Chapter Text
“Alright, and the last thing is an honest to God travel assignment, so that’s all you Harry. Harry. Harry Styles.”
Harry looked up from where she had her phone hidden-- perhaps not very well hidden --in her lap. Her boss was staring at her like she was waiting for something, so Harry scrambled for a pat response. “I agree,” she said finally, forcing herself not to look down when she felt her phone vibrate with her partner Ash’s response to the text she’d just sent moments earlier.
They’d been in the middle of an almost fight about when they could go up to Vermont to look at houses, and it had taken most of Harry’s will to stop herself from leaving the weekly team meeting several times already. Her phone buzzed again and she took a little breath, trying to smile at her boss.
“I should hope you’d agree to a travel assignment since that’s what you’re actually paid to write here,” Jamie said, comically widening her eyes at Harry. It got a small laugh from everyone and Harry felt herself blush. “Would you like to know anything about it?”
“Ahh, yeah. Yeah I would.” Harry leaned forward, elbows on the table and fingers poised to take notes on her laptop. She wasn’t their main travel writer, and as such had mostly covered local travel more than anything else, her most liked post to date being one about the hidden gems of Staten fucking Island of all places. Anywhere would be better than that.
“Right, so history lesson for you millenials on staff: once upon a time in lesbian history, there was a whole ass record label just for women’s music.” Jamie leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest like she was holding court. As if she herself wasn’t only just in Gen X by the skin of her born in 1979 teeth.
“Uhhh, Mr. Lady?” Maureen asked. She was new, and as such clearly did not understand how to read a fucking room. Harry ducked her head so it was hidden by her computer screen, raising her eyebrows at Maureen’s valid (but really dumb) comment.
Meanwhile Harry’s best work friend Zayn poked her in the elbow, waiting for her to turn around so they could share a look with one another. They would absolutely be talking about this in the group chat later.
“Mr. Lady?” Jamie tutted, shaking her head and sitting up in her chair. “Contrary to popular belief, cool shit didn’t just magically start happening in the 1990s, you know. No, Mr. Lady actually wanted to be as cool as Olivia Records, but they didn’t quite succeed. Now Olivia was a feminist record label before it was cool, we’re talking early 1970s. They’ve had their struggles, but they’ve been reborn. Like a goddamn phoenix.”
Harry looked over the notes she’d just typed for herself, glad they were for her eyes only. Her paraphrasing of Jamie’s little speech so far was basically: Olivia records, pre-Mr. Lady, god Jamie is such a pretentious ass about feminist shit as if any of us care about her tired second wave opinions.
Maybe the move to Vermont couldn’t happen soon enough. In which case Harry could try cutting Ash some slack. She tuned back in just as Jamie got to her point.
“And that is how they became the biggest lesbian cruise operator in the world right now.” Jamie pointed at Harry. “That’s where you come in. Olivia is giving us an all access pass to their next cruise. It leaves in three weeks, so you’ve got plenty of time to finish up the piece you’re working on, the, um,” Jamie snapped her fingers in the air a few times as if that would actually recall information. “Um--”
“I’m doing the Coney Island piece right now,” Harry finally supplied.
“Right, finish up Coney and get into research: history, activities, everything. Your liaison is a woman named Niall, so you’ll talk with her of course. This could be a really great piece; Olivia is definitely willing to pony up some advertising dollars for the magazine, not just with this issue but possibly for the entire year. I’m looking forward to seeing your best work so far, Harry.”
Harry nodded, typing in the last of the notes she’d taken down. They had one more check-in about an increase in paper usage and then the meeting was adjourned. Harry shut her laptop and tucked it away to go back to her desk, Zayn sidling up next to her as they left the room.
“So that’s fucked up,” Zayn whispered, eyebrows raised. Harry looked back at him with confusion. “Some 1970s woo-moon shit, they’re probably transphobic as hell.”
Harry hissed through her teeth. “I was barely paying attention, but you’re probably right. Ew, here I was thinking it was worth getting excited over.” Zayn nudged her shoulder.
“It is still a cruise, at least it’ll be nice. And you and Ash are still trying the whole open thing, yeah? Maybe you’ll find some random hot piece on the trip, even things out a little.” They reached Harry’s desk and she checked the time; it was ten minutes til one and she was still due a lunch.
“Come on, let’s go get salads from the mix it place, we can talk more there.” Harry grabbed her wallet and pushed Zayn toward his own desk to get his things. She was half hoping to avoid talking about Ash, though she was almost certain Zayn wouldn’t let her off so easy. He’d probably seen Harry texting them during the meeting.
Harry glanced down at her phone, remembering their text exchange. She opened it up to see what Ash had sent and then promptly closed it again; they were being an absolute unreasonable ass and texting was definitely not going to solve anything.
“They pushing you to go up to Vermont again this weekend?” Zayn asked, pressing the button to call the elevator. Harry sighed.
“Yes. Even though I’ve told them I’m on deadline and can’t spend a whole weekend in a fucking car, driving up there and back and in between however many small towns have places for sale in our price range.” She looked down at the last text they sent and then held her phone up so Zayn could see it.
Ash: ur being really selfish rn and it sucks
Ash: u need to get more excited for this move tbh
Zayn read the words out loud and Harry made a face before shoving the phone into her trouser pocket. “So you can see what kind of stress I’m under,” she said, shaking her head. It was always easier to joke about stuff like this. Not that Zayn ever let her.
Harry had been in her last year at NYU when she met Zayn at Henrietta Hudson’s of all places, several years before Zayn transitioned. It took them one week of dating (read: fucking in Harry’s tiny ass dorm room during the short Thanksgiving break) to figure out that they were far better off as friends than anything else. Harry could read Zayn’s moods better than most, and Zayn knew when Harry was actually feeling goofy versus when she was making light of things to avoid stressing.
Working together had tested their friendship more than once, but they’d always come out stronger than before. Which was why Harry didn’t try any harder to hide how she was feeling, letting her head thunk back against the wall of the elevator. “They know this move isn’t going to be that easy for me. And it’s not like I didn’t offer to facetime in on houses they like, because I did! But sometimes I swear they’re just asking for more and never giving in on anything.”
“You feel that way because it’s true, babes.” The elevator doors opened and Zayn let Harry go out first, quickening his pace to keep up with her. “Ever since they cheated on you it’s like everything they’ve done is a test to see how much shit you’ll take.”
Harry cut her eyes at Zayn, frowning. “I forgave them for that. And besides, they’d talked about non-monogamy before and I just didn’t wanna listen.”
“Because you’re monogamous…”
“ Because I’d only been in monogamous relationships until now.” Harry shook her head, pausing for a moment to check for traffic on the one way street before darting through the crosswalk, Zayn keeping pace. “Anyway, that’s irrelevant. I’m going on a cruise for work, it’s not like I’ll have time to find a fuck buddy or something.”
Later that night, Harry told Ash about her work day over a meal kit dinner they’d prepared together, one of their new date night activities.
“You should hook up,” Ash said, gesturing with a bite of fish at the end of their fork, “while you’re on the cruise. Heh, cruise. What if you flagged on the lesbian boat? Take your pink hanky.”
“Oh my God, shut up! Nobody single is going to bring a dildo on a fucking cruise, hoping to hook up.”
“You should.” Ash laughed, and Harry wadded up her napkin, tossing it so it bounced off their head.
“So...you want me to get together with somebody while I’m there?” Harry looked down at her plate, pushing a green bean toward her last bite of fish before looking back up at Ash, trying to hide the way her stomach twisted as she waited for their response.
“Jesus, Harry, I don’t want you to like, find another girlfriend. But it’s okay if you meet someone, maybe make out, hook up. Just like...have a fling.” Ash pushed their socked toe into Harry’s calf under the table. “That’s part of why we’re doing the open thing, right?”
“Right,” Harry agreed, spearing the green bean she’d been playing with earlier. “So, free ass pass.”
Ash stuck their tongue out, pulling a face and then chuckling quietly. “Weirdo. Yeah, you can call it that. As long as I don’t hear about it, anything goes.”
Harry updated Zayn on the situation the next morning over coffee at the office. She could’ve predicted Zayn’s reaction.
“God I hope you meet some complete snack and fuck their brains out on the lido deck or something.” He smirked as he said it, clearly pleased with himself, and Harry elbowed him in the side, not quite hard enough to hurt.
“You’re such an ass.” Harry sipped her coffee, vague thoughts of hooking up with some swaggery butch a little older than herself swimming through her mind. She quickly shook them from her head. “ If I met anyone it’s not like it would go anywhere. I mean I’ll probably make out with someone if I can, but I really don’t expect to meet someone I actually want to have sex with on a lesbian cruise.”
Zayn waggled his eyebrows. “Tell me you wouldn’t love to get some lido dick,” he said before taking a big sip of coffee, eyebrows raised as he stared at Harry and waited for her reaction.
“Neither of us even knows what a lido deck is, Zayn. So lido dick is out of the question.”
At just that moment, Jamie walked in carrying her “#1 Lesbian Mom” mug and humming a song Harry didn’t recognize. She greeted them both with a nod and a smile, and Zayn gave Harry a playful nudge, mouthing the words “lido dick” at her with his eyes shining like he was holding back a laugh. Harry just rolled her eyes.
The next few weeks seemed to fly by. Harry made contact with Niall, her cruise liaison, getting page after page of information about each activity on the cruise itinerary and every port they’d be stopping in. She researched the history not only of Olivia records, but of Olivia cruises, reading a few passenger travel diaries that she found online and comparing them with those from people who’d been on similar-- yet heterosexual --cruises.
She even managed to find a weekend to go up to Vermont with Ash, dealing with the hassle of renting a car and booking an AirBNB to stay in that wouldn’t leave them driving all over to look at houses. It was a nice trip, albeit a little boring, and Harry took notes on some of the cuter things she saw, hoping that she might be able to use it for a piece about traveling the Northeast for a future issue of the magazine.
Her flight was scheduled to leave JFK at 6am on a Friday morning, so Harry asked for a half day on Thursday to get her final packing and travel arrangements done. Jamie didn’t mind (though Zayn expressed his extreme annoyance), and Harry spent her afternoon doing outfit triage in order to fit enough clothes into only one suitcase for the whole ten day trip. By the time Ash got home from work, Harry was tucking her toiletry bag into the front of her suitcase and double checking her packing list. Which was a good thing, considering she’d planned a date night for the two of them before going away.
Ash grumbled about leaving the house as they got ready to leave an hour or so later. Harry tossed a pair of clean socks at her, shaking her head. “Babe we’re just going to the place down the street, ‘s not like we’ll be gone all night.” Ash plopped onto the bed to pull their socks on as Harry pulled her hair up into a messy bun, eyes flicking to check her reflection in the mirror on the bedroom door.
She could see Ash in profile in the mirror, and she watched them carefully as she chose her next words. “I was thinking we could come back afterwards and, umm, Netflix and chill, maybe?” Harry pulled a couple of tendrils of hair out to frame her face as she watched Ash’s expression sour slightly.
“Sure, hon. We’ll put on one of those cheesy rom coms you like and see what happens, yeah?” They stood, brushing away non-existent lint from the front of their jeans, and went to the closet to slip on their shoes. “What time’s your flight tomorrow? It’s early, right?”
“Yeah,” Harry said, allowing herself to pout into the mirror for a moment before schooling her face. “I’ll have to leave here at 4am to get to the airport, but I’m planning to just sleep on the flight. Plus I have a day in a hotel before the ship boards, so I’ll get a chance to crash in Miami for the night before I need to be on.”
“That’s cool.” Ash emerged looking effortlessly cute, their short, dark hair still perfectly done in its usual messy-yet-professional style, dark jeans and a button down undone just so. “You ready?”
Harry looked down at herself; her outfit wasn’t one of her favorites and her hair looked less cool femme hipster and more busy femme teacher. Even though she’d spent just as much time getting dressed as Ash, she somehow felt woefully underdressed. “Lemme throw on some lipstick.” Ash sighed quietly, pulling their phone from their pocket and leaning against the doorframe to wait. Harry slicked on a coat of her favorite red and checked her reflection again, instantly feeling better.
“Good?” Ash asked without looking up. Harry nodded, and they headed out to dinner.
The restaurant was a favorite of theirs, a relatively tiny place that served a prix fixe menu Tuesdays through Fridays. They always had a wine special, and by now the servers knew both of them by name. Harry thought that Ash might’ve even had a date with one of them, though they didn’t share that information with each other-- that only happened when things got serious, if they ever did.
It hadn’t happened yet.
Their server came to take their order already holding the bottle of wine they'd planned to ask for and dropping it off with a wink. Harry and Ash exchanged a look with one another and laughed; even in a city as big as New York (well, Brooklyn, technically), it was always possible to feel like you were in a small town. Especially with a neighborhood spot like this. They’d just gotten their appetizer-- an asparagus and sorrel soup --when the sound of someone tapping a fork against their glass made everyone stop and turn.
Harry recognized the couple right away, though she didn’t know their names. The two men were regulars in the restaurant just like she and Ash were, standing out in the way they always chose to sit on the same side of the table instead of across from one another. Ash called them ‘the same-siders’. Harry just called them adorable.
The taller of the two stood up, tapping a piece of flatware against his glass once more. “I’m sorry to interrupt everyone’s dinner, but I think everyone should hear what I have to say.” He raised his glass as he looked around the room, subtly signalling that everyone else should follow his lead. Most of the patrons did.
“This place has been one of my favorites ever since moving here ten years ago, and most of you may not know this, but it’s not just Magda’s perfect roast chicken that keeps Stephen and I coming back. The two of us met here one night five years ago, and it’s felt like our place ever since.”
Collectively the whole restaurant awwed softly. The man turned to flash a smile before looking back toward his partner.
“When we met, I just needed someone to split a bottle of wine with. I never thought that a bottle of Pinot Noir would bring me the love of my life, but it did. Stephen is warm and funny and has never once walked past someone asking for money without giving them something. He’s the kind of person who calls his friends on their birthdays. All of them, every single person. He’s a connector and a builder and he makes me want to be a better person every day I’m with him. I think I am a better person. Anyone who knows him is better, right away.”
Harry felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she did her best to hold them back, fixing her eyes on the wine in her glass.
“He’s the sort of man I want to be able to sit with every day, just to admire what he’s like. And that’s why I wanted to ask him, in front of all of you strangers and potential friends here in our favorite place in the neighborhood we call home--” The man went down on one knee, but Stephen was already standing, pushing back his seat to throw his arms around him as an answer. “Stephen, will you please marry me?”
“Yes, Miguel. Yes.”
Seeing tears in the two men’s eyes was all it took for Harry to let loose her own as she raised up her glass, cheering and toasting before she took a sip of her wine. As she watched them embrace, sharing kisses, she thought back on some of the times she’d seen the two of them in the restaurant. Miguel always pulled out Stephen’s chair first before taking his own seat, and Stephen was always the one to hold the door or shelter the two of them under an umbrella in the rain. They often smiled at Harry and Ash, giving them a friendly nod if they passed one another on the way to the farmer’s market or the good coffee shop nearby.
She didn’t know them, but in the moment it felt very much like she did, and Harry sniffed back her tears with a pleased smile as she turned back to Ash. “God, that was beautiful, wasn’t it?”
Instead of being met with Ash’s gaze-- and perhaps their own tearstained eyes --Harry found herself looking at the top of their head as they stared down at their phone. “Hmm?” They asked, eyes barely flicking up as they finished the text they were writing. “Sorry, were you...oh,” they nodded toward Stephen and Miguel, who’d taken their seats once more but who were still looking at one another intensely. “Yeah, that was sweet.”
“Did you think?” Harry tried to make herself sound casual, though she was feeling anything but. “That it was just, uh...sweet?”
Ash looked at Harry, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah? I just said it was.” They paused for a moment, staring at their wine as it swirled in their glass. “I mean. Might’ve been a little overboard for a Thursday night.” They pursed their lips, leaning in to whisper, “I mean I kinda wonder if they were just like, trying for a free meal or something? Like, who does that ?”
Harry took a gulp of her wine, looking into the pale green of her soup and feeling suddenly queasy. “Definitely not everyone,” she finally managed to say. Ash nodded in agreement, slipping their phone back into their pocket and holding up the bottle of wine to offer Harry more. She could certainly use it.
And she absolutely drank more than her share. Ash didn’t seem to mind, letting Harry have her third glass before they’d even finished their first. The meal was filling enough that Harry wasn’t quite tipsy as they walked home, though when Ash held out their arm Harry was grateful to loop her own through it, leaning into Ash’s side as they made their way back.
When they got up to the apartment, Harry immediately went to change into her soft clothes, doing all of her basic pre-bed routines aside from brushing her teeth. While she didn’t plan on sleeping just yet, she figured there was no reason to be uncomfortable while netflix and chilling (or possibly netflixing and chilling? She wasn’t sure who to ask). Ash was still in the bathroom while Harry picked out a movie, and by the time they came out Harry was resting her head against the back of the couch, the wine and rich meal sitting heavy in her belly.
“Oh, it’s a Netflix original rom com kinda night,” Ash said as they sat down on the couch perpendicular to Harry. They shoved their toes under Harry’s thigh and wiggled them. “The Boys one, I like that one. Asian heroine, that doofy guy. Good choice, babe.”
Harry scrunched her nose, sleepy and fond, and hit play. She stroked slowly over Ash’s ankle as the movie started, gradually leaning closer across the couch. Her touch went higher with each progression of the plot, first over the sparse hair of Ash’s well-muscled calves and then up to their thighs. By the time the fake dating plot arose in earnest, Harry was lazily sliding her hand up Ash’s inner thigh, just dancing against the hem of their sleep shorts. She turned to move closer and saw that Ash’s head was back, mouth open in a quiet snore.
Craning her neck to look at the kitchen clock, Harry saw that it was just after 10pm-- not late, but also not so far off from the typical bedtime she and Ash observed --and she rolled her neck from side to side, stretching and considering her options. She could wake Ash, maybe see if they wanted to at least get off together even if they didn’t fuck. She could also just try and initiate sex, wake them up and make a move that would turn things from cold to hot in one little moment.
Or she could get ready for bed and then wake them up when she was finished to join her in sleeping.
It wasn’t like she didn’t want to have sex with Ash. She looked over at the way their thighs had fallen open and thought about how she used to leave matching hickeys on either side before going down on them, little marks that she’d poke at, giggling, when Ash leaned over to kiss her goodbye the next morning. That was back when Ash would sneak behind Harry and walk their hands over the laurel tattoos near Harry’s hip bones until their fingertips were grazing the waistband of whatever bottoms she was wearing.
Harry shivered at the thought of Ash sliding their fingers under her panties and teasing her until she was begging to be fucked, desperate and wet and grinding back into them. They used to pack a lot more back then, before the two of them had moved in together and gotten more professional and settled. She looked over at Ash, biting her lip and questioning herself for not taking the initiative to just wake them up and tell them how badly she wanted to be fucked.
They let out a snore and Harry huffed quietly, spreading her legs a little wider as she put her hand down her pants. She was wet from the thoughts she’d been having, and moved her fingers over her clit with more intensity than she normally would as she brushed over her nipples with her free hand. This wasn’t going to be a slow build of an orgasm. That was not what she deserved. At least that’s what she told herself as she slid her fingers into her slick and rubbed quick, harsh circles against her clit.
She ground down into the couch, biting back the sounds she wanted to make as she pinched down on her nipple and tried to imagine teeth-- Ash’s --and a clever mouth and strong, compact hands pushing inside of her. She came as fast as she’d hoped she would, silently allowing herself the pleasure of feeling her own cunt pulse around her fingers while she came down before letting her head fall back against the couch. She hit play on the movie and let it go while she berated herself for getting off with her partner inches away from her, probably willing to have sex if not altogether ready.
When she’d settled, Harry got up and went to the bathroom, finishing up her bedtime routine. Ash was still dozing on the couch when she turned the movie off and touched them gently on the shoulder to wake them. Ash went to bed without protest, giving Harry a kiss of the lips once they’d both gotten under the covers. Harry slept fitfully, tossing in bed until she finally drifted off sometime after 1am.
Harry silenced the alarm that rang at 4am, waking up with a start when the extra loud emergency alarm she’d set blared to life a half hour later. That barely gave her enough time to brush her teeth and throw on travel clothes before calling a car to drive her to the airport. She kissed Ash’s forehead before leaving their room, vaguely hoping that they’d wake up to kiss her goodbye properly. When they didn’t, she gave them one more small peck and rolled her suitcase out, double checking her carry on bag for her chargers and snacks and portable electronics.
It was all perfect, right where it should be. And though she had to rush, Harry made it to her gate in time to board and take her seat, pulling out a sleep mask as the plane began to taxi down the runway. The wine she’d had the night before was starting to make her head ache, and she thought about checking her bag for ibuprofen, maybe drinking some water instead of falling asleep. She quickly dismissed that idea as the plane trundled along on its way to takeoff. Once they were in the air, Harry leaned her head back and fell asleep thinking, as she often did when traveling for work, about who she was and where she was going in life.
Everything was as it should be. She had a good job at an actual LGBTQ+ magazine; an attractive and steady partner; and the very real possibility of owning a home off in the woods somewhere. She might even write a novel and actually get it published in the next few years at this rate. And yet here she sat on a plane to go to an all women’s cruise, eyes covered to keep out the early morning sun, her stomach sour and head cottony, stuck on the steady, sickening thought that she wasn’t completely happy with any of it.