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Folie à Deux	By : MinervasTorch Category: +1 through F > Futurama Views: 6405 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Futurama, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Folie à Deux
- 1
Leela is working on the ship when a clattering alerts her of Bender's arrival, followed by a long series of hoots, whistles, and numerous proclamations by the robot of his own genius.
Oh, Lord, she thinks. Now what?
"You know, Big Boots," Bender finally declares after a long, quiet moment passes. "If it weren't for me, Bender, you'd be enjoying some new-found fame. It's only my quick thinking, and quicker fingers, that has spared you some considerable mortification. You biological organisms and your disgusting and embarrassing bodily functions!"
That gets Leela's attention. She puts her tools down and climbs down the ladder.
"Bender," she says firmly. "What are you talking about?"
Bender smiles gleefully, and pulls a USB stick out of his chest cavity. "If not for me, Bender, this would be all over the 'net right now," he says, waving the small hard drive around. "Not that I'm sure it's not an incredibly fine performance."
To her annoyance, her stomach clenches. "Per…performance?" she asks.
Bender's smile falters somewhat, before twitching back into place and Leela realises conscience is showing. This could mean real trouble...
"Remember when I told you that you and Fry weren't really at a private holiday resort, but actually on display in a zoo run by sentient apes?" Bender puffs away at his cigar, attempting to look nonchalant.
Leela just nods. Oh, my God… she thinks. Her heart is pounding in her ears. She can feel her face heating, adrenaline surging as her body readies itself for a fight. Don't let it show, don't let it show…
"Don't get your panties in a twist," he says, with more kindness than she knows he actually means to show her at this moment. "This is the only copy. Don't look at in public."
"Th…thank you," she mumbles.
"My generosity to meatbags such as yourself only proves how great I am," he drawls.
Leela just nods, turns on her heel and leaves.
She slams the door behind her and sinks to the floor. She can feel the sweat running down her chest; she started running as soon as she reached the front door of Planet Express. Her hand, curled in a fist around the USB stick, is shaking.
Get a hold of yourself, she snarls at herself. You don't even know what this is all about!
But Bender had said if not for him, she'd be enjoying some new found fame. And deep down, she is fairly sure she knows exactly what is on this stick. Film of her. Doing private, intimate things. But who with? And where did it come from?
It makes her want to crawl into a hole and disappear.
Bender has said it's the only copy. If he's telling the truth, if she were to crunch the stick down to a fine powder under her boot heel, that would be the end of it. She knows Bender lies like a spaceswine in mud, but she wants – needs – to believe him. At least this time.
She takes a deep breath and steels herself. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but she needs to know. She plugs the stick into the port in the side of her TV and holds her breath.
Before she can consider it further, the first file begins to play.
It is the bedroom in the hut at the eco-resort she and Fry went to. Leela frowns. What on earth...?
But it isn't Fry who is sitting next to her. The bile begins to rise in her throat. She can see herself, young and afraid and desperately lonely, sitting on the bed next to Sean. Her hair is down and flicked out to the sides, in that ridiculous style that she hated but that Sean loved. She is wearing high heels and hot pants and a spaghetti-strap singlet top and all Leela feels is sorrow for the poor, lost girl of fifteen years ago.
It wasn't that Leela wasn't horrified when Bender and Amy told her that her 'romantic getaway' with Fry was actually a zoo habitat on a planet populated by sentient apes who wanted to gawp at humans mating. It was just that she assumed they were lying about it.
But it is most definitely herself and Sean on the screen. The footage is somewhat grainy and only in black-and-white, but the images might as well be in crystal-clear high-definition holofilm as far as Leela is concerned. She knows her mouth is hanging open but she has no idea how to react to…this. The fact that it exists.
The Leela on the screen leans forward to kiss Sean, wanting to take things slowly, carefully, and her heart sinks. She knows – remembers – that Sean never wanted to take anything slowly, no matter what anyone else wanted, including her. Sure enough, after only a few moments, Sean jams his tongue in her mouth and pushes her down on the bed. He's not rough, but he is insistent.
Leela feels a rush of anger – at herself – for not protesting, for not asking, no, telling, Sean to slow down. But surely even if Sean couldn't see the discomfort and sadness on her face, couldn't he feel how tense her body was?
Sean is pushing his pants off, and Leela finds she wants to run away and hide so she doesn't have to watch it anymore. She knows what happens next. It's what happened pretty much every time she'd slept with Sean. She isn't sure if it's that her mutant physiology means her vagina tilts at an unusual angle, but missionary position, flat on her back, has never been particularly comfortable.
Naturally, it was Sean's favourite position.
Leela watches her own face begin to twist in barely-concealed discomfort. She can't bring herself to watch herself have mediocre, unsatisfying, rushed sex with a man she should never have given the time of day to, let alone close to five years of her life.
She jabs at the remote, breathing hard, wanting it to stop the damn trainwreck from playing out in front of her.
The screen goes mercifully black.
When she first met him, Leela had often mistaken Fry's sweetness and good heart for stupidity. But while he wasn't always terribly bright, he was surprisingly well tuned to her emotional state.
When he gets home, she is still sitting on the couch, lost in thought.
"Leela?" he asks, quietly, sitting down next to her. "Are you okay? Bender said you left work early and in a real hurry."
Leela looks over at him. He just smiles at her, that sweet smile she knows he saves just for her.
Leela pulls him into her arms, clinging to him, pressing her face into his neck. He strokes her hair, murmuring quiet, sweet nonsense into her ear.
After several minutes, Leela looks up and smiles at him, resting her head on his chest.
"Whatever it is, you can tell me," Fry says softly. "If you want to."
If you want to, he'd said. Not a demand, or even a request. An offer. Despite her fears, Leela smiles. Fry may have driven her mad at times with his constant requests for dates, and while he was certainly consistent in his pursuit of her over the years, when she said "no", that was it. No matter how hurt or sad he may have felt, Fry had accepted her answer without trying to guilt, manipulate or nag her into a "yes". He certainly proceeded to ask her out again (and again, and again, and again), but he would wait for time to pass. And, in between those requests, he was still her friend. Her best friend.
"I love you," she blurts.
Fry's smile grows. "I love you, too," he says.
"I just…I just wanted you to know that," she says. She knows she's on the verge of either rambling or crying, possibly both. "I feel like I don't tell you that enough."
Fry's eyebrows go up, and she knows she's confirmed his suspicions that something is up. "Well, I sure love hearing you say it to me."
She leans forward and kisses him.
Nibbler wakes them early, scratching at the door, demanding to be fed and walked.
Leela lies still for a long moment, not wanting to face the world right now. Before she can even talk sense into herself, Fry gets up.
"Don't worry, Leela, I'll take him," he says softly. "You go back to sleep if you want."
She kisses him in thanks and watches him dress, deep in thought. His hair is its usual wild mess and she smiles a little he trips a little as he pulls his jeans on. She used to find his klutziness infuriating, but now she finds it strangely endearing.
Leela may not like to admit it (in public, at least), but she was tightly wound at best and neurotic at worst. She had trouble just…relaxing. Just being. A skill which Fry was evidently a master of, if his ability to take it easy in almost any circumstance or setting was any indication.
So, to say she had…trouble…with sex was putting it lightly. Although she liked to think of herself as a modern, sexually-liberated woman, sex involved placing far more trust in another person than Leela really felt comfortable with. In truth, she had never really found sex pleasurable. Or even particularly comfortable. Ever. When she was with Sean, she'd mostly just been glad it was merely underwhelming and didn't hurt. She'd crushed down the part of her that was furious that Sean didn't care enough to make it good for her and convinced herself that women who raved about how great sex could be were exaggerating.
But she'd never quite managed to convince herself. Even when all the boyfriends after Sean had been almost as selfish as he had been, this inability to relax did not enable her to become aroused with any sort of ease in the first place, let alone orgasm. Her awful encounter with Zapp Brannigan the first time they met reminded her of that with painful clarity.
To be in such a vulnerable position, with her defences down in every possible way…well. She didn't feel...safe.
Well, until Lars. Lars, who spent hours just kissing her, touching her, talking to her. Who undressed her carefully, like she was something precious, who never rushed her, who was happy to go slowly, who asked her if she was all right, who told her that she was beautiful, who told how much he loved her, who made her come so hard she'd seen stars…
Lars had been a very giving, focused and enthusiastic lover. And Lars was Fry, after all, quietened and calmed and patient from almost twenty extra years of life experience. But he was still Fry. And she felt safe with him.
She was still somewhat stunned that it is with Fry that she feels that safety. Not with any of the powerful, supposedly responsible men she'd dated. With Fry. Whose romantic overtures she'd ignored for years because she thought him irresponsible, childish, boorish. She didn't think his feelings for her were real, or particularly deep. That all he felt for her was a mix of lust and puppy love. That he merely loved the idea of her. That he'd grow bored of the real her. That she could never rely on him. For anything...
"You okay?"
Leela looks up; Fry is kneeling in front of her, fully dressed. He has a quietness to him now, a calm that 25-year-old kid from the Stupid Ages never had. The medical technology of this era means it will be many years before his face shows the same signs of age that were present on Lars', if Fry even ages the same way in the first place. But so much is the same: the smile, the nose, the kind green eyes.
Sometimes she can't believe she was so dense as to not notice Lars and Fry were one and the same.
She smiles and strokes the side of his face. Fry catches her hand in his own, holding it against his cheek.
"I'm okay," she whispers. "You inspire me to think deep thoughts."
Fry laughs. "Well, one of us has to be the brains of the outfit."
Leela lies back. "You've had some good ideas," she says drily.
Fry smirks, then kisses the palm of her hand. "You sure you're all right?"
Leela nods. "You and Nibbler have fun."
Fry smiles at her, and calls to Nibbler.
After the door shuts behind them, there is a long moment of silence before Leela gets out of bed, thinking she needs to make herself something to eat. Standing in the kitchen, though, her eye keeps drifting sideways to the blank TV screen.
"This is the only copy. Don't look at in public."
Leela chews her lip. What exactly was it these filthy monkeys recorded? How many cameras were there? How much of her holiday with Fry was filmed?
She and Fry had enjoyed a fantastic holiday. They'd not had to lift a finger themselves, they'd lain around doing nothing, eaten fine food, gone walking, gone swimming, gone skinny dipping...
Leela had surprised herself; all she'd wanted to do during that week was bask in Fry's company, in his love, in his lust. She hadn't even given Fry a chance to seduce her; she'd practically jumped on him and torn his clothes off as soon as they arrived.
Not that he minded... she smirks to herself.
But her smile fades quickly. Her stomach churns.
More than anything that week, they'd made love. Constantly. Every day. In a wide variety of positions and locations and...
Oh, God, she thinks. She sits down on the couch and draws her knees up under her chin, trying to control her breathing. They'd left the room in a complete mess. In such a state that even Fry tried to clean up a bit before they left...although those robot hands had slapped them away and herded them over to the shuttle...
What if this gets out? What if my parents see it? What if Sean and his wife see this?
Sean, who had bitched and moaned and complained when she didn't respond to his inept, rushed advances the way he thought she should, who didn't think she got wet fast enough, who said horrible, degrading things to her and claimed it was "just a bit of fun, dirty talk", who called her a prude, frigid, cold.
Leela has to know what she's dealing with. She turns on the TV.
It takes her mere moments to regret doing so.
Her stomach drops; the camera is aimed directly at the bed. On the screen, she is lying there with Fry. It's not long after they first arrived at the resort. Out of the corner of her eye, Leela can see what looks like flashing lights coming in through the window. Not that she and Fry are paying them any mind; they are lying face-to-face, side-by-side, kissing slowly, passionately. Fry's hand eventually disappears under her dress, her skirt hiding the view of what his unexpectedly dexterous fingers are doing to her.
Sean's body may have been harder than Fry's, but then his heart was, too. Sean is more successful with the saxophone than Fry is with the holophoner…but that's where any superiority Sean's hands have to Fry's ends.
And she can see that, clearly, in the footage playing out in front of her. The look on her face on the screen gives it away if nothing else. Her eye is closed, her mouth open, ecstasy painted on her features as Fry's lips caress her neck and his fingers gently stroke her.
Fry's lips are moving against her skin, speaking sweet, hot, dirty words which were meant for her ears alone. She urgently jabs at the volume button on the remote, and is incredibly relieved: there is no soundtrack. They had both been quite...vocal.
"Baby, I love how you feel against me...you're all I can think about...I want you so much..."
Her face heats; watching herself convulse from the force of her orgasm on screen would be alarming if it weren't for the way Fry holds her through it, kissing her neck, whispering sweet nothings to her.
Leela, still shaking, takes his free hand and kisses the palm, breathing hard as his fingers keep working their magic under her dress. She is looking at him with wide-eyed lust and ardour.
He smiles and gently pulls his hand out from under her skirt and brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them for a long moment, and then leaning forward to whisper into her ear. Leela's face heats and she feels a rush of wetness between her legs as she watches. She'd never liked dirty talk, but there was something about the Fry delivered it that really got her fires going...
"Mmm…I love the way you taste…let me lick that sweet pussy of yours…I want your juices all over my face…"
The Leela on-screen grabs his shoulders and pulls him down on top of her, kissing him deeply as his hands slide down her sides to her thighs and his hands work their way back under her dress, pushing its hem up slowly until it's halfway up her belly. Leela wraps her thighs around him as his hands gently knead her breasts as his lips move to her jawline, her neck, her collarbones and then to the tops of her breasts as he runs his thumbs back and forth over her nipples.
Fry trails his lips down her belly, looking up at her as he gently runs his fingertips down her sides and along the back of her thighs before stepping backwards and kneeling at the end of the bed, whispering words into her skin.
"You're so beautiful…"
She writhes in pleasure underneath Fry's touch as he gently draws her down towards him, lifting her legs so Fry can slide her underwear off.
Leela can feel a flush rise up her neck; even in the grainy footage, it is obvious that she had been so aroused her underwear had been soaked through.
Fry doesn't exactly help; he peels the flimsy fabric from her body at a deliberate, almost torturously unhurried pace, slowly revealing her. The look on his face is indescribable, a mix of love and lust and devotion, all with an intensity that almost frightens Leela.
"Mmm…your scent drives me crazy…look at you, you're so wet …I can't wait to taste you…"
The Leela on the screen moans as his words reach her ears, arching her back and spreading her legs wide in open invitation. She looks positively wanton, thrusting her hips towards Fry, the only audience she thinks she has, the only audience she wants, who grins like he's won the lottery.
The flashing lights are going absolutely nuts outside the window. The fireflies… she thinks, but then her stomach sinks.
She realises with a jolt that the light she and Fry made love to wasn't from fireflies, but from camera flashes.
There was a whole crowd of people watching us the whole time…
Leela wants to disappear. She is embarrassed. She is horrified.
She is furious.
On the screen, Fry is smiling, gently carding his fingertips through her violet curls, down to her clit, circling it before leaning down and blowing gently on her swollen lips, smirking as she shivers in evident delight.
"Look at those pretty lips, all flushed and wet and spread open… I can't wait to get my mouth around them…"
Leela's hips jerk visibly at his words, her legs shaking. Her mouth is moving. "Oh, my God, Fry…please..."
He smirks and lowers his head, gently holding her legs steady, hands on the backs of her thighs. He trails his tongue up her inner thighs and, finally, to her centre, where she is positively aching from want and desire.
Leela's hips begin moving in an unthinking, instinctive rhythm, mindlessly running her hands through that impossibly thick hair of his. Although she can't hear it, she knows she's gasping and moaning. She can see her own lips moving in a constant pattern – "Fry…Fry…Fry…" – and he keeps going, entirely focused on his task, on her, his right thumb tag-teaming with his tongue and lips on her clit.
She feels a hot surge of embarrassment and shame as she watches the Leela on screen tremble and shake and moan her way through another orgasm.
Her dress is bunched up near her hips and her underwear is hanging off the end of the bedpost and even in the somewhat grainy black and white footage, she can see Fry looking at her with total devotion from between her legs as she convulses.
And all in front of an audience they didn't know were there.
An audience who watched she and Fry in their most intimate moments, who had watched Fry kiss her and touch her and lick her juices off his fingers. Who she desperately hopes didn't hear the intimate things that Fry said to her which left her a keening, lustful mess who eagerly spread her legs for him, unknowingly showing God only knows how many people her wares.
On screen, Fry smiles, kisses the inside of her thigh, and crawls up to lie next to her. She finds herself smiling despite herself; she remembers that kiss. She could smell herself on him and taste herself in his mouth and there was a primitive, primal, loud part of her brain screaming mine, mine, mine.
In that moment, she finds it strangely hilarious that she'd previously always thought Fry would bring more enthusiasm than skill to anything involving his tongue.
The Leela on screen takes Fry's hand and kisses it, sucking on his fingers for a long moment before placing his hand on her breast, pressing her free palm against his hardness.
Within moments, Fry's shorts and underwear have been kicked to the far side of the room and his shirt is undone and Leela is riding him as he gently kneads her breast through her dress, their bodies falling into an ancient, but unhurried, rhythm. She leans back, pushing his shirt off his shoulders and throwing her dress over her head, sending it flying. She leans back in to kiss him and Fry's fingers tangle in her hair, gently pulling it out of its tie.
He kisses her lips, her face, her neck, the tops of her breasts. She arches into him, grabbing his hands and pulling them up to the clasp at the back of her bra; he grins and obligingly undoes the damn thing and she mindlessly flings it off and over her head.
Fry looks like all his Xmases have come at once as he gazes at her breasts; he's always so happy to see them, like they're his long-lost friends. Of course, he'd been looking at them longingly for years (and still does, which she finds curious; she'd thought his fascination would have worn off once he'd seen them). But he treats them with such respect and reverence and care she's more than willing to overlook it.
Fry kisses her as he gently strokes her breasts, before trailing over them with his lips and tongue, leaving a hot trail of kisses down her neck in the process as she mindlessly pushes her breasts into his face.
She's panting and gasping his name, and her hips begin to move erratically as he trails a thumb down her belly to her clit. He takes her hand and intertwines their fingers; she grasps his hand for dear life as her head falls back.
Leela can see Fry's lips moving, and she remembers him telling her how much he loves her, wants her, needs her…
"Leela?"
Leela jumps and spins around. Fry?!
There is a soft click as the front door closes. "Are you home?"
"Uh, yes!" Leela scrambles to turn off the TV. "Hang on!"
She rushes out into the entryway; Fry is taking his shoes off and dropping his keys in the bowl on the side-table. Nibbler scuttles in behind him.
He looks up and smiles at her. "Hey, Leela!" Then he frowns slightly. "You look a little flushed. Are you o–?" His words drift off as Leela jumps into his arms and kisses him.
When she pulls away several minutes later, he just smiles at her.
"I missed you, too," he says. "But I was only gone twenty minutes. What did I do to earn a greeting like that?"
Leela smiles. "I just wanted to thank you."
Fry raises his eyebrows, confused. "What for?"
Leela kisses him again. "Just for being you."
He's looking at her expectantly and she knows she has to tell him. She just has no idea how.
She takes a deep breath. "So it turns out that Bender and Amy weren't actually lying when they said we were on display in a zoo during our holiday. The resort was actually a zoo exhibit for humans." She's babbling, she knows it, but she needs to say it now, say it quickly, or she'll never be able to get the nerve up again. "They…there were people watching us the whole time. The fireflies were actually camera flashes and the zoo was filming us, too. Ben…Bender got his hands on what he says is the only copy of the video footage an– "
She trails off. She didn't realise she was crying until she feels Fry's thumb gently brushing them off her cheek.
The smile has fallen from Fry's face.
Leela's stomach drops.
Oh, God, I shouldn't have told him…he'll be embarrassed…ashamed...he'll leave me...
Leela feels incredibly stupid. How had she not realised before now that is what has been frightening her since the first moment she clapped eyes on that footage? That she was frightened he'd leave her? That she'd be alone again, having messed up the only good romantic relationship she'd really had, through her own stubbornness and fear? That she was worried the universe would have its revenge on her for wasting so much time doubting the depth of Fry's feelings for her?
"Leela," Fry says gently. "Leela, it'll be all right."
She nods and buries her face in his neck.
"I just…" she trails off, unsure of how to put this. She pulls back and looks him in the eyes.
The look on his face is indescribable but the kindness in his eyes is still there and his arms are still around her.
"I was so worried you'd be embarrassed when you found out," she whispers.
Fry's eyebrows go up. "Embarrassed? About what?"
"That people…that people were watching us…it was meant to be private…that's why we went there in the first place…and…and…that you'd leave me..."
His arms wrap around her and she can feel the tears start flowing again.
"I will never leave you, Leela," he says softly. "Not over this, not over anything. You know that, right?"
Leela looks at him. She sees the seriousness on his face, and knows what she should have already realised: he wouldn't leave her side. Not without putting up the fight of his life.
Not even if their most private moments became public in the most humiliating way.
She just nods. She can't speak. Not yet. Her heart is pounding in her ears.
"I'm not ashamed or embarrassed of you," Fry says softly. "I'm proud to be the man on your arm. It's not like I planned to have an audience around while we made love, but they didn't interrupt us, which was considerate of them. And, hey, we would have given those pervy onlookers quite a show, right? I seem to remember us having a lot of fun…"
Leela knows Fry is trying to lighten the mood, to make her feel better, to take her mind off her worries.
Fry waggles his eyebrows. And despite herself, Leela laughs.
"So these monkeys were really filming us the whole time?"
Leela looks up from Nibbler's bowl; the tiny animal is rapidly bouncing from foot to foot in excitement as she pours him half a bag of Kibbles 'n' Snouts.
Fry is barefoot and wearing an old t-shirt and faded pyjama pants, an empty plate of caffeinated bacon and eggs on the table in front of him.
"They were," Leela replies, standing up.
Fry pushes his chair back from the table and puts his plate in the dishwasher. "And there were a whole bunch of people watching us? The entire time?"
Leela swallows. "Yes."
"How…" Fry pauses, and then opens his mouth again before shutting it. He gets up and paces the room, back and forth, back and forth.
Leela puts the bag of Kibbles 'n' Snouts away, watching Nibbler demolish the serving, bowl and all, in a single bite.
"Leela?"
Leela follows the sound of his voice. Fry is sitting on her bed, looking at her anxiously.
"How do you feel about all this?" Fry finally asks. His left leg is jigging up and down rapidly.
It hits her like a thunderbolt; Fry's nervous. Nervous of what she might say next.
She knows she has to choose her next words carefully, despite the chaos in her mind. She tugs at her t-shirt, an old shirt of Fry's which hangs on her. It's soft and it's warm and it smells like him.
"I won't deny I feel embarrassed that we were being gawked at during what were meant to be private, intimate moments. And the idea of someone selling and distributing any of the footage horrifies me, but…"
She trails off, unsure of how to put it into words.
"But…?"
Leela smiles. "It's not because I'm embarrassed. I love you. There was footage of when I was there with Sean, too. Fifteen years ago. I…I don't look happy. I have this stupid hairstyle I only wore because he liked it and these awful clothes and uncomfortable shoes and I look so lost and lonely, even with him in the room. But…but when I'm with you…it's different. I'm myself and I'm relaxed and I'm comfortable. I'm…I'm happy."
A slow smile spreads across Fry's face.
It's out of her mouth before she can stop herself. "That and we look good on screen together."
Fry's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "So…you watched it? I mean, the video of you and me?"
"A bit of it," Leela shrugs. "I had no idea what it was when Bender gave it to me."
Fry's smile grows. "What exactly were we doing?"
"Well, it's a pretty amazing display of successful teamwork," Leela says, unable to hide her own smile. "But I think you were the true star of the show."
"Oh?" Fry asks, trying to sound flippant. And failing miserably.
"Oh, yes," Leela says, sauntering over to him. She feels a flash of pride as she watches him admire her and relishes in the feeling of his warm hands on her bare thighs as she straddles his lap. That irresistible heat begins to pool between her thighs as she feels him begin to harden under her. "I certainly couldn't have done any of it without you."
"I aim to please," Fry says, running his hands over her skin.
"You had a goal that you were single-mindedly focused on, and my goodness did you achieve that ultimate goal numerous times," She leans in, whispering directly into his ear, beginning to rock gently against his growing erection. "Like no other man ever has."
Leela feels smug; her words have left him rock hard.
"Really?" Fry all but squeaks.
"Mmm-hmm," she purrs, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You had me moaning and shaking and spreading my legs for you and behaving like I never would with anyone else. In a way I never have with anyone else. The way I never will with anyone else. Ever. It's a side of me only you get to see."
Fry's mouth drops open, his pupils blown wide.
"And just watching us together got me so wet."
Leela hears Fry practically growl as he leans forwards and kisses her deeply, those talented fingers of his finding their way into her underwear and stroking her clit with lazy circles of his thumb.
"As wet as you are now?" he asks, his voice like gravel as she moans and rocks against his hand.
Leela smirks. "I don't know…maybe that's something you should investigate?"
"With the greatest of physical pleasure," he breathes against her lips.
Leela can barely move. Her heart is pounding in her ears and her breathing is still uneven but she can't recall ever feeling so…relaxed.
She knows her hair is a mess and that the sheets are a sweaty tangle and that Nibbler will be scratching on the bedroom door sooner rather than later, wanting to be fed, but she can't bring herself to care.
The man she loves is lying at her side, holding her in his arms as he dozes. He'll never be the cleverest or most talented or most important man in the grand scheme of things. He is not at all the man the lonely teenager in the Orphanarium dreamed of. He is not the man the driven, ambitious careerist that girl became longed for through all those awful dates and lonely nights.
But he is there for her. He wants her to be happy. He accepts her for who she is. He protects her as best he can.
He loves her.
"You make me so, so happy, Fry," she whispers. "I've never been this happy before."
"I haven't either," Fry says, and Leela jumps slightly; she didn't realise that she hadn't actually been expecting a response until he spoke.
"I'm so angry at myself for wasting so much time," Leela blurts. "I should have gone out with you the very first time you asked."
To Leela's shock, Fry starts to laugh.
"As much as I would've loved it, I don't think that would have worked too well," he says, smiling with what is evidently great amusement.
Despite his smile, Leela feels her stomach drop. "Wh…why not?"
He strokes the side of her face. "I know I'm still not mature, not really, but back then? Pfft!"
Leela has to smile a little at that. "Oh," she says.
Fry leans back and looks at her. "I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen when I first saw you."
Leela smirks. "Even though I was a one-eyed alien trying to implant a career chip in your hand by force?"
"Especially because of that," Fry says. "You were like no other woman – no other person – I'd ever met. When it turned out we'd be working together and I thought, 'This is my chance!', but then I realised I had really, really strong feelings for you. They were the sort of really serious feelings that I had no idea what to do with. It shouldn't have, but that really scared me. I guess I just had to grow up a bit first."
Leela has no idea what to say. So she just leans over and kisses him.
- 1
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