![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
st_aurafinaTitle: I See Candygrams up in the Ceiling Tiles
Fandom: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Rating: PG
Words: 1300
Characters/Pairings: Farah Black/Amanda Brotzman
Warnings/Content: Cuddling and snuggling, making out
Notes: Written foraphrodite_mine in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
femslashex 2017
Summary: Farah is the first person Amanda has met who doesn't freak out about her weirdness.
Also at the Archive
"This pararibulitis is pretty rare," says Farah, scrolling on Amanda's phone.
"I know," says Amanda. "I have to spell it for doctors sometimes, which is worrying."
They're sitting in Todd's ruined living room while the guys are out doing something with latex catsuits and a fire extinguisher. Farah is perched on the sofa, which only has one leg to prop it up so it slopes downward on a sharp angle.
Amanda sits cross-legged on the floor with the kitten in her lap, and she strokes it with one finger. She's worried that she might hurt the little thing if she has an attack, but it has survived living with Dirk Gently for a few days. Maybe it's okay to enjoy the softness of its fur for a few minutes.
"It says your nerves give you the wrong information. So, you sense it on your skin?"
Amanda doesn't usually want to talk about it, but Farah seems to like knowing everything about everything. Amanda doesn't think she's the type to suggest yoga or tell her it was all in her mind, so she guesses it's probably safe.
"It can be an all-over thing," she says. The kitten gnaws on her finger with tiny milk teeth and the raspy tongue on her skin tickles. "Once I thought I was trapped in ice, like Captain America. It wasn't just the cold – my arms and legs locked up. I stopped breathing. In the emergency room, they said my core temperature went really low." She has an uncomfortable creeping sensation along her skin now, and she's not sure if it's memory or the pararibulitis. She pushes the kitten off just in case she's about to burst into flame or get struck by lightning.
Farah scoops up the kitten and nestles it into her collarbone. She leans back on the sofa and it creaks. "You okay?"
Amanda breathes, not too deeply but steadily, and the sensation settles. "I think so. It's hard to sort out memories of bad things and the actual bad feeling."
"Is it ever a good sensation?" Farah asks. "Like, you're walking along and suddenly – boom! – random orgasm." The kitten is kneading into her cleavage, purring and getting ready to nap.
Amanda watches Farah fingercombing a kitten on her breasts while talking about random orgasms, and realises her mouth has dropped open. There's a warm buzz inside her, like nerves are waking up in places she forgot she had. It's weird but good. It's been a while since Amanda thought about her body and good sensations.
"Um…" she says, dragging her mind back to the conversation. "No, it's pretty much always bad. Not that I would say no to, um…"Amanda doesn't want to trip over the word. She wants to be as cool about it as Farah obviously is. She steels herself. "No random orgasms, no. That would be great though."
"That's weird." Farah lifts the sleeping kitten up gently and puts it a nest she's made out of torn curtains and cushion foam. "If it's randomly generated by nerves firing, there should be a range of sensations, good and bad."
Amanda braces; maybe she's misjudged Farah, because this seems like the point where the mind over matter argument steps in, but Farah just shakes her head, mystified.
"Brains, huh?" she says, and goes into the kitchen to scour it for unbroken mugs.
Amanda sits on the kitchen counter, wondering what it would be like to randomly have orgasms instead of pain or electrical shocks. She presses her thighs together while Farah washes out two mysteriously intact jars to make coffee. It's good, sitting here and watching Farah do stuff. It's alien, too, and it takes a while before Amanda realises why. She feels safe here, even surrounded by debris, even when her skin could light up any second. She hasn't felt safe for a long, long time.
They sit in the kitchenette and drink coffee out of the jars, each holding theirs with an oven mitt so they don't burn their hands. Farah stands with her head tilted to one angle, gazing through the wall like it's a window or maybe a giant crossword puzzle. Amanda just watches Farah.
"Hey, have you ever thought if positive stimuli would make a …" says Farah.
"Do you wanna make out?" says Amanda at exactly the same time because she's still in high school, apparently.
Farah laughs, but in a good way, like she's already wrapping her arms around Amanda's shoulders. "I could be convinced," she says.
They settle on the tilting sofa, Amanda uphill and Farah down. Farah's hands are strong and firm against Amanda's skin, and Amanda loves that Farah doesn't treat her like she's fragile. When they kiss, something snaps inside Amanda – it's been so long, she's been so lonely – and suddenly she can't get close enough to Farah, can't get enough skin contact.
"Hey," say Farah. She slides Amanda's sweater off one shoulder and kisses her neck, then pushes them both down on the sofa. "It's okay. There's no emergency here."
They lie there for a while, Farah resting her head against Amanda's chest, while Amanda touches Farah's skin with one finger as softly as she had the kitten. The weight of another person's body on hers is calming, and Amanda finds herself taking deep, relaxed breaths. When her heart is thumping slow and steady Amanda draws her knees up so Farah is close enough to kiss. Farah turns, hovers above her, waiting, letting Amanda bridge the distance between them.
Amanda kisses Farah, tentatively at first, because explosions and fire are quite possible, but every touch is gentle and warm and definitely Farah. Farah props an elbow and suddenly this is every lazy Sunday make-out session Amanda has missed out on since she got sick. The sun pours through the broken window and somehow turns the destruction of Todd's living room into a softly whimsical vista. The kitten settles against Amanda's ankle, kneading and purring, and she keeps kissing Farah. It's quiet and good, easy and fun: languid slide of tongue on tongue, Farah's cheekbone under Amanda's fingertips, Farah's thumb over Amanda's navel. Amanda thinks she could fall asleep like this, with Farah pressing her to the broken sofa, the kitten asleep at her feet.
Eventually Amanda's phone rings, a quiet buzz coming from somewhere between the sofa cushions. She gropes under one for the phone and her fingertips unexpectedly brush sandpaper. She braces herself, expecting to feel her skin suddenly abraded from her body, but it turns out to just be an immense amount of sofa grit. She pulls her fingers back, grossed out but not panicking, and just as she hopes, her fingers are fine: pink and smooth with bitten nails. The moment is fractured, though.
Farah's not mad or anything, she simply passes Amanda the phone. The screen is lit up with a message from Todd that simply says 'HELP!' "They probably got stuck in a tar pit or accidently married," she says.
Amanda nods. "Yeah. I guess we'd better go and do the rescuing thing." She's kind of mad at Todd, but at the same time, she wants to keep the memory of kissing Farah while it was still good. Just because nothing bad happened doesn't mean it never will, she reminds herself. Pararibulitis can't be kissed away. Not that she'd mind trying.
She puts down fresh water for the kitten before they leave, and at the doorway, Farah laces her fingers through Amanda's, leaves them there all the way down to the car. While Farah drives with laser focus and precision, Amanda props her feet on the dash. Farah rests one hand on Amanda's thigh, the sun is warm through the windshield and Amanda is as relaxed as she's been for a long time.
Fandom: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Rating: PG
Words: 1300
Characters/Pairings: Farah Black/Amanda Brotzman
Warnings/Content: Cuddling and snuggling, making out
Notes: Written for
aphrodite_mine in femslashex 2017Summary: Farah is the first person Amanda has met who doesn't freak out about her weirdness.
Also at the Archive
"This pararibulitis is pretty rare," says Farah, scrolling on Amanda's phone.
"I know," says Amanda. "I have to spell it for doctors sometimes, which is worrying."
They're sitting in Todd's ruined living room while the guys are out doing something with latex catsuits and a fire extinguisher. Farah is perched on the sofa, which only has one leg to prop it up so it slopes downward on a sharp angle.
Amanda sits cross-legged on the floor with the kitten in her lap, and she strokes it with one finger. She's worried that she might hurt the little thing if she has an attack, but it has survived living with Dirk Gently for a few days. Maybe it's okay to enjoy the softness of its fur for a few minutes.
"It says your nerves give you the wrong information. So, you sense it on your skin?"
Amanda doesn't usually want to talk about it, but Farah seems to like knowing everything about everything. Amanda doesn't think she's the type to suggest yoga or tell her it was all in her mind, so she guesses it's probably safe.
"It can be an all-over thing," she says. The kitten gnaws on her finger with tiny milk teeth and the raspy tongue on her skin tickles. "Once I thought I was trapped in ice, like Captain America. It wasn't just the cold – my arms and legs locked up. I stopped breathing. In the emergency room, they said my core temperature went really low." She has an uncomfortable creeping sensation along her skin now, and she's not sure if it's memory or the pararibulitis. She pushes the kitten off just in case she's about to burst into flame or get struck by lightning.
Farah scoops up the kitten and nestles it into her collarbone. She leans back on the sofa and it creaks. "You okay?"
Amanda breathes, not too deeply but steadily, and the sensation settles. "I think so. It's hard to sort out memories of bad things and the actual bad feeling."
"Is it ever a good sensation?" Farah asks. "Like, you're walking along and suddenly – boom! – random orgasm." The kitten is kneading into her cleavage, purring and getting ready to nap.
Amanda watches Farah fingercombing a kitten on her breasts while talking about random orgasms, and realises her mouth has dropped open. There's a warm buzz inside her, like nerves are waking up in places she forgot she had. It's weird but good. It's been a while since Amanda thought about her body and good sensations.
"Um…" she says, dragging her mind back to the conversation. "No, it's pretty much always bad. Not that I would say no to, um…"Amanda doesn't want to trip over the word. She wants to be as cool about it as Farah obviously is. She steels herself. "No random orgasms, no. That would be great though."
"That's weird." Farah lifts the sleeping kitten up gently and puts it a nest she's made out of torn curtains and cushion foam. "If it's randomly generated by nerves firing, there should be a range of sensations, good and bad."
Amanda braces; maybe she's misjudged Farah, because this seems like the point where the mind over matter argument steps in, but Farah just shakes her head, mystified.
"Brains, huh?" she says, and goes into the kitchen to scour it for unbroken mugs.
Amanda sits on the kitchen counter, wondering what it would be like to randomly have orgasms instead of pain or electrical shocks. She presses her thighs together while Farah washes out two mysteriously intact jars to make coffee. It's good, sitting here and watching Farah do stuff. It's alien, too, and it takes a while before Amanda realises why. She feels safe here, even surrounded by debris, even when her skin could light up any second. She hasn't felt safe for a long, long time.
They sit in the kitchenette and drink coffee out of the jars, each holding theirs with an oven mitt so they don't burn their hands. Farah stands with her head tilted to one angle, gazing through the wall like it's a window or maybe a giant crossword puzzle. Amanda just watches Farah.
"Hey, have you ever thought if positive stimuli would make a …" says Farah.
"Do you wanna make out?" says Amanda at exactly the same time because she's still in high school, apparently.
Farah laughs, but in a good way, like she's already wrapping her arms around Amanda's shoulders. "I could be convinced," she says.
They settle on the tilting sofa, Amanda uphill and Farah down. Farah's hands are strong and firm against Amanda's skin, and Amanda loves that Farah doesn't treat her like she's fragile. When they kiss, something snaps inside Amanda – it's been so long, she's been so lonely – and suddenly she can't get close enough to Farah, can't get enough skin contact.
"Hey," say Farah. She slides Amanda's sweater off one shoulder and kisses her neck, then pushes them both down on the sofa. "It's okay. There's no emergency here."
They lie there for a while, Farah resting her head against Amanda's chest, while Amanda touches Farah's skin with one finger as softly as she had the kitten. The weight of another person's body on hers is calming, and Amanda finds herself taking deep, relaxed breaths. When her heart is thumping slow and steady Amanda draws her knees up so Farah is close enough to kiss. Farah turns, hovers above her, waiting, letting Amanda bridge the distance between them.
Amanda kisses Farah, tentatively at first, because explosions and fire are quite possible, but every touch is gentle and warm and definitely Farah. Farah props an elbow and suddenly this is every lazy Sunday make-out session Amanda has missed out on since she got sick. The sun pours through the broken window and somehow turns the destruction of Todd's living room into a softly whimsical vista. The kitten settles against Amanda's ankle, kneading and purring, and she keeps kissing Farah. It's quiet and good, easy and fun: languid slide of tongue on tongue, Farah's cheekbone under Amanda's fingertips, Farah's thumb over Amanda's navel. Amanda thinks she could fall asleep like this, with Farah pressing her to the broken sofa, the kitten asleep at her feet.
Eventually Amanda's phone rings, a quiet buzz coming from somewhere between the sofa cushions. She gropes under one for the phone and her fingertips unexpectedly brush sandpaper. She braces herself, expecting to feel her skin suddenly abraded from her body, but it turns out to just be an immense amount of sofa grit. She pulls her fingers back, grossed out but not panicking, and just as she hopes, her fingers are fine: pink and smooth with bitten nails. The moment is fractured, though.
Farah's not mad or anything, she simply passes Amanda the phone. The screen is lit up with a message from Todd that simply says 'HELP!' "They probably got stuck in a tar pit or accidently married," she says.
Amanda nods. "Yeah. I guess we'd better go and do the rescuing thing." She's kind of mad at Todd, but at the same time, she wants to keep the memory of kissing Farah while it was still good. Just because nothing bad happened doesn't mean it never will, she reminds herself. Pararibulitis can't be kissed away. Not that she'd mind trying.
She puts down fresh water for the kitten before they leave, and at the doorway, Farah laces her fingers through Amanda's, leaves them there all the way down to the car. While Farah drives with laser focus and precision, Amanda props her feet on the dash. Farah rests one hand on Amanda's thigh, the sun is warm through the windshield and Amanda is as relaxed as she's been for a long time.