Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“How do you have so much stuff?” Lisa sighs as she steps into Carla’s flat, shocked by the sheer volume of boxes scattered all over the living room.

“There’s more in the bedroom,” Carla shrugs, placing another box on top of a very precarious pile by the door.

“But this is insane, Carla. You’re not even bringing your furniture, and yet somehow I think we’re gonna be pressed for space.”

Since Carla’s going to be renting the flat to Ryan and Bobby, she’s leaving most of the furniture behind - bar a few of her more expensive pieces that would be wasted on the boys - and a fair amount of other household items she won’t need. But 49 years of life means that she’s accumulated a lot of stuff, and she’s already getting nervous about the wardrobe space at Lisa’s house.

Or rather, their house. She keeps having to mentally correct herself, and everytime she does she gets a little jolt of excitement, followed by a fuzzy feeling that settles over her like a warm blanket. The last couple of weeks had been a haze of practicalities. The mortgage is paid off on Lisa’s house, but there’d been lots of long, boring discussions about splitting bills, and Carla had discovered just how organised the detective is when it comes to her finances, with a spreadsheet for everything it seemed.

Finally, though, the day had arrived - the day Carla was officially moving in. They’d called in reinforcements, in the form of Becky and Betsy, to help get all of Carla’s stuff over to the house, since the boxes could fill Lisa’s car several times over.

“Holy shit,” Betsy laughs as she appears behind Lisa in the doorway, her face a mirror of Lisa’s shock.

“Language,” Becky scolds, from the bottom of the stairs by the sounds of it. When Becky enters the flat, Carla has to roll her eyes when she too looks horrified by the quantity of boxes. “On second thoughts, yes, ‘holy shit’ about covers it.”

“Told you,” Betsy shrugs, immediately opening the closest box. She pulls out a pair of heels. “Are these Louboutins?” she asks excitedly, noting the red sole. “Like, real ones?”

“Course they are. You think I’d be caught dead in knock offs?” Carla shoots back. “Not that I wear heels much these days,” she adds, sighing at the memory of a time her feet weren’t completely knackered. The nearer she gets to fifty, the more she struggles to wear heels for any considerable length of time.

“Well, since we’re the same size, maybe I could wear them,” Betsy suggests hopefully, putting on her best puppy face that always seems to get Carla to agree to literally anything.

“You’re too young to be wearing shoes that expensive,” Lisa points out, to horror from Betsy.

“You’re never too young for Louboutins,” Betsy protests.

“Your mum’s right, Bets. You have to suffer through years of cheapo heels that snap and kill your feet like the rest of us before you earn the right to wear heels this nice,” Becky laughs, taking the heels from Betsy. “Me on the other hand? I’ve paid my dues, and I’m also the same size as you and Carla, so…”

“Play your cards right and I might let you borrow them.”

“Thank you. I assume bribery will work?”

“Course it will,” Carla laughs.

“Good to know,” Becky says with a satisfied nod, putting the heels back in the box.

Betsy’s hands wander to another box, and Carla quickly cuts in when she suddenly realises that she can’t quite remember what each box contains anymore. “Betsy, love, I wouldn’t open any more boxes if I were you. You might find something you don’t want to see.”

Becky snorts. Lisa goes bright red. Betsy just looks confused.

“What does that…oh.” A look of disgust crosses Betsy’s face as she realises what Carla meant, quickly pulling her hands away from the box she was about to open. “Ew, that’s disgusting, I didn’t need to know you have a box of sex toys.”

“Well, if you will insist on being nosy, and anyway don’t worry, most of them are already-”

“Right then, if you’re done with traumatising my daughter, maybe we should start getting some of these boxes out to the cars,” Lisa suggests quickly, stopping Carla before she says anything else.

“You take the shoe box, Bets. We’ll leave the sex box for those two,” Becky instructs, picking up another random box for herself.

“Please don’t say that word, it’s gross coming out of your mouth,” Betsy grumbles, reluctantly picking up the box of shoes and carrying it out of the flat, Becky hot on her tails.

“What word? Sex? Sex, sex, sex,” Becky shoots back, her laughter and Betsy’s gags fading from earshot as they make their way downstairs, leaving the couple alone.

Lisa turns back to Carla, laughing, her laughter dying when she sees the look on her face. She’s looking around the flat wistfully, trying to take everything in.

“Hey, you ok?” Lisa asks softly, taking Carla’s hand.

“Yeah,” Carla replies. “It’s just so much has happened in this flat. Our first kiss, our first time together, when you asked me to be your girlfriend, when we said I love you for the first time. A lot of memories, that’s all.”

“I know, but the boys will take good care of it.”

“Yeah, they will. Or at least, Ryan will.”

A flash of worry crosses Lisa’s face. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you? Because if it’s too soon-”

“I’m not getting cold feet,” Carla says firmly, pressing a kiss to Lisa’s lips. “I can’t wait to live with you and Betsy. I’m just getting sentimental, that’s all.”

“Good,” Lisa places a gentle hand on Carla’s cheek, swiping her thumb along Carla’s cheek. “We’re gonna make lots of new memories together. Starting tonight.”

“Tonight, huh?” Carla asks, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow up at her.

Lisa doesn’t get a chance to say anymore before Becky and Betsy interrupt them, ready to take more boxes out to the car. She offers Carla a small wink, and a look that sets Carla’s whole body alight. She goes to pick up a box for herself - the sooner they get everything over to the house, the sooner she can get Lisa to herself.

“Last one,” Lisa says as she sets down the final box in the hallway, breathless.

They’re all sweaty, exhausted messes, and Carla can’t stop looking at Lisa, who never looks hotter than when she’s exerting herself.

“Tell you what, why don’t I get this one out of your hair, so you can spend some quality time together in peace,” Becky suggests, nodding towards Betsy who is lounging on the sofa with not a hint of sweat or exhaustion, on account of the fact that she’s basically done nothing bar carry two boxes down the stairs from Carla’s flat and declaring that she’s too pretty for manual labour.

“You say that like I’m an annoyance,” Betsy sighs.

“You are,” Becky jokes, ushering for her daughter to stand up.

Betsy rolls her eyes and reluctantly gets up. “Rude.”

“Go and get your stuff,” Becky instructs.

“Thanks, Bex,” Lisa says gratefully once Betsy’s upstairs. It’s not that she doesn’t want her daughter around, but she has big plans for Carla which will be much easier if they’re not trying to keep quiet.

“And thank you for all your help today, I really appreciate it,” Carla adds.

The second Becky and Betsy are out the door, Lisa grabs Carla by the hips, pulling their bodies flush against each other.

“Finally, I’ve got you all to myself,” she says seductively, brushing Carla’s hair from her face. “In our house.”

“Our house,” Carla repeats. She likes the way it sounds, the way it feels on her tongue.

“Now, I propose we go and have a shower, change into our pyjamas, order a takeaway, and then I can take you to bed. How does that sound?”

“That depends - are we showering together, or separately?”

“Well, it would make sense to shower together, wouldn’t it? To save water.”

“Yeah, that would be the ethical choice. Save the planet and all that.”

“Exactly,” Lisa nods, grabbing Carla’s hand and pulling her upstairs.

“You know, I think this shower might be my favourite thing in this house,” Carla sighs contentedly as the warm water hits her back.

Lisa narrows her eyes in mock offense. “I thought I was your favourite thing in this house?”

“You’re in the top 5,” Carla shrugs, reaching for the shampoo bottle. “Can I wash your hair?”

“Yes,” Lisa replies, letting Carla manoeuvre her closer to the stream of water.

Carla begins by combing through Lisa’s hair with her fingers, marvelling as always at how amazing her hair is. Soft, lightly scented, and always just there - begging to be touched, played with, pulled. Lisa moans when Carla stops playing and actually starts shampooing, massaging the shampoo into her scalp with the pads of her fingers, letting her nails scratch lightly at the skin.

“You have the best hair,” Carla whispers.

“I know. You tell me that everyday,” Lisa laughs.

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to forget, would I?”

Carla goes for the conditioner next, combing it through the ends, and then turns Lisa around to face her.

“Hi,” Lisa says softly, leaning forward and capturing Carla’s lips in a kiss. “You want me to wash your hair?”

“It’s not a hair wash day, but you can wash other parts of me if you’d like?” Carla suggests, smiling as Lisa reaches for the shower gel and lathers it up in her hands.

She takes her time, gliding her hands slowly over Carla's body - frustratingly slowly, always pulling her hands away when they get tantalisingly close to exactly where Carla really needs them. She keeps it up until Carla gets sick of the teasing, letting out a groan of frustration. Lisa wraps her arms around Carla’s middle, pulling her back flush against her front and chuckling against Carla’s neck as she nuzzles into it, ghosting her lips over damp skin.

“Lisa,” Carla whimpers, grabbing her hand and pulling it down to where she wants it.

“I’m hungry,” Lisa says.

“Take what you want,” Carla says, dropping her head back and expecting Lisa’s hands to start moving. They don’t.

“I meant actually hungry,” Lisa laughs, stepping away from Carla and turning the shower off.

“You’re joking, right?” Carla shakes her head at Lisa, who’s looking way too smug at the state she’s just worked Carla up into.

“Shall we order a pizza?” Lisa suggests, chucking a towel at Carla as she steps out of the shower.

“You’re a cruel woman, DS Swain.”

“Why do you say that?” Lisa asks with a look of mock innocence.

“You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“I was just making sure you were clean,” Lisa shrugs, before stepping back towards Carla and placing her hands on her waist, eyes dark. “And anyway, maybe I wanted to make sure you were suitably worked for tonight.”

“I will get you back for teasing me like that, you know,” Carla warns, voice low.

“I look forward to it,” Lisa smiles back, pressing a kiss to Carla’s lips.

They don’t bother getting dressed, instead sitting on the sofa in just their dressing gowns, a pizza resting on the seat between them - half Hawaiian, half veggie - and an open bottle of red on the coffee table.

Carla keeps catching Lisa looking at her instead of watching the TV, her gaze lingering longer than usual.

“Have I got something on my face?” she asks the next time she catches her.

“Sorry. It’s just you look so good, sitting on my sofa.”

“I’ve sat on your sofa loads,” Carla points out.

“You have,” Lisa agrees. “But now I get to have you on my sofa every single day.”

“Well, you already did, pretty much.”

“You know what I mean,” Lisa says with an eye roll. “I just never thought I’d get to do this again. Have a person to call home.”

“I’m home?” Carla asks, melting a little at Lisa’s sincerity.

Lisa reaches for Carla’s hand. “Yeah. You are. In more ways than one.”

“I love you,” Carla says softly, bringing Lisa’s hand to her mouth and pressing a kiss to it.

“I love you too.” Lisa pauses before continuing, raking her eyes up and down Carla’s body, her gaze settling on where her dressing gown has begun to slip down and pull open. “How set are you on finishing this film?”

“Not at all,” Carla replies quickly, reaching for the remote and practically dragging Lisa upstairs to her bedroom. Their bedroom.

Chapter Text

“Morning,” Betsy calls out as she bounds into the kitchen, in a surprisingly good mood. They’d anticipated grumpiness on her first day of college, but she has an unexpected spring in her step.

“Morning,” Carla and Lisa reply in unison.

“You’re still giving me a lift right? And you’ll pick me up later?” Betsy asks her mum, making a beeline for the cafetière on the table.

“Yes, of course. I told you I would,” Lisa assures her. She knows it’s a big day for Betsy, and she wants to be there for her. In future she’ll be getting the bus home, but for the first day Lisa said she’ll pick her up and take her out for something to eat so she can fill her in on her first day. More than anything, it’s a bargaining chip to make sure Betsy actually goes and stays all day, given she’s adamant she doesn’t need college and is more than ready to go full time at the factory.

“Just checking something more important hasn’t come up like it usually does.”

Lisa chooses not to reply, though Carla catches the flicker of guilt that clouds her features. She doesn’t have too long to focus on her girlfriend’s guilt, because when Betsy plops herself down at the table, Carla catches a whiff of something that catches her attention straight away. A familiar smell - a faint floral, sweet scent - one that she happens to smell almost everyday in the shower.

“You smell nice,” Carla observes. Lisa sniffs, and then shakes her head disapprovingly when she recognises the smell too.

“Thank you,” Betsy shrugs, unbothered as she takes a sip of her coffee.

“And your hair looks lovely today, too.”

Carla narrows her eyes at Betsy. Betsy looks away guiltily, suddenly very interested in fiddling with her mug.

“Same as usual,” she says, knowing she’s busted but not quite ready to admit to it yet.

“You’ve used my shampoo and conditioner, haven’t you?”

“No!” she protests, crumbling moments later under Carla’s gaze. “Ok, I might’ve used a tiny bit. Mum only buys me the cheap stuff.”

“If you want fancy shampoo and conditioner you can use your own money,” Lisa cuts in.

“Or I could just steal Carla’s and it doesn’t cost either of us anything.”

Carla rolls her eyes. “Just stay away from my perfume, ok?”

“What perfume do you wear?” Betsy asks, curiosity piqued.

“Don’t even think about it,” Carla laughs with a shake of the head.

“Is it expensive?”

“Course it is. You think I’d walk around wearing cheapo perfume?”

“She’s too posh for you, Mum,” Betsy laughs, and Lisa nods in agreement through a bite of toast.

“She is. I just hope she’s not going to pass on her expensive tastes to you,” Lisa sighs, well aware that ship has sailed. She can already tell that living with Carla is going to burn a hole in her wallet, based on how Betsy idolises her and her expensive lifestyle.

“Too late,” Betsy says, sharing a smile with Carla.

Carla had, by all accounts, had an excellent morning. New contracts signed, orders out, everyone working hard. The same couldn’t be said for Lisa, and Carla could tell from the lack of replies to her texts that the detective was snowed under at the station. It’s not until 3pm that Carla finally hears from her girlfriend.

“Carla, I’m so sorry, but I need to ask you a favour,” Lisa says as soon as Carla picks up the phone.

Over the last six months, Carla has memorised the subtleties of Lisa’s voice, the tiny changes in tone and pitch which tell her everything she needs to know about what mood she’s in. Even through the phone, with background noise on both ends, Carla can tell her girlfriend is at the end of her tether, no doubt one minor inconvenience away from unleashing her fury on one of her subordinate officers.

“Go on,” Carla prompts, deciding now is definitely not the time to press Lisa on whatever it is that’s bothering her.

“I’m absolutely slammed here and I can’t get away. Will you pick Betsy up from college for me? I know she could just get the bus, but I did promise her a lift home.”

“Yes, I’d be happy to.”

“Thank you, I owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I’m here for both of you, you know I am. I’m happy to pitch in with lifts.”

“Thank you. But just a heads up, she might be annoyed that I'm working late.”

“She’ll be fine,” Carla assures her.

Betsy’s not fine. Her face falls when she sees Carla’s car pull up in front of the college instead of her mum’s.

“Mum too busy for me again, is she?” Betsy snaps as she climbs into the passenger seat, looking distinctly unimpressed.

“She couldn’t get away. I’m sure it was important.”

“It always is.”

Carla swiftly changes the subject as they pull away, naively hoping Betsy won’t dwell too much on Lisa’s absence. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” Betsy shrugs, pulling her phone out.

“Any expansion on fine? Did you make any friends?”

“No.”

“Well I’m sure you will. What were your teachers like?”

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Betsy sighs.

Carla casts a questioning look over at Betsy. “Do what?”

“Pretend you care how my day was.”

“I’m not pretending. I do actually care about you, you know.”

“Only cause you love my mum.”

Carla sighs, taking a breath before answering. She knows Betsy knows she cares - she’s just lashing out because she feels rejected by Lisa. Or at least, she hopes she knows that.

“I love your mum. But I also love you.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean. You know that.”

It’s a while before Betsy replies, not speaking again until they’re almost half way home. “I’m glad you moved in with us.”

“So am I,” Carla says, smiling to herself. “Now then, since your mum’s not gonna be home, shall we get a takeaway?”

“Kebab,” Betsy suggests hopefully.

“No.”

Betsy does eventually persuade Carla to get her a kebab, because she already has her wrapped around her little finger. Carla would never admit that, obviously, having denied allegations of favouritism from the factory staff all summer long, and brushed off with Lisa’s pleas for her to stop spoiling her. She can’t help it, though. She never had a daughter of her own, so she’s making up for it with Betsy.

They settle on the sofa, Betsy with her kebab and Carla with her chips, and watch a reality show of Betsy’s choosing. It doesn’t take Carla long to coax some scraps of information out of Betsy about her first day: yes, the teachers were nice; no, she didn’t make any new friends yet, but there are some girls she knows from school in her class, and most importantly - the course seems interesting.

The teen is midway through telling Carla about the coursework requirements when Lisa finally arrives home. It’s past 9pm, late even by Lisa’s standards, and Betsy falls silent as soon as her mum joins them in the living room.

“Hiya,” Carla greets her, trying to seem as cheery as possible to counteract the sudden sulkiness radiating off Betsy.

“Hi. Sorry I’m so late. How was your first day, Bets?”

Betsy shrugs.

“Did you like your course?”

Another shrug.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment?” Lisa asks, deflating further when she’s met with another shrug.

Carla looks between the pair helplessly, casting a sympathetic look at Lisa. Betsy fiddles with the sofa cushion to avoid looking at her mother.

“I got you something,” Lisa says, and Betsy finally looks up.

Lisa pulls a chocolate bar out of her pocket, and Betsy wordlessly holds out her hand. Lisa hesitates before handing it over, desperately clinging onto the slim advantage this peace offering has granted her.

“I’m only giving it to you if you talk to me.”

“Forget it,” Betsy sighs, getting up off the sofa and pushing past Lisa.

“Betsy,” Lisa calls after the teen as she stomps up the stairs, flinching when the bedroom door slams.

“She’ll get over it. Don’t worry,” Carla assures her, gesturing for her to sit down next to her on the sofa.

“I really thought that would work,” Lisa groans, dropping her head onto Carla’s shoulder and sighing as the brunette wraps an arm around her tightly.

“Really?” Carla snorts, baffled by Lisa’s gameplan. “If it makes you feel better, it sounds like she did have a good first day.”

“Good. Just wish I could’ve picked her up.”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up about it. You’re a detective sergeant, you’re under a lot of pressure. It’s ok if you get stuck at work sometimes. Betsy will forgive you,” Carla says soothingly, pressing a series of gentle kisses to Lisa’s cheek.

“I know, I know,” Lisa sighs, the tension in her shoulders dissipating as she sinks deeper into Carla’s arms.

“Did you get me a chocolate bar?” Carla asks after a few moments of silence.

“Oh. No, I didn’t think to, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Carla laughs. “Tell you what, why don’t we go to bed. I can help you relax.”

“How are you gonna do that?” Lisa asks, turning to face Carla and raising a questioning eyebrow at her.

“Oh, I have a couple of ideas,” Carla winks, feeling victorious when she sees a smile spread across Lisa’s face.

“Lead the way.”

Chapter Text

Lisa had been waiting with baited breath for hurricane Betsy to make an appearance downstairs since she first heard the stomping around upstairs. She had poked her head into her room to make sure the teen was getting up, which was met with the same indifference as her attempts to talk to her the previous night.

“How long is she usually mad at you?”

Lisa shrugs. “Depends.”

She’s about to say more, but she stops herself when she hears footsteps on the stairs. Betsy appears in the doorway moments later.

“Morning darling,” Lisa calls out, voice laced with a mix of caution and faux cheeriness.

“Morning,” Carla adds, voice all cheer and no caution, safe in the knowledge that Betsy has no beef with her.

Betsy ignores them both, flicking the kettle on in silence and staring at the wall rather than turn and face the couple at the table. Carla nudges Lisa under the table with her foot, nodding towards Betsy encouragingly.

“Peace talks?” Lisa asks, getting up from the table and sidling up to Betsy, who shrugs at her and resumes her staring contest with the wall as she robotically puts a tea bag in her cup.

“I’m sorry I let you down yesterday. I would’ve much rather spent the evening with you but I had to work, I didn’t have a choice. I will make it up to you, I promise,” Lisa says pleadingly, willing Betsy to at least look at her. “Come on, Bets. I can’t have you go off to your mum’s tonight while you still hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, I just wish you didn’t work so much,” Betsy says eventually, dragging her gaze up to meet her mum’s.

“I know.”

“Can I have that chocolate bar now?”

“Do you forgive me?” Lisa asks with a raised eyebrow. She’s not letting go of her admittedly very weak bargaining chip for anything less than complete forgiveness.

“Yes.”

“Thank you,” Lisa replies gratefully, reaching into the cupboard and pulling out the Mars bar she’d stashed in there yesterday - and then watching with horror as Betsy immediately opens it and takes a bite.

“What?” Betsy asks through a mouthful of chocolate.

“I didn’t think you were gonna eat it now. It’s not even 8am yet.”

“Breakfast of champions,” Betsy shrugs.

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Can you at least have some fruit with it?”

“Fine,” Betsy sighs, reluctantly accepting the apple that Lisa hands her.

It had been two bad days at work on the trot - not unheard of for Lisa, because policing is rough, but draining nonetheless. There’d been a robbery - another in a long list of recent incidents in the area. So far, they hadn’t been violent, but this time an elderly woman ended up injured - meaning Lisa got dragged into Costello’s office and dressed down over the lack of progress on the case she’d been leading for weeks. She’d spent most of the afternoon staring at the case files again, despairing over the complete lack of CCTV, witnesses and any useful forensic evidence. Frustratingly, whoever was behind the break-ins knew exactly what they were doing. After taking a statement from a very shaken up elderly woman, she had discovered that there were three assailants, all men, but the victim couldn’t give her any useful identifying details because they were all wearing balaclavas.

She eventually decides to give up and go home at 6pm, knowing she’s not going to make any more progress tonight, but unfortunately stepping out of the station does nothing to switch her brain off. She goes through the details of the case again as she drives home - always at night, but with no clear pattern or way to predict where would be targeted next. Homes and businesses seem to be targeted with equal frequency, and though the break ins are probably being committed by the same perpetrators, there’s actually nothing more than Lisa’s gut feeling linking the cases. She has a sinking feeling that this might be another case left unsolved, another failure to add to her list. Lisa is a good detective, she knows that, but everytime a case goes cold, she takes the hit personally. It hurts.

She’s still ruminating when she opens the front door, and even the inviting smells wafting from the kitchen are not enough to snap her out of it. Carla appears in the kitchen doorway, all smiles until she reads the look on Lisa’s face - the crease between her eyebrow, the subtle clenching of her jaw and the vacant look in her eyes. The brunette wordlessly approaches Lisa and draws her into a hug. Lisa sinks into it, though unfortunately tonight Carla’s embrace is not quite enough to wipe away the tension of the day. Carla senses this and pulls back, placing her hands firmly on Lisa’s shoulders, pressing her thumbs into the hollows of her collar bone as she scans her face.

“Bad day?” Carla says gently.

Lisa nods. “Yeah. Really bad.”

“Are you hungry? Dinner’s almost ready.”

“What did you make?”

“Just pasta.”

Lisa smiles. Just pasta. It’s been a while since Lisa’s had someone to ‘just’ make her anything. It’s fair to say week one of living with Carla is going exceptionally well.

“Sounds perfect. Thank you.”

“Go and get changed,” Carla commands, manoeuvring Lisa towards the stairs.

She goes up as DS Swain and comes back down as Lisa, sighing in relief as she pulls her hair down as she reaches the last step. Carla greets her at the bottom with a very large glass of red wine.

“You’re a mind reader,” Lisa smiles, accepting the glass gratefully and taking a very long swig.

“One of my many talents,” Carla shrugs, leading Lisa into the kitchen.

“You bought the nice garlic bread,” Lisa observes as she settles down at the table and Carla serves up.

“Well, I thought I’d splash out, since the garlic bread fiend isn’t here to eat it all.”

Lisa chuckles to herself. Betsy had a habit of immediately eating any nice food the second it made it through the door, often stealing food intended for dinner and having it as a midnight snack instead. Carla had learnt very quickly that the best way around it was to buy food as close to the intended time of consumption as possible to reduce the risk of thievery.

“So, do you want to talk about it?” Carla asks as she takes her seat across from Lisa.

“Why don’t you tell me about your day first?” Lisa suggests, turning her attention to the plate in front of her.

Carla recounts the goings on at the factory in excruciating detail, because she knows Lisa’s detective brain thrives on having every last piece of information available. As Carla recalls her afternoon clash with Sally, Lisa finally starts to feel the tension ebbing away.

“Go on then,” Carla prompts when she reaches the end of her story. “Tell me about your day.”

“There was a break in.”

“Another one?”

“Yeah, and I got dragged over the coals by Costello because we don’t have any leads.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the lowlifes who are behind it all.”

“Yeah, but at this point the only way I’m going to catch them is if they slip up next time. Who else is going to have to get hurt before we catch them?”
“You’ll get them. I know you will,” Carla assures her, taking Lisa’s hand across the table.

“I wish I had as much confidence in myself as you do in me.”

“Think about all the cases you’ve solved before, all the people you’ve protected and all the no-marks you’ve put away. One bad case doesn’t take away from all that.”

Lisa looks at the beautiful woman across the table, touched by her unwavering belief and care for her, and realises for the millionth time since getting with Carla how lucky she is to have her. “How is it you always know exactly what to say?”

“Well, it’s taken many, many years of saying the wrong thing to figure it out,” Carla shrugs.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Carla replies with a squeeze of the hand, before letting go and picking her fork back up. “Now eat up, because I’ve got an idea for how I can help you relax.”

The first part of Carla’s plan was to run Lisa a bath. Lisa isn’t really a bath person, though she could sometimes be persuaded if Carla got in with her. Lying in a warm vat of her own filth might not be particularly appealing, but her naked girlfriend most certainly is.

It’s only after they get out that Carla reveals the second part of her plan: a massage.

“What type of massage?” Lisa asks, raising a flirtatious eyebrow at Carla as she gestures for Lisa to get on the bed.

“Full body.”

Lisa lowers her voice, taking a step towards Carla. “And when you say full body, what do you mean by that?”

“Get on the bed and you’ll find out,” Carla commands, choosing not to rise to Lisa’s teasing.

“Face down?”

“Yep.”

Lisa does as she’s told, feeling a little disappointed when she turns to see Carla putting her dressing gown on.

“Cold,” Carla clarifies as she pulls a bottle of body lotion from the drawer.

“I can warm you up if you’d like?”

“Oh I’m sure you can, but it’s really not that type of massage parlour. Strictly professional,” Carla chuckles, squeezing some lotion onto her hands and straddling Lisa’s waist.

“Oh it’s a massage parlour now, is it?”

“Yes. Now shut up and relax,” Carla says firmly, her hands beginning to work away at Lisa’s shoulders.

Lisa sighs contentedly at the pressure, enjoying the firmness of Carla’s hands and the way they seem to zero in on the knots and work them away in minutes.

“How’s the pressure?”

“Perfect.”

Once Carla’s finished with the shoulders and neck, she shifts down to focus on Lisa’s back. “You’re very tense,” she observes.

“Tell me about it,” Lisa snorts. “Born that way, I think.”

She does manage to relax into the massage, feeling a sense of calm wash over her. So calm, in fact, that she’d almost forgotten her previous excitement. Until Carla’s hands reach her thighs, that is, and her breath hitches.

“Everything ok?” Carla asks teasingly, noticing how the detective’s breathing changed.

“Yep,” Lisa breathes out.

“Roll over for me,” Carla commands.

Lisa rolls over, suddenly aware of a slickness between her legs. She knows Carla has noticed too, because she’s smirking at her, eyes dark and full of want. She straddles Lisa once again, this time leaning forward and capturing Lisa’s lips in a kiss.

“This isn’t very professional of you,” Lisa teases, slightly breathlessly as Carla pulls back.

“Oh, you think this is unprofessional? You haven’t seen anything yet,” she whispers back seductively, pressing another quick kiss to Lisa’s lips before climbing off her and moving towards the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Lisa calls after her, heat coiling in her stomach in anticipation of what’s to come.

Chapter Text

Carla takes her time in the bathroom. Lisa’s not entirely sure what she’s doing in there, other than washing the lotion off her hands, but she has a sneaky suspicion that she’s just toying with her, building anticipation by making her wait. And it’s working. Carla’s actually only gone for a few minutes, but it feels like hours to Lisa as she squirms on the bed, a gentle ache building between her legs.

When Carla finally returns, she stands in the doorway for a moment, admiring the view - the blonde splayed out on the bed, ready and waiting for her dive straight in. She doesn’t dive straight in, though, taking tortuously slow steps from the doorway to the bed, eyes raking up and down Lisa’s body. Lisa flushes under the intensity of her gaze, biting her lip and holding back a whimper as Carla finally climbs on the bed next to her.

She takes a finger and runs it all the way down from Lisa’s neck to her center, running it lightly through the slick heat she finds there - though skipping over Lisa’s most sensitive spot, leaving her more desperate than ever as she bucks her hips up for contact that Carla’s not quite ready to give her.

Carla brings her finger to Lisa’s mouth. “Open, taste what I’ve done to you,” she instructs, and Lisa obliges immediately, sucking and swirling her tongue around. “Already so ready for me, and we’ve not even done anything yet,” she teases.

Carla pulls her finger out of Lisa’s mouth and runs it along her lip, before replacing the finger with her own lips, crashing into Lisa’s in a bruising kiss. Her tongue swipes across Lisa’s lip, seeking entry, and she moans as Lisa deepens the kiss, lacing her fingers into Carla’s hair and pulling her closer. When they pull apart, they’re both slightly breathless - Lisa moreso than Carla as she moves her lips to the detective’s neck.

In the following minutes, Carla’s mouth seems to find and press kisses to every inch of Lisa’s body, worshiping and teasing until Lisa can’t take it any more.

“Carla,” Lisa rasps, voice pleading and desperate.

Carla pulls her mouth away from Lisa’s upper thigh, where the soft skin is now decorated with red marks, and looks up at Lisa. “Yes, darling?”

“No more teasing.”

“What do you want?”

“Your mouth on me, please.”

Carla smirks up at her, and Lisa knows exactly what she’s about to say. “It’s already on you,” she replies, biting back a laugh as she presses another kiss to Lisa’s thigh - higher this time, her breath ghosting over the place Lisa really needs her.

“You know what I mean,” Lisa groans. Carla loves doing this, teasing her and making her use her words, delighting in the way Lisa flushes when she has to ask in explicit detail for what she wants.
“Do I?” Carla paints a look of mock confusion on her face. “Where do you want me?”

Lisa reaches down and laces her fingers into Carla’s hair, pulling her face into position. Carla chuckles, the vibrations against Lisa’s clit causing her to whimper. To Lisa’s relief, Carla gets to work immediately, licking and sucking at her clit until she’s writhing beneath her and her hips jerk upwards, moaning loudly as she finally tips over the edge.

Carla doesn’t move away, slowing down for only a few seconds before picking up the pace again.

“Carla I can’t go again,” Lisa protests, squirming at the sensitivity.

“Yes you can,” Carla assures her.

Carla slips two fingers inside, feeling Lisa’s walls clench around her as she brings her to climax yet again, mercifully slowing down and pulling away this time as Lisa recovers, skin slick with sweat and body exhausted. Carla kisses her way back up to Lisa’s mouth, collapsing next to her and wrapping her arms around her.

“You’re so beautiful,” Carla whispers as Lisa nestles into her, laying her head against her chest. “Especially when you’re like that.”

“Like what?”

“Desperate, begging, coming undone,” Carla sighs, punctuating each point with a kiss to the top of her head.

“I love it when you make me like that,” Lisa admits, smiling into Carla’s chest.

“Oh, I know. Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah,” Lisa replies, her eyelids suddenly feeling heavy. She lets her eyes close, nestling closer to Carla. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“You do that.”

“Thank you for helping me relax. I love you,” Lisa says sleepily, yawning as she tries to stay awake.

“I love you too. Now go to sleep.”

“Ok,” Lisa mumbles as she’s slowly lulled into sleep by the gentle, rhythmic rise and fall of Carla’s breathing.

Chapter Text

“Knock knock.”

Carla looks up to see Lisa standing in the doorway of her office, wearing an expression that’s happier than she’s seen in days, and holding a bag that Carla hopes contains lunch.

“Well hello there detective,” Carla greets her, smiling as Lisa crosses the room in quick strides and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“I brought you lunch.”

“You really do know the way to my heart, don’t you?”

“Uh huh,” Lisa smiles in agreement as pulls the food out of the bag - two bacon sandwiches from Roys, plus an Irn Bru and a kombucha.

“Thank you. So, you look…” Carla trails off, not quite sure how to describe Lisa’s current mood without alluding to the storm cloud she’s been walking under for the last few days.

“I have reached a new state of zen,” Lisa declares, flopping down into the chair next to Carla’s desk.

“Zen?” Carla asks, eyebrow raised.

“Yes. I’ve decided that I am no longer going to let myself get worked up about anything. I’m chill, I’m calm,” Lisa shrugs.

Carla looks her up and down. “Have you been drinking?”

“No! This is the new me.”

“Right,” Carla laughs, mentally placing a bet on how long it’s going to take for Lisa to revert back to her natural state of mild stress and overwhelming guilt.

“I’m serious,” Lisa says through a mouthful of food. “Tell me anything and I won’t get annoyed.”

Carla recalls all the minor things she’d chosen not to tell Lisa over the last few days because she didn’t want to stress her out.

“Betsy was two hours late for her shift yesterday.”

Lisa shrugs, unbothered. “Don’t care, it’s her life.”

“She was late because she was with Mason.”

“That’s ok, he’s her boyfriend, it’s good that they're spending quality time together.”

Carla narrows her eyes at Lisa. Any mention of Mason is enough to cause her blood pressure to rise, usually, but Lisa truly seems unbothered.

“Yeah, they’ve been spending a lot of quality time together recently. A lot.”

Lisa’s facade cracks just slightly. “What do you mean by a lot?”

Carla shrugs, taking a bite of her food to delay answering. “Well, you know, they get off college at half three, earlier if they’ve got free periods. And neither of us get home until at least half five, so…”

The telltale clench of the jaw returns. Carla smirks at her. “How’s that zen working out?”

“Ok, you win. I will be zen about work, not about my daughter.”

“But you said you’d be zen about everything?” Carla teases.

“Well I meant work stuff.”

Carla laughs. “Uh huh.”

“I did!” Lisa insists.

“If you say so.”

They’re interrupted by Sarah, coming in with an armful of files.

“Sorry to disturb you, just wanted to bring you those files you asked for,” she says, placing them down on the desk.

“Thanks Sarah,” Carla says in a way that she hopes is dismissive enough to make her go away. She doesn’t, instead hovering awkwardly in front of the desk. “Was there something else?”

“Uh, actually, I was hoping to catch DS Swain,” Sarah says

“You know you can call me Lisa,” Lisa points out, for the millionth time. Almost six months into their relationship, everyone who knew her as DS Swain first seems to have struggled with the transition to calling her Lisa.

“Oh, I know, this is actually police business.”

Lisa sighs. “I am actually on my lunch break, you know,” she says with a nod to the sandwich on the desk in front of her.

“It won’t take long, I promise.”

“Go on then.”

“Well, it’s just my Gran’s house got broken into yesterday.”

Uh oh. Carla sees the change in Lisa’s face. Zen well and truly gone.

“I know,” Lisa replies, voice tight.

“Is Audrey alright?” Carla asks. Lisa hadn’t mentioned this to her.

“She’s a bit shaken but she’s ok,” Sarah assures her before turning back to Lisa. “I just wanted to ask if you had any leads?”

“We’ll be in touch if there’s any developments,” Lisa says, reciting the standard policing script.

“I know, it’s just there’s been loads of break ins round here recently, hasn’t there? One of the mums from the school run mentioned her house had been targeted as well. What are you lot doing about it?”

“We’re doing our best, I assure you.”

“I know, but-”

“Sarah,” Carla cuts in. “Why don’t you go for your lunch now?”

Carla gives her a look that she hopes is withering enough to tell her to do one. Luckily, Sarah gets the message and scarpers.

“Sorry about her,” Carla sighs, reaching for Lisa’s hand. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah. Just thought getting away from the station at lunch meant I might be able to go an hour without hearing about burglaries.”

“I tell you what, let’s make home a burglary free zone? No mentions of anything related to the case, sound good?”

“What’s going on with all these burglaries at the moment?” Becky asks as she strolls into the kitchen with Betsy when she comes to drop her off that evening.

Lisa, midway through cooking dinner, pauses her chopping, jaw clenching so hard it’s practically audible. Carla shakes her head at Becky, trying to communicate non-verbally that she needs to shut up ASAP. Betsy is oblivious to the sudden tension in the room, focused entirely on the contents of the fridge. Becky eyes Carla and her ex-wife with bafflement, trying to figure out what she’s just stepped into.

“What?” Becky asks.

“Don’t mention the B word while she’s holding a knife,” Carla warns.

“Which B word? Burglaries?” Betsy pipes up, earning her a withering glare from Lisa. “Burglaries,” she repeats, laughing as she dodges the piece of broccoli that Lisa chucks at her head.

“Did you see that? Child abuse,” Betsy gasps, looking at Becky for support.

“Why can’t we talk about burglaries?” Becky asks, lowering her voice and whispering the last word.

“It’s a bit of a sore point. Lisa’s under a lot of pressure at work because of them,” Carla explains, nervously eyeing the knife in her girlfriend's hand. Thankfully, Lisa puts it down before she turns to face Becky.

“Where did you hear about them?”

“Weatherfield Facebook group.”

“Brilliant,” Lisa sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Facebook groups truly are the enemy of policing - she doesn’t even want to know the sorts of things people are saying on there.

“Burglaries,” Betsy repeats again after everyone falls silent. Becky suppresses a laugh.

“Ok that’s it, everyone out of my kitchen,” Lisa snaps. No one moves. Betsy opens her mouth again, and Lisa cuts her off. “If you say that word one more time you won’t be eating this dinner, you’ll be wearing it.”

“Ok, I think that’s my cue to leave. You - try not to wind your mum up too much.” Becky plants a kiss on Betsy’s cheek before turning to Lisa. “You - chill out and try not to murder my daughter, please.”

“No promises,” Lisa shoots back.

“See you later,” Becky says with a nod at Carla.

“Bye,” Carla calls after her.

“Are there any more B words I can’t say?” Betsy asks, smirking at her mother.

“Why don’t we leave your mum in peace, eh?” Carla suggests, gently steering the teen out of the kitchen before Lisa picks the knife back up.

Chapter Text

The making of Carla’s pre-bed cup of tea is disturbed by the front door crashing open and hitting the hallway wall with a bang, followed by giggling and frustrated whispers. When Carla goes to investigate, she finds Betsy on the floor just inside the front door, having fallen over as she came in. A very flustered Mason is trying to help her up, shushing her as she laughs and pushes away his attempts to help.

“Betsy, come on man,” Mason sighs, finally managing to get ahold of Betsy’s arms and lifting her to her feet.

“Sorry,” Betsy laughs as she stands, wobbling slightly.

“What is going on here?” Carla demands, though she doesn’t really need to ask. It’s immediately clear why Betsy fell over: she’s drunk. Hammered, actually - eyes glassy, body swaying, and stinking of booze, with a whiff of something that might be cigarette smoke.

Carla glances up the stairs quickly, hoping Lisa hasn’t heard. She went to bed hours ago, knackered after a long day at work, but she was a light sleeper, and it’s only a matter of time before Betsy’s antics wake her up.

“She’s had a bit too much to drink,” Mason explains sheepishly. He’s still terrified of Lisa, a little nervous around Becky, and despite Carla’s best efforts, he’s wary of her too.

Carla looks Betsy up and down, the teen clinging to her boyfriend in an attempt to stay upright. “Yeah, I see that.”

“I’m all good,” Betsy says, hiccuping a little.

“Clearly. Come on,” Carla sighs, gesturing for them to follow her into the kitchen. “I’ll get you some water.”

Mason guides Betsy into a chair, and Carla smiles at how gentle he is with her, brushing her hair from her face when it falls into her eyes.

“How much has she had?” Carla asks, placing the water in front of Betsy, who grabs it with both hands and gulps at it eagerly, drops spilling down her chin as she does.

Mason hesitates, clearly not wanting to drop her in it. He folds when Carla raises an eyebrow at him. “Two bottles of wine.”

“Two? Where did you get those from?”

“The fridge,” Betsy explains, clumsily wiping at her chin.

Carla opens the fridge to confirm that yes, the two bottles of wine she’d bought the other day were gone. To add insult to injury, it was half-decent wine too, not the cheap stuff that Lisa usually insists on buying.

“You stole my wine?”

“It was really good,” Betsy laughs, way too drunk for Carla’s withering glare to have any kind of effect on her.

“She put Ribena in it,” Mason adds, and Carla is so horrified by that revelation that for a moment she thinks she might actually be having an aneurysm.

“Sorry, you cut £50 worth of Sauvignon blanc with Ribena?” Carla demands, struggling to keep her voice down.

“It didn’t taste nice on its own,” Betsy defends.

Carla takes a deep breath to calm herself down. It’s not really her place to lecture Betsy, and she doesn’t want to wake Lisa, so it takes everything in her to suppress the urge to shout at her right now - not about being drunk, but about the crimes against wine that she’s committed tonight. “Right, ok. Thank you for bringing her home, Mason. I’ll take it from here.”

“Ok, bye Betsy.” He leans down to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek, since Carla is present, but Betsy in her drunken state pulls him in for a full on snog. He pulls away as quick as he can, now bright red, and mumbles his goodbyes to Carla as he hurries out of the house.

“Love you,” Betsy shouts after him, and Carla shushes her immediately.

“You don’t want to wake your mum,” Carla warns. Lisa will not be happy that Betsy is in this state, and though she’ll have to find out about her antics tomorrow, Carla knows she needs her rest right now.

“No, I don’t,” she agrees, before suddenly reaching for Carla’s hand as an emotional look crosses over her face. “I’m really glad we’ve got you, Carla. You’re good for us.”

Carla smiles, squeezing her hand. “Thank you, Betsy. I-”

“I feel a bit sick,” Betsy cuts in before Carla has the chance to properly respond to her, her face paling suddenly.

“Shall we get you up to the bathroom?” Carla suggests, helping Betsy up and praying to all the gods she doesn’t believe in that they’ll make it before the vomiting starts.

The stairs are a challenge, Betsy stumbling a few times, but Carla manages to safely deposit the teenager in front of the toilet in the nick of time. She holds her hair back for her, rubbing her back soothingly and trying her best not to look too hard at what’s happening in the toilet bowl.

Somehow, even though all the shouting and stumbling downstairs didn’t wake the detective, the sound of retching does, and it’s not long before a concerned Lisa appears in the doorway.

“Betsy? Are you ok?” she asks sleepily, rubbing at her eyes.

“Never better,” Betsy mumbles, resting her head against the toilet seat.

Lisa’s brain begins to wake up, registering the smell of stale alcohol (and Ribena) in the bathroom. “Have you been drinking?”

“Obviously,” Betsy slurs, closing her eyes and getting comfy on the toilet seat.

“Mason just brought her home,” Carla explains. “She’s had those two bottles of wine from the fridge.”

“Betsy!” Lisa scolds, shaking her head at her daughter, whose eyes are still closed, seemingly having drifted off.

“You go to bed. I’ll sort her out, don’t worry,” Carla assures her.

Lisa hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you,” Lisa says gratefully.

Once Lisa has gone, Carla gently nudges Betsy awake, who groans and mumbles something inaudible.

“We need to get you to bed.”

“Leave me,” Betsy moans, which Carla ignores as she pulls her to her feet.

”Come on, here we go,” Carla says softly as they make it into Betsy’s room, sighing when she clocks how messy it is.

“Do you ever tidy up?” Carla asks, dodging piles of clothes on the floor to deposit Betsy on the bed.

“Yeah,” Betsy lies.

Once Betsy is in bed and asleep, with a glass of water, a bucket and some paracetamol at her bedside, and Carla finally makes it back to her own bedroom, she’s relieved to find that Lisa has managed to fall back asleep, hopefully dreaming of something other than her wayward daughter.

Betsy planned to sleep off her hangover. Lisa had other ideas.

She’s in Betsy’s room at the crack of dawn, forcing her to get up and ready for college, despite the teen’s protests that she’s too ill to go in.

“You’re not ill,” Lisa reminds her once she’s made it down to the breakfast table, face green as she takes tentative sips of her water. “This is entirely self-inflicted. If you want to go out and get hammered on a weeknight, you have to go into college hungover. You don’t get to sleep it off.”

“You’re so mean,” Betsy groans, leaning forward and resting her head against the table.

“Morning,” Carla shouts at the top of her lungs as she enters the kitchen, chuckling at the moans this elicits from Betsy.

“Do you have to?” she mumbles into the table.

“Sorry, is someone not feeling well this morning?” Carla says patronisingly, patting her on her head as she passes.

“Mum’s making me go to college. It’s basically child abuse.”

Lisa shakes her head at her, just as Betsy’s phone rings. She groans again and sits up straight to look at the screen. “It’s Mum,” she sighs.

“Answer it,” Lisa instructs.

“Did you tell her about last night?”

“Yep. She said she was going to ring.”

“Great, that’s all I need, her having a go and all.”

Betsy declines the call.

“The longer you ignore her the worse it’s going to be,” Lisa points out, just as another call comes through.

“I’ll talk to her when I feel better,” Betsy decides, declining the call again.

Lisa arrives at work feeling pretty good about her parenting. Yes, Betsy had gotten absolutely bladdered, and somehow managed to nick two bottles of wine from the fridge without her noticing, but forcing her out of the house to spend a full day at college when she was suffering from the mother of all hangovers seemed like a suitable punishment. She’s pulled out of her thoughts by Matty Radcliffe, who she bumps into as he swaggers out of the station, reeking of booze.

“Morning, detective,” he greets her.

“Morning, Mr Radcliffe,” Lisa sighs. “What is it this time?”

“Drunk and disorderly,” he shrugs. “Stitch up if you ask me, think your lot have a vendetta against me or summit.”

“Right. Well, stay out of trouble, yeah?” she replies as she moves around him, though she knows it’ll fall on deaf ears. She’s lost count of the number of times one of the Radcliffes had been in the cells, and no doubt she’ll be seeing Matty again very soon for a significantly worse offense.

“Hey, your Betsy is a wild one, isn’t she?” he calls after her.

Lisa stills, heart dropping at the idea of Matty knowing her daughter. Though she guesses it’s to be expected, given she’s dating his brother - even if Mason claims they don’t get along. Even so, there’s something jarring about hearing her name come out of his mouth.

She turns around to see Matty smirking at her. “What?”

“She was on one last night. Would never have known she was a copper's daughter, the stuff she was doing.”

“Last night?”

“Yeah, party on the estate. That’s where I got picked up. Funny how I ended up arrested, and she didn’t, innit? Spose that’s the advantage of having you as a mum, she can get away with all sorts and your mates will turn a blind eye. I’m telling you, corrupt the lot of you.”

“She was at a party on the Paul Robeson Estate?” Lisa clarifies, ignoring Matty’s comments about her being corrupt. The Paul Robeson Estate is known for being rough, and Betsy has been warned countless times to steer clear for her own safety.

“Yeah, I see her round there loads. All sorts of dodgy dealings going on last night and all, stuff getting passed around. Honestly, the things I could tell you about your little girl,” he tuts, clearly taking great pleasure in being the one to deliver this news to Lisa.

Lisa opens her mouth to speak again, but before she can form a response Matty has walked away, leaving her in shock. She knows, logically, that Matty is probably just winding her up, but she also knows that Betsy is no angel, and almost certainly gets up to things behind her back that would horrify her.

Lisa has a less than productive day at work, her mind replaying Matty’s words on loop all day. She leaves the second the clock hits five, relieved to find Betsy is home with Carla, and not floating round the streets of the Paul Robeson Estate.

“Hiya,” Carla greets her.

“Hi,” Lisa replies, before turning her attention to her daughter. “You’re home then?”

“Yeah. Where else would I be?”

“Oh, I don’t know, out getting up to mischief?” Lisa says with a pointed look.

“You know I’m an angel,” Betsy replies sweetly, putting on her best innocent expression - which quickly turns to annoyance when Carla laughs.

“How’s your hangover?”

“Bit better,” Betsy shrugs.

“Good. Listen, we need to talk about last night,” Lisa says firmly, perching on the arm of the sofa.

“I wasn’t even that bad, you know. You lot are so dramatic,” Betsy groans with an eyeroll.

“Betsy, you were paralytic,” Carla points out.

“I was a little bit tipsy, but it was only because I forgot to have a tacky chunder.”

“A what?” Carla and Lisa say in unison.

“A tactical chunder. It’s where you make yourself sick so you can drink more,” Betsy explains, as if it’s a completely normal thing to do.

Carla and Lisa stare at her with matching looks of horror.

“That’s - what?” Lisa stutters.

“That’s absolutely horrifying, Betsy. Don’t do that. Drink less,” Carla finishes for Lisa while she recovers from the revelation that her daughter seems to have already developed binge drinking tactics at the age of 16.

“Yeah, yeah,” Betsy sighs, as though their horror is a complete overreaction.

Lisa decides to just cut to the chase, carefully observing Betsy’s face as she does. “I bumped into Matty Radcliffe today. He said he saw you at a party last night. On the Paul Robeson Estate. In fact, he said he sees you hanging around there a lot.”

Betsy’s eyes widen. It’s all the confirmation Lisa needs. Busted, big time.

“What the hell were you doing at a party there?” Lisa demands, raising her voice. “You know how dodgy it is round there.”

“A mate invited me, it’s not a big deal,” Betsy shoots back defiantly, folding her arms.

“Which mate?”

“Someone from college. You don’t know them.”

“Matty said there were drugs there.”

Betsy snorts. “Why would he tell a police officer that? Is he stupid?”

“So there were?”

“I don’t know. Loads of people do drugs, Mum.”

“Do you?” Lisa asks, fixing Betsy with her best ‘don’t lie to me’ look.

Betsy looks mildly offended at the implication. “No, course not.”

“You promise?”

“Yes.”

Lisa feels a surge of relief course through her. Her gut is telling her that Betsy’s telling the truth - she just hopes her gut isn’t wrong.

“Ok. You’re not to go to any more parties on that estate, understood? In fact, I don’t want you hanging round there full stop.”

“Mum-” Betsy protests.

“No arguments. You’re 16 years old, you shouldn’t be at parties with the likes of Matty Radcliffe. It’s not safe, especially the state you were in. Anything could’ve happened.”

“Fine,” Betsy sighs, just as her phone rings. She pulls it out of her pocket and groans when she sees who’s calling. “Ugh, brilliant.”

Lisa doesn’t need to ask who it is. She knows it’s Becky.

“Did you tell Becky about all this?” Carla asks Lisa as she peers over Betsy’s shoulder to read her phone screen.

“Yeah, I rang her. I’d answer that if I were you, she wasn’t happy that you ignored her calls this morning.”

Betsy pales a little at this revelation. She gets up and goes upstairs, answering the call as she does. “Mum, listen, before you have a go-” is all she manages to get out before the second lecture begins.

Lisa drops into Betsy’s vacated seat. Carla instantly rests her head on the detective’s shoulder, offering her hand a reassuring squeeze as she does.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with her,” Lisa sighs.

“She’s a teenager, Lisa. She’s gonna get up to mischief.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want her hanging around the estate.”

“You know, not everyone who lives on a council estate is dodgy,” Carla points out, and Lisa’s face falls. She’s well aware of Carla’s upbringing.

“No, I know that,” Lisa assures her, not wanting Carla to think she’s being unnecessarily judgemental. Most of the arrests she makes are on the estate, and she knows how dicey it gets for passersby, especially at night. “But I want her to be safe.”

“I know. But she’s got a good head on those shoulders. And she already paid me back for the wine.”

“She did?”

“Yep. See, more responsible than you thought, isn’t she?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Lisa concedes. She hadn’t even asked Betsy to pay Carla back yet. She knows Carla’s right - Betsy is more streetwise than she gives her credit for, but she also knows that nothing good can come from her hanging around with the wrong crowd.

“Hey, what are you thinking?” Carla prods when Lisa falls silent for a while, lost in thought.

“I was just thinking I wish I could put her on reins like I used to when she was a toddler,” Lisa laughs.

“Oh yeah, that would go down well, wouldn’t it? She’ll be fine, Lisa. You worry too much. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”

Carla wraps an arm around her, and Lisa finally lets herself relax for the first time since she bumped into Matty.

Chapter Text

Things were getting better for Lisa at work. Not because they’d caught the burglars - they were no closer than they were before - but because there hadn’t been any break ins for a couple of weeks, meaning Costello had gotten off her back a bit, and she’d been free to focus on other cases.

Of course, the second things started getting better for Lisa, everything went to shit at the factory. First, half the staff had been off sick at some point with a nasty case of the flu, which thankfully both Carla and Betsy had managed to swerve - but the sheer amount of sick leave being taken meant they’d started to fall behind on orders. They were set even further behind by a combination of late supplier deliveries and a shortage of a specific type of lace they needed for their biggest order. To top it all off, Kirk had crashed the delivery van. It wasn’t actually his fault - someone hit him from behind - though that hadn’t stopped Carla taking out her anger on him. He actually cried, and now all her staff hated her more than usual - with the exception of Betsy, who seemed to be enjoying the utter chaos, so much so that it was actually a little concerning.

Which was how Carla found herself working late again, as she had done every single day for the last two weeks. Tonight, though, she’d offered Betsy overtime to stay and work with her, the teen beavering away at a machine while Carla worked in her office. Tonight, her mission was to sort out the delivery van so they could actually ship their order once it was finished.

The factory had been quiet for a while, save for the gentle humming of the sewing machine and the clicking of Carla’s keyboard, when they hear familiar footsteps crossing the factory floor.

“Hi, darling,” Lisa calls out as she strides into Carla’s office. “How’s it going?”

“Not good,” Carla sighs.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“No. But thank you.”

“Have you eaten?”

“No, we haven’t,” Betsy announces from the doorway, arms folded.

“Have you been starving my child?” Lisa asks, eyebrow raised.

“We’ve got food in the kitchen, she could’ve eaten,” Carla argues, before glancing at the time on the laptop. It’s nearly 9pm. Her stomach growls on cue when she clocks the fact that she hasn't eaten since lunchtime.

“Shall I go and get you something to eat? What do you fancy?”

“Kebab?” Betsy asks.

“Actually Betsy, maybe you should get off. I’m sure there’s laws against 16 year olds working this late.”

“I don’t mind,” Betsy shrugs, and it warms Carla’s heart to see how willing Betsy is to help her out. Even if it is partly because she’s getting paid for it.

“No, Carla’s right, it’s late. Go and get your stuff,” Lisa commands, ever the concerned mum, and Betsy trudges off to her locker. “You should come too. You must be exhausted.”

“I wish. I want to get a couple more hours in at least.”

“You work too hard,” Lisa observes, and Carla snorts in response.

“Uh, pot, kettle?”

“Point taken,” Lisa laughs. “Tell you what, why don’t I take her home, get her fed, and then come back with some dinner for you and I can keep you company for a bit? How does that sound?”

“What did I do to deserve you?” Carla smiles.

“Just being your perfect self,” Lisa says back, leaning down and capturing Carla’s lips in a gentle kiss.

“Ahem.”

They break apart to see Betsy standing in the doorway wearing a mild look of disgust.

“I’ll see you later,” Lisa sighs.

“Thanks for all your help today,” Carla calls after Betsy.

“Anytime,” she shouts back.

Once the Swains are gone, all the exhaustion of the last two weeks crashes over her all at once. She finds herself yawning, her eyes suddenly a little heavier than they were a few minutes ago. What she should probably do is go home, get a good night’s sleep, and come back refreshed in the morning. But that’s not what she does. Instead, she turns all the lights off, and settles herself in an armchair, feet up on the coffee table, for a quick power nap. Sleep draws her in quickly, the consequences of overworking herself for weeks finally catching up to her.

She wakes up to footsteps and hushed voices. She’s instantly on high alert, because the footsteps are too heavy to be Lisa’s, and the voices definitely belong to men. The factory is still in darkness, but she can see moving shadows and the bobbing of a beam of torch light on the factory floor.

“Where would a safe be?” she hears one of the unknown men ask, voice deep and distinctly unfriendly.

“Try the office,” another voice suggests.

Carla bolts up out of the chair and moves swiftly towards the door - where she immediately bumps into a dark figure, dressed in black and wearing a balaclava.

“Shit,” the voice whispers, stepping back.

“I’ve called the police,” Carla lies, knowing it’s probably her only line of defense right now.

Two other figures appear behind the first, the taller of the two wielding a crowbar. He steps towards her, raising it above his head threateningly. Carla steps back with her hands up.

“Please, don’t.” Her voice comes out shaky, and that’s when she realises the rest of her is trembling too.

“Tell us where the safe is.”

“Corner,” she says quickly, nodding to where it sits atop a filing cabinet. “Code is 7566.”

The man lowers the crowbar, but keeps it pointed at Carla and nods to the other two to go to the safe. There’s only a small amount of petty cash in there, totalling less than £200, so Carla has no issues letting them at it if it means she’ll get out unscathed. She watches as the men help themselves, and the man with the crowbar speaks up again.

“Don’t hear no sirens. And didn’t hear you make a call. You sure the police are coming?” he taunts.

Carla swallows audibly. “Yes.”

“You know, I don’t like liars,” he tuts, pressing the end of the crowbar into her chest and pushing her back until she’s flush with the wall. “What other valuables have you got for us?”

Carla doesn’t answer, unable to focus on his words over the sound of her heartbeat, her head spinning as anxiety courses through her veins.

“I said, what valuables have you got?” he presses the crowbar into her chest further, knocking the air out of her lungs.

“Laptops. In the other room,” she gasps out.

The other men scuttle into the other room, and Carla closes her eyes in fear, trying to think about something other than how she’s pinned to the wall. She wants to fight back, but she’s not stupid enough to think she stands a chance against three armed men.

After what feels like an eternity, the man loosens his grip on her, and the three men scarper, leaving Carla alone in the darkness. The sound of the door slamming shut echoes across the quiet factory floor for a moment, and once Carla knows they’re definitely gone she sinks to the floor, her body shaking with uncontrollable sobs.

Chapter Text

When Lisa steps back into the factory, with a tupperware container of leftovers tucked under her arm for Carla’s dinner, she can tell something is off straight away, her detective spidey senses tingling. The factory is in darkness, and when she flicks the light on, she can see boxes strewn across the floor and rolls of fabric knocked over. Someone’s been here.

“Carla?” she calls out.

Lisa listens for a response, and hears nothing but quiet sobs. She rushes into the office, a surge of panic coursing through her when she sees Carla on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and trembling. She’s at her side in seconds, scanning her for any sign of injury.

“Carla? What happened?”

“We just got robbed. There were three men, and they-” she trails off, words descending into sobs.

“And they what?” Lisa prompts, running a soothing hand up and down Carla’s arm.

“They took cash from the safe and laptops.”

“Did they hurt you?”

Carla’s breathing starts to regulate and she regains her voice. “One of them threatened me with a crowbar. He had me pinned up against the wall. But I’m ok.”

“Ok,” Lisa nods, relieved that it wasn’t worse. “Let's get you up, and I’ll call it in.”

Lisa helps Carla to her feet and gently guides to the chair, before calling the station. She knows these must be the same men that have been terrorising Weatherfield for weeks, and she feels a wave of guilt wash over her again at her failure to make any progress with the case. She failed, and now her girlfriend had fallen victim to them. Somehow, Carla senses this.

“Hey, this wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” Lisa sighs, conscious of not wanting to add her own emotions into the mix when Carla is so shaken. “I just wish I’d gotten back sooner.”

“I’m just relieved you took Betsy home when you did.”

“Me too. Shall I make you a cup of tea?” Lisa suggests in an attempt to feel useful while she waits for back up. She stands up, and Carla grabs her arm to pull her back.

“Can you stay with me?” Carla asks, eyebrows knitted with worry, eyes pleading for Lisa not to leave her side.

Lisa sits back down, taking Carla’s hands in hers. “Course I will.”

True to her word, Lisa doesn’t leave Carla’s side, not letting go of her hand once when backup arrives and Craig takes her statement. She resists the urge to go into full on Detective Sergeant mode and oversee the securing of the crime scene, knowing that staying with Carla is more important right now. Carla doesn’t need DS Swain, she needs Lisa. She’ll get stuck into the evidence tomorrow, and though she won’t officially be able to work on this specific case given the conflict of interest, she won’t rest until she finds out who did this.

By the time they get out of the factory, Carla has calmed down, and though she drove herself to work, Lisa insists that she’s in no fit state to drive and that they can pick up her car tomorrow.

“Thank you,” Carla says when they’re halfway home.

Lisa doesn’t ask what she’s thanking her for. “You don’t have to thank me. But you’re welcome.”

There’s a long, contemplative silence before Carla speaks again. “You know, there was something familiar about the men.”

“There was? You think you know them?”

“No. I don’t know.”

“Don’t torture yourself trying to figure it out, that’s our job. But your statement is going to be really helpful, plus we know there’s CCTV at the factory, which might have caught something,” Lisa says, DS Swain starting to make a reappearance.

“Well, I’m glad my trauma is going to be so useful for you lot,” Carla says sarcastically.

“Oh, no, Carla - I didn’t mean-” Lisa looks over at Carla and sees she’s smiling.

“I’m joking. I know what you meant. I just hope you catch them.”

“We will, I promise,” Lisa assures her. “You are ok, though?”

“Yeah, I will be,” Carla replies, though neither of them are convinced.

Lisa can tell Carla’s more shaken than she’s letting on. She knows Carla barely slept, her tossing and turning disturbing her own sleep. When she comes into the kitchen, she finds Carla at the breakfast table, staring into space.

“Hey,” Lisa says softly. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah. Just dreading going back into the factory,” Carla admits, nervously fiddling with the untouched toast on the plate in front of her.

“Maybe you should take the day off? Or work from home?”

“No, we’re snowed under enough as it is, the last thing we need is me slacking off.”

“You’re not slacking off, you’re recovering,” Lisa points out.

“Recovering from what?” Betsy asks, having snuck downstairs without either of them noticing.

Carla and Lisa exchange a look, as though trying to decide telepathically how to approach this. Betsy was asleep when they got home last night, and as much as Lisa would like to protect Betsy as not to rattle her, she knows they won’t be able to keep this from her. It’ll be front page news for the factory gossip mill today. Carla nods at Lisa to take the lead, not wanting to relive the events of last night again.

“Uh, there was an incident last night. The factory got broken into after we left, when Carla was there alone, so she’s a bit shaken.”

“Are you ok?” Betsy asks, voice laced with concern as she looks at Carla, who is clearly not quite herself.

Carla gets up and puts her plate in the sink to avoid looking at the Swains’ worried faces any longer. “I’ll be fine,” Carla assures her.

Betsy nods and steps forward to wrap her arms around Carla. Carla doesn’t resist, pulling the teen in tightly.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Betsy asks, head nestled into Carla’s shoulder.

“I will be with you two looking after me,” Carla replies, patting Betsy on the back and sharing a smile with Lisa over her shoulder.

Lisa insists on walking Carla into the factory when she drops her off. Carla tries to wave her off, but when she gets inside she’s glad of the company. She freezes in the doorway of the office, eyes catching on the open safe. She tries not to look at the wall she was shoved against, her chest heavy as she remembers the feeling of the crowbar pressed up against it.

Lisa takes her hand, offering a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey,” she says softly.

When Carla doesn’t reply, she steps in front of her, placing both hands gently on the side of her face, forcing the brunette to look at her.

“Are you sure you’re ok? I can take you home.”

“I’m fine,” Carla replies, gently removing Lisa’s hands from her face.

“Because if it’s too soon-”

“I said I’m fine,” Carla snaps, and Lisa steps back, hurt. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Lisa assures her. “I have an idea, and you don’t have to say yes, but how about I go and grab my laptop from the car and work remotely from here today? Just to keep you company. It’s completely your choice, but the offer is there.”

Carla considers this for a moment. She doesn't want to seem weak, like she needs police protection, but she wants to say yes. She knows she’ll feel so much better if Lisa is with her.

“Ok,” she says finally. “Thank you.”

When they leave the factory hand in hand that evening, Carla feels the lightest she has in twenty four hours. Lisa tries to drop her hand when they reach the car, but Carla doesn’t let her, instead holding it tighter and using it to pull the detective in so that their bodies are flush against each other.

“Hi,” Lisa smiles, so close to Carla that she can feel her breath on her skin.

“Thank you for today,” Carla says softly, capturing Lisa’s lips in a kiss. “I will make it up to you, I promise.”

“You don’t have anything to make up for, Carla. And actually, this was the best day’s work I’ve had in a while. Always nice to have a beautiful woman sitting across from me.”

“Oh yeah? You liked the view, did you?” Carla smirks. She’d caught the detective staring on several occasions, first with worry, and then later with adoration once she was sure Carla was doing ok.

“Yeah. Much better than looking at Kit all day.”

“That’s a low bar,” Carla laughs, pressing another kiss to Lisa’s lips. “Now, I know you said I didn’t have any making up to do, but I did have a plan.”

Lisa raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Well, since we’re sans teenager tonight, I thought we should take advantage of the empty house.”

“That sounds like a great plan.”