Archive of Our Own

Like everything else in Sadie's life lately, the gala doesn't exactly go to plan.

More specifically, there's the Richard of it all, not to mention the former astronaut who may or may not be waiting in the wings for Katherine's job—and, oh, there's also blood, and Katherine's cleavage, and the Mumbai plant that never was.

Sadie knows she has no right to be mad at Richard, but it's easier than being mad at Katherine for lying to him, easier than being mad at herself for signing up to be her boss' dirty little secret.

--

With the gala winding down, Katherine avails herself of a room at the Roydon for the weekend on account of Richard not wanting her to come home for a couple of days, and Sadie stands by the concierge desk trying to determine precisely how much of this is her fault.

"Come up," Katherine implores huskily, her expression impressively neutral, and Sadie nods because she doesn't trust herself to speak.

--

Upstairs, Katherine kicks off her shoes and falls back onto the bed as Sadie hovers by the door, wondering how she fits into the scene unfolding in front of her. Does Katherine expect her to stick around for late-night room service and the second half of whatever movie's on TV tonight? Or is she simply supposed to make Katherine come and then dip out?

Either is fine, she tells herself, but the thought of that first scenario makes her feel kind of… sick. Overwhelmed. Wishful?

"I don't think…" Katherine begins delicately, breaking the silence. "I don't think we're going to make it."

Sadie can't discern whether she's talking about her marriage or the company, which is a testament to how discombobulated everything is right now. She considers firing off a platitude—Things are rarely as bad as they seem or God never gives us more than we can handle—and luckily for both parties, the impulse passes quickly, the words shriveling into nothing on her tongue. You can take the girl out of Indiana…

"I should probably go," Sadie says in lieu of platitudes, because that feels like the safest tack to take here, and despite Katherine nodding in agreement, neither of them moves. "Got a big weekend planned," she persists, although they're both fully aware that that's bullshit.

"It'd also be fine if you stayed," Katherine informs her quietly, which immediately raises a barrage of questions that neither of them dares to ask. "You know those channels you can only ever seem to find in hotel rooms?" She motions toward the TV. "I've got 'em."

Sadie maps out her drive home in her mind, pictures stepping into her darkened apartment, unzipping her dress, and letting it fall. The temperature is unseasonably warm for this time of year, yet when she imagines herself curling up in her own bed, it's with a chill.

She glances at her phone, pretending she can't sense the weight of Katherine's gaze. "Oh, the Pistons won," she observes absently, willfully disregarding the fact that the one thing Katherine seems to care less about than cars is sports. "And there was an accident on the highway, so getting home is going to suck."

It's a not-quite answer to Katherine's not-quite invitation—which is fitting, Sadie supposes, given that the way they communicate is through the things left unsaid and the spaces between.

"That's settled, then," Katherine says briskly, and Sadie nods.

--

When Katherine's eyes traverse the length of Sadie's dress and linger at the plunging neckline, Sadie feels her heart rate pick up at the mere implication.

"So, about this little number…" Katherine waves a hand in Sadie's general direction. "All things considered, it's not your worst fashion choice."

Sadie senses a but coming and braces herself for the sting of one of Katherine's trademark complimentary insults, although the other woman appears to have finished her sentence.

"Thanks," Sadie responds eventually, fidgeting with her hemline. "I got it from Rent the Runway."

Katherine wrinkles her nose. "I don't think I want to ask what that is," she says primly, and when Sadie laughs, she follows suit.

--

After the dress that's temporarily in her custody ends up in a puddle of fabric on the floor, Sadie loses count of the number of kisses she presses to Katherine's skin. She doesn't do this normally, doesn't take her time exploring someone's body or revel in the intoxication of eliciting a hushed gasp or whine, but it feels like she's drunk on Katherine right now, feels like no matter what she does, she can't get enough.

For whatever it's worth, Katherine also seems different, as if her dictatorial ebullience has finally fizzled out. More specifically, she isn't pushing Sadie against the wall of a bathroom stall, demanding to be fucked on a countertop, or doing anything other than watching Sadie from under her lashes with a hazy look in her eyes.

In virtually any other setting, the lack of direction would unnerve Sadie, but in this one, it makes her feel free.

--

By the time Sadie's lips trail down to the nexus of Katherine's thighs, Katherine's wet—which is gratifying—and Sadie finds her sumptuous and slick. While Sadie would never admit it, she's been waiting for her chance to do this, has wanted it ever since she finger-fucked Katherine in the executive bathroom because she couldn't face pitching the Pika to the board with the taste of the other woman lingering in her mouth.

It isn't long until Katherine's coming with a soft cry and a violent shudder, and Sadie licks her through the aftershocks, feeling omnipotent.

--

Sadie doesn't know why she wasn't expecting Katherine to reciprocate, but now that the other woman's proved her wrong, she's not prepared.

"Fuck," she hisses, her back arching up off the bed, and Katherine presses an anchoring hand to her hip.

"Stop writhing," Katherine commands tersely, the words muffled by Sadie's thighs, and the vibration of her voice makes Sadie shiver.

"I'm only writhing because–" Sadie protests, then inhales sharply as Katherine does something wicked with her tongue.

With Katherine pinning her down, Sadie shudders through a climax that rolls through her like a wave, leaving her sodden and spent. Katherine hums approvingly against her clit before doubling down on her ministrations, and when the older woman looks up at her, Sadie can tell beyond a shadow of a doubt that the balance of power has shifted.

"I don't think I can come again," she sobs breathlessly, but Katherine's never been one to take no for an answer. Once her body starts to spasm, she lets herself slip into blissful oblivion.

--

"Are you dead?"

Sadie opens her eyes, only to immediately narrow them at Katherine. "Shut up."

Katherine laughs. "I lov–" she begins fondly, then abruptly cuts herself off, looking horrified.

They stare at each other in shocked silence for a couple of seconds, and all Sadie knows is that her heart is still pounding from her orgasms, so she can't– she can't talk about this right now.

"Shut up," she repeats more insistently, rolling over and tapping Katherine's jaw with her fingertips. "Come here."

At first, the kiss feels astonished and questioning, shot through with bolts of giddy delirium until Sadie takes the lead and probes Katherine's mouth as if she has nothing to lose. Katherine melts instantly, ceding the control she just regained, and by the time Sadie pulls away, she's feeling euphorically emboldened.

"You're lucky kissing's not extra anymore," she points out hoarsely, and Katherine lets out a throaty chuckle.

--

"I'm not sure how things are going to go with Richard," Katherine tells her later that evening, after they've made each other come again and Sadie's in such a languorous postcoital stupor that she fails to lodge even the faintest objection when Katherine curls an arm around her and pulls her close. "Things haven't been good for a while now, it's just... divorce is such a pain in the ass."

Sadie isn't sure what to say to that, so she foregoes responding altogether.

"What I mean is, it'd make sense if you didn't want to do this anymore."

Sadie frowns. If Katherine's giving her an out, she doesn't want it, but if Katherine's trying to get her to take the out…

Next to her, Katherine shifts slightly, and before Sadie knows it, the other woman's face is buried in her hair. "Stop overthinking," Katherine murmurs reprovingly, her breath tickling the shell of Sadie's ear.

Although Sadie should be terrified that Katherine can read her this well, in this particular moment, she can't bring herself to care.

"I don't not want to do this anymore," she replies cryptically, because two can play at that game, "I just don't want to be a– a scandal, you know? Someone you have to go in front of Congress and deny having sexual relations with."

"There go my political aspirations," Katherine mutters drily, and Sadie laughs in spite of herself. "No, that sounds fair; I accept your terms."

As Sadie stares up at the darkened ceiling, she realizes the fact that they're not looking at each other is probably the sole thing preventing her from succumbing to some kind of intimacy-induced panic attack (because, yeah, they may be tangled in each other's arms at present, but eye contact—that's the real killer.) "I feel like we should shake hands right now or something."

Now it's Katherine's turn to laugh. "I'm fine with a verbal agreement if you are."

"How about sealing it with a kiss?" Sadie half-jokes, surprising both herself and Katherine, and Katherine laughs once more before obliging.

--

"I'll never sell you out, Sadie," Katherine murmurs between kisses, because if they're ratifying the agreement with their mouths, the job needs to be done thoroughly. "I can't speak for that aeronautics asshole, but as long as I'm CEO, I won't let anyone fuck you over."

When Katherine lets out a shuddery sigh, it occurs to Sadie that the timbre of this conversation must feel as foreign to the other woman as it does to her, and a blossom of empathy blooms in her chest.

"And what about Richard?" Sadie whispers, because floundering marriage or not, the man's existence bothers her more than she'd care to admit.

Katherine pecks her on the lips like that's part of what they're doing now, some kind of pre-established shortcut to show each other they're sincere.

"It'll work out," she says quietly, and against all logic, Sadie believes her.