Title: Merely Players (I): Amy Campbell.
Featuring: Desade
Date: January 26-28
Location: Oakland and Paris

Wednesday, January 26, 2011 8:17 AM Pacific Standard Time
Shadow Woods Homes
Oakland, California

Alexandra Eloise Pierce was a notorious morning person, a fitful sleeper often up before the crack of dawn. She did more by eight AM than most people did all day, so it came no surprise to find her bustling through the door of the two-bedroom condominium she shared with her sixteen-year-old daughter.

A daughter she found seated at the kitchen table, one leg curled underneath her with an extra-large bowl of Fruity Pebbles before her and a serving spoon most people would use as a ladle in one hand. "Hi," the teen said. "You're late."

"Late for what?" Pierce deposited a white plastic bag on the kitchen island, one hand lifting to tuck a wild curl of burnished, rust red hair behind her ear. "It's eight in the morning."

"8:18, now." Quinn rose, pushing her bowl away. "Which means my bus will be here soon, gotta go." She rushed across the condo, snatching up her book bag from its spot by the door. "I'll be home tonight andâ€""

Her mother lifted her gaze from the groceries to the door. "Quinn," she said sharply.

The girl sighed, darting back to the kitchen to give her mother a peck on the cheek. "Love you," she said, breaking into a dead run to the door. Her words drifted behind her. "Your email sound thingy chimed. I didn't read it, promise!"

Just like that, the girl slipped through the door, only just managing to get it closed behind her. Her mother's small smile was unavoidable as she turned to deposit a plastic bag of vegetables in the crisper drawer. She shook her head as she picked up Quinn's mixer bowl and the Tupperware container of cereal.

It was no surprise how organized Pierce's kitchen was â€" the meticulous, obsessive/compulsive reputation she had in the wrestling industry was only slightly overblown from reality. When she slid her daughter's cereal back into place atop the refrigerator, an observant onlooker might have noticed that they were alphabetized, nestled beside the Froot Loops.

Alex set her iPhone on the countertop as she worked, letting the phone connect to get the email Quinn had mentioned. She stopped putting the groceries away when she saw what it was, and who it was from.

Because that was the email that changed everything.

---

It took her twelve minutes to convince herself to dial, twelve minutes before she pushed that last digit. She hooked a tiny headset around one ear, trying to keep her voice level as she tapped her finger against the final number.

"Calling Amy," the screen read. The picture that accompanied the name was one the redhead she was calling hated â€" a goofy shot of a dorky little wave, hair mussed, lips curled back in a smirk, brows up.

Alex loved it, though.

She imagined the scene on the other end of the line. It was only 8:30, which put the odds of the three-time SCCW Universal Champion being awake at something of a longshot. Amy had been sleeping on the floor at a friend's house across town since she lost her Long Beach loft, so she'd probably be cocooned under the covers, her face barely visible along with perhaps one hand. The sun would just be sneaking in through the blinds; soon she'd roll over and bury herself deeper in the sheets to hide away.

When last she checked, Campbell used Amy Winehouse's "You Know I'm No Good" as a ringtone to alert her to Alex calling. Campbell would groan and one hand would emerge from the pile of blanket and feel around blindly for her own iPhone, probably on the coffee table. Her tattoos would appear and disappear in the light â€" Alex tried not to imagine tracing them, tried not to miss those early mornings beside her in bed.

Amy would grab up the smartphone and snatch her arm away, using the light of the screen to find the slide to answer. Chances were, she wouldn't even open her eyes, just put the phone to the ear and answer.

The ringing finally ceased, but no voice was apparent at first. Instead, there was a scratching noise and the rustling of sheets. Finally, a groan. "Whyyyyyyyyy... sleep."

"Good morning," Alex said, keeping her voice quiet. "Look, I know it's early, but I had this idea..."

"You mean nothing's wrong?" The voice on the other side had become clearer, but only momentarily. The pout was easy to imagine. "I hate you."

That drew a larger smile from the woman at the other end of the phone. "No, you don't." She put a bag of organic pasta in the cupboard. "Or you won't after you hear the offer I got."

"It's..." There was a pause, another shift â€" Amy was probably checking her phone. "It's not even nine o'clock."

"This is true, yes." Pierce turned, resting her hip against the countertop.

Another beleaguered, long-suffering groan. "And this idea... it happens before lunch?"

"It does not."

There was a grand and grumpy sigh then. "I'll be on the sidewalk in a half hour. I'm too tired to drive."

Alex slapped the cabinet closed. "Great," she said. "I'll buy you breakfast."

"Damn right you will."

---

Twenty-seven minutes later, Pierce's forest green Chrysler 300M pulled up outside Claire Milleur's apartment complex. Alex had changed from her morning groceries run, replacing her sweatshirt with a turquoise blouse, a simple gold chain joining the mermaid's-tear necklace that she hardly ever removed.

She pulled down the visor, flipping open the mirror to get a look. A nervous flick of her hand mostly corralled her unruly ringlets. "Relax," she said, huffing a deep breath. "It's just brunch."

A moment later, someone who was by all appearances a homeless person hobbled over to the passenger's side of the car. If it weren't for the fitted pants, the hoodie may have drowned Amy Campbell out entirely. She tapped at the window, the Spider unlocked the door, and her former lover groggily eased herself into the seat with no greeting, just a complaint. "My ribs are killing me today."

"That's because you won't stop training, even with Sin City closed." Pierce's hand dropped to the gearshift, easing out onto the street. "I know what happened wasâ€""

"They didn't break near my lungs, and I'm going easy on them. We don't need to talk about the cause," Amy snapped. "What's all this about, anyway?"

They eased into a left turn, and Alex slid a smile to the side. "I need a plus-one."

"I'm not a plus-one anymore, remember?"

"Yes, but they said I could bring a guest."

Amy shifted to the side, lifting her face just enough that part of it was visible in the sunlight. "You're really going to make me play guessing games?"

"Well, well. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the... the floor, didn't they?" Pierce smiled as they drifted to a halt at a red light.

"Mean reminder that I'm a failure much?"

Alex pulled into a strip mall parking lot, whipping the car into park. "Putting aside that there are legions of people in this sport who'd like to be a 'failure' like you... it was a bad attempt at a joke, sorry."

Campbell grunted. "Less apologies, more breakfasting."

"Well, I was just going to see if you wanted to come with me to see a place you swore didn't exist."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Amy turned slightly, lifting one leg to plant the heel of her sneaker on the seat, just because she knew it bugged Alex. "Fine, I'll bite. What place doesn't exist?"

The taller redhead smiled. "A long time ago, when we first met, you told me you thought that my ring announcement was bullshit, that I was just trying to be 'all spooky and shit.' Remember that?"

"C'mon, Alex... you wouldn't be living in Oakland if you really had a place in..." When the realization struck, Amy paused. "You're not seriously inviting me to Paris? You know I can't go."

"PRIME is starting their next tour at Palais Omnisports," Pierce explained. "They were impressed with the match against VJ and invited me out for ReVolution to give me a chance to say goodbye to the fans or whatever. You should come with me. They'll pay for airfare, and whether you believe it or not, there actually is a place out there."

Campbell drew her hood down, blinking against the few rays of the sun that forced their way through the haze. "Alex, I don'tâ€""

"Oh, come on. You don't exactly have a full dance card right now, Aim. Unless it would take away critical Call of Duty time."

The smaller of the two redheads sighed, pushing her hand through her hair. "Sometimes I really do hate you," she grumbled.

---

"The sidewalk is actually cobblestone!" Some three and a half days later, Amy's mood had improved, but then, she was walking down a Paris street, just before sunset. Alex was a step or two ahead of the smaller woman, but then Campbell stopped far more often. Amy brushed her fingers against lampposts, marveled at architecture, and grinned at the signs in marketplace windows.

In short, Amy Campbell was a tourist, a first-timer to the City of Lights, and her irrepressible grin lit up her face. "How many people do you think have walked down this street?"

"Quite a few, I'll bet," Pierce murmured, stopping at a thin red door. "We're here."

Amy looked up from a newspaper vending machine, a hop in her step. "You're sure this time? This is the third time we've stopped."

"It's been a long time since I've been here." As with the first two places, Pierce pulled a silver key from the pocket of her trousers to fit into the lock. This time, it slid in without a hitch, and the door opened.

"Are you kidding? I'd never leave." Campbell brushed past, bounding up the steps into the foyer.

She drew up short, nearly toppling over. Alex's hand on her back steadied her, reaching across to flip on the light switch. A lamp beside the door went on, orange-tinted light painting across the wall. The entryway was recessed slightly, three steps down and leading to the living room. The wall on Amy's right was windows floor to ceiling, presenting a spectacular view of the skyline.

The living room was fully furnished â€" two plush chairs and a couch all angled towards the entertainment center with an area rug in the middle of the room. The television was large, probably thirty-six inches across, and a small wet bar sat off to the side, not far from the kitchen.

Alex stripped off her jacket, tossing it across the back of the chair. "The couch is a pull-out, and there's an Xbox I've never used in the cabinet. Should be a sight better than the floor, though you're welcome to the bedroom if you'd rather."

"This is... Jesus," Amy muttered. "How did you not bring me here earlier? You have no idea how much extra sex you missed. I mean... when we were... y'know. Not friends."

"I don't come here much."

"Why not?" Campbell moved to the windows, resting her fingertips on the sill. "This is... this is wow."

Alex rested her shoulder against the door, content to watch. "Eventually you'll finish that."

"Finish what?" Amy looked up. "Is there a balcony or something?"

"A small one. Deck chair, small table. Nothing fancy." A smile tugged at Pierce's lips. "I meant that sentence. Short, declarative, descriptive. You'll decide what it is."

"It's just that it's... I mean. Shit. Fantastic? I feel a little unworthy, like you should bring someone you're trying to wooâ€"there isn't anyone, though, is there?â€"or like... some sort of business people. I don't know." Campbell was sore, exhausted, but still couldn't bring herself to sit down. "You surprise me sometimes."

Pierce pushed off the wall, her boots clicking softly against the tile floor. "You want to see the rest? Balcony, bedroom, bathroom." She turned over her wrist, glancing at the watch that she wore upside-down on her wrist. "There's no food here in the pantry â€" can't ask the maid to restock the place when I'm never here â€" so we'll probably have to go to the market andâ€""

"Alex."

"What?"

Amy turned from the window, folding her arms. "You don't bring people here?"

"Almost never."

"'Almost' or 'never'?"

"Hmm?"

"It can't be both. I just... we've known each other for what? Three years?"

Alex lifted a hand. "Give or take."

"And in three years, about half of which we spent in a pretty serious relationship, you never brought your girlfriend your super-luxurious apartment in the most romantic city in the world?"

"It would appear that I did not." Pierce led the smaller woman to the small flight of stairs that would lead to the master bedroom. "I'm a creature of mystery and intrigue, it seems."

Amy followed, fairly listless at first. "What the hell are you up to here?"

Alex looked over her shoulder, managing a smile. "I'm not up to anything, Amy. I just..." She trailed off, continuing up the steps.

"You just what?" Campbell lingered at the bottom, one hand on the banister. "I swear to God, there's some creepy murder shrine up there..."

"No!" Alex sighed, stopped. Her head dropped, eyes closing. "It's nothing like that."

"Sometimes I can't help but wonder what goes on in that mind of yours."

"Then that would make two of us, then." The smile came up again. "Come on. You've got to see this bedroom."

The smaller woman jogged up the stairs after Alex. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Totally."

It was a lie and both of them knew it â€" both of them knew the other knew it, too. For once in her life, however, Amy Campbell let things be, losing herself in the ridiculous grandeur of Alexandra Pierce's never-used split-level apartment. (Which, Amy would hasten to point out, was in Paris. And had a bathroom that was almost as big as the entire living room she was crashing in.)

Okay, so, maybe getting lost in the luxury of it wasn't so difficult after all, but she couldn't help the occasional glance at her former lover.

She couldn't help wondering.

---

The thing about wrestling in a federation you don't actually have a contract with (even when your opponent is someone as eminently forgettable as Enemigo VII) is the paperwork. Whole reams of it: disclaimers and medical releases and image licensing and fair name usage and more, an endless array of contracts to be reviewed and signed. Most people have lawyers to review them, agents familiar with these particular kinds of legalese.

Alexandra Pierce was not most people, and so, when the fax came in from Lisa Tyler's office, she sat spent an hour behind her desk, reviewing the papers in exhaustive detail.

Amy Campbell got bored quickly â€" even with an Xbox at the ready, the other redhead was, at best, a woman with a limited attention span. At worst, she was not unlike a raccoon, distracted by the next shiny thing she came across. After all, she was in Paris fucking France, and she was cooped up in an (admittedly palatial) apartment. She thought about going out â€" she was French Canadian, after all, so she could get by with the language. Maybe she's go see the Arc de Triomphe.

In the end (and despite the fact that Alex didn't have Call of Duty, just Modern Warfare 2 and boy does that game suck), Amy stayed. But staying in meant she had to order in, and she found a nice café up the street that was willing to deliver (probably in part due to the fact that Campbell was fluent and not just some ignorant American).

Alex half-listened to it all, thin spectacles perched at the end of her aquiline nose. She resisted the urge to just skim it all â€" it was all probably boilerplate, anyway, and it wasn't like she'd invited her ex-girlfriend along to the most romantic city in the world by accident. She tried to focus on the matter at hand, on the words on the page.

It almost worked, too â€" until the deliveryman arrived. The knock on the door stirred her, and the clomp-clomp of the tiny redhead's footsteps (how can someone so little make so much noise running to the door?) pulled her attention to the door. The kid was young, with a face full of scruff in the manner of a kid who wanted to be appear older than he was. He was tall with dark hair, and he wore blue jeans and a band t-shirt; Pierce didn't know the band, but Amy seemed impressed.

And that was the problem: Amy was impressed. Campbell chatted with the kid for a good five minutes, and all Alex caught were snippets. His name was Dominic. He was Canadian, born in Ottawa but grew up outside Toronto. He hated the Raptors. He loved her tattoo work.

The words on the page blurred together, and Alex knew her brow was furrowed. She felt her lips purse when Amy did what Amy always did. She laughed at his jokes, she told a few of her own, she... she did that thing where people couldn't help but like her. Dominic didn't seem interested in taking her money, content to bask in her overall... overall Amyness.

Consciously, Alex knew it was jealousy. She knew what the symptoms were and she knew she had no right to feel it.

But it was there nevertheless. It was there and it was strong and it was very distracting when one is reading about PRIME's right to use footage obtained at ReVolution 238 for marketing purposes.

When Amy darted across the room for a pad of post-it notes, Alex stood. When she took Dominic's email address, Pierce walked to the railing. When she gave him her Facebook URL (her personal one, not the fan site), Alex leaned over. Finally, Campbell scrawled her name on the receipt, turning with a smile. "Well, great," she told him. "I'll send you an email."

"Cool beans," he said. "I'll see you around the interwebs."

"Yup." Amy shook her head as she turned, nudging the door closed with the toe of one sneaker. "Alex, food'sâ€"" She looked up, her eyes widening slightly. "Oh. Hi."

"Hi."

Campbell lifted one of the bags. "Ordered food if you're hungry."

"I could eat." Alex stepped â€" no, prowled â€" down the steps, one hand lingering on the banister. "You and that deliveryman seemed to hit it off."

"I know! How great is it that the delivery guy was Canadian?" The quick, honest response was enough to assure Pierce that Amy's intentions were pure - she always made a point of being friendly with most strangers - but the Spider could only imagine the grin and far less chaste expectations that man had walked away with.

The taller woman didn't answer the question, and Amy set the bag of food down on the nearest chair, clutching a Post-It in one hand while she reached for her laptop with the other. "He's studying to be a cook." she said. "Or chef, maybe? I don't know how the two differ around here. He had no idea who I am, but still offered to show me around."

"I'm telling you," she continued, opening the computer on her lap. "That's what's great about Canadians. Just a nice guy. I think I'll take him up on the little tour while you're doing PRIME stuff."

Amy preferred the company of men, and so most of her friends were male. Because she hadn't been thinking of anything beyond making a new friend, she was completely oblivious to what Alex had seen in the man's eyes as he left -- that he'd seen it as an opportunity to score.

Pierce crossed the room briskly, maybe a little too quickly. "You're adorable when you're oblivious."

"Obliv..." Campbell cut herself off, looking up from her laptop. "C'mon, now. What's that supposed to mean?"

"It..." Alex sighed. "You know I hate to sound like a stereotype, but he's a guy, Amy. A man. With... with male parts. And man thoughts."

"I'd like to think I didn't seem the least bit interested in his parts, or do I really come off so slutty?" She asked. "I wouldn't disrespect you by trying to get laid out here. I'm not the least bit interested... well, that's kind of a lie. But I'm not looking for that."

Still, there was the nagging question at the back of her mind. She really shouldn't have continued, but... "He was looking, though?" Amy grinned. It was a little point for her ego. "Like, he seemed interested? That's sweet. Wouldn't have thought I was his tyâ€""

"Have you looked at yourself?" The taller redhead surprised herself with her volume. "God, Amy, you're the type of girl who everyone looks at twice. You wrestle professionally, which is the best workout anyone can ask for, the tattoos are striking, you're funny and clever and smart. Even people who don't like tattoos or piercings are probably like, 'I don't normally go for girls like that, but damn."

Amy tried really hard not to smile and say 'Thank you'. That probably wouldn't go over well. "I... are you jealous?" She chuckled. So much for avoiding rocky terrain. Still, the little redhead fiddled with her keyboard, eventually reaching for the Post-It with the man's e-mail address. "I'm not having sex with anyone, Alex. Not even the polite delivery boy. Scout's honor. Really, though? Everyone? Twice?"

"Yes, I'm jealous." Alex spun away, arms out. "Of course I'm jealous. You'd damn well be jealous if you were in my shoes, and don't you tell me you wouldn't."

"I'm adorable when I'm oblivious, and you're kinda hot when you're jealous." Amy laughed. "Alex, come on. I'm not that spiteful, hurt little thing that flaunted everything I was doing a few months ago anymore. I promise my intentions are pure."

Campbell finally shrugged and looked down to the screen. "Besides, I haven't been with anyone since I've been sober. Meanwhile, you've been 'working' on a team with your ex almost constantly. Oh, hey - he added me already! Must have the Facebook a--"

"Dammit, Amy..." Alex sighed, shutting the other woman's laptop so fast it was all she could do to get her hands out of the way.

"Hey!"

Pierce dropped onto the couch, half-turned to face Campbell. "I swear, sometimes you're the densest person I know."

"I told you, it's completely harmâ€""

Amy's sentence never finished, because Alex silenced â€" and surprised â€" the redhead with a soft, gentle, and all-too-brief kiss, their lips barely touching. "Now do you see?" she asked as she retreated.

The trembling was almost instant, and Campbell wondered if she was about to pass out. "You... huh. Still kinda foggy, but we really shouldn'tâ€"" Her actions put the lie in her words, leaning in again for another peck, and another still. "â€"It wouldn't be rightâ€"" She gasped. "â€"Very ill-advisedâ€""

"I don't care what happens," Alex whispered, her forehead touching the other woman's, her hand on Amy's cheek. "I'm tired of caring. Of... of dwelling on it. I miss you. All the time."

It was noteworthy that she didn't pull away, and even made the effort of setting her laptop down on the coffee table beside the evening's meal. "But... my night of passion with the delivery boy!" Amy chided sarcastically. Still, she leaned back towards Pierce, suddenly absent of her usual volume. If anything, she sounded scared. "Al, I don't know if I can handle..."

"I know." Alex whispered. "I've thought about it, but... I'm willing to take the risk."

Another kiss drew words Amy hadn't expected to hear herself say again. "God," she sighed. "I love you too much to..." That was when she went pale, eyes wide. "Err... I... what I meant... by that... I shouldn't have said tha--"

"I love you, Amy. I always have. I..." One long, dancer's leg moved, straddling the smaller woman. "I really think we both know that by now."

"I... but it's..." As quickly as the words came, they escaped Amy. She put a gentle hand on Pierce's hip, as if trying to anchor the both of them. "I haven't... I don't know how to deal with... not when I'm sober. What if... if we... what if I..." She mewed. "I don't want to make you sad. I never wanted t--" She cut herself off, looking the Spider in the eyes. She'd seen that look before, and briefly wondered if Alex picked up on her terror. "...I can't believe I'm trying to talk you out of this, but l-look..."

Pierce leaned over, her dark, rust-red hair hanging between them. "I'm a big girl, Aim. And I really didn't bring you to all the way Paris to debate this."

Amy stuttered, she shook and even felt sweat where her palms met Alex. Sober, she lacked her usual confidence. Worse yet, she was terrified of disappointing Pierce in any way, be it ten minutes from that moment or the next day, when she might regret the decisions before her. She still kissed Alex back, still couldn't help but smile in each break, but she still couldn't shut her brain off. Cocaine had always been so good at that. "... but I bought dinner...?"

"And you're hungry enough to stop me?"

That was one question Campbell didn't need to put much thought to.

---

The inked-up Canadian had been staring at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity. She figured it was jet lag that kept Alex unconscious, and that led Amy to snuggle closer, planting lips between the other woman's shoulder blades.

"I love you." She couldn't help but capitalize on the rare opportunity to say something Pierce wouldn't hear. She kissed again, even ran her hand up the Director's arm, but avoided a touch firm enough to stir her. "You're so, so bad for me, but I'll never drop this habit."

Beside her, Alexandra Pierce was awake â€" she always did have a difficult time sleeping, though the night terrors that would spur her into wakefulness hadn't come that night â€" but no matter how she tried to stay asleep, she just couldn't. A smile touched her lips, unbidden, at Amy's words, and she rolled over sluggishly, allowing the diminutive woman her pride.

"Mm. Morning."

"I dunno how you slept." Amy groaned and stretched her legs out underneath sheets she never remembered retrieving. Alex must have busied herself after her counterpart passed out. Every muscle was stiff and sore, but she dipped down to pepper Pierce's throat with small kisses. "... the floor was a bad choice, I think."

"We're old, aren't we?"

"I'm not." Campbell grinned. "Dunno about you, though. We might need to run some tests."

"I'm all for that." Alex rolled to her side, propping her head up in her hand. "Maybe we should adjourn to theâ€"" The up-down ringtone of Alex's iPhone rang from the bedroom. "Gah. That's wonderful timing."

"There's nothing I can do to convince you not to answer that, is there?"

"It could be Quinn. It's, what, just after midnight in Oakland?"

Amy lied back down, crossing her wrists over her head. "Don't ask me. I'm not sure what time it is now."

Groaning, Pierce climbed to her feet, padding across the room. She took the stairs two at a time, catching the phone just before it jumped to voicemail. "This is Alex," she said.

Her guess was spot-on, and there's nothing quite like a teen's vitriol to wake you up. "Where the hell are you?" Quinn Gregory demanded.

"Uhm. Paris."

"You mean like the real one? The one that's in France?"

"That is where they keep it, yes." Alex dropped exhaustedly to the bed, her phone held to her ear, head pillowed on her forearm.

Some 5500 miles away, her daughter unknowingly mimicked the posture. "You took the PRIME offer."

"I took the PRIME offer. Just for one match."

"I thought we talked about this."

Pierce glanced to the stairs as Amy crested them. "We did talk about it."

"But yet you're in Paris."

"I am," Alex agreed. She held up a "one second" finger as Campbell crossed to the bed and got a grin in return.

The eyebrow quirk on Quinn's pale face came through the line loud and clear. "On my birthday."

"Your birthday isn't..." Pierce's concentration was broken momentarily as Amy crawled up onto the foot of the bed, inching close. She shook her head feverishly, trying to keep her voice level. "Your birthday isn't until the weekend. Weâ€"I should be home in plenty of time."

"I should be there."

"But you're notâ€"" Alex couldn't suppress a small grin, and that came through the voice. "I'm not flying you out on a school night, Quinn. Not toâ€"will you stop it?"

Amy looked up with a coy little smile of her own, pulling up Pierce's shirt despite the Spider's shoves.

"Who are you talking toâ€"is there someone else there?" Quinn's voice took on a sudden heat. "Is there a woman with you?"

"No, Quinn, it's not likeâ€""

"How could youâ€"it's not Drusilla is it? Tell me it's not Drusilla."

"It's not Drusilla." That drew Campbell's face up, her jaw suddenly set, brow furrowed. Alex continued smoothly. "Why does everyone think I'm sleeping with Dru?"

"Yeah, why is that?" Amy whispered.

Pierce squirmed against the touch. "I am not now nor have I been sleeping with Drusilla Devonshire, okay?"

"Whose voice was that?" Quinn asked. "Who are you with?"

"It's really none of your business," Alex said. "I am a grown woman, and you're just a few days away from your seventeenth birthday."

The silence was sudden, sullen. "You're right. It's just... how could you do that to Amy?"

"Yeah!" Amy piped up from nearby, her fingertips smoothing over Pierce's abdomen. "How could you do that to me?"

You could have heard a pin drop at Pierce's condo. "Wait," Quinn said at length. "Is that Amy?"

Pierce extended the phone to Campbell. "She wants to talk to you."

Campbell shook her head at first, but Alex wouldn't relent. "This Natalia, Russian mail-order briAH!" When the little redhead finally took the phone, the Spider pounced, flipping her over roughly. With the tables turned, Alexandra chuckled a little. "Great, now my cover's blown. Hi, Quinn."

"Hi."

"... Am I in trouble?" she joked about that no-nonsense tone the teen would put on whenever she expected answers. There was no mistaking, the girl was very much her mother's daughter. Not completely, she hoped, as the elder Pierce was trailing kisses along her stomach as a means of distraction. Her endeavor was successful, making Amy whimper and squirm underneath her. "A-and enough about me. Let's talk about you! Or hang up. Hanging up would be awesome."

"You're in Paris," Quinn repeated. "With mom. Do I even want to know how this happened?"

"Your mother..." Amy shifted, trying to escape, but the other woman was far too strong. "She's a... she's a great negotiator."

That got a quiet chuckle out of the girl. "She's... uh, yeah. I'll go with negotiator. Aggressive negotiations, you might say. If you were the type who'd paraphrase one of the Star Wars prequels, which apparently I am. Soooo....?" She drew out the question eagerly.

Amy took the time to consider her response â€" or maybe to consider just what Pierce's hands were up to. It went on long enough that the girl pressed. "Oh, come on..."

"'Sooo' what?" was all the false innocence Campbell could manage with her fingers tangled in the girl's mother's hair, half-heartedly trying to yank the woman away.

"So this means you guys are totally back together finally?"

"I... I'm actually not sure. Can... could you hold on just a second?" She didn't wait for an answer, instead put the phone to her chest in hopes of blocking the mic while she spoke to the elder Pierce. "Turnabout is not fair play, lady."

Alex looked up with a wide, sudden smile. "That's not the way I was raised," she said. "But I am a Pierce."

Amy made an effort to suppress her own smile and cast a scolding look at her, pinging Alex on the chin playfully while she put the phone back up to her ear. "Y'know... I really can't answer that, Quinn. She's honestly not really... I dunno, my type?" she said, "I'm more into tall, dark, handsome... male. I actually met someone while I've been here, I might give him a ca-HEY!"

Pierce bounded up the bed, wrestling the phone away. "She's joking," she said around a half-swallowed laugh.

"Not joking!" Amy said, and her laugh was louder. "I love him and I want to marry him!"

"Uhm, should I just call back in the morning or something?" Quinn asked helplessly. "Maybe you two will spontaneously grow up and act like adults."

"Okay, okay... we'll be serious." Alex propped herself up in the bed. She cupped the phone away from her mouth. "She thinks we're being too silly."

"Baww... all riiiight..." Amy nestled in at the other woman's side.

"So," the teen said around a sigh. "You're in Paris, you'll be on a PRIME show, you're with Amy, and you're not sure if you're together. That sum it up?"

Pierce nodded a little. "That would cover it."

"Great. Well. Don't do anything thatâ€"you know, nevermind." Gregory sighed again. "I'll tune in. It's almost one here, so I should go to bed. Talk to you soon?"

"Of course." Alex smiled. "Take care. I love you."

"Love you, Quinn!" Campbell shouted from her spot in bed.

And then the girl was gone. Pierce set her iPhone down on the bedside table. "I think she's mad at us."

"Hey now, I had no part in this."

Alex rolled onto her side, her arm over the pillow, head pillowed in her hand. "I missed this, you know. Missed us. You should stay. Just for a while. It's been a long time since I've been in this city, but... I could show you a thing or two about Paris. If you want."

"Look, Al, I..." Amy bit her lip and winced a little. "In the spirit of honesty, I should probably tell you something."

"If it's that you're going on a date with Dominic, you're sleeping on the couch."

"Not exactly. I... well, it's a couple of things. I lied a little," she said. "When I said I'd never really been here. I have. A few times. I just... I didn't get on that plane looking forward to Paris. I mean, I didn't expect... expect this, but I packed my bags for you."

That quieted Pierce's grin, but it didn't make it disappear. "I know."

"I mean it."

"I know you do. Maybe you're right â€" maybe I didn't know-know, but I hoped. And that's what I've lived on for... for a year now."

"The other thing, you're probably really not gonna like..." Campbell sighed. "Actually, I think that's enough for now."

"I hate it when you do that."

"I know." Amy arched to look up. "But not too much, right?"

Pierce smiled, smoothing the hair off the smaller woman's forehead. "No. Not too much. Is it okay if we just lay here for a while? I missed this most of all."

"'Most'?" Campbell's brows climbed in mock insult, before her smile fought off the teasing expression. "Yeah. We can do this if you want."

And so it was that Amy Campbell and Alexandra Pierce spent the day in bed together, and not once did they do anything untoward of even a little bit racy.

(Well, okay, maybe once. Or twice. Thrice, maximum.)

(Thriiiiiiiice.)
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