all hers | tara carpenter x fem!reader

part 12

Since that unfortunate incident in the living room, you and Tara have been hiding out in her bedroom.

Well you're hiding out, unable to get past the mortification. The look on Sam's face as she'd seen the two of you. The hushed lecture she'd given you both the morning after. Tara, as usual, doesn't think she's done anything wrong, but she goes where you go, and tonight, that's curled up under her covers watching an episode of Ancient Aliens.

You're perfectly content, wrapped up in Tara's arms, until you hear a long rapt on the door. It's Sam, presumably. She's taken to knocking profusely before entering any room.

Tara's bedroom especially.

"What?" Tara calls out. Sam's voice sounds through the wood of the door, a little muffled.

"Is everybody decent?"

"No." Tara says, deadpanned, "We're having wild, passionate sex, don't come in."

Sam pauses.

You whack her, lightly.

"You're fine Sam, we're fully clothed." You call out.

Tara shoots you a look but you ignore her, watch as Sam hesitantly steps into the room.

"Richie got Clue from the house. Do you guys want to join us for a game?"

"No."

"Yes."

You and Tara both say at the same time. It earns her another smack.

"We'll be down in five," You tell her, voice syrupy sweet. You've been doing that lately, being extra nice to Sam. Trying to make up for your girlfriend's utter lack of respect.

Sam nods, closes the door behind her.

"What did you do that for?" Tara groans, "Now we'll be stuck with them all night."

"You need to start being nicer to your sister." You tell her, stand and tug at her hand, "She's making a real effort. And we still have some groveling to do."

"You can grovel all you like, unless you can erase memories I think that one will stick with her for a while." She grins like she's proud of herself.

You smack her again.

"And whose fault is that?"

"Ow." She rubs her forearm, eyes wide with outrage, "Stop hitting me."

"Stop being an idiot and I'll stop hitting you." You tell her, hold out your hand. She takes it with great reluctance, scoots herself off the bed, "Now what are we going to go downstairs and do?"

"Be nice to Sam," Tara grumbles.

"And Richie." You remind her. She goes quiet.

"Tara. He's fine."

"He's creepy," Tara complains, "I just get a bad vibe from him. And Sam can do so much better-"

"Drop it." You chide. You reach for her hand, interlock your fingers, "You're going to be nice to Sam and you're going to be nice to Richie. All night. Please?"

She really looks like she wants to argue. Instead, she pulls you into her, presses a long kiss to your cheek.

"Fine. But only for you."

-

"It's Colonel Mustard. In the study. With the knife."

Richie's eyes glint. Tara huffs beside you as Sam reaches for the small yellow packet in the middle of the table.