Work Text:
Louise was dirty, sweaty, and tired.
She’d been driving all day and had reached the point where everything was annoying her, no matter how small, how insignificant. That boy had taken all of their money, the police were on their trail, and Thelma wouldn't stop draping her feet across the fucking dashboard now matter how many times Louise told her not to. Add to that the fact that it was night now which meant it was fucking freezing in the desert even under the sturdy material of her denim jacket, her ratty jeans and Thelma’s tank top no longer a suitable outfit for the weather, and the fact that Thelma was supposed to have taken over for her about two hours ago but had conveniently fallen asleep. She knew Louise hated to wake her, because Thelma never slept enough (not that Louise did either) and she was a fucking sap where Thelma was concerned. She'd been in a sour mood for nearly two days, something Thelma had noted several times, but tonight was particularly bad.
Thelma was drifting in and out of sleep next to her, seatbelt undone and her head lolling against the headrest. She had traces of dust on her cheeks, and her hair was sticking to her forehead in places. She shivered in her sleep, curling in on herself for warmth, and Louise reached in the backseat to grab her flannel and drape it over her like a makeshift blanket. The car was almost too quiet without her chatter to fill it, but at least when she was asleep her feet were planted on the floor.
If Louise wanted to be honest with herself, which she really didn't because it was usually more trouble than it's worth, she could've traced her foul attitude directly bad to the moment Thelma had convinced her to pick up JD. She’d done it because Thelma had wanted her to (of course) and she had never been able to say no to Thelma no matter how fucking ridiculous the request, but the second he’d flopped into the backseat and Thelma had giggled like a schoolgirl over him Louise’s head had grown stormy. But she let him stay and even managed to withhold a majority of her snide remarks. Not that he was bright enough to understand sarcasm. No, she held her tongue when he and Thelma fawned over each other, laughed along when she gleefully told him they’d slept together, she’d been a goddamn saint. But of course he screwed them over. Not only had he taken their money, Louise's money, no, he'd taken Thelma too.
Now that was an exaggeration. Even in her worked up state Louise knew that.
He hadn't taken Thelma, she was in the passenger seat of Louise's car right now and he was sitting god knows where. But it had felt like he was taking her.
For days it'd been just the two of them and Louise had had Thelma's undivided attention. Back home there'd been Daryl who never wanted to let Thelma out of his sight, much less let her have any fun. But on the rare days that Louise got to take Thelma out for a drive, or convinced her to come to the diner after the rush had died down, it was like they were the only people in the world. Thelma had this way of making you feel like the most special person in the room when she liked you, and Louise was addicted to it. She’d been hooked the second she’d gotten a taste of it, all those years ago. Thelma was the sun. She lit up every room she was in and scorched your skin if you got too close. But Louise had never been very good at picking easy people to deal with, and had never been easy to get along with herself, so she didn't mind the burn. If anything, she enjoyed it. Thelma felt better than the scratch of cigarette smoke in her lungs and the burn of Fireball sliding down her throat. Nobody in her life compared to Thelma, nobody even came close.
"Louise!" Thelma screeched, launching herself into Louise's arms.
They hadn't seen each other for nearly a month. Thelma's skin was covered in a dark tan which made the crisp white linen of her blouse appear blinding and her hair was lighter than Louise remembered it being. Daryl had whisked her away on a business trip-turned last minute birthday present to Orlando, leaving Louise here alone. The boys at the diner always joked that she acted like a guard dog without a home to patrol when Thelma wasn’t around. Maybe it wasn’t entirely inaccurate.
"Hey there Thelma." Louise said, trying not to fall over from the momentum of Thelma's weight hitting her chest. Once she regained her balance and wasn't concerned with falling over, she wrapped both arms around Thelma's waist and held on tight. She wouldn’t say it, but god she had missed having her around. They stayed like that, Thelma’s hands playing with the wisps of hair at the base of Louise’s neck and Louise’s hands flat against Thelma’s shoulder blades, holding her close. Even if she looked a little different, she still smelled the same --cheap peach shampoo and eucalyptus body lotion-- and she felt the same, warm and steady against her skin. God she’d missed her.
Daryl was looking on, a suspicious look in his eye. He'd hated Louise since the day they met. She didn’t mind. Not as long as Thelma still liked her (and liked her better than Daryl, which they both knew was true).
Much too soon for Louise’s liking, Thelma was pulling away.
"Wait just a second, stay there!" She bounded back to the car, placing a peck on Daryl's lips and snagging something from the back seat. Louise resisted the urge to cringe. Daryl’s eyes were still on her and she didn’t want to give him yet another reason to try and keep Thelma from her.
When Thelma whipped back around she had a camera in her hands, and, before Louise could protest, she was snapping a picture of her.
"Thelma! Don't!"
"Oh lighten up Louise, you look so cute in your fancy jacket."
She reached forward and straightened it, brushing a bit of lint off as she went.
Louise scolded her, but let Thelma take another picture, even flashed a sarcastic smile at her.
The two messed around for a few more minutes, Thelma gushing about Florida and asking endless questions about Louise’s life in the four weeks she was gone. But Daryl was getting impatient, and it radiated off him in waves.
“I’ll come by the diner later today, okay?”
Louise nodded and gripped the polaroid in her hand a little tighter.
“My shift ends at nine.”
“You think I don’t know that? Give me a little credit Louise, you’ve had the same hours for three years!” She yelled, climbing back into the car and sliding under Daryl’s heavy arm.
Then they'd left and suddenly all of Thelma's attention was directed to Louise, all the time. She felt high, like she was walking around constantly buzzed. It made her wonder how Daryl ever complained about living with her, because even when Louise was pissed at her, Thelma was still the best person she knew. Even when she was busy ruining every plan they made, even when she was finding a way to make terrible situations endlessly more difficult, even then Louise loved her. Even then she would do anything --anything-- for her. Crazy things like shooting a man in a parking lot and driving away.
Not that that'd been a decision Louise could’ve made any differently. Not with the tear tracks on Thelma’s face and the tear in her dress, her white pretty dress; not with the way she had struggled under him, desperate to get away; not with how he had spoken about her, the derogatory words that had slid off his tongue, rancid like vomit. He hadn’t even been ashamed. Pulling the trigger was the kindest thing she could’ve done in that moment.
Louise shakes her head, trying to clear it. She doesn’t need to fixate on that memory right now. She takes a swig of Thelma’s coke in the cupholder, flat and warm, and they approach a road sign with the words “Fort Worth, Texas 105 miles” painted on in big white letters. Thelma had been haggling her over the detour to avoid the state all day. Louise shouldn’t look at it. She tries her best not to. She hasn’t been this sensitive about the incident in years, and she knows even seeing the words will send her head somewhere she doesn’t want it to go. But she looks.
TEXAS. 105 MILES.
The words jump out at her, sticking in her vision even after the sign is out of sight. Suddenly she can’t think of any other word.
TEXAS. 105 MILES. TEXAS.
Then, before she can scramble to hold onto solid ground by her fingernails, Thelma isn’t in the seat next to her, the road isn’t flying by underneath the wheels of the car, her favorite jacket isn’t thrown over her shoulders for a little warmth. She’s freezing cold, there are hands on her thighs --hands she hates, not Thelma’s hands-- and her back is pressed against something hard and rough, the plush leather of the convertible gone away. She doesn’t know how to pull herself back. Normally she’d grab the bottle of whiskey she keeps in her icebox and get so drunk she couldn’t think or she’d stand under the scalding stream of her shower until her skin was bright red, raw, and the water ran cold. But now she’s in the middle of the fucking desert behind the wheel of a car going eighty and it’s pitch black except for their headlights and Thelma, the only person in a hundred miles, is dead asleep less than five feet from her. But Louise can’t reach her fucking arm out to shake her awake, can’t do anything but grip the wheel and press on the gas and try not to vomit into her lap. She must have bruises on her thighs by how hard the hands are pressing into her, and there’s something uncomfortable jabbing at the base of her neck, and she’s got tears prickling at her eyes even though she’s determined not to fucking cry. She’s gonna crash this car if she’s not careful. Are they speeding up? Her vision is starting to go and her head is getting fuzzier and the hands on her thighs are moving up up up closer to where she absolutely does not want them and she’s praying to god please just make this stop she shouldn’t have looked she shouldn’t have gone to this bar she shouldn’t have gotten this drunk she shouldn’t have smiled at the man across the bar who wouldn’t stop looking at her she shouldn’t have worn this dress, maybe then this wouldn’t be happening, maybe if she closes her eyes this will all go away--
Suddenly a hand is over hers on the wheel, jerking the car back into the correct lane. Thelma. Thelma.
A pinprick of awareness sneaks into her vision, and she can faintly hear Thelma saying something to her, can feel her put both hands on the wheel and steer them. Louise hopes she’s pulling the car over because she really might throw up into her lap which would really suck because she likes these jeans and this is Thelma’s top and they don’t have anywhere to wash them so they’d probably just have to dump them and, yeah, that’s bile creeping up the back of her throat. Thelma must be able to read her mind somehow because all of the sudden the car is still (did Louise pick her foot up off the gas?) and she’s opening Louise’s door and nudging, then pushing, her up.
Louise stands on shaky legs, takes three steps, and vomits into the sand.
Thelma is still in the car. Louise doesn’t have to look to check, she just knows. She’s a little thankful for that, doesn’t know if she could handle Thelma’s soft hands rubbing circles into her back right now, how she normally would when Louise was sick or got a little too drunk. Normally that would comfort her, help to make whatever situation she was in bearable. But she isn't fully here yet. Her legs still ache and there’s a threat of a migraine pressing behind her eyes. It hasn’t been this bad in years. Her lips feel dry and she’s shivering despite the thin layer of fresh sweat covering her now. Her jacket must’ve fallen off somewhere.
She wanders off a little ways away from the car, only pausing once to empty what was left of her stomach contents into a bush. Eventually she plops down on the ground and puts her head against her knees, thighs clenched together as tightly as she can manage. She feels like shit. Her eyes are watering from vomiting and her face is red with shame because she hates letting Thelma see her like this, weak and vulnerable. She’s supposed to be the strong one here, the one with her shit together.
She closes her eyes and tries to come back to herself, focusing on the stillness of the air all around her, the occasional howl from a coyote, and the solidness of the ground under her feet.
After a few minutes she hears the sound of sand crunching under boots. She knows it’s Thelma, knows her footfalls by now, and the realization makes her lips quirk up at the corners. The sound grows closer then stops, presumably as she considers what to do. Louise still hasn’t lifted her head. It doesn’t take her too long to start moving again, Thelma had never been the indecisive type, and soon enough she’s plopping down next to Louise in the sand.
“Louise?” Thelma is whispering, which is so absurd Louise almost laughs. She doesn’t know if she’s ever heard her voice at a volume below yelling.
“Can I touch you?”
Louise appreciates that she asks, it pulls her back even further from the edge of the cliff, but she shakes her head. Not yet.
“I brought you some water.”
Louise stays silent, wraps her hand around the bottle that Thelma sets next to her foot.
They sit there together for what could be hours. Thelma is scuffing her boots in the dirt, interrupting the stillness of the air, but Louise can’t bring herself to mind. She had never been able to stop moving (probably a result of undiagnosed ADHD; Thelma had told her that 20 minutes into meeting her when she wouldn’t stop bouncing her leg like she was on something). After a long period of scuffing and Thelma’s soft breathing, Louise finally lifts her head. Her neck pops uncomfortably and she groans as the blood rushes back down towards her chest.
She unscrews the cap on the water bottle and rinses her mouth out before downing the remaining water in one long gulp.
“We should get back on the road.” She wipes her eyes and clears her throat, and Thelma looks at her like she’s just said the sky is red.
“You’re fuckin’ crazy if you think I’m letting you drive again tonight.”
It’s Louise’s turn to be surprised now, raising a single eyebrow.
“Louise…” Thelma lifts her hand, then thinks better of it and sets it back in her lap.
Louise sighs. Thelma is smarter than anyone, even Louise sometimes, gives her credit for.
“Don’t-- if you say anything I’m not gonna be able to keep it together.” She presses her fingers to the bridge of her nose.
“Who are you keeping it together for? It better not be me, Louise.” Thelma fixes her with a look, and wow, Louise had forgotten how intense she could be when she was serious, those usually-gleeful dark brown eyes piercing through her.
Louise takes a deep breath. It’s almost harder to stay composed now than it was earlier. She had never been good at allowing herself to be comforted, even when she was a kid. It had always just made her cry harder, so she learned to push away the hugs and kisses and coddling. Even with Thelma a good arm’s length away she feels the threat of tears pressing against her eyes.
“I’m okay.” It’s a reminder to herself as much as it’s for Thelma.
Thelma sighs and rubs at her eyes. Louise can tell she’s itching to touch her, knows that Thelma is touchy on a good day and downright needy on a bad one. Louise can’t remember the last time any semblance of personal space had been respected when they were together. Even now, with the distance between them, Louise feels like Thelma is perpetually attached to her side.
She sucks in another breath and looks at the stars. You can see the band of the milky way out here where the light pollution is practically nonexistent. She takes a moment, makes sure that the phantom hands on her thighs have mostly faded and the memory of the stabbing pain in her lower back is gone before she lets herself lean ever so slightly in Thelma’s direction. She’s confident the other woman will pick up on it, that she’ll be hyper aware of every move Louise makes right now.
And she does. Of course she does. They’ve known each other for more than a decade. Thelma should know Louise better than anyone. Her arms wrap around Louise’s shoulders, coaxing her into moving closer so her head can rest on Thelma’s shoulder.
Thelma opens her mouth to say something, takes a deep breath in, and Louise readies herself for the question she’s been asked hundreds of times already. What happened in Texas? As if Thelma didn’t already have a pretty good idea. She’s prepared to send a biting I don’t want to talk about it back or simply storm off back to the car. But no sound pierces the air.
Instead, Louise feels Thelma’s arms tighten around her, and a hand starts to play with the ends of her hair. Louise almost tells her to stop because her hair is definitely dirty and ratty from the wind whipping through it. But then something wet drops onto the hand she has resting on Thelma’s thigh. She looks down, watches another droplet fall, and realizes what it is. Thelma is crying. Louise looks up and sure enough, Thelma’s face is wet with tears.
“Thelma, I’m okay.” Her voice shakes when she says it even as she does her best to steady it.
Thelma shakes her head, hard this time, and doesn’t say anything. Her eyes squeeze shut and her face twists up, the way a child’s would. She takes a clipped breath in, the air catching not even halfway through the motion and pulls Louise even closer to her so that Louise’s face is practically pressed against her neck.
“I love you.” Louise thinks she hears. It’s muffled against her hair, but the possible words are enough to send her over the edge. She grips Thelma’s shirt (which is actually her’s, as is the jacket Thelma must’ve thrown on when she got out of the car.) and presses her face more firmly into the skin of her neck. It doesn’t matter that they’re both dirty and that the sand under their legs is itchy. They cling to each other, completely alone for hundreds of miles. They’re an insignificant dot in the vastness of the desert, but this feels like the whole world to Louise.
She can’t pinpoint when she started crying, but now her cheeks and Thelma’s neck are wet.
Thelma is whispering something against her scalp, something that sounds like “I’m sorry” over and over again. Louise can feel her throat moving with the motion, but she can’t hear the words over her own sobs.
She wants to say I’ve loved you for my entire life, wants to say I don’t regret killing that bastard for a second, wants to say I’d kill your husband too if you asked. I’d do anything you wanted me to. But instead she just cries into Thelma’s neck.
She wonders if Thelma feels the same way. If she’s thinking about saying the same things. If she would’ve pulled the trigger when it was Louise’s skirt hiked up by greedy hands. Of course she would’ve.
After what seems like forever Thelma nudges her upwards so they can look eye to eye. Louise is about to say something, maybe crack a joke to lighten the mood, but then Thelma is surging forward, capturing her lips in a kiss. The world narrows ever further.
Louise straightens up, cupping Thelma’s cheek with her hand. She’s putting more dust on her cheek this way, but neither of them mind.
I’ve loved you my entire life. I’d do anything for you.
She’s sure that’s what Thelma is saying now. They’re having an entire conversation without saying a word.
Kissing Thelma felt better than just about anything she’d ever done. None of her boyfriends could hold a candle to this, not even on the best days. Louise would rather be here, in the dirt with Thelma, than in the royal fucking palace with anyone else. Her lips were soft and her hands were softer and she smelled sweet even with all that dirt on her skin. Peaches and eucalyptus, even in the middle of the desert. She tasted like the m&ms she’d convinced Louise to buy her earlier and Louise wanted to push her back in the dirt and climb on top of her, then and there. Fuck the police, fuck her husband, fuck Jimmy, none of that mattered a bit. She moved downwards, placing a kiss on Thelma’s jawline, then another, and another before she pulled herself back.
“Jesus.”
“Nope, just me.” Thelma grinned at her, dopey and sweet like a puppy.
Louise couldn’t help herself from leaning back in after that, not when they had wasted years not kissing each other. Thelma was smiling when their lips reconnected, a sure sign that she was getting her way, and her hand came up in its familiar way to play with the curls at the base of her scalp. She was warm and solid and so sweet, and for the first time in a while, Louise thought that maybe things were going to be ok.