Pairing: Polly/Mal.
Rating: C

Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with Terry Pratchett or Discworld.
Note: Written for Hyel and the Femslash100 drabble-tag challenge she provided (Polly/Mal : Apophenia).

Alone at Last
by Amazon Syren

     The door swung open, and they stumbled into the tiny, ill-lit room, laughing at their own un-coordination. Light, from the waxing moon, slanted through the window offering some small illumination.
     Polly closed the door, and leaned on it for support.
     "Alone at last," she said.
     “Yeah,” Mal gasped, lounging against the bedpost. “So this is being drunk, is it?”
     “You don’t know?”
     Mal shrugged, grinning sheepishly – well, except for the teeth. “I don’t generally drink… alcohol,” she confessed. She unbuttoned her coat, giving her head an experimental shake. “Am I supposed to be this dizzy?” She pushed herself away from the bedpost, stumbling slightly.
     “It’ll be worse, tomorrow,” Polly informed her, ruefully, putting out a swaying arm to help steady the vampire. “My dad used to tell me – or, well, tell heavy drinkers at the bar, within earshot of me,” she amended, “that you should never go to sleep drunk, or you’d pay for it in the morning—” Mal slumped against her. “Er,” Polly continued. “He used to say that you should walk it off.”
     “Not much space for walking in here,” Mal commented, with a giggle. “What do you suggest we do?”
     There was a pause, during-which Polly felt her mouth go dry, and which went on slightly longer than was strictly necessary.
     “...We could play Parcheesi,” Polly suggested.
     “Tic Tac Toe,” Mal countered.
     Polly’s mouth quirked.
     “Gin Rummy.”
     “Truth or Dare.”
     They were both laughing, now.
     “Strip poker,” Polly said, without thinking.
     Mal blinked.
     “That could be fun,” she murmured, in the sudden silence. She shifted slightly, her hand slipping up Polly’s arm to her shoulder.
     “I… we don’t have any cards,” said Polly, because suddenly she was floating and couldn’t find the ground. She felt herself slip her arms around Mal’s waist – one sure thing to hold onto.
     “Does that matter?” Mal murmured, lifting an eyebrow. Gods, there was a world of inflection to that subtle movement. Polly felt herself start to sway forward, and caught herself at the last moment, her nose just brushing the tip of Mal’s.
     “Are you as dizzy as I am?” Mal asked. Her dark eyes were heavy-lidded. Polly tried to breath, and caught her scent.
     “Roses,” she said, faintly.
     “Mmm?”
     “You smell like roses,” she murmured, leaning closer, trying to catch the scent again. She felt Mal’s fingers slipping into her hair, as she buried herself in Mal’s skin.
     “Oh…” Mal’s voice, just on the edge of hearing, Mal’s head tipping to the side to let Polly closer. Yes…
     Polly pulled away, realizing what she was about to do. She shook her head, as if to clear it. It only made her dizzy.
     “S-sorry,” she faltered, trying to back away and remembering that she was pressed against the door already. “I- I shouldn’t have done—”
     “Shh…” fingers, gentle, on her lips, “I don’t mind,” feather-light on her cheek. Mal’s mouth quirked. “You are my sergeant,” she went on. “Technically, you could order me to do anything you wanted.”
     Polly leaned her head against the door and closed her eyes.
     “No, I can't.”
     But then she felt soft lips on her skin, light kisses laid down along her jaw to her ear lobe.
     “What if I wanted it?” Mal whispered, and Polly shivered. Her hands came up again, finding Mal’s waist as thought they had minds of their own, and Mal sighed with contentment – or maybe something else – and pressed closer, trailing her fingers lightly over Polly’s shirtfront. “If I wanted it,” Mal went on, her lips brushing Polly’s ear, “would it be okay?”
     Polly’s breath was coming in shallow gasps and she was, she noticed, trembling rather badly. Yes, it would be okay, she thought, wildly. It would be more than okay, but I don’t know what to do!
     Mal hesitated, when Polly didn’t answer. “Do you want me to stop this?” she asked, gently.
     “Mal,” Polly confessed, the alcohol in her system making her voice teary, “I’ve never even kissed anyone before!”
     Mal cupped Polly’s cheek in her hand.
     “Do you want to?”
     Polly swallowed, hard.
     “Y-yes,” she breathed, leaning in without realizing it.
     “Good,” Mal whispered, against Polly’s mouth, just before her lips parted under Polly’s own.
     The kiss was not as sloppy as it might have been. True, Polly was new at this, but Mal had been doing this for a very long time, and she went slowly, guiding with lips and tongue until Polly knew the way, herself. Through the window, the setting moon slipped lower.