“Helena?” she responded so softly her voice broke.

“Bette.” Helena said again. She appeared to be relishing on the name, the person. Bette wondered if she was dreaming about her. Bette could hardly take it anymore, loosening her tight grip on the bags of Chinese take-out.

She made the approach with the purpose of tucking Helena under the covers.

Somehow, in the three steps it took to reach the bed, she found herself doing the cat’s crawl on top of Helena, making sure not to make any physical contact, careful not to disturb the towel. The bags of food left at the foot of the bed.

“Helena,” she said softly, her face a mere inches from Helena’s. “I’m gonna move you, okay.”

Helena grinned. She was floating in a whiskey haze – not quite conscious. She was physically aware of the warmth and perfume and closeness of Bette, but was not quite awake enough to realize this person, whose breath she could feel on her skin, whose weight she could feel softly displace the mattress around her, whose closeness she could feel in the empty space between them, she was not quite aware enough that this person was Bette Porter; the formidable lady who once referred to her as a snake.

Her eyes were shut. It felt like a dream to her. She smiled and whispered, “Mmm, Bette.”

Bette couldn’t help but smile back, even though Helena couldn’t see it. She caressed Helena’s lips with the tips of her fingers, the smile still there, both of them.

Helena felt Bette’s lips softly kiss hers. She returned Bette’s kisses as best she could, but Bette was in the lead and she was far too intoxicated to mind a little teasing. She could feel Bette’s smile with every kiss and it made her giddy. She had completely forgotten where she was; that about two hours ago, her relationship with the woman hovering above her was only two degrees friendlier than civil. All Helena knew at the moment was that someone was kissing her in the most incredible way and her body was responding, electrifying.

Bette began to kiss all around Helena’s face, gently. Their bodies still weren’t touching.

“Kiss me Bette,” Helena whispered, missing Bette’s lips on hers.