This A+ Fan Fiction is part of the 13 Days of A+. From December 13 through December 25, we’re celebrating the people who literally keep our lights on, who believed we could make it through 2020, who invest and participate in this community through challenges and growth and change — that’s YOU. It’s truly magical to have so many guardian gayngels looking out for this space, and we’re so delighted to be able to do something a little special for our queer fam to close out the year. Some of what we publish for the 13 Days will be cozy and familiar, like Into the A+ Advice Box and Some Answers to Some Questions You’ve Been Asking Us. Some of it will be a twist on regulars; we have Malic White as a guest editor for two installments of the erotica series S L I C K for one… and the rest? We’re going to keep those pieces all boxed up in scissoring-patterned wrapping paper until they publish. We’re looking forward to spending some time with you. 

A Brief Note from your editor, Carmen: Once our team decide that our contribution to the “13 Days of A+” (thank you A+ members for all that you do!) would be a group fan fiction, the idea came together fairly quickly. We wanted a plot that would play to variety of our team strengths (sci-fi and superheroes for Valerie, hating men for Heather, political intrigue for Natalie, etc) — and the idea of Buffy returning to Southern California to meet Bette Porter, who in our alternative reality would have obviously won her race for mayor, was too good to pass up.

The rules of our fanfic round robin were simple: Everyone received a required start and end point for their section of story, but what happened between those two points was completely up to the discretion of the author — and boi did our team epically deliver beyond my wildest imagination! We somehow incorporated more than 20 lesbian, bisexual, and trans characters across at least eight different television shows!! We really just went for the entire expanded lesbian cinematic universe, hahaha. And we hope you enjoy it as much as we enjoyed putting this bonkers little story together! Before I forget — an * before an author’s name denotes NSFW content, but moving past it won’t change the overall plot.

And so our story begins…

---

Natalie

Bette decided not to go home last night. She didn’t want to be greeted by an empty house or miss the bass from Angie’s music echoing throughout the halls or hear the echoes of a love lost ring in her ears.

You just took up so much space.

Everything was on your timeline, on your terms.

Because you’re never wrong.

No, Bette thought, she was better off at the office: reading briefing binders and staff memos and responding to messages that she’d let languish in her inbox. It wasn’t until 2AM — after reading a dizzying set of memos about the shooting death of Andres Guardado — that Bette decamped to the conference room and began tracking the correlation between incidents of police brutality and city spending. Four hours later, Dani found her there: still working, surrounded by copies of the city budgets from the last decade.

“Mayor Porter?” Dani called out. “Mayor Porter, are you okay?”

“Dani! Of course,” Bette answered, rubbing her eyes

“Did you go home last night?”

“No, I stayed and got some work done,” Bette explained. She paused before continuing, “Tina, my ex-wife, is getting married this weekend. Working all night on an updated budget proposal seemed like a better use of my time than doing something self-destructive like drinking and going home with some stranger.”

Dani paused, slightly uncomfortable, at the idea of Bette going home with someone that wasn’t her. She’d gotten good about hiding her feelings, though, this time cloaking them with humor, “Well, as your Communications Director, I’m grateful that you chose the less public option; I can only imagine what the coverage of that would’ve looked like.”

That earned her a chuckle from Bette, who ran her fingers through her hair and turned back to the whiteboard she’d been jotting numbers down on all night.

“I’m sorry about Tina,” Dani added.

“Yeah, me too,” Bette said.

Dani let the silence linger, unsure of what to do next: should she push the boundaries of her relationship with her boss or should she steer the conversation back towards the professional. But, as was her wont, Bette made the choice for her: She grabbed her tablet and started scribbling more numbers on the board.

“So, are you going to tell me what you spent all night working on… or, more to the point, why couldn’t you just let the budget office handle this?”

“I just wanted to have a better understanding of the numbers before I talked to the budget office about it. Did you know that in the last budget proposal we spent $1.86 billion on policing?”

“I do know that… and what you also know from looking at all these budgets is that that’s a sizable decrease from the year prior.”

“I’m not sure I’d call it sizable but my point is…”

“Bette, you can’t,” Dani interjected. “The city’s not there yet and your relationship with the LAPD is already frosty… you can’t throw a grenade into that relationship this early in your term.”

“It’s frosty because they sent a fuckin’ spy to serve as my bodyguard and driver,” Bette spat back.

“They did and that was the reason we didn’t get much pushback on the budget cuts and why you were able to pick your own detail,” Dani reminded her. “If you want to do this, we can look at it but not right now, not like this.”

Bette conceded defeat, perching herself next to Dani, staring at the numbers on the whiteboard. Dani tried (and failed) to not be bothered by their closeness.

“When I’m working late and I need a break, I’ll go up to the observation deck and look out over the city. That view humbles me each and every time. It’s a reminder of the amazing amount of work we have to do and all the people counting on us to deliver for them. Maybe we ruffle some feathers or piss people off but I’m just not satisfied with the belief that in the most creative city in the world, we can’t imagine better solutions to police brutality or homelessness or the opioid epidemic.”

“Mayor Porter?”

Bette turned toward the voice at the conference room door, “Good morning, Detective. You’re a little early, I won’t be needing my detail until later.”

“There’s an emergency, ma’am, and I’ve been asked to take you to a more secure location where you’ll conference with LAPD and the Department of Homeland Security.”

“Wait, what? What’s going on?”

“Mayor Porter, we have to move. I need to know where Angie is so I can make sure she’s secured.”

“She’s with Tina. Detective Williams…Tasha….what’s going on?”

“Mayor Porter, vampires are descending on Los Angeles.”

---

Heather

Buffy wasn’t proud of it, but when things went sideways with Faith, she bounced. Like really bounced. Out of Sunnydale, out of California, out of the country. She hadn’t been back in… a decade? There were vampires to fight everywhere, and it least in Norway and Sweden and Poland and Iceland and Germany and — god it was so cliche — Romania, the weather got dark and cold enough to suit her mood in those early days of her breakup. Okay, fine. Years. But here she was, back in SoCal, standing outside City Hall, a special favor for Willow who was doing a special favor for someone named Tasha Williams who had the face and biceps of someone a lot of lesbians did a lot of special favors for. Yeah, Buffy had checked her Instagram.

Buffy wasn’t even sure who the mayor of Los Angeles was these days. Some jackass who had an easier time believing in vampires than believing the person sent to defeat them was a woman, no doubt.

She flashed her badge at the security checkpoint and showed herself up to the mayor’s office. There were a couple of dudes in cheap suits hanging around outside. LAPD. Blech.

“I’m here to see the mayor,” she announced. The men stopped their small talk and all gave her the same up-down.

“Oh, right,” one of them said. “The broad. Summers. Detective Summers.”

“Not a detective,” Buffy said.

“Okay,” he shrugged, “Mrs. Summers.”

“Dr. Summers,” Buffy countered.

The men exchanged a glance she was used to. One of those bitches, they confirmed with each other. One of them opened up the door and waved her inside. Buffy strode in with the annoyed confidence and stopped in her tracks immediately inside the door.

There was a suit behind the command desk all right, but not another everyguy. The woman… the woman mayor… the mayor seemed just as surprised that she wasn’t some dude, but her face shifted immediately from shock to delight.

Buffy switched her attention to the only familiar face in the room. “Detective Williams?”

“You can call me Tasha,” she replied, stepping forward to shake Buffy’s hand. “Mayor Porter, this is Dr. Summers, the world’s foremost vampire… hunter?”

“Slayer,” Buffy replied. “You know, or whatever. Assassin. Pursuer. Huntress.”

Tasha didn’t laugh. Mayor Porter smirked. And, if Buffy wasn’t very much mistaken, gave her the classic up-down.

“I didn’t realize we had vampire doctors,” Mayor Porter said. “I’m learning so much tonight.”

Buffy smiled for the first time since getting off the plane at LAX. “My doctorate is actually in art history. Post-Dante depictions of Judgment from the late Middle Ages through the Renaissance. Hell, basically.”

Definitely an up-down!

“I’m familiar with the subject myself,” Mayor Porter said, ” Bosch’s The Garden of Earthly Delights is a favorite.”

Detective Williams cleared her throat. “So, Dr. Summers, what are we going to do about these vampires?”

---

Valerie Anne

“I have… people,” Buffy started, but then shifting her gaze from Tasha to Mayor Porter, she realized that she was finally in a room where she didn’t have to pull punches when pitching her team to authorities. “Women, actually. A lot of them. I’m not sure how many of them can get to LA in time, but that’s why I have so many women on hand.” Buffy resisted wincing as she realized how that sounded, but the corner of Bette’s mouth crept into a slow smirk.

“Having a posse on speed dial. I can respect that.” Bette and Tasha exchanged a knowing glance. Bette shifted as though her allotted minute of stillness for the day was used up and started dialing the phone at the same time as she jutted her chin toward the door. “Tasha, show Buffy to the bunker. That should work as a war room for now. Buffy, Tasha knows how to find me if you need me. But try not to need me.” And just like that Bette was barking orders on the phone while typing furiously on her tablet as if they had already left the room.

Buffy started shooting off texts as Tasha led her through the large building, conveniently empty now that they’re in the post-work hours. As Buffy copy and pasted the same call to arms, she found herself lamenting the fact she couldn’t use one group chat because of her ex drama while simultaneously being grateful technology has advanced well beyond her beeper days.

As Tasha ushered her through what seemed like a regular door from Buffy’s admittedly distracted point of view, a text came through that said, in all caps, OPEN THE WINDOW!

Buffy looked up at the room and swiftly moved to do just that. Before she could even let go of the pane, she was knocked back by a blur of blue. And while Tasha looked taken aback by the fact that there were now three women in the room that weren’t there before, Buffy didn’t blink, clearly used to Supergirl’s mode of transportation. And sure enough, in a blur of blonde-on-blonde, Buffy was enveloped in a hug that looked like it would have broken a weaker woman’s ribs. “Hi, Kara,” Buffy let out, trying to sound apathetic but unable to hide her smile as she returned the super squeeze.

“Buffy! I missed you so much! I wish I could stay but, you know.”

“I know, Kara. It’s good to see you anyway. And thanks for bringing the calvary.” Buffy jutted out her chin toward the two women introducing themselves to Detective Williams as Anissa Pierce and Ryan Wilder, though Tasha seemed distracted by the…unique outfits the women donned. Tight, form-fitting…costumes? Uniforms? What amused Tasha most was the masks, though it did explain the strange code names they gave her. Batwoman. Thunder.

Kara mimed checking a watch, though there was nothing on her wrist. “Two more should be here in three… two… one…” And right on cue, Alex Danvers floated through the open window, her jet pack whirring as she came to a soft landing in the large conference room, Nia Nal zipping in on her heels.

“That. Was. AMAZING.” Alex gave Nia a high five, Buffy a wave, and went to introduce herself to Tasha, too. Kara laughed at her sister and turned back to Buffy, wishing her luck, and wooshing off as fast as she appeared.

“Great to see you again, Buff! Here,” Before Buffy could protest the nickname or whatever Alex was draping over her torso, the older Danvers sister continued, “Lena made this for you.”

Buffy looked down and saw that she had what looked like a bandolier across her chest, but instead of bullets, there were stakes. “And look, it’s automatic!” Alex plucked a stake from a slot on her chest and sure enough, all the stakes shifted so the front of the bandolier was all full. Buffy cracked a real, genuine smile at this.

“That’s fucking awesome.”

Buffy went over and greeted Anissa, Ryan, and Nia before turning her attention back to Tasha.

“I thought Mayor Porter called this a war room.”

Tasha’s expression remained stoic as ever, but Buffy could swear she saw her eyes smile. “She did, ma’am.”

Tasha’s hand reached out and slid what looked like an ordinary plaque down on the wall, revealing a red button, which she promptly pushed. Metal sheets clamped down over three of the walls, and the fourth whirred and shifted to reveal several large monitors. The table sank down into the floor and a series of computers and hubs appeared in its place. Alex started going from screen to screen like a kid in a candy store, already pulling up maps of the city and sending the other four women off with orders. Confident Danvers knew what she was doing, Buffy went back to scrolling through her phone to see who else was on board for this mission.

After what somehow felt like minutes and days at the same time, but in reality was about an hour, everyone was in place and ready for Buffy to say the word and set the plan in motion. But Alex didn’t look as ready as the slayer would have expected. She started to wring her hands and turned back to Buffy.

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, we have Dreamer and Batwoman on rooftops tracking the horde; Thunder, Waverly, and Nicole on the ground keeping civilians away and funneling the vamps to the town square; and Willow, Karolina, and Nico creating a magical barrier to keep them there—”

“Plus, Sara and Ava on standby with the Legends in case we royally screw this up,” Buffy interjected.

“Right…”

“Okay well everything sounds like it’s going according to plan, so why do you look like you’re about to tell me you had to send my dog to a farm upstate?”

“There are too many for you to take on by yourself,” Alex started, and as she saw Buffy puff up in indignation she put her hands on her hip and steeled her voice. “I ran the math, and we can’t guarantee the witches can hold long enough for one person to take them all out. And besides, it doesn’t make sense strategically when that’s not our only option…You need…”

Buffy sighed. “Faith. I need Faith.”

——— ———

Buffy was standing on the edge of a fountain downtown and regretting giving Mayor Porter direct access to her via earpiece.

“Ms. Summers.”

“Doctor.” Buffy rarely insisted people use her honorific but she didn’t like the tone in Bette’s voice. Especially as she could see the shadows of the vampire horde creeping closer in the distance.

“You said you had this handled.”

“I do. We do.” Beams of purples, blues, pinks and a rainbow of other colors started to knit themselves together, slowly forming a dome over the city’s center.

“Then why am I hearing from Ms. Danvers…”

Buffy heard a distant interruption, “Actually I’m married… and also a doct—” but Bette either didn’t hear Alex’s interjection or didn’t care.

“…that you’ve got a missing chess piece.”

Buffy watched as the first vampires spilled into the streets, her heart racing with both pre-fight adrenaline and the fear that she burnt this bridge so badly even a slayer couldn’t leap over the chasm. But she kept her voice steady as she answered the mayor, shifting her feet into a fighting stance as the vampires continued to rush toward her in a rage she was all too familiar with.

“She’s not missing she’s just—”

“Fashionably late.” The brunette slayer hopped up onto the fountain next to Buffy and took her time raking her eyes down Buffy’s body. “Looking good, B. Nice hardware.” Faith ran her hand slowly down the edge of Buffy’s new bandolier.

And just like that, years melted away and Buffy was transported back. Long stakeouts that ended in them wrestling each other instead of any baddies, hard fights that found them in the shower in the wee hours of the morning, running their fingers and lips over each other’s already-healing bruises.

“Hey, you okay?”

That husky voice that felt like home snapped Buffy out of her reverie. She whipped two stakes out of her bandolier, tossed them to Faith, and pulled two more out for herself. She turned to face the oncoming rush of growling, snarling vampires charging their way.

“Five by five.”

---

* Drew

Nia always felt so awkward during this part. The planning made sense to her. The fighting made sense to her. But after? What? You’re supposed to almost die alongside a superhero fight squad and then just go home. How did people turn it on and off so quickly? She wanted to go dancing! Run around in circles! At least grab dinner. Kara said this was just because she was young — that someday she’d want to rest too. She hated when Kara said that.

“Dreamer, right?”

Oh my God, the vampire slayer was talking to her. The scary one. Good scary. Nia felt sweat start to form under her mask.

“You can just call me Nia.” She tried to sound casual. She did not sound casual.

“You were great out there. Hey B! BUFFY!” Faith was shouting behind her.

The other slayer walked up to them. Buffy. Nia knew about Buffy. Everyone knew about Buffy. And here she was just staring at her.

“What Faith?”

“Wasn’t this chick great?” Faith gestured towards Nia still just standing there trying not to fangirl.

“Yeah she really saved me a few times.” Buffy smiled.

“Oh God no. I was just— It wasn’t a big deal. You had it under control.” Nia could barely get the words out. She felt like she was talking through old bubblegum.

Had Alex left without her? She sort of hoped she had.

“What was that blue stuff you were shooting?” Buffy took a step closer.

“Oneiric energy. The same thing that lets me see the future in my dreams.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Faith shouted like she wasn’t right next to her. “See the future in your dreams?”

“That’s kind of her whole thing.” Buffy seemed annoyed with Faith. But Nia couldn’t tell if it was genuine. They’d fought so well together. Like they were meant for each other. They stood side by side like people who’d been as close as people can be.

Nia flinched as Faith reached a hand towards her face. Faith laughed. She removed the Dreamer mask and Nia felt a rush of air.

Nia’s stomach leapt to her heart with horny anxiety as Faith stared into her eyes. Had everyone else left? Was it just the three of them?

Faith’s next words landed like a stake through the heart: “Did you dream about us?”

——— ———

“Don’t fucking judge me, B.”

Faith unlocked the door to her Venice Beach apartment. It was dingy. Not what you’d expect from beachfront property. To be fair, it wasn’t beachfront — it was six blocks away.

“I gave up judging you a long time ago,” Buffy shot back. Her face said otherwise.

Nia felt like she’d stepped into a seven season drama and she desperately needed a recap. Exes, right? They had to be exes?

Faith’s apartment wasn’t dirty, but it was cluttered. And it wasn’t decorated. Unless you count the weapons on the walls as decoration.

Nia walked over to a triple crossbow that filled almost an entire wall.

“Woah this is wild. How do you even—”

Nia felt Faith’s breath on her neck and her arm around her waist.

“Hey.”

Nia tried not to stiffen as she turned her head to meet Faith’s gaze.

“What are you doing, Faith?” Buffy interrupted.

“What’s wrong? She knows why we invited her here. Don’t you, Ni?”

Faith’s body was still pressed completely against Nia.

“I thought maybe, but, um—” As Nia stumbled through her words her brain shouted KISS ME KISS ME KISS ME.

Faith did.

Nia turned around leaning into the kiss. She could taste the salt from Faith’s sweat around her mouth. She wanted more. She wanted all of her. Faith pulled away.

“A kill like that always turns me on. Don’t you remember, B?” She walked over to Buffy. She placed a hand on her cheek.

Surprising only Nia, Buffy’s hand flew up and gripped Faith’s wrist. Faith flew into the air and then smack down on her back. Buffy was on top of her as Faith gasped for air and laughed.

“How could I forget?” Buffy stared down at Faith with a smirk. “You think you’re so bad, huh? Blondie can’t play rough? You always underestimated me.” She pinned Faith’s wrists above her head and kissed her hard. Faith wrapped her legs around Buffy and pulled her close as she tried and failed to free her arms.

Nia just stood there. Watching.

Faith squeezed her legs together and with a thud flipped Buffy on her back. She turned her head and her eye’s met Nia’s.

“That your thing, Ni? Just watching?

“No! Um, I—”

“Come here.”

As Nia walked over to Faith and Buffy, Faith peeled her sweaty shirt off. She guided Nia to the floor and Nia’s mouth met her neck, her collar bone, her nipple. She stayed there for a moment, but then, nah, she could play their game too.

Nia shot blue lassos of energy out of each of her hands — one wrapping around Buffy, one around Faith. Nia lifted them both in the air and slammed them hard against opposite walls. Weapons crashed to the floor along with the slayers.

“Sorry. Too hard?” Nia smirked at Faith before yanking Buffy close to her. They began making out and tearing off their clothes, Nia leaving her gloves on. She yanked Faith in too and let the lassos disappear.

Nia couldn’t believe it. This morning she was in her own city, in her own universe, and now here she was literally sandwiched between two forty-year-old vampire slayers.

Faith reached a hand around and gripped Nia’s thigh. She moved her hand towards Nia’s underwear and stopped.

“Oh right you’re an alien,” Faith said matter-of-factly.

Nia laughed. “That’s not because I’m an alien. I’m trans.”

Buffy groaned. “Jesus Faith.”

“What! I don’t care! She’s hot.” Faith went back to kissing Nia’s ear.

Another lasso of energy shot out of Nia’s hand and within seconds Faith was pinned to the couch. Nia slipped out of her underwear, picked it up, and shoved it in Faith’s mouth.

“Stop talking.”

Nia sucked on Faith’s neck hard enough to make a mark before leaving her there to watch as she returned to Buffy.

A phone rang.

“Shit!” Buffy jumped towards her pants and grabbed her phone. “I forgot to call the mayor.”

Faith tried to speak to no avail as Buffy answered. Nia took her underwear out of Faith’s mouth.

“What?”

“I said, see if she wants to come by.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and walked into the bathroom closing the door behind her.

Nia got on top of Faith and kissed her again. “You’re really something.”

Faith looked up at her new friend. Her body still strapped to the couch with blue dream energy. Faith’s eyes met Nia’s with that devastating gaze.

“Oh baby. You have no idea.”

---

Carmen

“Thank you, Dr. Summers. No offense, but I hope to never see you again. Unless it’s at an art gallery.”

Mayor Porter hung up the phone in her home office and slumped into her oversized chair, letting out a deep sigh and relaxing her body — feeling her silk pajamas slide across her aching muscles — for what felt like the first time all day. She looked at the time on her laptop. 6:30am. December 31st.

She turned to face the window and could have sworn she saw human figures in the sky against the creeping sunrise but when she rubbed her eyes they’re gone. The last 24 hours were the most surreal she’d ever experienced. There’s a lot of compartmentalization in being mayor of this city, so many things she’ll never be able to tell her friends, secrets that are part of the divine trust between her and the citizens who’ve elected her to protect them. But even if she could tell this one, how would she begin?

“Oh how did I spend New Year’s Eve, you ask? Well this morning was another day of fighting with the racist LA Sheriff’s department who shot Andres Guardado and a fucked up LAPD that will never trust a Black lesbian as their mayor, plus balancing budgets, you know, the usual — and then I switched gears to vampires… that’s right Alice, vampires are fucking real! And not just the Rudy Giuliani kind. Go ahead and break that news on your talk show! I’ll be your first guest.”

Bette pinched her temples. The best part of this day was that it was finally over.

She lifted herself out of the chair and reached for her iPhone with a fumbling hand. She crossed the kitchen, letting her long fingers slide against the cool marble as she debated if 6:30am is too early for a glass of wine if it was also serving as nightcap (sadly, she decided, it was).

She slowly crawled into bed, absentmindedly scrolling through Angie’s Instagram feed — she couldn’t believe how adult and handsome her daughter looked in her navy blue and purple bridesmaid suit, whenever she closed her eyes Angie was still two and palming Cheerios into her mouth — as she finally drifted off to sleep.

——— ———

“Open up the door, Bette! These bottles are too heavy and Shane refuses to help.”

“I refuse to help?!? I told you we didn’t need three bottles of champagne. Bette has plenty to drink and we are on our way to a bar.”

“What about the pre-game Shane, huh? It’s New Year’s Eve! And —“

“Alice,” Bette’s voice gravely and her eyes still closed as she propped the phone next to her on the now too-warm pillow. “What are you doing here?”

“You couldn’t possibly believe that we were going to let you survive Tina’s wedding weekend alone, did you?”

Alice kept talking while Bette shuffled to the door. A few hurried kisses on the cheek later and her two oldest friends had made themselves at home in her kitchen (didn’t they always?) — Shane popping the cork and Alice reaching for glasses.

Bette leaned against the counter, arms crossed. They looked happy. Alice in a sort-of boxy silver top that sparkles under the lights and cuts off at the waist, with black knit pants and her blonde bob curled behind her ears. She had on a dark berry lipstick that’s a little out of her typical style, but it only heightened her glamour. Shane was in all black everything, Joan Jett by way of West Hollywood, as usual.

Alice spun towards her, hands on her hips, “Well?”

“Hmmmm?”

“You haven’t been listening to a word we’ve said! Shane wanted a night away from work, so we are giving Dana’s a break. Her friend, Emma, just opened up her second location of this bar called… what’s the name again?”

“Vida’s. The vibe is more laid back than Dana’s. Emma guaranteed us a table in a dark corner in the back, so as to protect the privacy of madam mayor,” Bette didn’t miss Shane’s sarcastic tone as she handed Bette a glass and pushed her towards her bedroom to change, ignoring her protests.

——— ———

When Bette stepped out of Alice’s car, she had to admit that she looked good. This black velvet dress fit her like a glove, and the low back turned into a silver zipper just beneath her sculpted shoulder blades that perfectly followed the curve of her ass.

She might be ringing in the New Year by herself while the once love of her life began her next chapter — but at least she’s still Bette Fucking Porter. She smirked, laughing at herself, as Shane slid next to her at the table.

Shane lowered her voice, quiet between them, “How are you doing?”

“Mostly fine… a little, sad. I thought I was well past the part of my life where I spent holidays alone in the back of a bar,” Bette’s nerves briefly got the better of her, fingers fiddling with the cocktail napkin in front of her.

Shane steadied her friend’s hands with her own and laid her head against Bette’s shoulder. They sat like that for a while, content in the shadows with the bass throbbing around them.

Then a woman with neatly applied, blood-red lipstick and a jet black bob cut with military-like precision above her shoulders came over to greet them. Her severity was as seductive as it was breathtaking. She extended her hand forward in a handshake too formal for their environment, “Mayor Porter, I am Emma Hernandez, the owner of this establishment.”

Bette was surprised when her mouth went dry, slightly nudging Shane off of her as she lifted her head to meet Emma’s gaze.

“Right, well, this is quite the bar you have. Thank you for making room for us on what I’m sure is your busiest night of the year.”

Emma chuckled, turning her head slightly, “I’m sure you can imagine that having the mayor at our family-owned small business only serves to our own benefit. But you are welcome for our privacy.”

Emma wouldn’t break Bette’s stare; her full red lips curving slightly, her jaw tightening. She swallowed.

Bette knew she shouldn’t, if even one phone catches them, Dani would undoubtedly murder her (if she didn’t quit first out of frustration). But fuck it — vampires are real and Tina is getting married and the only thing she wanted to do tonight was hold another woman’s hips in her hands and guide them to a beat.

She prowled towards Emma, Shane and Alice not so sneakily exchanging stunned glances behind her. “Would you like to dance?”

There’s the dancing that feels like dancing, and the dancing that feels like sex. As Emma guided Bette to a protected corner of the bar away from prying eyes behind a half-wall, this was clearly the latter.

It’s awkward at first, dancing with the most powerful woman in Los Angeles, but Emma’s never found a challenge she couldn’t meet. She set their rhythm, inching close to meet Bette pelvis-to-pelvis, the warmth between their bodies palpable.

Bette’s hands reached low, cupping below Emma’s ass, spinning her — smiling smugly when she heard a small unexpected “oh” gasp beneath her partner’s breath. She wrapped her arms around the front of Emma’s waist, pulling her in until there was nothing but a slow grind between them, entangled limbs and sweat rising on Emma’s collarbone. Bette lowered her head to blow her breath over the droplets, enjoying the goosebumps that pricked in their wake.

Emma all but stopped moving, satisfied to sway as she felt her nipples harden and Bette’s warm breath turned into pillow kisses going up the side of her neck, then biting behind her ear. She would’ve moaned, but she wouldn’t give Bette the satisfaction.

“Would you like to get out of here? My friend drove, but I can have my security detail here to pick us up in 10 minutes. Tasha’s an old friend — very discreet if I ask for a personal favor. Or do you need to stay and close up on such.. an… important… night,” Bette punctuated the last three words with kisses across Emma’s shoulder and even in her tight dress, a thigh somehow impossibly snaked between her legs.

Emma closed her eyes tight and licked her lips, willing her body to regain composure. “My sister, Lyn, can close up. I just have to go find her.”

With that, Bette let her go. LA is safe — for tonight, at least — and maybe she wouldn’t have to sleep alone after all. Happy New Year, indeed.