Title: careful making wishes in the dark
Fandom: good girls (tv)
Rating: teen
Length: 375
Notes: beth/rhea, 3x03 divergent, background ships


Beth slips into her house late, the pregnancy lie already heavy in her gut. She wishes she could have a bourbon, doesn't trust Rio not to find out somehow, always knows too much. She isn't surprised by a figure waiting in the dark, perched at her kitchen counter. So reminiscent, she nearly says the wrong name, distinctive as Rhea's longer hair and curves are.

There's a halfway empty bottle of rosé beside her, could nearly pass for a light merlot in the dark.

"I didn't think you'd come home," Rhea says, tilts her glass to toast.

"Disappointed?" Beth asks, and it comes out breathy instead of sardonic, Rhea's slender fingers tightening on the stem.

The side of her mouth curls up; Beth takes the stool beside her. "I won't fuck your hubby, some of us have self-respect, but I am so looking forward to raising your kids. Get 'em into badminton maybe. Without you they'd basically be orphans. Good thing you're pregnant, huh babe? Congrats on the baby wonder."

Beth can feel her eyes widen, tension snapping into place, and Rhea chuckles. "Yeah, he told me. Almost like he doesn't believe you. Well, we both know how this story will end."

"Please I can't-"

"Stop," Rhea says, refills the glass, and pushes the rosé in front of her. "Do you trust me?"

Beth bites her lip, wants to take it. Rhea would kiss the wetness from her mouth after, it wouldn't be like before but maybe – no, Beth can't think like that, not with what's at stake. She throws the words back at her instead, "Not enough to risk orphaning my children."

Rhea nods, standing up, doesn't look surprised or put out.

"Shame. I'd say it was a pleasure, but you're a manipulative bitch Beth Boland."

"Rhea please," she starts, knows how she likes it when she begs, clothing optional, but Rhea is already out the backdoor, doesn't hesitate. And that hurts even more than the words, that this might be the last time – Beth furiously rubs at her eyes until they're dry and every press of her fingers aches.

She pours the wine down the drain, washes the glass and sets it to dry with a tired sigh. Right. Time to make a baby.