moments until he told me I was broken.”

Patty's laughter stops dead in its tracks. She doesn't even have to form the question and Allison nods yes.

“It was Sam,” Patty says.

“It was Sam,” Allison confirms. “Hard to come back from that.”

Patty turns down her mouth, trying to remember what things she has said to Allison over the years. “Haven't I ever said anything worse than that? Can't you forgive him?”

Allison laughs, a small laugh, like she's remembering something. “It's not a matter of forgiveness. I've long forgiven him for that—I  just—”

Patty waits for her to continue.

“I guess the truth is, I just don't want to be with Sam, either.” Her breath comes out through her nose like another small laugh. “And that's enough for me.”

Patty nods. It's enough for her, too. It means everything will stay the way it is—for the time-being.

Barring any rain checks from her mystery date.

“So what about you?” Allison asks, smiling.

“Me?” Patty doesn't find this subject nearly as fun. 

“I used to wonder sometimes if you were still pining for Tammy, that you didn’t ever seem to be interested in dating.” The look on Allison's face as she says this is that of a person who doesn't believe a word she's saying. That's a relief. 

“Right,” Patty says. 

“Then why?” Allison asks, her eyes boring into Patty's like she knows. Though she can't, or she wouldn't be here. On a date, effectively. A date Patty is starting to feel like she tricked Allison into, she's enjoying herself so much, talking so freely. Probably too freely. 

“The same reason you never go on a second date,” Patty says, “I know I have it good right where I am.”

“But it doesn't bother you that—?”

“That what?”

“Well, you know . . .” Patty thinks she understands what Allison is getting at as she tilts her head slightly, with emphasis. What she doesn't want to spell out.

“I spent most of my life dating men. I know how to live without,” she says with as lighthearted a smile as she can muster.

Allison laughs, although the face she makes afterwards is apologetic, like she wishes she hadn't.

“Does it bother you?” Patty asks, in turn, curious about the answer.

A smirk forms on Allison's face. “I spent most of my adult life with Kevin,” she pauses for effect, “I'm thankful to do without.”

Patty nearly snorts. And Allison looks so genuinely pleased that she made Patty laugh so hard. Patty knows she doesn't always make it easy. 

Patty, still feeling bold, keeps going, “I mean, as far as not dating, there's also the other thing.”

“What other thing?” Allison asks, her eyes concerned. 

“I said we could die alone together.”

After a beat, Allison's eyes light up, like she didn't think Patty would remember that, and Patty continues. “And you were in a vulnerable place right then,” she adds, a smile on her face to keep the mood light. 

“I was in a vulnerable place?”

“Your husband just died, your house burned down, you were afraid you'd get arrested for committing identity fraud…” Patty is smiling as she lists these things. But she knows it was real. 

But Allison is having none of it. “You were sitting alone on the steps of a burnt down house, no brother, no girlfriend, looking like somebody just died." Allison's face morphs, realizing someone had died. "Someone important, anyway.” She scoffs.

But Patty bites her lip, the lightness gone. “I wasn't sure she hadn't.”

Her words silence Allison for a moment. It's clear she never thought about it. Nor was she obligated to. She couldn't know. She had her own shit.

But after a minute, Allison says, as if to even the score. “I don't think I've ever been so happy to see someone in my entire life.”

And there isn't much Patty can say to that. At least while keeping her emotions in check. So she reaches for her wine glass and tips it towards Allison, who grabs hers to make the small clink of a toast. As Patty drinks up, the waiter brings their dinner. And they eat. 

—

What do you talk about over dinner when you've said everything you've ever wanted to say by the time they take away the appetizers? 

Patty wonders, but somehow they find something to say, something to joke about, a way to pass the time. They always have. Patty assumes they always will. Signing up for the rest of her life, sitting right here across from this woman, it seems okay. What more does she need?

After dinner, they order dessert and a couple of coffees with amaretto, because why the hell not? A little treat, a little splurge. Patty is absolutely certain that no make-up date is going to happen. She’ll simply refuse if it ever comes up again.

She knew what she wanted before this, and she sure as hell knows now.

Meanwhile, Allison sits across from her, spooning gelato into her mouth a little bit at a time apparently lost in thought. Patty watches Allison's lips hit the spoon with a connoisseur's appreciation. They may have nothing to do with her, but she can observe them. Watch her mouth savor the sweetness.

And when those lips curl up into a smile because of something Patty says . . . that's more heavenly than even the panna cotta sitting on the table in front of her.

—

As they stumble on the ramp heading out to the parking lot, laughing about their lack of coordination, Patty realizes that Allison has every intention of walking home. 

“You didn't drive?” Patty hadn't thought to question that earlier. 

“Well I can't drive now, anyway.” Allison is right. They were drinking the whole time.

“So you planned to stay and get shit-faced with me?”

Allison rolls her eyes. “I'm not shit-faced. Just imbued with liquid courage. Besides, I knew it was supposed to be a nice night.” 

“Sure,” Patty says. Liquid courage for what? she asks herself. But she guesses it's just a figure of speech.

They aren't two blocks into their walk before Allison is shivering, grabbing Patty's arm and weaving her own through it, so they are walking arm-in-arm down the sidewalk.

“Really?” Patty says, though she makes no move to extract Allison from the hold she has on Patty's bicep.

“I'm cold, I'm wearing the wrong shoes for this—”

“Did you run all the way in those shoes earlier? Is that why you looked like you came from the gym—?”

Allison is suddenly self conscious and adjusts her hair, which is up, and which has calmed considerably. Patty makes use of their posture to pull her along.

“Oh, don't be vain, I'm grateful.”

“Oh?”

“I might have left otherwise. If you hadn't arrived so . . . swiftly.”

Allison smiles.

“Good riddance Ms. No-name.”

“Hah!” Allison sounds amused that Patty has no interest in her would-be blind date. Maybe she just knows Patty never was interested. Maybe it's a load of pressure off her, too. 

“You're not gonna fight me on this?” Patty says as they continue to walk.

“I don't feel like fighting at all,” Allison says, and she leans her head down on Patty's shoulder, practically hanging off of her as they walk.

If Patty were on a real date, it couldn't get much better. The butterflies in her stomach won't let her alone. But she relishes it, every delicious step home. She only wishes the walk were longer, because, before long, they are hovering at her front door.

There is a tension, as Patty gets her keys out, that she finds hard to explain. It wasn't there at dinner. 

Allison has withdrawn her arm and is standing there, looking at Patty. Concentrating on the lock, Patty doesn't know if it's an expectant look.

But it feels expectant.

Expectant of what?

A flashback of her first date with Tammy flits through her mind. Of Tammy calling her out for being shitty after Allison stopped by.

Is this a date?

Patty can imagine Allison is standing there asking the same question.

Is this a date?

And Patty giving the same bullshit answer.

It's not a real date.

Patty's key opens the door and she turns the knob, going inside. 

But Allison is still standing in the doorway.

“You gonna come in for a while?” Patty asks, as casually as she can. But she doesn't feel casual.

“I . . . yeah,” Allison says, hopping over the threshold and lingering nearby as Patty shuts the door. Patty slips her boots off and Allison stands there, her shoes still on, now at a clear height advantage. 

She looks like she's trying to make up her mind.

Make up her mind about what?

“Do you need to be somewhere?”

“No,” Allison says, her eyes all confusion. “Why?”

“You look like you're about to—” But before she can finish, Allison has stepped forward, has brought her hands up on either side of Patty's face, and Patty can see, almost like it's slow-motion, her lips are approaching.

She's not gonna . . .

But she is.

Allison's lips are on hers, and it wasn't even that Patty had no warning, it was that she was frozen, watching in horror . . .

Horror?

Allison's lips are on hers, and that feeling of butterflies is tripled, yet Patty's afraid to react, and when Allison pulls away, she knows her eyes are wide and staring, incredulous, in astonishment.

She hardly had time to enjoy it.

Patty starts to move forward again, and, all at once, it dawns on her. The nameless date, the cancellation, Allison in full makeup wearing a dress Patty has never seen before . . . 

“What are you doing?” Patty asks, trying not to make it sound too harsh. There is a part of her that wants it not to be a trick.

Most of her.

“I—was that okay?” Allison's eyes are intent, and she reaches her hand out to grab Patty's forearm—she never can help herself.

Patty swallows. She needs to know. “Did Sam put you up to this?” It is the most obvious answer. He's the one who knows.

“No!” Allison looks incredibly offended.

Patty nods. Okay, it was all Allison, then. “But there was never any date.” She says it like she's sure.

Allison's pause is too long.

Oh well.

“It was me.”

Patty makes a dismissive noise. “Yeah, I mean, you just said it wasn't Sam's idea.”

“No, um, I mean—” Allison clears her throat. “The date was me.”

Allison set me up on a date . . . with Allison.

“Allison.” Patty wonders how many times she's said that name with just that inflection. The implied what are you thinking?

Allison knows by now what Patty is asking. “I—I just thought—I go on all these dates, and I don't feel anything, I mean— nothing makes me feel better than curling up on the couch with you—I just thought—someone should be getting what they want here.”

“I'm assuming that someone is me?” Oh lord. 

“What?” Allison wasn't even really listening to herself, apparently.

“You think this is what I want?”

Allison looks down, her foot squirming in her impractical shoe. She looks up again, but barely. “Isn't it?”

Sam, Patty thinks. It has to have been Sam. “Is that what Sam told you?”

“I—” Allison looks away. She's a terrible liar.

“Did he?”

“Well, he sorta—but I . . . I've been paying more attention . . . and I thought, you know, he could be right?”

“So you think I'm in love with you?” Patty would love to crawl into a hole and die. Or at least into her bed and hide under the covers until morning—until Allison forgets. 

“Or like me, at least?” Allison ventures.

“Thanks, Allison.” Patty says. She's not sure what else to do right now. She's not mad.

She's just disappointed.

But she can't figure out who she's more disappointed in—Allison for creating the farce, or herself for believing it.

“What?” Allison has the most pathetic expression.

Patty sighs. “Thanks a lot.” She turns and heads into her bedroom and shuts the door. 

Allison will get the hint.

Chapter Text

Allison wanders into Bev's the next afternoon, having slept and wallowed, in turn, for most of the morning.

She had wanted to go see Patty this morning.

She was afraid to go see Patty this morning.

She knows exactly when Patty left to catch the bus for work, because she watched from the upstairs window until she could see her reach the sidewalk and turn to head down the street. Allison felt empty, watching it. 

This was quite possibly the worst idea she has ever had.

But—it wasn’t.

Until it was.

The whole evening was . . .

. . . perfect?

If not perfect, it was exactly what Allison wanted. What she needed.

But then . . .

Then she had ruined it.

Sam sees her and immediately frowns. 

He has a horrible poker face.

“What happened to you?”

“Nothing,” Allison says. She doesn't exactly want to tell him what she did.

“How did Patty's date go?”

Allison's eyes widen. “How—?”

“She told me about it last week. I just asked her whether you were still pestering her with—”

“Pestering?”

“I told you what I thought.” Sam's stern face lightens a little. “So, who did you end up finding for her?”

“Well, um. You told me what you told me—”

Sam looks at her, already skeptical.

“So I set her up with someone I knew . . . she'd . . . like.”

Sam's eyes narrow, and the recognition slowly comes to his features. “You didn't.”

There's no sense in hiding it. He will know eventually. She nods, slowly, once.  “I . . . did.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” Sam's response is harsher than she expected.

“I thought . . . I know I could do a lot worse. I—I kinda liked it—I—” she feels the urge to babble. But she doesn't know how to explain.

“You can't just mess with people's feelings like that, Allison. It's one thing when you did it to m—” Sam stops abruptly.

Allison can feel her face get hot. “Well, you told me . . . what you told me . . .and I couldn't stop thinking about it, all right? And maybe I'd do anything to make her happy, and if that's . . .”

“Pretending you want to be with her—” Sam scoffs.

“I do want to be with her. I love her.”

“You know what I mean.”

“It's more than a lot of people can say, all right?” It all makes sense to Allison. Why can't anyone else see it?

“You can't just fake your way through a relationship with your best friend. You can't just fake attraction—for the rest of your life, Allison. Because it would have to be. For the rest of it. Or you'll lose her.” Sam turns away. “If you haven't already,” he mumbles.

“Well, but what if I did? You know, find her attrac—  If I found myself wanting to—” Allison is embarrassed to say what she's been thinking. It's all she's been thinking. “Would no one believe me?”

She has never seen Sam so taken aback. “Do you?”

“I don't know! I kissed her and . . . I didn't hate it. Being there, with her, like we were together . . . .I had . . . I had butterflies.”

“Maybe because you knew you were,” Sam's voice gets lower for a second, “fucking around with your best friend's life,” he shakes his head. “And you felt guilty.”

“But I—” That is not what she was feeling last night. She knows that much. “That's not it at all.”

“Only you know how much you screwed up, okay? I don't know what you were thinking, where you were coming from. You just—better not blame it on me.”

Allison will not tell him that she did blame him. A little. She can save that for another time. “Should I . . . apologize?”

“You haven't already?”

“Well, I didn't really get a chance—”

“Then, yes!”

“I'm—I—” Allison can't catch her breath. How has all of this been so complicated? She just wanted Patty to be happy . . . she just wanted . . . 

Sam grabs her shoulders as she nearly hyperventilates and pushes her towards the door. “Do it now. Like right now. Or you'll regret it.”

Allison stops at the front counter, and turns to Sam. “Right now?”

Sam nods, repeatedly. “Like, go to the salon now. I'll cover for you.”

Allison doesn't think about it further.

She just goes.

—

Allison opens the door, and the bell jingles. She doesn't see Patty, but she can hear her moving around in the back. Thankfully there is no one else around.

Patty calls to the front “be there in a minute!” She hasn't seen Allison.

Allison can still turn around, run away.

She can still—

Patty rounds the corner. “Oh—”

Her expression isn't angry, just surprised.

Allison hopes.

“What—why aren't you at work?” Patty asks, looking at the clock.

“Um, it's okay, Sam knows I've gotta—”

Patty frowns. “Gotta what?”

Allison's mouth is dry, and she fights the urge to lick her lips, to do anything unusual with them. To remember they exist, even . . . “I came to say I'm sorry. I—” But Patty cuts her off before she can go on. 

“It's fine.” Patty crosses her arms.

Allison tries to find the words to explain. “No, no, it's not. I—shouldn't have lied, I shouldn't have . . . tried to kiss you—” 

Patty scoffs. Or is it a laugh? “Tried? You definitely did.”

“I did, didn't I?” Allison lets out a little laugh, blushing at the memory. Patty stares at her like she has grown a second head.

“Allison, why are you here?”

Allison feels herself getting antsy, it's hard for her to stay still. Patty is several feet away, and it's so odd for them to stand apart like that. She wants to reach her arms out, and—it just feels weird. She can't handle it. “I don't want you to be mad at me for the rest of our lives. I want to be around you for the rest of my life, and I can't let my stupidity be hanging over our heads, and—”

Patty stops her again. “It's okay. I'm over it.” Patty's head is bobbing a little, as if to emphasize her certainty.

“You are?”

Patty nods more decisively.

“All of it?” Does she mean she doesn't have feelings for me anymore?

Patty just tilts her head and looks at her.

“What?”

“It was sorta nice of you, in a way. Insane. But nice.”

Allison bites her lip. She has forgotten to ignore her mouth. “Well, you know me,” she says, her hands up in a shrug, “So nice.”

“So insane.” Patty smirks and rolls her eyes.

Allison looks at Patty, then, and is gratified. Gratified that she can move past Allison's idiocy, her meddling nonsense. It's too bad they can't— That she can't—

“Allison?” She hears Patty, and sees her step forward, but Allison is lost just sorta looking at Patty's face, her whole being, there is just something so—

Patty is now a foot away and Allison is frozen there, staring dumbly. Patty puts a hand up on her cheek, and Allison waits for her to say something rude, something funny, about how lost in space she is, about her infamous plans . . . 

But then she feels Patty's lips on hers, and her heart jumps up into her throat. Oh my god, she thinks. Did I do that? I didn’t mean to do that? And as the kiss deepens, and she feels herself responding, she thinks, No. Patty did that. It wasn't me. I'm not to blame! And her hands go up and she pulls Patty's mouth closer, lets her tongue tentatively explore her mouth, can feel a jolt of pleasure, unmistakeable, not at all friendly, and thinks goddamnit, why not? Why not us?

She breaks away gently and looks at Patty, and she can feel a tear come to her eye.

What the hell? 

I don't cry.

Patty looks amazed, her eyes staring in unironic wonder. And not appalled this time, like they were last night. Allison isn’t sure she's ever seen this completely maskless Patty. She sees it now. The love. And the water escapes from her eyes without permission.

“Was that—all right?” Allison asks, afraid again. Afraid to ruin anything. Everything.

Patty's face transforms back to her usual hauteur. “I did that.”

“Yeah but—”

“I was just—curious,” Patty says, her head cocked to the side, considering.

“About what?” Allison is panicking on the inside. She was so close to everything being fine again. And this wasn't even her fault, except maybe how she reacted, but that was just natural, right?

It came naturally. 

Allison's face is tingling. She feels herself trembling. She stares down at her toes, her ugly but practical waitressing shoes. A real contrast to those shiny strappy shoes she wore last night that tore up her feet.

Patty interrupts her panic. “I was curious about what might happen if you weren't so busy thinking about it.”

Allison looks up sharply. “Yeah?”

“And I figured, if I said I was over it, and everything was fine between us now—I know you'd never try again. And you kinda surprised me last night, so . . .”

“I wouldn't try—” Is she saying that—?

“And I kinda had to know.”

“Know?”

Patty leans forward and their lips meet again, their bodies press up against one another, their hands travel to each other's backs, against each other's faces, wherever they feel like, and it goes on like that until, breathless, they break apart.

Allison nods. “Yeah, okay.” Another tear falls, unbidden. “Now I know,” she says.

Patty nods.

Allison, lost, is somehow still standing, as Patty just walks away—goes to sweep some hair from the floor.

“What do we do now?” Allison asks, unsure. 

Patty turns, her look condescending in a way that only Patty can manage. “You never threaten to set me up on a date ever again.” Her smile, then, to Allison's eyes, is breathtaking.

“I promise,” Allison says, unable to fight off her own grin. “Never again.” She is fully smiling now, all her teeth. Just standing there at the front of the salon. Patty goes back to sweeping.

Allison glances at the clock. “Oh shit! I gotta get back to work.”

Patty looks up and laughs. “Have a great day!” she says with mock cheer. Or maybe it's real cheer disguised as mock cheer.  

Allison knows she'll be unable to think straight until she gets home. But what difference does that make? “Yeah, yeah, you too. See you later.” She grins again.

Patty nods a goodbye. “Tell Sam I said thanks.”

Allison pauses, looks over, questioning.

“I mean, tell him I said hi.” Patty smirks.

Nodding quickly, Allison runs to the door, and with one last parting look, heads out.