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threeletterslife · 4 years

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09 | Illegirl

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→ summary: Excelling in every school subject, acing every math test and conquering the academic world is something you do as easily as breathing. As your residential social outcast nerd, you live rather as a recluse, talking to almost no one except for your dear ol’ cousin and that sweet boy in a few of your classes—Jungkook? was that his name? Befriending your ʰᵒᵗ AP stats teacher was the last thing on your high school senior agenda…

→ genre: 90% fluff, 8% crack, 2% angst | teacher!au & f2l!au

→ warnings: profanity, jimin being a fucking idiot, jin being scary as fuck

→ wordcount: 3.2k

You feel like you're seven again, being reprimanded by your unforgiving parents in the dreaded living room. Tension so thick, it could cut through goddamn Mt. Everest, itself. You'd be lying to yourself if you weren't scared. You're fucking terrified.

Pure trepidation haunts you, sits heavily on both shoulders, making your body go numb and thoughts freeze.

Especially when Jin's forced you and Jimin to sit on your knees on the wooden floor as he remains on the couch looking down at you. It's intimidating as fuck, and you fight off the urge to huddle against your boyfriend's protective chest.

"How long have you been doing... this?" Jin finally asks, his voice cold and serious, unlike anything you've heard before. He glares at you especially, making you flinch back.

Goosebumps dot your body as you nervously look at Jimin, who surprisingly looks calm. It was as if he got his shit together on the drive to your house. Honestly, it almost gives you comfort to see your boyfriend so collected. You figure you shouldn't be so frightened if he's not, but it's easier said than done.

"Doing... what?" Jimin replies, quirking his eyebrows.

"You know what I mean," Jin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I dunno, making out or dating? Because I can assure you, we've made out longer than we've dated." Jimin shrugs nonchalantly.

Your mouth drops open in shock. You have no idea if your boyfriend's being a goddamn idiot or if he wants to die by the hands of your cousin.

"WHAT?!" Jin roars, standing up from the couch. His aggressive movement makes you fall on your ass, scootching towards Jimin for protection. If you weren't screwed before, you were now.

"Wait! Wait! Don't listen to Jimin!" you yelp, panicked. "We've been dating for a little over three months, alright?"

"What? I thought it was four!" Jimin protests, a mischievous grin stuck on his face. It's obvious he's joking. But there's a time and place for that.

Okay, Jimin, I love you and all, but this is not the time!

"OKAY NO, JUST SHUT UP!" Jin shrieks, throwing his hands up his head. "You!" He points aggressively at Jimin, who raises his hands up in defense. "God, tell me you haven't taken her flower yet!"

"My what?" you cry, standing up. You weren't scared now, just a tad bit angry.

"What the fuck? No, Jin! She's 17!" Jimin yells, suddenly enraged as he stands up and grabs your hand. "You know I'm not that kind of person!"

Your face scrunches up as you take a step towards your cousin. "I can't believe you actually thought we had sex! I'm 17!"

"Well, it looked like it when I walked in the freaking classroom, you know that?" Jin shrieks. "What if it wasn't me? What if it was the principal, huh? Or another student? Another teacher?"

"We're sorry!" Jimin apologizes, though his voice raises. "That was just one mistake, alright? Just one, out of the hundreds of other times!"

"WHAT?!"

You place a hand on Jimin's chest, calming him down. "I think you should just uh... stop talking..."

No doubt he was making it worse.

"No, Y/N. Obviously, Jin doesn't understand how much you mean to me," Jimin announces, squeezing your intertwined hands and turning to your cousin. "Look, I've been taking great care of Y/N, okay? I've given her the love she deserves and all the right treatment, you know that? I love her, Jin, I actually do. Just... work with me here. I don't know what I'll do if you don't approve of this because I'm your best friend and she's your cousin or because I'm her goddamn teacher! I know it's against the rules, but fuck the teacher handbook! I don't even care if it's illegal..." Jimin trails off, looking at you with absolute love in his eyes. "Ever since we became friends, my days have been getting better. Ever since we became lovers, my life got brighter. You know how much of a positive effect we have on each other, Y/N."

You literally don't have words, but you try to speak, you really do. "J-Jimin..." It's all you can do at the moment. You're about to tell him you love him, that you know all of these things, that you don't care if it's illegal or not when—

"Okay, I didn't ask for a whole soliloquy but go off, I guess." Jin stifles a laugh by clearing his throat. "You guys do know I knew you liked each other before both of you found out?"

"What now?"

"Yeah," Jin chuckles. "Well, I always assumed Y/N was dating someone behind my back. I mean, it's so not Y/N to have fun and relax, you know, someone must be helping her live. I thought it was that Jungkook boy for the longest time when I realized how Jimin was becoming less of a workaholic too. I put the pieces together and realized you guys had feelings for each other."

You're more than bewildered, eyes turning wide and mouth open in shock. "C-Come again?"

"No, for real!" your cousin snorts, shaking his head in disbelief. "I really did suspect something! And though I probably didn't like it at first, I guess I kinda noticed how your relationship was helping both of you become the best version of yourselves. I totally approve of you two dating. Yet I don't approve of you making out in public."

You and Jimin stare at each other with jaws dropped, completely shocked. And there both of you had thought Jin never suspected a thing.

"But for real, you think I really didn't notice all those late-night dates? I can play dumb too, you know," Jin huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Y'all should thank me for lowkey setting you both up. I mean, if it weren't for me, both of you would've thought of each other just as a teacher or student. The horror!"

"I don't know what to say," you whisper, emotions taking the better of you. "I literally can't express how thankful I am, Jin. I really am... I don't even want to imagine what could've happened to my senior year if you didn't introduce Jimin to me, outside of school, that is. God, I would've been some friendless, antisocial robot with a side of mild depression!"

"Damn. I'm just confused," Jimin mutters, tugging you into his arms to kiss the top of your head. "Workaholic plus workaholic should equal double the work... yet somehow we learned to have some fun."

"That's what you're confused about?" you giggle, squeezing Jimin's hand. "Sometimes I question your maturity level."

"Yeah, well today, I questioned both of your intelligence levels," Jin scoffs, shaking his head. "I pretty much suspected both of you were dating for a while now -- possibly even before you were actually dating. But for real, guys? I didn't think either of you would be dense enough to make out at school!" Jin rolls his eyes. "Dense as ice, I tell ya."

You frown. "You mean dense as water."

"What?"

"Water is denser than ice," you explain slowly as if you were talking to a child.

"Okay whatever, nerd," Jin says. "The point is, I got mad because of how careless both of you were. I mean, if you want to break some rules, at least be somewhat secretive!"

"Yeah well, lesson learned. I don't want to see you mad again," you squeak, tightening your grasp on Jimin. "It was scary and I value my life."

Jimin chuckles, kissing your forehead as he hugs you from behind. "Really? I thought Jin being angry was funny."

"Oh shut up, you," Jin snorts, "before I place a strict curfew on this household."

That shuts your boyfriend right up.

"But anyways, if you wanted my blessing, I give it to you both, 3000%," Jin announces proudly. "Jimin?"

"Yeah?"

"You've got a catch. Love her to death for me, will ya?"

"Sure thing," Jimin answers, snuggling his face in your neck.

"Y/N?"

"Mhm?"

"You're gonna kill me for saying this, but it has to be announced sooner or later..." Jin starts, a mischievous smile blossoming on his face.

"What is it?" You cock your head.

"Well, I guess one could say... you're quite illegirl."

You don't know who lunged angrily at Jin first, you or Jimin.

"I dunno if that's a good idea, Jimin," you sigh, scratching the back of your head. "There are just so many more reasons why we shouldn't do this, you know?"

Your boyfriend laughs, rubbing your shoulder with a warm, comforting hand. "Stop being such a scaredy-cat, Y/N. It's just one small date at Wattbucks, what can go wrong?"

"Oh, ohhh, a lot of things," you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "If we go there, the whole city will know we're dating in less than half an hour!"

"Noooo," Jimin argues, giving you an innocent puppy-dog look that dangerously quickens your heartbeat. "We'll be careful!"

"Yeah, that's what we said before Jin found out." You shudder at the memory, not particularly fond of that moment in your life. It was a particularly scarring scene, still haunting you in your nightmares.

"Okay, but we'll be extra careful!"

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, no, Jimin. God, I thought you were the adult here!"

Your boyfriend huffs in mock anger, "I am! I'm just... I'd rather take a risk to have a good time with you!"

"Yeah, but the risk could literally make you lose your job, and me, expelled," you point out, crossing your arms. "I dunno if you haven't noticed, but we're kinda not allowed to be dating. We really shouldn't be—"

The next thing you know, you're at Wattbucks, waiting for your drinks. Honestly, you should've known you'd give in to your incredibly stubborn er, persistent partner. Especially when he had started pouting, you knew it was game over.

You tug your baseball cap down in an attempt to hide your face (jUst iN cAsE), running over for the thousandth time in your head why you agreed to come to such a public place with your illegal boyfriend.

"We're grabbing the lattes and leaving," you mutter, "before we meet somebody we know."

"Aw, Y/N! Stop being so paranoid, we're not gonna meet anyone we know! I've done the math, it's less than a 12% chance," Jimin whines. "I literally sat down with a pen and paper and calculated!"

"Well, I've done the math too—in my head," you protest. "It's 12.7% for your information, and what about the remaining 87.3%, huh?"

Jimin sighs, shaking his head. "Relax, okay?" He reaches across the table, placing a warm hand over yours to comfort you. His charming, toffee eyes peer into yours, soothing your jumpy nerves. And when he smiles at you, eyes scrunching up and plump lips pulling apart (a genuine smile), you can't help but forget you're in public.

"OH MY GOD HOW ADORABLE!"

You and Jimin both jerk your heads towards the inhumanly high-pitched shrieker, only to find that annoying waitress that had served you months back. You'll never be able to forget her shrill voice and her favorite word: adorable.

"Here are your drinks!" the loud waitress exclaims, setting down your matching heart-design lattes. "How's my favorite couple? Would you like a free couple's mini cake?"

"Um, it's f—"

"Yes, please," Jimin answers before you do, hooking his arm around your shoulder. "We'd also love another photo!"

You shoot him an unappreciative glare that says 'you're not helping us stay lowkey,' but Jimin shrugs it off, grinning at you.

"I'll be right back with the cake~" the waitress sings, starting to leave. She calls behind her shoulder: "I'll ask my brother to take the photo. That rascal really thinks he can get away making 10 bucks an hour doing nothing. Taehyung!!!"

You gasp, so shocked that you almost fall off your seat if Jimin hadn't caught your arm. "N-No..." you breathe. "She said Taehyung, right? My ears aren't deceiving me?"

"Fuck, do you know him?" Jimin asks, tightening his grip on your arm as if you would sink to the floor without his support.

"Jesus, he's literally in my friend group!" you exclaim, standing up as Jimin's hand falls from your arm. "Forget the drinks, we've got to yeet—"

"Y/N???!" a familiar, surprised voice hollers. "Mr. Park??!"

"Fuck," you mutter under your breath before turning around to see Kim Taehyung, alright. "H-Hey, Tae!"

"What are you doing here?" Taehyung asks, cocking his brow. "And with Mr. Park?"

You and Jimin immediately scoot away from each other, making the distance between the two of you reasonably innocent.

"Oh, just discussing, um, math club details," you quickly fib, despite the fact that with the school year approaching its end, clubs weren't meeting anymore. You grit your teeth, praying that Taehyung wouldn't call you out for your immature lie. "Right, Jimin?"

Your boyfriend sighs. "Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you? It's Mr. Park."

Fuck. Bad habits. He just saved your ass.

"Anyways, hello, Taehyung," Jimin sleekly says, smiling at his student. His professional demeanor is back, amazingly so. Talk about a smooth transition. "You're working here, I see?"

"Uh... yeah," your friend says, staring quite suspiciously at the two of you. "Nice lattes."

Shit. The heart-shaped lattes had once seemed so cute, but now they were going to be the end of you both.

"Well, Jungkook's coming too," you blurt out before thinking it over. "J-Just wanted to um... surprise him..."

You thought the stuttering would make the lie less believable, but it seemed as if it made it more valid.

"O. M. G. You two are a thing? Oh, I fucking knew it!" Taehyung shouts, pumping his fist in excitement before realizing his teacher had been witnessing. "Uh, I mean, I freaking knew it... Sorry, Mr. Park."

"No! No, we're not a thing... uh, yet," you say, trying to sound as convincing as possible. But what can you say? You're literally the worst liar ever. Hopefully, Taehyung's incredibly gullible.

"That damn kid," Taehyung scoffs, shaking his head. "He's too much of a goddamn pussy to ask you out." One disapproving look from Jimin makes your friend flush, looking down at his feet. "Er, yeah... I'll be leaving now! Bye, Y/N, bye, Mr. Park!"

"Wait a minute, not so fast, you rascal!" The waitress flies back, an adorable mini cake in her hands, which she quickly sets down on the table. But she's too late; her brother had already fled the scene. "Damn him," she huffs, placing a sassy hand on her hip. "Would you still like a photo?"

"Uhh, no we're fine," you quickly answer, "but it'd be amazing if we could get the cake to-go."

"Yes, we completely forgot we made reservations for lunch," Jimin pipes up, smiling coyly at the waitress to convince her further. "May we get the lattes to-go as well?"

"Sure, no problem!" the waitress chuckles, shaking her head as she balances the lattes and cake on her tray. "Taehyung'll bring these out in a moment!"

As soon as she leaves, Jimin stands up, grabbing his jacket. "God, if Taehyung's coming, I better leave. Make up some fib about Jungkook and meet me in the parking lot!" He gives you a fleeting kiss on the cheek and rushes out of the quiet cafe before you can say another word.

You roll your eyes, an 'I told you so' threatening to bubble out of your throat. But still, the warmth of his lips, when they had pressed on your cheek, leaves you yearning for more.

"Fuck, did that idiot stand you up?" Taehyung asks, slightly out of breath as he hands you a to-go bag. "Damn, he fucked up."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Kook wouldn't do that to me! We're just meeting somewhere closer to his house 'cause his car broke down."

Taehyung scoffs. "You guys are taking it so slowly, god, I'll get married by the time you two start dating!" he whines. "Didn't he already confess?"

You frown, shifting the bag from one hand to the other. "What do you mean?"

"What the fuck, he told me he confessed!" your friend sighs, rubbing his forehead stressfully. "That goddamn liar."

"I'm pretty he said that to get you and Yoongi's asses off of him," you chuckle. "Last time I checked, there were no confessions!"

"What?? That little bastard! He told me you confessed your unrequited love first, and then he confirmed his feelings for you!" Taehyung huffs, genuinely looking angry. "This whole time I thought you were secretly dating!"

Your eyebrows furrow, lips pulling down into a serious frown. What??? You'd never confessed anything, at least, in your memories. But that's when it hits you.

"I'm sorry. I just... I don't... I'm so sorry."

"Unrequited love?"

"I guess you could say that..."

"Thought so. But he loves you back."

It hits you like a goddamn freight train. This whole time Jungkook had thought you had been talking about him. Fuck. This whole time Jungkook had thought you liked him back. Fuck. All those little touches here and there, the arm linking, the side hugs—the gestures that you thought were completely innocent and friendly had meant something else for him.

But you really weren't looking for drama now. Besides, Jimin was waiting for you in the parking lot. You need to make this quick.

"O-Oh," you stutter stupidly before clearing your throat. "No, yeah, he did confess, but we just agreed to take it slow." Somehow the lie flies off your lips too easily as if your guilty conscience had disintegrated.

"Well, don't take it too slow!" Taehyung winks at you teasingly. "I want to be alive by the time you two finally date!" All you can do is nod, gripping the to-go bag tightly. Taehyung notices the gesture, realizing that you kinda wanted to leave. "Then I guess have a nice time with Kook, Y/N. Bye!"

"Thanks! Bye, Tae!"

You don't turn around once, making a beeline for the door and rushing out to the parking lot. Jimin's leaning against his car, looking off cynically to the distance. When he catches sight of you out of his peripheral vision, he perks up, a smile blossoming on his lips.

"Taehyung give you a hard time?" he asks, taking the to-go bag from you and opening the shotgun seat for you to get in.

You smile at him gratefully, sliding into the seat. "Yeah, kinda..."

"What'd he say?"

"Eh, nothing really important," you say quickly, hoping your boyfriend wouldn't want to mull over such a small deal. You don't know if he's the type to get jealous, but you don't want to find out.

Thankfully, Jimin doesn't ask any more questions. "Sooo, wanna go home?"

"Yours or mine?"

"Mine, of course," Jimin chuckles, smirking. "We don't want Jin walking in on us again."

Your face flushes at the memory, and you slap your boyfriend's shoulder for bringing it up. "Yeah, definitely." Sighing, you tug your cap down again, slouching in the seat. "This is why we should always have our dates at home."

Jimin grins. "I don't object—not when I have so many amazing activities planned."

—previous | next

—masterlist

#jimin #park jimin #jimin fanfiction #jimin imagine #bts #bts fanfiction #jimin fluff #jimin angst #teacher au #jimin fanfic #illegirl

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brokenmimir · 4 years

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The Curse of the Golden Hoard

White Rose Week 2020, Day 5: Curse

In Vale, success breeds misfortune as readily as failure.

(Sequel to The Ruby Eye of the Serpent King)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24718948 https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13615480/1/The-Curse-of-the-Golden-Hoard

Weiss rolled her eyes as Yang threw the door open, the solid oak banging against the interior wall loudly, drawing the attention of all of Beacon. Normally she would've been angry at the brute attracting the potential ire of as many dangerous people as routinely visited the small tavern, but in that moment she was too elated to care.

Still, appearances had to maintained, even if her heart wasn't in it. “Yang…”

“Sorry, ice queen,” Yang sang. “Guess I forgot my own strength. How 'bout I make it up to everyone with a round of drinks on me!”

“Yeah!” the room cheered, and Peter Port smiled behind his thick mustache as he began preparing drinks for the relaxing crowd, who were all discretely tucking away the weapons they had prepared against the forceful entry.

Yang strutted over to their usual table, throwing the heavy sack she'd been carrying down on it, making it clink suggestively for those with an ear for gold. Blake did the same, and then Ruby as well, until all three looked at her expectantly. Finally, with a long suffering sigh, Weiss heaved her own sack onto the table, privately enjoying the sound of their new fortune.

“We're going to be robbed the moment we step out of here,” Weiss complained as she sat down, an unrepentant Ruby hopping onto her lap with a grin. Weiss grunted a little at the weight, as for as petite as she looked, the barbarian girl was all densely packed muscle, built lean and wiry for maximum speed and agility.

“Like anyone can take us,” Yang snorted. “I don't know about anyone else, but I'm feeling good tonight!”

Blake grabbed their drinks, a glass of mead for Ruby and red wine for Weiss, and soon all four clinked their glasses together. “To friends and family!” Ruby cried.

“To a job well done,” Blake added.

“To having fun,” Weiss put in.

“To being filthy stinkin' rich!” Yang crowed, and all four downed their drinks. “Hey Port, another round on us!"

“There's no way we're going to make it back in safety after this,” Weiss said. “And you'd better not dip into our haul to pay for all of this; we haven't even divvied it up yet.”

“Ugh, you are such a killjoy,” Yang groaned. “Come on, live a little! When are we ever gonna get this much again. And it wasn't even illegal!”

“Well, not very illegal, anyway,” Blake drawled. “I'm sure we broke some laws. You can barely breathe in Vale with pissing off some magistrate.”

Weiss hummed thoughtfully. “The tower was probably owned by someone, for all that it's been abandoned since the Grimm attack centuries ago. Furthermore, we are supposed to declare any salvage for tax purposes. So on at least two levels we broke the law.”

“Ugh, Vale sucks,” Yang groaned, before taking a swig of her ale. “Of course, I can't party like this back home. Even if I brought back this good've a haul somehow the elders would've just taken it to 'spend on the village' and I'd be expected to go right back out there.

“So not that different,” Weiss chuckled. “Except here, everyone's so corrupt that no one is going to report you for not following the law. It's just a matter of if you can keep your ill gotten gains.”

Hours later, drunk with success and alcohol, the four girls staggered out of Beacon and onto the filthy streets of Vale. Not even stepping over a mugged corpse could get Ruby down that evening. Nothing could distract her from how right everything felt.

When she'd first arrived in Vale five months before she'd been an outsider, a barbarian unable to understand or accept anything about the city she'd been warned about her entire life. The first person she'd made a real connection to, Weiss, hadn't really simplified things, as the beautiful woman had represented everything her people had looked down upon about the city folk.

But somehow, after those few short months, full of combat, wealth, deprivation, magic, fear, and joy, they had bonded more strongly than she ever thought she could with an outsider. She spent more time with Weiss than she did her own sister, despite both of them being in the same city. And somehow, she wouldn't change a thing.

“Hey, which way should we go?” Yang asked, as she casually slugged an opportunistic moron in the jaw. His head snapped around, teeth flying, before he collapsed bonelessly onto the ancient cobblestones.

After pausing to rob the thieves of the few coppers they had, Blake pointed down the street. “Ruby's place is closer.”

“It's my flat,” Weiss grumbled. “I'm the one who signed the contract for it."

“Ruby's sounds good,” Yang agreed. “Come on sis, let's go crash you're place and split some loot.”

Weiss grumbled a little, but Ruby could tell that it was mostly for appearances, and even that stopped when she moved close enough to rest her head on the other woman's shoulder. Weiss actually blushed a little, which Ruby found more than a little funny. Weiss had no shame at all about nudity or sex, but honest, public affection made her quite embarrassed.

Once Yang and Blake had dealt with the criminals who had seen or heard about their largesse and its probably cause at Beacon, they made good progress, soon arriving at Weiss's apartment building. Unlike the cheap flophouses and rundown hovels that populated most of the poorer part of town, it was a newly renovated building, one only two blocks from the nicer living spaces that surrounded the Great Market. Obviously the owner either expected for merchants to be bold enough to make the journey through the crime ridden streets in exchange for cheaper rent, or they thought that the market district would soon grow to encompass the building. Either way, it was far nicer than it had any right to be, and had been available for a price that they could (barely) afford.

Once Weiss had the door unlocked they entered the main living area, and without a word all four began to dump their sacks out in the center of the floor. Coins and small gems made up the bulk of the haul, but a variety of statuettes, jewelry, and idols joined the growing pile. It was an impressive display of wealth, and for all that gold had relatively little allure for her, even she felt herself caught up in the moment, drooling over enough wealth to buy her village.

“Weiss,” Yang said distantly.

“Yes?”

“Remind me to team up with you more often,” Yang sighed joyfully.

Weiss smirked, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder smugly. “Of course. A little bit of research, and enough muscle to make it through some Grimm infested ruins, and we have more money than we know what to do with.”

“Little bit of research?” Ruby asked. “Weiss, you've done nothing but plan this thing for weeks now. I was actually getting a bit worried.”

“Why would you be worried?” Blake asked. “A good score always requires careful planning.”

“'Cause I've never seen Weiss fret over this kinda thing before,” Ruby said. “Usually Weiss doesn't worry about money at all. It was more than a little odd.”

“This was a lot of money,” Blake said, patting her sack.

“Not as much as the snake guy had,” Ruby pointed out.

“No,” Weiss grunted, before smirking. “But this is gold in my home. There's a big difference.”

“Hell yeah, there is,” Yang crowed, scooping up a handful of gold coins and tossing them in the air. “We're rich!”

It was far too late at night when they finally finished splitting the money, and with the help of a few bottles of wine that Weiss had gleefully shared, Blake and Yang were in no condition to walk home, so she graciously let them sleep on her floor near the fireplace for the night. With their own fortune secured in sacks, Weiss and Ruby retreated to their bedroom, where, after a brief moment of thought, she dumped the sacks on the center of the bed.

“What are you doing?” Ruby asked with a giggle.

“Just a fantasy of mine,” Weiss said, removing Ruby's cloak and letting it fall to the floor. With deft, well practiced fingers she swiftly stripped Ruby completely naked, taking a moment to admire her strong, lean form. As she always did she leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the scar she'd received fending off an assassin to save her life, before straightening up and shoving the barbarian back onto the bed.

“Hey! Ack!” Ruby complained. “That's cold.”

“If that's another ice queen joke,” Weiss grumbled as she straddled her lover.

“No, I mean, it's like, really cold,” Ruby said. “And kinda hard. And a little pointy.”

Weiss giggled like a child as she hovered over Ruby, sliding a hand through the gold and gems covering her bed. “Ah, come on. I've always wanted to make love in a pile of gold, and this is my chance. You're not going to say no, are you?”

Ruby just smiled up at her. “How much wine have you had to drink, anyway?”

She giggled again. “Way too much.”

Instead of replying Ruby pulled her down, and the two began to kiss, quickly growing heated as hands wandered. Eventually Ruby started trying to pull at Weiss's clothing, and she pulled back, standing from the bed.

“What?” Ruby panted.

“Just stay there,” Weiss said, before slowly, sensually beginning to remove her own clothing. She'd seen many, many dances put on to entertain crowds and rile up guests for more personal services, and while she'd never felt a need to put on such a show for a lover, she put every bit of her grace into it, the slight stumbles her drunkenness caused interfering very little with the display. Ruby's silver eyes were wide open, and Weiss grinned like the cat who caught the canary as she finally stripped the last item away, letting the silken undergarment drift to the ground.

She straddled Ruby again, but before she continued she spotted a piece of treasure sitting beside her lover. It was the appropriate size and shape, and with a wicked grin she picked it up, before leaning down and kissing Ruby again.

“Ack! Cold!”

Ruby wasn't sure what woke her up. Normally after so much mead and intimacy with Weiss she'd sleep the whole night through, but something pulled at her consciousness. It was a cold feeling, and at first she mentally blamed the treasure pile that Weiss had insisted they sleep on like they were legendary dragons. It wasn't quite that, however. The cold was deeper, in her heart, and she found herself shivering despite the blankets and warm body next to her.

Opening her eyes, she couldn't really see anything. It was dark, even darker than it should've been, as normally some dim light made it through the windows even deep in the heart of the night. She swallowed thickly, knowing on some level that something was wrong, although she couldn't put her finger on what. The same deep, primal sense that warned her when a dangerous beast was lurking about in the wilderness told her something was very, very wrong.

“Weiss, Weiss, wake up,” she whispered, still slowly turning her head from one side to the other as she tried to make out something in the pitch blackness. “Weiss.”

“Ughhhh,” Weiss groaned, shifting slightly closer and tossing a leg over her hip. “Again? You're starting to wear even me out.”

“Weiss, something's wrong,” Ruby whispered.

“Yeah, you're not asleep,” Weiss mumbled. “I promise, I'll do whatever you want… in the morning. Just need a… a little more sleep.”

“That's not… ugh,” Ruby groaned as Weiss fell back asleep. With a sigh she pushed her lover away, standing up stiffly and stumbling from the bed, coins and other valuables falling to the floor in a cascade of invisible gold. The sound seemed strangely dampened, however, as the heavy metal should've been louder falling more than a foot onto the wooden floor.

“I am never going to sleep on money again,” Ruby whimpered, rubbing her back and wincing when she dislodged a coin that had managed to embed itself into her flesh. No, she definitely wasn't doing that again, no matter how excited her weird fantasy had made Weiss.

It was hard finding her clothing in total darkness, especially since she'd been a bit distracted by Weiss while she'd stripped her. Once she finally had something on she reclaimed her battle scythe and carefully opened the door to the rest of the apartment, not wanting to risk walking in on her sister and Blake having their own celebration.

Instead, it was pitch black as well, but she could hear muffled snoring coming from the center of the room. “Blake? Yang?”

They didn't respond, even when she called again, and with her heart pounding in her throat she stumbled through the room, heading to where Weiss kept a candle for dark nights. Usually they navigated just fine by starlight, but sometimes her lover wanted to read in the evening, and she had to have something for that.

Normally finding the candle in the dark wouldn't have been difficult, but it felt like she was somehow being watched, like danger was all around her, ready to pounce. The longer she spent in that dark, quiet room, the more she felt vulnerable, like she was being hunted by an unknown predator. With unsteady hands she finally grasped the fine beeswax candle, a gift from herself to replace the stinky, smokey tallow Weiss had been using, and she pulled flint and steel from her pouch.

It was only as she tried to strike the tinder that she realized how badly her hands were shaking. She actually paused in her work in surprise, not quite able to believe it. It felt like it had been years since she'd had such a strong, useless reaction to fear, and yet here she was, shaking like a child on her first hunt. For the first time she was almost glad that it was dark, since it meant that no one could see her weakness.

After taking several long, deep breaths to gather herself Ruby finally regained her control, striking the flint and steel to produce strangely dull sparks. It took several tries, but finally the tinder took, and then the wick thereafter, lighting the candle.

It did almost nothing for the darkness. The large candle should've provided enough light to easily make out the room, but instead it seemed to be little more than a single point in the middle of a deep, dark blackness. She couldn't even see the walls of the room, and it was far from being so large as to make that reasonable.

Something was very, very wrong.

Ruby quickly, methodically searched the apartment. It wasn't very large, but with her light the way it was she had to take her time looking everywhere. Everything was as it should be, with no signs of intruders or anything else strange, other than the muffling of all sound and dampening of all light.

Yang and Blake were still asleep, which she supposed was strange in its own right. Yang was a heavy sleeper, but normally it was impossible to do anything without waking Blake up. Even a shift in the pattern of your breathing would cause her cat ears to twitch warily, but Ruby was able to crouch over her, burning candle in hand, without it disturbing her dreams.

With nothing wrong inside of the apartment, Ruby decided to check one last thing before waking up the others. Opening the door, she crept outside, looking about warily, before heading down to the street. While they were usually dark at night, with most honest citizens (for some meaning of the term) carrying lanterns if they had some business at that late of an hour, the stars and distant buildings usually gave enough illumination for her trained eyes to navigate the streets.

Instead Ruby looked around, frowning at the excessive dimness, before deciding to walk a bit to see where the dimming effect began and ended. She had only begun to walk when she spotted a body lying against the side of the building. She almost moved on, her time in Vale having conditioned her to ignore peopleliving or dead lying in the street, something that had been difficult to get used to after growing up in insular, tightly knit Patch. Without Weiss or Blake around to scold her for it, she decided to check on the person.

They were a woman of more than twice her years, with a face made up with powders and creams to seem younger, if poorly,something severely undermined by black streaks under her eyes. She was dressed in very little clothing, and from what Ruby could guess, were she younger and more attractive, the Weiss she had first met upon arriving in Vale would probably have paid for her services.

She also shouldn't have been passed out in the streets, without any sign of injury or intoxication causing her collapse. Ruby checked her pulse, and was relieved to find it, although it seemed slow, sluggish. She tried to shake her awake, but she didn't react at all, and it was then that she noticed something else odd. The black streaks, which she had assumed had come from tears mixing with kohl, were slimy and thick, and her eyes widened when she realized that their was a black streak on the wall behind her as well. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but if she had to guess, she'd say that the black ooze ran straight up the wall towards her window.

Ruby's fear sharpened, no longer seeming quite so baseless. She might've been able to dismiss her instincts crying out that something was wrong, or even somehow assumed that the muffling of sound and light were only in her head. But this was far more suspicious, and the only thing that kept her from running up the stairs was the burning candle in her hands, and how difficult it had been for her to light it in the first place.

As she hurried back towards the door she noticed two more bodies, this time a pair of laborers, tall and strong, collapsed near the street corner. While the woman may have been taking a break in the alley before continuing her walk or job, they were obviously taken by surprise, simply collapsing on the spot without a word. It was enough to make her speed up her step, using the arm holding her scythe to shield her candle as best as she could from the wind of her movement.

When she reached her door she paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, leaning her deployed battle scythe against her shoulder so that she could carefully open the door without setting down her candle. It creaked open, and the gloom within was somehow even thicker, more impenetrable than before. The candle barely seemed to do anything, but she could somehow see something moving in the dark.

“Yang? Blake? Weiss?”

There was no response, but she heard something shifting in the room. Jaw tightening, she stepped inside, carefully shutting the door before her, before raising her scythe, choking up her grip to provide control one handed. It was a poor way to fight, but without better lighting she had no choice.

She slowly made her way across the room, eyes darting about, her heart jumping every time she saw something move, but every time it was simply her eyes playing tricks on her. Every figure was a piece of furniture, every attacker was naught but a shadow shadow, every monster an illusion when examined properly in the dim light.

When she reached her sister she nudged her with a toe. “Yang. Yang… Yang!”

She didn't move, didn't react. Finally, Ruby looked down, only to gasp at what she saw. Trailing down her face were the same thick, slimy black trails, as something apparently poured from her eyes, before being drawn across the room in the direction of the bedroom. One final glance at Blake to verify the same thing, and she was moving towards the bedroom door, keeping one eye on the slime trail while looking around for danger.

She didn't even bother opening the door, simply kicking it open, the loud slam a barely audible thud. Looming over the bed, over Weiss, was the most hideous creature she had ever seen.

It was thin, with long, spindly limbs, the feet coming to a single, sharp point, while the arms ended in three long, slender claws. The rest of the body was like a human shadow, angular and distorted, but recognizable in form, with bony plates scattered here and there, notably a skull and ribs. The face was vaguely human in shape under the bone, with burning red coals for eyes, and a gaping, fang filled maw.

Without hesitating she lunged forward, swinging her scythe in a broad, desperate stroke, hitting nothing but air. Unfortunately, the fast motion made the candle gutter out to almost nothing, and she was reduced to standing perfectly still, knowing there was a monster in the dark, unable to do a thing to stop it. She tried to listen, tried to feel the motion of the air, or see something in the dim ember of candle light, but it was like being wrapped in a blanket of night. All was still, silent, and shadowed.

After far too long the candle finally stopped sputtering, and Ruby turned about looking for the monster once more. It was when she had turned halfway around that she saw it, the thing having moved behind her, ready to attack once more. She swung her scythe again, trying her best to shield the candle with her body, but once again the tiny light failed, and she could do nothing but stand still, desperately hoping to find it before it could attack her again.

Then she felt the claws dig into her back. She reacted instantly to the sneak attack, diving forward into a roll that ended with her swinging her scythe, and this time, finally, she made contact. The monster broke its silence with a loud, terrible screech, which tore through her, scraping her bones for marrow and hollowing out her heart, leaving nothing but ice and fear behind.

This time she could hear it moving, the dullness slightly receded, and she didn't even hesitate, dropping the now completely snuffed candle on the ground as she spun in place, swinging her scythe right towards where she was sure the monster was. She made contact once again, and this blow sheared through something, and a moment later she heard something thump onto the floor, before the shrieking renewed.

Unfortunately her next swing missed, and her follow up hit the wall, so she paused, holding her scythe in both hands, trying to slow her breathing as she listened for the monster once again. She almost lashed out when she heard another sound, only to pause as she recognized Weiss's voice, even if she couldn't hold onto the words passing through her ears and mind. She shuddered, the motion agitating the cut on her back, and then the room was finally illuminated.

Weiss, nude and beautiful as ever, crouched on the bed, her sword in hand covered in a pale, spectral blue flame. She looked weak, her hand trembling, unable to fully stand as she held the weapon as high as she could through her enervation, trying to provide the best light she could. Ruby could see the lines of black slime down her own face, as whatever had happened to the others has been done to her as well.

Then Ruby turned, reacting almost before she sensed it, swinging her scythe once more at the monster. It was looming behind her once more, its left hand missing from her earlier attack, and, finally able to see, Ruby aimed her swing directly towards its neck. The scythe cut through, and the head bounced away, breaking down into the same black ooze before turning into the oily, smokey fog of a dead Grimm, its body slowly following.

“Weiss!” Ruby shouted, lowering her scythe and turning to her lover. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” she rasped, raising a shaking hand to her face, rubbing away the slime with a look of disgust. “What the hell was that?”

Weiss had never felt so completely drained in her life. Not after performing all night magical rituals with Cinder and the others, not after the frantic, desperate sword training lessons her sister gave her before she left to become a mercenary, not even after the wild, week long benders that dragged her to half the houses of ill repute in the city trying to forget everything. It was as though every bit of energy had been ripped from her body, leaving nothing but exhaustion in its place.

She'd used what little energy she had left to cleanse and bind Ruby's injury, the process wearing her out so badly that her lover had been forced to dress her, as she could do little more than slowly shift her limbs by the time the process was complete. Ruby had, much to her protestations, actually carried her into the main room, where she set her on a large chair and lit several candles.

Blake and Yang stirred sluggishly, Blake finally sitting up and blinking dazedly around the room. She didn't even seem to the notice the slime on her face, her nearly vacant expression only gaining a little focus when she saw them. “Weiss… Ruby. What happened?”

“Grimm,” Ruby answered. “I've never seen anything like it.”

Blake blink a couple of times, before starting to stand only to collapse when her legs wouldn't support her weight. She blinked down at them, an expression of betrayal on her face, before looking back up at Ruby for answers.

“I don't know,” Ruby said. “Weiss's the same, and I think it wasn't just us. There were some people in the street the same way.”

Weiss gathered her strength for a moment, before speaking, her voice small and weak. “The Grimm must've gained strength by taking ours. Given enough time we'd be dead, and it probably would've expanded the area effected. This whole block probably would've died before anyone noticed if Ruby hadn't stopped it.”

“How come you weren't effected?” Blake demanded.

“I dunno,” Ruby said. “I just… woke up. When this whole thing started. Dunno know why.”

Weiss sighed, leaning back into her seat as Blake and Ruby talked. She was too tired to really maintain a conversation, but she hadn't wanted to lapse into silence while Ruby was obviously upset. She smiled slightly, glad for the diversion, as she let herself mentally drift.

She had managed to fall asleep again, only to awaken when the smell of cooking bacon filled the air. They rarely made their own food, with Weiss knowing nothing about how to do so, and Ruby being limited to roasting fresh game over a campfire, but Yang had somehow picked up some real cooking skills, and when she came back to herself it was to the sight of the exhausted blonde hunched over the fireplace, slowly poking at crisping bacon in a pan, bread sitting on the stone nearby to heat.

“You're awake!” Ruby said.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “Did anything happen?”

“Uh… good news or bad news?” Ruby asked, moving to sit beside her on the seat.

Weiss narrowed her eyes. “How bad?”

“Uh… we're all alive, so it could be worse news,” Ruby hedged.

Weiss frowned. “So, very bad news.”

“Kinda,” Ruby agreed with a wince.

Weiss groaned in dismay. “How about good news… then breakfast… then bad news.”

Yang chuckled. “Gotta recharge before the bad?”

“Well, the good news is we're all alive,” Ruby said brightly. “The Grimm's gone, and the longer they've been up the better they've been feeling.”

“Yeah, you really need to put some meat on those bones, Weiss,” Yang taunted. “You're the only one who fell back asleep.”

Weiss glowered at her, not even breaking her expression when the other woman handed her a plate of food. “I also helped Ruby deal with the Grimm, while you two slept right through it.”

“Details,” Yang dismissed.

As annoying as the woman was, she prepared a filling meal. The fresh, hot bread was slathered with honey and fruit preserves, and the bacon was crispy, just the way she liked it. After crunching on a piece she groaned ecstatically. “Alright… you get to live.”

“How kind of you,” Blake drawled, although Weiss noticed she hadn't even looked up from her own breakfast.

Once they were all finished, Weiss leaned back against Ruby, a smile on her face as she finally felt a bit more human. “Okay, so what's the bad news.”

“Um… maybe it's better if you see for yourself.”

“See for myself?”

“Yeah… why don't you check our room.”

It was another typical night at Beacon, with Weiss nursing her red wine while Ruby sipped at her mead. Blake and Yang had gone elsewhere for the evening, probably driven off by Weiss's smoldering temper. Even most of a day after finding out the truth, her lover still wasn't over it.

“I can't believe it was all trash,” Weiss grumbled again.

Ruby chuckled. “Well, you know… easy come, easy go.”

Weiss glared at her, before sighing and slumping against the table. “But there was so much!”

The golden treasures they'd taken from the abandoned tower had turned out to be anything but valuable. With the Grimm cursing it dead, the treasure had turned out to be nothing but corroded scraps, rusty iron, and broken clay and pewter bits. Weiss hadn't been able to determine whether the fake treasure and associated Grimm had been an intentional trap placed by the tower's former owner, or if it had been something put together by the Grimm seeking gullible treasure hunters to prey upon, but either way they had been left with nothing.

“What's really bothering you?” Ruby asked.

“What do you mean?” Weiss asked, her back tensing slightly.

“Weiss, you're the one who taught me what 'easy come easy goes' means,” Ruby pointed out. “Usually you're the first one to shrug that kinda stuff off. So why're you so upset now?”

Weiss was quiet for a long time, before finally sighing. “You know our apartment?”

“Uh huh,” Ruby hummed. “What about it?”

“Before… before we moved in together… before we got together, I didn't have anything beyond what I could carry,” Weiss said. “Just a belt pouch of money, the clothes on my back, and my ancestral sword. Otherwise, I would fight or steal to fill my pouch, and then find someone's bed to sleep in for the night. It's been… years since I've had a room that required a lease. I haven't… I haven't had a home since I left Schnee Manor.”

“What's wrong with that?” Ruby asked.

“Everything,” Weiss sighed. “And nothing. I guess… I was used to a lifestyle once, where I had roots, and books, and fancy candles, and staff cooking me meals, and a warmed bed ready for me at night. All with a steady roof over my head and no risk of losing it all. Well, no risk until I chose to throw it away. Then I had nothing to lose, but that meant I had nothing at all. I was rudderless, alone in crowds, with nothing to depend on, and nothing depending on me.

“But now… I don't want that anymore. I want a life with you. With a home, and a bed, and the security not to need to run when things go wrong. Money… money had no value to me when my family had so much of it, and no value to me when I needed no more than I could take in a day. But now… now I don't want to risk losing this… this life we're building.”

“I had no idea,” Ruby said, taking her hand. “This has been really bothering you, hasn't it?”

“It should bother you, too,” Weiss said. “Vale chews up and spits people out. That was fine when I didn't care what happened to me tomorrow, but I don't want that anymore. I want… I want a tomorrow, not just a today. And a tomorrow requires more than odd jobs and petty crimes.”

“Then we'll find more.”

“It's not that simple,” Weiss said.

Ruby grinned at her. “It's only not simple if you make it not simple. Besides, even if something does go wrong, I know how to live in the forest with nothing at all. We'll figure out how to get by, I promise.”

“Dolt,” Weiss said, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, who's worrying about silly stuff here,” Ruby said. “You know, you should share this stuff with me. We're in this together, you know? You don't have to worry alone.”

“I- huh,” Weiss said, leaning back in her seat. “I suppose you're right.”

“Of course I am,” Ruby said with a grin. “Now, how 'bout I get us another round of drinks, and then we can figure out what we can do next, since I guess we have to pay money to that landlord guy every month.”

“Sure,” Weiss said with a smile. “Together.”

#white rose week #white rose #ruby rose #weiss schnee #rwby #fanfic

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artificialqueens · 6 years

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You're Giving Up Before You Start (Shalaska) - Sammy Indigo

A/N: For those who read my 10,000 word Sharon-Aquaria mother-daughter fic (She Says To Me, She’ll Always Be There), this is the requested Shalaska origin story. It’s just over 14,000 words of how they came to be, with a fair amount of Trixya, and a little dash of Pearlet. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you for the lovely feedback on my previous fics xxxxx

Summary: Sometimes life is hard, and sometimes it sucks, and sometimes Sharon feels like a terrible mother, and sometimes she thinks about how it’s going to be like this forever. Or maybe not. Not when Alaska is there. But Sharon can’t even care for a cactus. She doesn’t deserve her.

“It’ll be a huge order.” Trixie said, pacing in Sharon’s office. “Massive. There’s at least sixty tables, Katya says, and each table needs two centre pieces.”

“Why would a table need two centre pieces?” Sharon asked, looking back at the projections spread sheet she was working on. “Seems a bit frivolous, especially for a charity event.” Sharon blew sweaty bangs out of her eyes.

“Why are you being such a bitch today?” Trixie asked. “You’re gonna have to apologise to Farrah, you know? She’s just a kid.”

“An annoying kid.” Sharon muttered at her laptop.

“Still. A kid.” Trixie wandered over to the filing cabinet in the corner. “Think about if that was your Aquaria and someone spoke to her like that.”

“They’d be dead.” Sharon said without hesitation, and then stared up at Trixie in unveiled realisation. “Oh.” She drew out the syllable. “She’s just a kid. Someone’s kid.”

“Yeah.” Trixie said. “You’ll say sorry to her.”

It was hot day for October, and despite the open windows in her office, Sharon was still struggling with her heat-induced irritability. The air outside was unmoving, there was no breeze to even rustle the blinds, and she had only been provided with one shitty USB-powered fan to keep her from melting. Most of the staff at the florist understood it was safer to just avoid Sharon on days like this, but not all of Trixie’s staff were seasoned pros in dealing with Sharon’s moodiness. The poor high school kid, Farrah, who Trixie had recently hired to help hold down the fort on Saturdays, had come earlier in the day to collect her pay cheque and Sharon had made her cry. Not that it was necessarily Sharon’s fault, the kid was a bit of a cry-baby bitch on the best of days, but perhaps she could have chosen not to throw Farrah’s cheque directly into her face and tell her she should “use the money to buy a better personality” when the kid had commented on Sharon’s sweaty sheen. Not Sharon’s finest moment, she was big enough to admit. And maybe, she did feel a tiny bit guilty. Only a tiny bit, though.

“So tell me, again,” Sharon said, puling half of her hair back into a ratty ponytail, if only to relieve her from the stagnant heat for a moment, “why does a charity require this ridiculous amount of floral arrangements?”

Trixie briefly stopped her pacing to glare at Sharon. Sharon glared back. The florist’s shop floor was kept at a constant comfortable seventy degrees for the benefit of the customers, and the floral cool room at a frigid thirty-eight for the benefit of the flowers, but it was ninety-four degrees in the back of the goddamn building where the AC did not stretch, and Trixie had been in the offices just as much as Sharon, and her make-up hadn’t moved all damn day. Sharon made a mental note to ask her what setting spray she was using these days, when she wasn’t feeling so petulant.

“This is good for us.” Trixie said. “Don’t ruin it.”

“Having two centrepieces per table? How big are the fucking tables at this thing?”

“It’s a massive event, Katya says.” Trixie walked over to the cactus on Sharon’s bookshelf and wrinkled her nose at the browning edges. “How the fuck do you work for a florist and kill a cactus?” She muttered, shaking her head.

Sharon watched her as she inspected the plant, muttering something about Sharon’s incompetence. Trixie swore quietly when the cactus pricked her finger.

“Good job, Klaus.” Sharon said.

“You named your dead cactus, Klaus?” Trixie asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Actually, my daughter named it…when it was alive.”

Trixie shook her head with a small smile, coming to stand in front of Sharon’s desk. “How in the fuck do you keep that poor child alive when you’ve somehow managed to kill a cactus?”

“I-,”

“Kill a cactus,” Trixie interrupted, “in a florist, filled with people who are plant experts?” Trixie shrugged. “It’s truly baffling, Shaz.”

“Don’t call me that.” Sharon said dangerously, and Trixie stuck her tongue out at her.

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She looked over at the browning corpse of Klaus. “I still think whatever charity Katya’s planning this shit for, have a fucking nerve spending this much on fucking flowers.”

Trixie huffed. “You’re so negative.” She said. “Why do you have to be like this all the time? It wears me down!”

“I’m not negative. I’m realistic.” She argued, looking over the top of her laptop screen. “Sure it’s great for us that they want to spend an extortionate amount of money on flowers that will inevitably end up in the trash at the end of the night, but what about the money they’re spending on them? Couldn’t they give that to charity?”

Sharon watched Trixie cross to the window in the office, glance out into the empty alley for a fleeting moment, and then turn to walk back over to the door. “That’s not the point.”

“I feel like it is the point.”

“Listen,” Trixie said, moving to stand directly in front of Sharon’s desk, placing both her hands on the top, “I didn’t come in here to ask you for your opinion on this opportunity. I came in here to tell you about it because I was excited.” One of the feathers Trixie was wearing in her DIY Pinterest-style headband fell into her face and she swiped it away angrily. “I own this place.” She said, hands on her hips. “I worked fucking hard to get here, and you work for me.”

Sharon made a show of leaning back in her chair, taking a deep breath, and letting it out through her nose. She had worked for Trixie for just over three years, had started back when her business had been fairly new and struggling, and Sharon knew exactly the way to get under Trixie’s skin and push every button she had. Trixie was dying to butt in, to say something else, but she was holding her tongue, waiting for Sharon to respond just so she could argue with her again.

Shangela always said they were sisters separated at birth, not because of any physical similarities, but because of their love-hate, partnership-rivalry they had developed from day one of meeting each other. Sharon loved Trixie to death, but God, it was fucking fun to fight with her.

It was their permanent dynamic at this point.

The arguments usually developed as follows; Trixie had an idea. Trixie told Sharon. Sharon told her it was stupid. Trixie went through with said idea, anyway. And sometimes, it paid off and Sharon was wrong and left to endure days of ‘I told you so’sfrom Trixie. And sometimes, it didn’t pay off, and as the financial officer Sharon was left to pick up the pieces and make sure the business remained afloat. And as a friend, Sharon was left to pick up Trixie and assure her she wasn’t a failure, and that sometimes, shit just wasn’t meant to be.

“You know I’m not going to stop you.” Sharon said eventually, dismissing Trixie with a wave of her hand. Trixie opened her mouth to respond, but Sharon cut her off. “But I want to stand firm in the opinion that it is inherently immoral that a charity spend thousands of dollars on pointless decorations for an event in order to raise money for charity. It makes no sense.”

Trixie nodded. “I respect your opinion.” She said.

“But…?”

“But, I’m selling the damn charity one hundred and twenty centrepieces, anyway, bitch.”

There was no point arguing anymore. Sharon shrugged and Trixie did a stupid little victory dance that got ever so slightly more elaborate each time she did it. Thus far, the dance was well over thirty seconds and had more than one twirl. Sharon watched it all from behind her desk with a scowl.

“I can’t believe that Katya got you this order.” Sharon said as Trixie ended her dance. “Of all people, I thought she would be principled enough to see the ethical quandary of this.”

“Actually, I think it’s mostly down to the new woman she’s been working with. Katya says she’s a hard-ass for business. Knows what the fuck she’s doing.”

“She sounds terrible.”

Trixie smirked. “She sounds like you.”

Sharon blinked. “I’m not like that.” She said. “I’m nice.”

“You’re literally awful, and my high school weekend staff are all scared of you.”

“They shouldn’t all be so fucking dense, then.” Sharon said. “I mean how difficult is it for them to cash up a register correctly?” She sighed. “Morons.”

Trixie stared at her for a second. “Yeah, you’re right.” She said without feeling. “You’re a goddamn delight.”

“I hate you. I don’t know how Katya has put up with you for this long.”

“What can I say?” Trixie flipped blonde hair over her shoulder. “She loves her wifey.”

“Ew, gross, don’t say that.” Sharon threw a balled up post-it at Trixie who caught it and flicked it back. “You’re not married.” Sharon looked back at her computer. “You’re not even married to her. And the word ‘wifey’ is just disgusting, anyway.”

“Oh, shut up, you jaded lesbian.” Trixie grinned. She perched on the edge of the desk, displacing some of Sharon’s papers with her ass. “You’re just bitter because you haven’t known the love of a women for over two years.”

Sharon scoffed. “I had sex four days ago.”

“I didn’t say you were celibate.” Trixie ran her fingers over one of the feathers hanging from her headband. “I said you hadn’t known love. Getting laid by a stranger on the nights your kid is at sleepovers doesn’t count as love. I feel sorry for you.”

Sharon pulled some papers from underneath Trixie, purposely poking her hip with her spikey ring in the process. “Leave me alone with my spreadsheets and go play with your peonies.”

“Wrong season for peonies, Shaz.” Trixie shrugged.

“Don’t call me that.”

Trixie showed no indication she had even heard her. “I mean, Christ, you’ve worked here for years. You’d think you would have at least learned something about flowers. Even your kid knows more than you.”

“Don’t bring my child into this.” Sharon said. She made a show of clicking her mouse and marking some numbers on the papers rescued from below Trixie’s ass. “Now can you please go back to fucking around with plants, and leave me in peace?”

Trixie sighed heavily, and stood up from the desk. “Fine. But you’re going to see I’m right about this charity thing. I’m winning this argument.”

“What’s the argument?” Sharon muttered eyes on the laptop. “Morality versus money?” She looked up, smirking at Trixie’s irked expression.

Trixie flipped her off, walking to the office door. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too.” Sharon called after her.

“Well fuck you, more.” Trixie argued back from the hallway.

“How about fuck you, most?” Sharon shouted, grinning.

Shangela’s voice came from the front of the store, loud and angry. “Y’all wanna shut up fighting like two thirteen year old girls?”

“She started it!” Trixie and Sharon yelled at the same moment.

Trixie’s face appeared back in the doorway, grinning like an idiot. “Jinx!” She scream-laughed. “Now you can’t talk!”

“Oh my Lord,” Shangela called, “give me the strength to continue working with these two children for another day. Halleloo.”

………………………………

“Farrah, my door has a window.” Sharon said, pulling it open and looking down at the kid. “I can see you standing there. You’ve been here for like five minutes now.”

“Sorry, Sharon.” Farrah squeaked.

Sharon blew some air out of her nose. “What do you want, kid?”

“Um, I just, I came by because, well, my cheque is, um, well, wrong, I think.” She stuttered.

“It’s not wrong.”

“Oh.” She looked down at the envelope in her hands. “I’m sure it’s too much. I didn’t work this many hours.”

“It’s not wrong.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go home, Farrah.” Sharon said, shutting the door. “Go on. Leave me alone, kid.”

…………………………….

On one occasion, in the early days of Sharon’s employment to Trixie Mattel, the latter had taken an order for some wedding arrangements from the mother of a bride, who was set to get married in a large church, with eight bridesmaids, eight groomsmen, and two flower girls. It was a ridiculous wedding, from what Sharon could remember, with a bride who had demanded yellow flowers and a mother who wanted purple, and they had felt the need to fight out their difference in opinion inside of Trixie’s shop on more than one occasion. Back then, Trixie had been a lot more timid and had done everything to make the women happy. It had been difficult for Sharon to witness, but she had felt as though it was not her place to step in when her boss was being walked all over by two snotty bitches in yoga leggings and Uggs. She was the money woman, and as long as the books were in the black, Sharon was doing her job.

The mother of the bride had ordered a lot of flowers, though, in the end. Purple. Trixie and Shangela had slaved for days over the fresh floral arrangements for the church pews. It had been before Trixie had hired Violet and Pearl as arrangers, and so only she and Shangela had spent hours of overtime creating the little basket bound bunches for the flower girls to hold, and the matching larger bouquets for the bridesmaids and bride. Shangela alone had created the buttonhole lilacs for all the groomsman. All of the hard work, the time, the undying effort from Trixie had been witnessed by Sharon for the first time since she had been hired. It was inspirational, and all of a sudden Sharon had realised just how a person as young as Trixie had managed to develop her own business; it was the passion. Sharon had felt a swell of pride for the woman. She had really begun to admire Trixie Mattel as a business owner.

And then she had been given the books, and Sharon had almost had an aneurysm.

Trixie had made a profit from the job that wasn’t even worth mentioning. All the hours, all the effort, and she had literally nothing to show for it. Not even enough to pay Shangela for her overtime. Sharon had been horrified. It had been the first time ever that Sharon had truly confronted Trixie about her business, and Trixie had broken down in front of her.

“I just wanted them to be happy.” She had said. “I kept saying I’d give them things cheaper because they were telling me about her grandfather dying, and about how times were hard, and how she had dreamed about this wedding since she was a kid and-,”

“Who the fuck cares, Trixie?” Sharon had interjected. “You need to be charging your customers for your skills, for your time, not based on how many dead relatives they have!”

From that day forward, Trixie had, at Sharon’s request, offloaded the responsibility of charges and payment for larger custom orders, over to Sharon. It was something that worked for both of them nicely. Trixie got to consult with the client about the pretty flowers and sparkly place settings, and Sharon got to be the hard-ass who dropped the bomb of the final bill. Violet called it their ‘good cop, bad cop’ act. They both loved their roles, and Sharon had no qualms in admitting that she was fucking good at her job.

This therefore meant, that Sharon had been assigned the responsibility of heading over to Katya’s offices, to discuss the final pricing for the metric fuck-tonne of centrepieces that Trixie had agreed to create. Which was fine, because a week later and it was still like working in the devil’s ass crack back at Trixie’s place, and she was certain Katya’s place of employment had air conditioning throughout.

Katya worked for an event-planning company that housed the top two floors of an office building in the centre of the city. The traffic could be a bitch, but Sharon was willing to overlook the extra twenty minutes in the car for the amazing view of the river from the office windows.

“Got any positions opening here?” Sharon asked Katya, leaning against her office window and angling her body just enough so the AC was blowing down her neck deliciously. She sipped at the coffee Katya had given her. “I could get used to this.”

Katya cackled. “And who would keep my lovely Trixie in check at her place of employment? Hmm?”

Sharon nodded, turning to face Katya sitting across the room. “You’re right. Without me, that place would dissolve into chaos.”

“And everyone would be much happier.”

“I told you, I apologised to Farrah and we’re good now.”

“She avoids you at all costs, you mean?”

“Same thing.”

Katya grinned. “How many kids have you made cry today?”

“Only one.” Sharon said with a smirk over her cup. “But it was my own kid, and it was because I told her she couldn’t wear fake lashes to school and she threw a fit.”

“Lashes?” Katya whistled and kicked herself over to Sharon in her wheeled desk chair. “How old is Aquaria, again?”

Sharon sighed. “Ten.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” She sipped more of her coffee and wrapped an arm around her stomach. “Although if you ask her, she will inform you that she will be eleven in less than four months.”

“Wow.” Katya spun in her chair. “Kids are growing up so fast these days. When I was ten, I hadn’t even discovered my vagina.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, I’ve got ten year old who seems to be going on twenty four, so I’m excited to see how that progresses throughout her teenage years.”

“I sense sarcasm, Sharon.”

“Good.” Sharon said. “You were meant to.” She sat in the spare chair by Katya’s desk. “What time is this bitch meant to get here?”

“Alaska.” Katya said.

“Huh?”

“Her name is Alaska. And I told you, she’s just finishing up her meeting with Raven. She’ll be by soon.” She kicked Sharon in the shin. “Why are you so cranky?”

Sharon drank down the last of her coffee. “I haven’t eaten lunch, yet.”

“Hangry?”

“What?”

“Hangry.” Katya repeated. “It’s when you get angry because you’re hungry.”

Sharon blinked. “That is the stupidest fucking thing I have ever heard and whoever came up with it should throw themselves off the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“Sounds like,” Katya wheeled closer to Sharon and leaned towards her face, “something someone who was hangry, would say.”

“I’m going to actually kill you, Zamo.” Sharon said.

Katya laughed, flailing her limbs and kicking Sharon in the leg once more, in the process.

“I swear!” Sharon reached for Katya as the woman tried to wheel herself away. “I swear to God, Katya, one of the these days I’m actually going to choke you and watch the life leave your eyes!”

Katya left her chair and ran across the room as Sharon chased her. She pulled open the door, only to stop in her tracks at the sight of the person mid-knock on the other side. Sharon ran into the back of her and grunted.

“Um…” The woman slowly lowered her arm to her side. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes.” Katya said before Sharon could respond. “I was about to be brutally murdered.” She said it with a straight face and the women glanced behind her at Sharon, warily. Katya’s face lit up at her expression and she grinned manically. “This is my murderer, Sharon!”

“Oh.” The woman said. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Hi.” She dragged out the single syllable for far too long and Sharon tried her best to smile in a way that said ‘I’m happy to meet you’, rather than ‘I’m seconds away from punching someone and that someone might be you if I don’t eat a sandwich soon and you continue to speak in that irritating manner’.

“Hello.” Sharon said carefully, taking a step back from where she was still too close to Katya’s back and offering her hand. “I’m Sharon Needles.”

The woman glanced at Katya, and then back to Sharon’s hand, before taking it and giving her two firm shakes. “Alaska.” She said. “It’s a pleasure.” From the half bored, half faux-sweet tone of her voice, it seemed to Sharon that for Alaska, meeting Sharon was anything but ‘a pleasure’.

“So,” Sharon said, taking back her hand, and sticking it in her jeans’ pocket just for something to do, “Alaska, are you ready to discuss the prices of plants?” It was quite possibly the worst opening line Sharon had ever uttered, and judging by the baffled expression on both Katya and Alaska’s faces, they sensed it, too.

“I am.” Alaska said. She smoothed a hand over the lapel of her blazer. It matched her pencil skirt impeccably.

Sharon smoothed a hand down her Metallica tee-shirt. There was a bleach stain on the hem of it from when Aquaria had tried to help clean the kitchen countertops and simultaneously do laundry.

Alaska switched her briefcase to the other hand.

Sharon put Katya’s coffee cup on the desk and picked up her lever arch file.

Alaska dropped her gaze to Sharon’s holey converse.

“I have nice shoes.” Sharon said without any forethought, and then felt like jumping out of the window.

“I’m sorry?” Alaska asked, eyes meeting Sharon’s.

Sharon stared at her. “I was just saying,” She paused, looked over to Katya and her bemused expression, and then looked back to Alaska, “I don’t always look like this.” She said. “I didn’t dress up today. But I can.” Sharon opened her mouth and closed it again, before speaking once more. “I can look professional.”

“Congratulations.” Said Alaska.

Katya coughed through a laugh.

“Oh, so you’re a cunt?” Sharon gestured at Alaska.

Katya screamed.

Alaska narrowed her eyes. “Did you just call me a cunt?”

Sharon nodded. “I was just voicing my thoughts. Yes.”

“I’m sorry.” Katya said. “She’s very hangry.”

Alaska tightened her jaw and Sharon could see it in the line of her cheekbone.

Whether simply not noticing the tension in the room, or just choosing not to acknowledge it, both were just as likely, Katya clapped once and turned to Sharon and Alaska, both still glaring at one another. “Well, I’ll be going. Have a fun meeting, you two.”

“Wait.” Sharon grabbed Katya’s arm as she passed her. “I thought you were coming to this meeting, too? Isn’t this charity night your thing, also?”

Katya grabbed her bag and shook her head. “Nothing to do with me.” She said. “This is Alaska’s gig. I got a Halloween party to plan.”

“But Trixie said you got her the job?”

“I did.” Katya pushed past her to grab her phone.

Alaska held up a hand. “She gave me the florist recommendation.” She said.

“See.” Said Katya. “Now can you both kindly get the fuck out of my office? I have to go to Party City while Phi Phi’s still on shift if I want to get a discount.”

Katya ushered them out of the office, locking the door behind them. “Hey, Alaska?” She said, walking backwards away from them down the hall. “If you want to have any kind of civilised conversation with Sharon you’re going to have to take her to Coffee Bean or something because bitch needs a snack.”

The walk to the nearest coffee house was almost silent. It was a six minute walk, Sharon was counting, and Alaska said five words to her: “This place has good sandwiches,” as they approached a storefront.

Sharon had replied. “Sounds good.” And then they had ordered, sat down, received their food and drinks, and begun eating, all without saying much more to each other.

The sandwich was good. Sharon wanted to express this to Alaska and show her gratitude for suggesting the place, but felt there was something more pressing to address. She reluctantly put down the final third of sandwich she had yet to inhale on her plate, and took a drink of her soda to clear her mouth.

“I’m sorry I called you a cunt.” Sharon said.

Alaska looked up from her salad at her. “Thanks.”

“I don’t even know you.” She continued. “It was a mean thing to say, and I’m sorry, Alaska.”

“It’s okay.” For the first time since they had been introduced, Alaska smiled, straight teeth and showing gums. “I am a cunt. So, you weren’t wrong.”

“I see.” Sharon felt herself grinning back. “That’s cool.”

“It is?” Alaska had a piece of rocket on her lip. Sharon didn’t tell her.

Sharon nodded. “Yeah.” She laughed, and quickly stopped, catching herself at the unexpected show. “I may have been informed on several occasions that I, too, am a cunt.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Straight up bitch.” Sharon said.

Alaska snickered.

“Despicable human being.” Sharon grinned.

Alaska clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the laughter.

“Not worthy of breathing the same air as the rest of common society.”

“That seems awfully harsh.” Alaska said from behind her hands. Her eyes glittered with mirth.

“Well,” Sharon shrugged, “that last one was from Katya.”

“Sounds like her.”

“Yeah.” Sharon smiled as she watched Alaska lower her hands. “She’s a wonderful friend.”

“I could tell you were close from the way you were threatening to kill her, earlier.”

“I’m actually closer with her girlfriend. You should see the way I speak to her.”

Alaska whistled. “If you’re this hostile with your friends, I’d hate to see what you’re like with your boyfriend.”

She was fishing. Sharon grinned. It was so obvious, and Alaska was smirking at her.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Sharon said. She took a mouthful of her soda.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. No guys have really peaked my interest, recently.”

Alaska ran a fingernail over the wood grain of the table. “I see.”

Sharon put down her glass. “Also, I’m a super gay.”

Alaska grinned. “Good.”

“Good?”

“Mm.” Alaska cocked an eyebrow at her. “Good.”

She was fucking flirting with Sharon. The hard-ass cunt was coming onto her. Maybe.

“Cool.” Sharon said, and then cringed. She probably hadn’t used the word ‘cool’ since she was twenty and it felt unnatural coming from her lips.

“Right.” Alaska cleared her throat, and looked down at her hands. “We should probably get to work. I need to be back in the office by three.”

“I could, um, walk you back to your office?”

Alaska blinked. “What?”

Sharon hadn’t flirted with anyone, or had anyone flirt with her, while she was sober, for years as far as she could recall. Not since she had broken up with her ex, and even then, any flirting between them had stopped months before they had actually called it quits.

A waitress collected their plates, and Sharon was feeling too introspective to even point out the fact that she wasn’t actually done with her food. Alaska was watching her curiously, pulling out a file from her briefcase. She set it down on the table and flipped through the neatly typed pages before landing on what appeared to be a print-out of Trixie’s website.

The piece of rocket fell from her lips and disappeared somewhere in her lap.

“I’ve looked at what you’re offering in terms of pricing for custom orders.” Alaska said. “But your website doesn’t seem to have any definitive prices.” She wasn’t smiling, and the glint in her eyes had been replaced with the hardened determination Sharon had been anticipating from the businesswoman.

It was unsettling how quickly she had switched.

“Okay.” Sharon said, unhelpfully.

“I was wondering if we could discuss options.”

“Okay.”

Alaska frowned at her. “Do you want me to just start throwing numbers at you, or are you going to give me a figure to negotiate with?”

Something about the way in which Alaska tapped her fingers against the plastic wallet on the file, brought Sharon out of her stupor, and she quickly fumbled to grab the ring binder settled by her feet under the table. She dropped it on the table with a thud, and Alaska’s expression remained stony.

“For the arrangements you’ve requested with Trixie,” Sharon said, flicking through the file, “our standard price would be…” She trailed off as she slowed her page-turning, eventually finding the correct one. “Would be one hundred dollars, per arrangement.”

“That’s unreasonable.” Alaska said.

“I haven’t finished.” Sharon muttered. “Christ.”

Alaska nodded. “Continue.”

“I shall.” She sighed through her nose. “So, one hundred dollars per centre piece, but we will offer a discount of five per cent on each arrangement, after the first twenty five.”

“That seems like an extremely small discount for such a hefty order.”

Sharon shrugged. “That’s our pricing. We’re fantastic at what we do.” She said proudly. “Our pricing reflects that.”

“I’m not paying eleven thousand, five hundred and twenty five dollars for one hundred and twenty centre pieces.” Alaska said.

“Oh, she can do math.” Sharon mocked.

Alaska leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “That’s robbery.”

“That’s business.” Sharon said. She leaned forward in her seat, excited to argue with the other woman. “I agree, it’s a fucking unreasonable amount for a goddamn charity to be spending on decorations but hey, it’s your client. You tell them, that.”

Alaska looked seething. She was gripping the sleeves of her blazer where it covered her upper arms. “It’s a huge event. It has to look classy.”

“And what’s classier than a bunch of white guys in Armani suits pretending to care about whales and polar bears, while signing of cheques for eleven thousand dollars of donated money to pay for flowers, for tables at an event that probably wont even raise enough money to cover the entire party, anyway?”

Sharon punctuated her rant by picking up her glass and attempting to take a long victory sip. There was no soda left, so she settled with sucking one of the melting ice cubes into her mouth and crunching down on it. Alaska cringed.

“Trees.” Alaska said, eyeing Sharon’s mouth.

Sharon crunched the ice cube again. “Huh?”

“Trees.” Alaska repeated. She moved her gaze to Sharon’s eyes. “The charity. It’s not for ‘whales and polar bears’. It’s for trees.”

“Trees?” Sharon swallowed her ice.

“Yeah. They’re raising money for afforestation.”

“Fuck all the way off.” Sharon breathed, and Alaska’s lips twitched. “You’re shitting me.”

Alaska smirked. “I’m not.”

Sharon dropped her head to the table. It shook the glasses, and she heard a sound she thought might have been Alaska snorting a laugh. She hoped it was.

“The world is a terrible place, Alaska.” Sharon said into her file. She lifted her head and the paper inside of the file stuck to her forehead for a moment before falling back down. It had a greasy mark on it. Alaska was smiling again. “The people you are organising this fucking event for are garbage humans.”

“Oh, I know.” Alaska said.

“They’re willing to spend thousands of dollars on plants to decorate a night dedicated to planting trees.”

“Yeah, it makes entirely no sense.” Alaska agreed. “But they’re paying us a lot of money, and I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Tell me, Alaska.” Sharon said with a genuine smile. “What’s this reputation?”

Alaska leaned forward in her chair, beckoned Sharon closer with the crook of her finger. Her nail polish was black, just like Sharon’s, but manicured to perfection. Sharon scooted forward, face so close to Alaska’s that she could probably lick her if she had a slightly longer tongue. The thought was exceptionally weird, even for her, and Sharon berated herself with a pinch to her palm.

Alaska grinned and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m a fucking lesbian.” She said. “And I get shit done. And I get what I want. And I don’t let anyone walk all over me.”

“I get it.” Sharon said. “You’re a straight up cunt.”

“I’m a straight up cunt.” Alaska leaned back. “I’m not paying eleven thousand dollars for flowers.”

Sharon wanted to jump her. “Negotiate with me.”

“Is this you asking me out?”

“Is this you asking me to ask you out?”

“Ten thousand even and we put your business cards in the guest gift bags.”

“Fifteen thousand, and you never mention my business was associated with that atrocity of a charity.”

Alaska cocked her head. “How are we going up in price?”

“Plants for plants, Alaska.”

“Ten thousand.”

“Eleven fifty.”

“Ten.”

“Eleven.”

“Ten thousand and I don’t spread the rumour that I made you cry.”

Sharon narrowed her eyes. “That’s slander. No one would believe you.”

“You want to test the theory?”

“Straight up cunt.”

Alaska beamed. “Straight up cunt. We got a deal?” She held out her hand.

Sharon considered her. She took a long moment to run the numbers through her head, adding up the profit margins in her mind as if she were using a spreadsheet on her laptop.

“If I agree to an even ten.” Sharon said slowly. “I would hope that you will keep our business in your mind as a favourable asset for future projects?”

“Of course.” Alaska said. “I’d certainly look forward to working with you more in the future, Miss Needles.”

Sharon shook her hand. “And I, you, Miss…”

Alaska ended their handshake, but kept her hand in Sharon’s. “Thunder. Alaska Thunder.”

Sharon laughed. “Thunder? Fuck, that’s a stupid last name.��

“Sure, you’re one to talk, Sharon Needles.” She squeezed Sharon’s fingers.

“I have no idea what you mean, Lasky.”

………………………….

“Violet?”

Violet looked up from the magazine she was reading on the counter at the front of the store, at the sound of her name.

“I’m on my break.” She said, nodding to the magazine.

Sharon smirked. “No, you’re not. And don’t defend yourself to me. I’m not your boss.”

“Yeah, but you hand out the cheques.” Violet turned and leaned on the counter. “What do you want?”

“A favour.”

“Try me.”

Sharon took a position leaning against the counter next to her. “I need you to watch Aquaria on Thursday.”

“Thursday? Doesn’t she have school?”

“Thursday night.” Sharon said. “And take her to school Friday.”

Violet raised an eyebrow. “You got a booty call?”

“That phrase is disgusting. Please, stop.”

Violet laughed. “So you do have a booty call?”

“I’m meeting a friend. She comes to town like twice a year with work, and we take advantage of that.”

Violet was smiling. “I want to be just like you when I grow up.” She grinned. “You’re nasty.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Can you babysit for me or not?”

“Sure.” Violet shrugged. “Pearl’s doing some stupid dog class with Honey, but we’ll come pick Aquaria up after.”

“It’s not stupid.” Pearl shouted from the floral cold room. “It’s agility training. And it’s awesome.”

“Right.” Violet shook her head, dropping her voice. “The dog can’t walk down the street without being distracted by a pigeon. You can imagine what it looks like trying to get her to jump through hoops.”

Sharon smiled. “Thank you, Vi. I owe you one. And Pearl.”

“Don’t worry about it. I love watching Aquaria. She’s fun, and she likes to listen to my lectures on the benefit’s of Rigilene versus Tripleflex in corsets. Most people don’t appreciate a good discussion on boning.”

“Please stop teaching my daughter about corsets. She’s ten.” Sharon turned to go back to her office. “Seriously, though, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Have fun with your slam piece.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Violet just grinned and waved.

………………………………….

“Thanks for watching Aquaria last night.” Sharon said.

Pearl smiled. “No problem. We had fun. How was your night?”

“It was alright.” Sharon shrugged.

“Just alright?”

“It scratched an itch.” She said. “And that’s all I was looking for.”

Violet walked around them to ring up a customer, pausing to kiss Pearl on the cheek as she passed. Pearl blushed.

“You two are gross.” Sharon said.

“You’re just jealous.”

“Whatever.”

……………………………………….

“Are you on the fucking phone to Alaska, again?” Trixie didn’t seem to be in the least bit concerned about Alaska hearing her via Sharon’s phone. “Jesus Christ, Shaz. Just fuck her already so you can get back to work.” She stormed out of Sharon’s office, pink kaftan sweeping behind her in an elegant punctuation to her exit.

“Shaz?” Alaska asked, and Sharon could hear the laughter beginning to bubble from her.

“Don’t.” She threatened. “Don’t call me that.”

“Sure thing, Shaz.” Alaska laughed.

“I hate you.”

Trixie poked her head back through the door. “Get off the fucking phone.” She glared at Sharon until Shangela called her from the front of the store.

“Pearl’s injured, again.” Shangela shouted. “Not ‘emergency room’ injured. But like ‘there’s blood in the chrysanthemums’ injured.”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “How does she manage to injure herself on flowers?” She asked rhetorically.

“I need a Band-Aid and a shot of Fireball, and then I’ll be fine.” Pearl’s voice carried through the building.

Trixie gave Sharon one last glare and turned again to leave her alone with her phone call.

“Sounds like it’s all happening over there.” Alaska said.

“They’re all incompetent, is what is happening.”

Sharon and Alaska’s phone calls were mostly professional, although the beginning and end of their conversations tended to be filled with light flirting and pleasant chitchat about their day-to-day lives. Since their first meeting, it had been a solid three weeks of back and forth calls and emails regarding the finer details of Alaska’s order, and the payment options Sharon was willing to offer on behalf of the business. The calls were tedious, and made all the more boring by the frequent addition of various college interns on Alaska’s end, hoping to gain some insight into the world of business. Sharon fucking hated those calls. They meant she had to act professional and pretend she wasn’t seconds away from making death threats.

“Well, you don’t have to be there much longer, right? It’s Friday.” Alaska said. “Got any plans for the weekend?”

Today, it was just the two of them on the call. The two of them, and occasionally Trixie screeching at Sharon to get off the phone, but it was still nice to have a mostly private conversation with Alaska.

“Yeah.” Sharon said. “Fifty more minutes and I’m out of here.” She spun around in her chair to signify her upcoming freedom to Klaus the dead cactus. “Going to go home and eat cheese and drink wine in my pyjamas.”

Alaska snorted a laugh. “Isn’t your daughter at a slumber party?”

“Yeah. Your point?”

“You’re child-free for a night. Go wild.”

Sharon nodded. “You’re right, Lask.” She slapped a hand on her desk. “I’m going to eat cheese and drink wine, naked.”

“Not what I meant, but live your life, I guess.”

“Then what did you mean? Come on, apparently I’m old and boring according to my ten year old, so give me young and fresh ideas.”

“I’m only two years younger than you.”

“But you’re still in your twenties.” Sharon stressed. She rubbed a smudge from one of the photographs of Aquaria she had stuck to her desk organiser. “That makes a hell of a difference. As soon as your turn thirty, you might as well be dead.”

“Sharon!”

“It’s true.” She shrugged. “Thirty is the new ‘dead’.”

Alaska sighed. “Remember when you said you had trouble making friends as an adult, this is why.”

“Noted.”

“I just thought you would be out doing cool single-mom things.” Alaska said, enthusiastically.

“Such as?”

“I don’t know, like going to strip clubs, or going to swingers parties.”

Sharon frowned at Klaus. “Is this what you think single mothers do?”

“It’s what my mom did.” There was a pause. “Okay, so she didn’t necessarily go swinging, but she ran a strip club.”

Sharon paused. “Really? That’s kind of awesome of your mom.”

“I know.” Alaska proclaimed, proudly. “She’s awesome. Still runs it now, in LA.”

“Well, then.” Sharon said, stretching an arm over her head. “Maybe I’ll go see some strippers. You know, and think about your mom.”

“Please don’t go and see strippers and think about my mom.” Alaska’s voice was void of emotion. “Just, please don’t do that.”

“Then what do you suggest I do?”

“Do whatever you want. Just don’t think about my mom.”

Sharon smiled. She scratched at her scalp and dropped her voice. “And who should I think about?”

Alaska breathed heavily enough that it was clearly distinguishable on the phone. “Anyone you want.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t the smoothest reply she perhaps could have mustered, but Sharon was frankly amazed she had managed to actually say anything in reply to Alaska. “Do, um, do you have plans for the weekend?”

Alaska was quiet for several seconds.

Sharon held her breath and didn’t know why.

“My friend is performing tonight.” She said, casually. “I was going to go and watch her.”

“That sounds like fun.” Sharon said. She put her feet up on her desk and leaned back in her chair in an attempt to look as casual as Alaska sounded.

“Yeah, it should be. Might be a bit lonely, though.”

The desk chair moved backwards of it’s own accord and Sharon almost dropped her phone, fumbling to press it back to her ear. “Why is that?”

“Well, she’s performing.” Alaska said slowly. “And I’ll be watching, but I’ll be all on my own.”

“You don’t have anyone to go with you?”

Alaska sighed. “I had lots of friends in the city when I lived here in college, but I only moved back a couple of months ago.” She said. “I don’t know a lot of people, anymore.”

“Like I said, it’s hard making friends as an adult.”

“Yeah it is.” She sighed again, so dramatically that it made Sharon smirk.

“Well,” Sharon said, “you know you’ve made one friend here.”

“You’re right.” she said, and Sharon beamed. “I guess I could ask Katya.”

“Katya?” Sharon kicked away from the desk and the chair spun and hit the back wall.

Alaska laughed. “You don’t think I should ask Katya? You have a better suggestion, Shaz?”

“I can come.” Sharon said.

“Oh, I would have asked,” Alaska teased, “but I just wasn’t sure it was really your scene.” She giggled. “You know, with you being thirty and all. It’s more of a place for people in their twenties.”

Sharon was grinning. She was grinning, and she was spinning around in the fucking desk chair because Alaska was fully being a little shit.

“Fuck all the way, off.” She said. “You deserve to get eaten by bobcat, you whore.”

Alaska laughed again, loud and obnoxious. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes, Alaska, I’d love to join you.”

“Whatever.” Sharon bit her bottom lip. “Get fucked.”

“Not on the first date. I’m a lady.”

………………………………

“When you said we were going to see your friend perform, I kind of assumed you meant singing.” Sharon said.

The person on stage strutted to the edge in time with the beat of the music, leaned over to take a five-dollar bill from a patron’s outstretched hand, and promptly licked the side of his face. She grinned and he offered her another five.

“Well, you didn’t assume totally wrong.” Alaska said. Sharon looked over at her, eyes roaming over her cheek where the contour wasn’t quite blended completely. “Sometimes she sings.” Alaska nodded towards the stage.

Sharon followed her gaze. The woman was humping the stage with an enthusiasm and skill that Sharon admired. It was hot.

“But mostly,” Alaska continued, “Willam does that.”

Alaska’s friend was very hot. Sharon was also pretty sure Alaska’s friend had a dick and was the same guy who sold her coffee at the place around the corner from Trixie’s florist. She liked him. Good for Willam.

“She’s very good.” Sharon said.

“Oh, she is.” Alaska agreed, brows rising as the woman pulled money out of her bra and threw it into the audience. “And she knows it.”

The bar they were in was loud. On meeting Alaska outside, she had grabbed Sharon’s hand and led her inside, towards the back of the establishment. They were close to the bar, which Sharon thought was just lovely, but slightly secluded from the drunken stupor that directly surrounded the stage. Alaska seemed to know the place well, darting out of their little table-booth on the raised floor at the back, to get them both drinks. She was only gone a few minutes, despite the massive crowds around the bar.

From their table, Sharon had an almost perfect view of the stage. The right hand side was blocked by a group of kids who were probably in their twenties, but who Sharon had decided were too young to even be a valuable part of society. One of them was wearing a smart watch.

In between sipping on the vodka sodas Alaska had bought for them, and making small talk about the various people on the tables surrounding them, Alaska had informed Sharon that she frequented the bar twice a month or so at the request of her friend, who performed there several times a week.

“She asks me to come and see her when she’s really proud of a routine and she wants to show off.” Alaska had said.

On stage, Willam whipped her hair into the face of a man wearing sunglasses. She kissed both of the lenses. He offered her money.

“She’s talented.” Sharon said.

Alaska was watching her friend with an ample amount of interest. Sharon was trying, and it wasn’t like Willam wasn’t interesting enough to watch, but there was something more compelling in the view of Alaska. Even in her own mind, Sharon was creeped out at the thought. She was thirty years old, in a strip club, that was also maybe a gay bar, and also perhaps a brothel, and she was ignoring the stage act in favour of slyly watching the woman next to her. Who she was maybe on a date with, but was also maybe just out with as a friend. The music was loud, Sharon felt old, and it was all very confusing.

Alaska was wearing jeans with rips across the legs all the way to the top of her thighs. She had a tattoo and Sharon was trying not to stare at the pale skin through the splits, trying to work out what it was.

“I like your shoes.” Alaska was still watching the stage. Her mascara was clumping together at the edge of her lashes. Sharon wanted to pick at it.

“Thanks.” Sharon said. “They’re not new.”

Alaska smiled, eyes still on her friend. “I guessed.”

She was wearing heels. Sharon had made an effort. Had spend far too long asking herself if she was dressed too casual in the skinny leather pants that made her legs sweat, and the band tee she had once upon a time chopped the arms off and cut a ‘v’ in to show off her cleavage. The compromise had come from Aquaria, who had, in an attempt to get her mom to take her to her friend’s house quicker, suggested she wear some heels. Sharon had taken her ten-year-old’s advice begrudgingly (she was ten, she shouldn’t know the difference between a corset heel and platform sling back), and had chosen to throw on an old pair of black pumps. The toes were scuffed, but they had been worn in enough that they were comfortable. Sharon had thrown up while wearing them twice. They were seasoned.

“Do all the shoes you own have holes in them?”

“Well, duh.” Sharon said. “How else would I get my feet in them?”

Alaska tilted her head slightly to look at Sharon. One of her eyebrows was cocked cartoonishly. “How are you a even real person?”

Sharon didn’t reply. She thought about kissing Alaska, but then the crowd gasped collectively and both of their attentions were drawn to the woman on stage. Alaska had her hand on Sharon’s forearm and Sharon didn’t know why but liked it very much.

“Oh.” Sharon said. Alaska’s friend was, very professionally, doing a live demonstration of fisting a young man wearing an orange harness.

Alaska squeezed her arm. “Would you believe me if I told you this is a regular part of the show?”

The man with the hand in his butt was collecting tips from nearby spectators.

“Actually, I would.”

Alaska turned fully to Sharon, then. She smiled. Sharon wanted to hold Alaska’s hand, but the other woman beat her to it. “I think we’re friends now.” They could have been shaking hands in a business meeting.

But they weren’t.

Sharon lifted Alaska’s hand to her mouth and kissed her knuckles. “Good.”

………………………….

Alaska invited Sharon to lunch four times in three weeks.

And then Sharon asked Alaska to lunch twice after that.

It became an unspoken regular arrangement to meet for lunch twice a week. If they couldn’t make lunch, Sharon dropped Aquaria with Jinkx for a few hours, and instead they had dinner.

They held hands on three occasions. But once Alaska was leading Sharon through a crowded part of town to a café she liked.

Once Alaska kissed Sharon on the cheek. But then she thanked her for being a good friend.

…………………………..

Sharon went to Alaska’s apartment for the first time, six weeks after they had first met. She went again two weeks after that. Both times they watched a movie, ate take out, and cuddled on the couch.

They never kissed.

……………………………

Three months after they met, Sharon went into the phone store and asked for a different monthly plan. Three hundred minutes and five hundred texts per month was suddenly not enough.

Sharon loved hearing about Alaska’s day. She would kiss Aquaria goodnight at eight thirty, and Alaska would call an hour later, and the routine would have been scary if Alaska hadn’t started referring to Sharon as her ‘best friend’ to the people they met at the bar when they went to see Willam perform.

One night at the bar, Alaska wore a short skirt even though it was fucking cold out. She let Sharon sit all night with her hand on her thigh, rubbing her thumb over the pretty illustration of some grey scale flowers tattooed onto her leg. Sharon didn’t know what kind of flower they were and she didn’t ask.

They went back to Alaska’s apartment and slept in the same bed, as friends.

……………………………

“Your stupid dog is under my desk, again.” Sharon said when Pearl and Violet entered her office to get their pay slips.

“Sorry.” Pearl whistled and Honey extracted herself from around Sharon’s feet to trot over to her. “Were you bothering Sharon?” She petted the dog.

“Yes.” Sharon said. “Stupid mutt.” She held out their envelopes. “Here. Take these so I can go home.”

Violet grabbed, them, passing one to Pearl. “I’ve been making some costumes for Farrah’s high school play.” She said, using a long nail to slice through the envelope. “I was thinking Aquaria would like to see them next time she comes over. You have any booty calls coming up?”

“We haven’t had a real sleepover with her in months.” Pearl commented. “You getting too old to hump and dump?”

Sharon glared at her. “I just haven’t been in the mood for any pointless one night stands.”

“Plus,” Violet added, “she’s too busy trying to get in Alaska’s pants.”

“Shut up.”

………………………………….

Sharon had introduced Alaska to Aquaria at her daughter’s birthday party.

February. Four months after they met.

Aquaria had hugged Alaska and told her she was “gorgeous”. Alaska had blushed and given Aquaria a gift in a purple sparkly gift bag. Sharon had told her not to buy her anything but that suggestion had gone by the wayside. The present was a thick, lined notebook with lilac pages and a purple furry cover. Alaska had included a matching pencil case and filled it with metallic gel pens and scented markers. For the remainder of her party, Aquaria had carried the notebook around under her arm, with a gold gel pen in the rings of the binding, occasionally removing the pen to write something “poignant” that she wanted to “remember forever.”

“How does she even know what ‘poignant’ means?” Sharon had mumbled to Alaska as she had watched Aquaria run off with her friends. “I’m not even sure that I really know what it means.”

“She seems like a really smart kid.” Alaska had stood with her side leaning on Sharon, nudging her with her elbow. “She obviously didn’t get that from you.”

Sharon had rolled her eyes, fondly. Alaska had linked her arm with hers. They had eaten ice cream and driven back to Sharon’s house in the same car. Aquaria fell asleep in the back seat with a butterfly painted on her face and the fluffy notebook in her lap.

……………………………….

Trixie poked her head into Sharon’s office without knocking. “So you’re fucking Alaska, now?”

Sharon looked up from her computer, pushing her glasses onto her head. “No.”

“Kat says you’re fucking Alaska.” Trixie was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded under her boobs. She had dirt on her knuckles, although her white cardigan remained pristine.

“Kat doesn’t know shit.” Sharon said. She pushed her glasses back down onto her nose. “She sees things that aren’t there.”

“You guys go to that weird bar, though. Like all the time.” Trixie said.

“Like every few weeks.” She muttered.

“And Katya says you’re always going for lunch with her. Talking on the phone with her. Inviting her over to your house.”

Sharon rolled her eyes and went back to her laptop. “We’re friends.” She said. “I can have friends.”

“Sure you can.” Trixie shrugged. “You just don’t seem the type to make a friend. It’s been like six months. You don’t keep friends for that long.”

Sharon glared at her. “I can make friends.”

“Name five friends you’ve made who you still talk to, regularly.”

“You? And Katya? Shangela? Jinkx?” Sharon counted on her fingers.

“Four.”

“And,” she looked around the room for inspiration, eyes landing on Klaus’ rotted husk.

“Not the dead cactus.” Trixie said, giving him a disgusted squint.

From the floral cold room Violet screamed at Pearl. “Get that fucking thing away from me!”

“It’s just a spider.” Pearl laughed back.

There was a scream and the sound of running footsteps through the hall. Trixie looked up at the ceiling and pinched her nose.

“Pearl and Violet.” Sharon said. “There, I gave you a bonus one. Six friends. I’m friendly.”

Trixie shook her head in exasperation, folding her arms again. “First of all, I don’t count. I’m your boss and it took me eight months to get you to go to lunch with me. Katya is your friend by proximity, because she comes with me.”

“You’re a package deal. Right.”

“I’m like ninety-eight per cent sure you’ve never even spoken to Shangela outside of work before.” Trixie continued. “She genuinely only puts up with you because you handle her wages each month.”

Sharon lifted a hand to begin to argue, but Trixie powered ahead.

“And when was the last time you spoke to Violet or Pearl outside of this office?”

Sharon bristled. “I was texting Violet just the other day.” She defended. “And I spoke to Pearl at the front of store just this morning. You saw.”

“And were both of those conversations regarding them babysitting for you?” At Sharon’s lack of response, Trixie smiled. “See? You’re just not the type to go out of your way to make a friend.”

It was difficult to argue with Trixie’s logic this time, no matter how much she wanted to. “What about Jinkx?” She asked in a last attempt to prove her wrong.

Trixie shrugged. “So maybe Jinkx is the exception. Did you act friendly to secure that friendship?”

“No, actually.” She said. “I was pregnant and homeless and she felt sorry for me.”

“Oh. But you became friends eventually.”

“Yeah.” Sharon nodded. “She mostly pursued the friendship though. I mostly told her to go to hell while I ate her food and lived in her living room.” She squinted as she recalled. “She was far too chirpy back then. I wasn’t into it.”

“Do you see my point?”

“I see your point.” Sharon agreed. “But that doesn’t mean Alaska’s not my friend. I like spending time with her.”

“So you’re dating her?”

“No.”

“So just fucking?”

“No.”

Trixie huffed. “Then what?”

“Then nothing. God, Trixie, can’t you just shut the fuck up for once?”

“Touchy.”

“Fuck off.”

“You should get laid. You’re too tense.”

Sharon threw a pen at her with the company logo printed on. “Get out and leave me alone.”

…………………………..

Sharon was convinced she had an actual pair of sneakers appropriate for exercising in, somewhere in the bottom of her closet. Aquaria was convinced Sharon had thrown them into the charity bin at the supermarket after she tried the gym that one time two and half years ago, and cried in the car because everything hurt.

Alaska was on a health kick. That apparently meant Sharon had to go on a hike with her.

“Is Alaska your girlfriend, Mom?”

Sharon turned from her task of rummaging through the shit on the floor of her closet to look at Aquaria.

“Is she my girlfriend?”

Aquaria nodded. “Yeah.”

The kid was sitting cross-legged in the centre of Sharon’s bed, running a hairbrush through a Barbie’s hair. The brush was Aquaria’s own and she was brutally smacking the doll in the face with it each time she pulled it through the hair. Sharon would feel sorry for it, but the feminist lesbian in her secretly enjoyed the fact that Aquaria wasn’t usually overly fond of the dolls. Recently, though, she had taken to setting the few she owned on their coffee table and callously critiquing their fashion choices, before making her own clothes from construction paper.

The kid was watching her with wide eyes, waiting for Sharon to respond. Aquaria blinked and cocked her head to the side, lifting her chin. She had blue eye shadow from Claire’s smeared across her eyelids.

“You’re too young for all that crap on your face.”

“I’m eleven.” Aquaria said, still holding the doll. “I’m a young adult. That’s the section I go to in Barnes and Noble.”

Sharon stood up and crossed to sit on the bed next to her. “Come here.” She muttered, and licked her thumb. Aquaria started to squeal and claw herself across the bed and Sharon cackled and tried to rub the make-up off Aquaria’s face.

“Get off!” Aquaria was laughing, batting her hands at Sharon. “I don’t want your spit on me.”

Sharon pinned her to the bed. “I’m your mommy.” She kissed her cheek sloppily, putting as much spit into it as she could. “You’re my baby. We have the same spit.”

Aquaria pretended to gag. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Sharon blew a raspberry on Aquaria’s belly and left dark lipstick marks around her belly button. Aquaria launched herself at Sharon, discarding the Barbie and hairbrush on the side of the bed, to tackle her onto the pillows. Sharon let her push her back and sit on her stomach to tickle her sides.

“No, no, stop!” Sharon shrieked. She dramatically jumped at every one of Aquaria’s tickles to make her laugh. “You’re so mean.”

“No.” Aquaria said, breathing heavily as she grinned at Sharon. She stopped her attack, but kept her hands on Sharon’s sides. “You’re the mean one.” She giggled. “Mama. Say something mean to me.”

“You look like a smurf.” Sharon told her.

Aquaria smiled. “How do you know that’s not what I’m going for?”

“Well, you got me there.”

“Yeah I did, huh?” The kid looked so goddamn proud of herself. “Say something so mean to me, that I’ll die.”

“Are you sure?” Sharon humoured her. “Dying means you won’t be able to go and hang out with Violet, tomorrow. She’s got new dresses, I’ve heard.”

Aquaria bit her lip. “I’m sure.”

“Sure, sure?”

She smiled and leaned forward, rubbing her nose against Sharon’s “Sure, sure.”

“Okay then.” Sharon held her close and whispered. “This is going to be so mean, you’re literally going to start bleeding from your ears, and your eyeballs are going to pop out of your skull.”

Aquaria laughed.

“And your brain is going to melt and drip out of your nose.”

“Wow.”

“Are you ready?

“Yeah.”

Sharon took one long dramatic breath in. “Aquaria Needles,” she said slowly, pulling her knees up to hold the kid close, “you look just like your mommy.”

The kid screamed and put her hands over her head. “My brain is dripping from my nose.” She shouted. “That was a horrible thing to say.”

“You asked for mean, I gave you mean.” Sharon bear-hugged her daughter.

Aquaria stopped fighting and instead giggled breathlessly as she lay down over Sharon’s chest, cheek pressed to one of her boobs. For a second, Sharon thought she was going to suck her thumb like when she was younger, but then Aquaria moved her hand away from her face to hold the strap on Sharon’s tank top. She brushed Aquaria’s hair out of her eyes and kissed the top of her head.

“That wasn’t really mean, Mom.” Aquaria said quietly. “I want to look like you, anyways.”

“Are you sure?” Sharon asked, still petting her hair. “I’m old, you know.”

“Well I don’t want to look like you now.” She rolled her eyes. “But when I’m fifty-seven I want to look as good as you do.”

“I’m thirty-one you little creep.”

Aquaria laughed. “I’m just kidding.” She looked up at Sharon through her lashes. “I think you’re stunning, Mama.”

“Stunning?” Sharon smiled at her.

“That’s what Alaska called you.” She said. “When she put the lipstick on you the other day.”

The three of them had gone to the mall together. Aquaria needed new shoes, Alaska wanted new shoes, and Sharon spent the whole day feeling warm and happy as she watched her daughter hold Alaska’s hand around all of the stores. She wouldn’t hold Sharon’s, she was ‘too old to hold hands with her mom’, but Alaska was apparently allowed the privilege. They had ended the day with forty-five minutes in Sephora. Aquaria had been in her element, and apparently so had Alaska as she used every available tester to make up Sharon’s face.

“Stunning means beautiful.” Aquaria said, still watching Sharon. “Alaska thinks you’re beautiful.”

“I know.”

“Do you think that Alaska is beautiful?”

Sharon nodded.

Aquaria reached behind her and groped the bed until the Barbie doll fell into her hand. “I like this one because she looks like Alaska.”

The doll was a generic Barbie; long straight blonde hair, skinny legs, massive tits, elongated neck, and tiny waist.

“No,” Sharon said into the top of Aquaria’s head, “Alaska’s a lot more beautiful that that.”

Aquaria nodded. “She’s stunning.”

“She is.”

The kid moved so that she was lying on her stomach, directly on top of Sharon. She wiggled to get comfortable, and Sharon got an elbow to the ribs. Aquaria rested her chin on her hands on top of Sharon’s chest, and looked her in the eye.

“Are you avoiding my question on purpose?” She asked.

“And what question would that be?”

“I asked if Alaska was your girlfriend.” Aquaria said. “And then you called me a smurf.”

Sharon kissed her nose. “My baby smurf.”

“Mom.”

“Right, I’m sorry.” She said. Sharon laced her hands over Aquaria’s back. “I’m not avoiding your question.”

“So, then what’s the answer?”

“No.” Sharon said. “Alaska isn’t my girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Aquaria frowned. “But you do girlfriend things with her.”

“What ‘girlfriend things’?”

Aquaria scrunched her nose. “You go on dates places. And you have sleepovers. And you think she’s beautiful.”

“You’re right.”

“Then why isn’t Alaska your girlfriend?” She blinked twice. “I don’t mind, you know. I love Alaska, too.”

Too.

Her little face was so fucking cute Sharon wanted to punch something. Instead she leaned down and kissed Aquaria’s cheek.

“I love you, you know.” Sharon said. She kissed Aquaria, again. “I love you more than I love anything in the world.”

“And I love you more than anything else.” Aquaria smiled. “I’m going to love you more than anything else, forever.”

“Oh, that’s not true.” Sharon tickled her side gently. “One day you’ll grow up, and you’ll go off and leave me to be with someone else.” She wiped away a fake tear. “And you won’t be my baby anymore.”

“Yes I will!” Aquaria looked horrified. “I’m not leaving you, Mommy.”

“You’re not?” Sharon said. “But I thought you were a young adult?”

The kid nuzzled her nose into her chest. “Maybe not all the time, though.”

“How come?”

“Because if I’m an adult, you can’t snuggle me and sometimes I want to snuggle.” To illustrate her point, Aquaria burrowed into Sharon’s arms and sighed. “Like this.”

“Kiddo, you can be one hundred and four and I’ll still snuggle you.”

“You’ll be dead, by then. And I don’t want to snuggle with a corpse.”

Sharon chuckled. “But you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah. I promise that even when I’m a grown up, I’ll want to cuddle with you, Mama.” Aquaria said. “But I still don’t think I’m going to love anyone more than you.”

“What if you get a husband and he has lots of money and nice cars and a huge house?”

Aquaria sat up slightly to regard her mother. The look on her face was one of pure alarm. “Excuse you, but I’m going to have my own money. I’m not marrying some rich dude. Gross.”

Sharon grinned. “Good girl.”

“Are you going to get married, Mom?”

It was a question Aquaria had asked before, but certainly not recently. Not since Sharon and her ex had broken up. It had been more than three years.

“I don’t think so, kiddo.” Sharon said, slowly. “I don’t need to get married. I’ve got you.”

“You said I was going to leave you when I grow up.”

“Well, maybe when that happens, I’ll elope.”

“You could marry Alaska.” Aquaria shrugged. “If you wanted. I’d let you.”

Sharon brushed some of the fallout from the Claire’s eye shadow off Aquaria’s cheek. Her freckles were noticeable at the close angle, tiny little ones dusted over her nose. “Alaska’s just my friend, kiddo.”

“But when you’re girlfriends, you can marry her, then.”

“It’s not really that simple.”

Aquaria picked up the Barbie again. She smiled. “Grown ups always say that. I think things are usually simpler than they make them out to be.”

…………………………..

“I’m closing up and going home, Shaz.” Trixie appeared at the door of her office. “Come on, or I’ll lock you in.”

Sharon glanced over to her, and then back to her laptop. “Give me the keys. I’ll lock up. I’ve still got work to do.”

Trixie shifted the tote bag on her shoulder. “You’re already two hours late in clocking out.”

“Aquaria’s with Pearl and Violet tonight.” She said. “So I don’t have to rush home for anything.”

“I thought Kat said you were going for dinner with Alaska tonight?” Trixie folded her arms.

Sharon frowned. “She’s busy tonight with friends.”

“Doing what?”

“I don’t care.”

Trixie threw her the keys. “Are you sure? Because it sounds like you care.”

……………………………

“How was your night out?” Sharon asked.

“It was okay.” Alaska said. “Willam’s been trying to set me up with this girl he works with at the coffee shop. She was there.”

“Oh.”

Alaska nodded. “I left pretty early. Willam took some guy home, so I just left, too.”

“Is she nice?”

“Who?”

“The girl.” Sharon pressed her lips together. “Um, the one Willam set you up with.”

Alaska smiled. “I don’t know.” She bumped her arm against Sharon’s. “I didn’t meet her. I told Willam I wasn’t interested.”

Sharon smiled.

“Well, I told him I wasn’t interested in her, anyway.”

…………………………..

“I think I’m pregnant.”

Sharon rolled her eyes at Katya, sprawled across the couch in Sharon’s office, hands gripping at her stomach. “When was the last time you had a dick in you?”

Trixie walked into the room. “Two thousand and four.” She said. “She was twenty-two and still thought she was bi.”

“Then, I can guarantee you, you’re not pregnant.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Katya nodded. She accepted the mug of tea from Trixie. “It’s probably just a phantom pregnancy.”

“Or you ate two day old Mexican food at three am and we’re twenty minutes away from you shitting yourself.” Trixie sat on the arm of the couch. “I told you last night that taco was a bad idea.”

Katya’s belly audibly groaned. “I don’t regret a thing.”

“If you diarrhoea in my office, I’m going to get Pearl’s dog to shit in your Prius.”

The shrill marimba of Sharon’s phone scorched whatever retort Katya had on the tip of her tongue. The photograph of Alaska Sharon was using for her contact picture showed off her floral tattoo on her thigh. She fumbled for a second to unplug it from the charging cable, and caught Trixie giving Katya a look. She glared at both of them.

“Hi, Lasky.”

“Hey, I’m outside.” Alaska said. “I was going to come in, but there’s no parking so I’m just idling in a loading bay.”

“Okay, give me like two minutes.” Sharon grabbed her bag off the floor. “I’ll be out soon and then we can go for dinner.”

“See you in a sec, Shaz.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Alaska laughed and then the conversation ended as she hung up. Sharon put her phone in her pocket.

“You know,” Trixie said, leaning into Katya’s side on the couch, “if you don’t make a move on Alaska soon, she’s going to find someone else.”

Sharon opened her desk drawer. “Have either of you seen my house keys? I can’t find them.”

“That barista at the place around the corner’s been eyeing her up, I’ve heard.”

“Fucking keys. Where are they?”

“Stop ignoring me.” Trixie said.

“I had them in my hand this morning when I came into work.” Sharon muttered. She began moving papers around her desk. “But I can’t remember where I put them.”

“Sharon?”

Sharon began checking her jacket pockets. “Maybe in here…”

“Shaz.”

“Don’t call me that, Trixie.”

“Don’t ignore me, then, Shaz.”

She sighed and looked over at Trixie. She had her arms folded, eyes narrowed at Sharon. Katya looked between them.

“Just,” Sharon wiped some mascara goop out of the corner of her eye, “give it a rest, Trixie?” She asked. “I’m tired of you nagging me.”

“I nag because I care.”

“It’s true.” Katya nodded.

Trixie stood up. She crossed over to the bookshelf. Klaus had become a breeding ground for the local fly population as soon as the weather had begun to heat up again. In his place was a purple orchid, lovingly named ‘Penelope’ by Aquaria. All Sharon had to do, according to Trixie, was give Penelope one ice cube in her pot, every Monday morning. So far, Penelope was five weeks in to her new life on the bookcase, and going strong.

“I want you to be happy.” Trixie said sincerely. She reached out and plucked Sharon’s keys from the shelf above Penelope’s. “I love you, Sharon, and I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

Trixie smiled. “I know. But, you could be happier.” She threw Sharon the keys.

She caught them easily. The little plastic key ring hanging from the set knocked against her knuckle. She looked down and smiled at Aquaria’s kindergarten school photograph inside of the plastic casing. Christ, that day felt like minutes ago.

“Can you believe Aquaria’s going to be twelve in less than six months?”

“What?” Trixie said. She looked at Katya, and Sharon caught the hint of a shrug from her.

“Nothing.” Sharon rubbed her thumb over the photograph, and dropped her keys into her purse. “I guess I’m just feeling sentimental. Time flies.”

“Sure does.” Katya agreed. She sat up straighter on the couch. “Two weeks and Alaska’s been working with me for a year. Feels like nothing.”

“Fuck.” Sharon breathed. “That’s….” She began counting the months in her head. “Wow. I’ve known Alaska for-,”

“Ten months.” Trixie interrupted. “You met in October. It’s August.”

Sharon looked at her. “What are you, my calendar?”

“No.” Trixie threw her arms up in the air. “But I’m trying to be your fucking alarm.”

“Huh?”

“Ugh!” Trixie groaned. “You need to wake up.” She clapped her hands. “Fucking hell, Sharon, you’ve been in love with that woman for almost a fucking year, and you haven’t told her.”

“Stop telling me how I feel!” Sharon stepped in front of her desk. “You think you know me.” She stepped towards Trixie. “You think you know my life.” She was nose to nose with her. “But,” She poked Trixie’s chest, “you fucking don’t. You don’t, Trixie.”

Trixie pushed Sharon’s shoulder. “I know you.” She spoke quietly. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Fuck you.”

“I know that you pretend you’re a scary Goth bitch, but you sleep with the hall light on because you’re scared.”

“Oh, shut up, Trixie.”

She pushed her again. “I know that you claim to hate Pearl’s dog, but that you give her treats and get her to sleep under your desk when she brings her into work.”

“Trixie.” Sharon heard Katya say, somewhere across the room. They ignored her, and Sharon instead, continued to stare Trixie down.

Trixie smiled sweetly. “You think I don’t know that you’ve been giving Farrah an extra forty dollars in her pay every week because her mom’s been sick and hasn’t been able to work as much.”

Sharon glared at Trixie. “You don’t have a clue about me. About my life.”

“I know you say you don’t care, but that you cry every time Aquaria gets mad and shouts at you.”

She growled. “Don’t you talk about my kid. You don’t know shit, Mattel.”

“I know you think you’re a terrible mother. That you cry in your car because you think she’d be better off with someone else.”

“Trix.” Katya said.

She continued. “It’s true, isn’t it? I know that you think Aquaria’s going to turn out just like you.”

“Trixie, stop.”

Sharon bared her teeth. “Fuck you.”

“Pregnant and homeless at nineteen, trying to drink her way into a miscarriage just so she doesn’t have to bare any responsibility beyond getting a high.”

Sharon hit her.

Trixie stumbled back into the bookcase with the force of the slap. Penelope fell and her pot shattered on the ground.

A hand gripped Sharon’s arm and pulled her back.

“Enough.” Katya wrapped her arms around Trixie, guiding her away. “Both of you stop.”

Trixie held her cheek. There were tear tracks in her blush.

The hand on Sharon’s arm tightened. “Sharon?” Alaska said. “Hey, it’s alright.”

Sharon turned to her and opened her mouth. Alaska was paler than usual and her eyes roamed Sharon’s face, quickly. Tears dripped from Sharon’s chin. She swallowed, heavily.

“Please don’t cry.” Alaska whispered.

“You were waiting outside.” Sharon’s voice felt far away. “In the car.”

“Yeah. But I found a parking space.” She touched the tears on Sharon’s cheek. “You were taking so long. I came to find you.”

Trixie was crying. Sharon could hear her.

“I hit Trixie, Lask.”

“I’m sorry.” Trixie said. “I didn’t mean it, Sharon. I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” Alaska said. She held Sharon’s chin. “I saw.”

Trixie was out of order. Way fucking out of order. Sharon was glad she had hit her, glad she had made her cry, glad Trixie was sobbing into Katya’s arms, because she had made her feel like utter shit. Worse than shit. She had said things Sharon had never in her life thought she’d have to hear, and she was fucking furious because…

… Because, Trixie had been right. About all of it.

The dark freaked Sharon out so she turned the hall light on before bed and claimed it was on behalf of Aquaria. Whenever Pearl brought Honey into work with her, Sharon would tell her it was unprofessional, and then coax the dog into her office with pieces of cheese until she curled up by her feet, then pretend to be annoyed about it. Farrah had told Shangela that her mom had had to leave her night job because of her bad chest, Sharon had overheard and began working the books enough to help cover Farrah’s costs for her travel to work and some school supplies. Aquaria’s outbursts weren’t common but they were enough to make Sharon cry the whole time the kid was in a time out.

And Sharon felt like a terrible mother. Almost all the time. And she lay awake at night, listening to the playlists of Celtic music Jinkx had made almost twelve years ago to play for her while she’d been in labour, and thought about how she had been so selfish the entire time that that little girl had been growing inside of her.

Trixie knew. She knew because she knew Sharon. Trixie knew Sharon’s deepest fears. Knew she prayed to something she had no belief in to keep her daughter from being such a fuck up like herself. God, Sharon was such a fuck up. Such a piece of shit that her own parents had left her all on her own. Aquaria deserved better. They all deserved better than Sharon. Aquaria, Katya, Trixie, fuck, Alaska.

Alaska.

“I love you.”

Alaska’s brows twitched. “What? Sharon, I-,”

“I love you.” Sharon said again. She grabbed Alaska’s hand. The room was quiet. Trixie had stopped crying. “I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you.”

“Sharon…” Alaska breathed.

“Wait no.” She held up a hand. “No, I haven’t. That’s a lie. No.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I met you.” Sharon said. Her jacket was too hot on her neck. She moved her head irritably. “And you annoyed me, and then I kind of liked you, and then I was your friend. We were friends.”

“Yeah.” Alaska said. Her expression was baffled. “We are friends.”

“Right.” She squeezed her hand. “But I don’t want that, Lask.”

“What?” Alaska stared at her. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say to me, Sharon.”

“I’m scared of the dark.”

Alaska’s expression didn’t change.

“And I love dogs.” Sharon kept going. “And I cry all the fucking time when I’m on my own because I’m terrified I’m failing my daughter.”

“You’re not failing her, you’re-,”

“And you’re a cunt, Alaska.” Sharon laughed. She shook her head and looked over at Trixie. Her cheek was red, and she was curled into Katya’s arms, but the two of them were gawking at Sharon with matching expressions of disbelief. “Alaska is a straight up cunt.” Sharon laughed at them. She turned back to Alaska. “I love you, I love you, I’m in love with you and I need you to know because, fuck, Alaska, Trixie is my alarm clock!”

Alaska blinked. “Are you declaring your love for me, or having some kind of psychotic breakdown?”

Sharon grinned. “Why not both?”

“Why not both?” Alaska chuckled. “It’s never simple, is it?”

“I think things are usually simpler than we make them out to be.”

“Okay.” Alaska said. “You’re in love with me.”

“I am.”

“Good. That’s good.”

…………………………………………….

When Aquaria had asked Trixie why she had a bruise under her eye, Katya had interrupted and told her that Trixie had been hit by a blind pigeon while walking in the park. Aquaria hadn’t believed her, but she had laughed and didn’t ask again for an hour.

When she asked what ‘really happened’, Trixie had hugged her and told her it was an accident, and Aquaria shouldn’t worry about her. Aquaria had held Trixie’s hand under the table of the restaurant as they ate dessert.

The five of them walked back to Sharon��s house together. Aquaria had been quiet, stealing glances at Trixie’s eye where the bruise was a few days old and mostly covered with a thick layer of concealer.

In their living room, Sharon and Alaska sat side by side on the floor, holding hands and drinking wine. Katya and Trixie sat on the couch, laughing, and eating cheese and olives even though dinner at the restaurant had been less than an hour before. Aquaria had set up camp next to the coffee table and coloured patterns on stolen restaurant napkins to make dresses for her Barbies.

“If someone’s bullying you, you’re supposed to tell a grown up.” She said to Trixie. “But who do grown ups tell if they’re being bullied?”

The room went quiet, laugher died down. Sharon and Trixie shared a look and Sharon moved to sit by Aquaria. She took the marker from her and held Aquaria’s hands.

“I did something bad the other day.” Sharon told her. “Something I regret doing, and something I need you to know that I never want you to do.”

Aquaria’s eyes hadn’t changed since that kindergarten photograph. They were huge and trusting and Sharon couldn’t believe that she was allowed to be this kid’s mother. She was allowed to care for, to teach, this fantastic human.

“What did you do, Mom?”

“I slapped Trixie.” Sharon said. “That’s how she got her bruise.”

Aquaria looked at Trixie. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” Trixie said. “Not anymore.”

Aquaria frowned. “I feel like you’re lying to me.”

“I’m not.” Trixie said. “I promise. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Your eye or your feelings?”

Trixie smiled. “Both.” She nodded to Sharon. “I deserved it.”

“Why?”

“Because I said some nasty things to her.” Trixie said. She moved to kneel by Sharon.

“Mean things?” Aquaria asked. “Or really mean things?”

“Really really mean things.” Trixie said. “I was frustrated, and angry and I should never have said them.” She looked at Sharon. “And your mom got mad at me, and…” She trailed off.

“I hit her, Aquaria, and I’m so sorry.” She kissed her hands. “I’m so sorry, kiddo.”

“Me, too.” Trixie said. “I’m sorry.”

Aquaria smiled, then. A small smile. “I’m not mad at you. Either of you.” She frowned. “But I don’t understand why you’re saying sorry to me and not each other.”

“They’ve said sorry.” Katya interjected from the couch. “At length. There were lots of tears and lots of hugging and then someone may have thrown up.”

“It was Katya.” Trixie said, and looked at her girlfriend. “Katya was the one who threw up.”

“I ate an old taco.”

Aquaria nodded, understandingly. “But you’re okay, now?”

“Yeah.” Katya sighed. “There was some severe toilet usage, but after a day or so-,”

“I meant, my mom and Trixie.” Aquaria said.

Alaska snickered behind them.

“Oh.”

The kid threw herself at Sharon, nearly knocking her over. “You guys aren’t allowed to fight.” She said into Sharon’s neck. “Not for real. Not like that.”

Sharon kissed her ear. “We won’t. I promise you, Baby. We got all of that out.”

“Yeah.” Trixie put a hand on Aquaria’s back. “It’s all resolved. It’s all over.”

“The squad isn’t allowed to fight.” Aquaria said, sitting back. She looked over Sharon’s shoulder at Alaska. “That’s you, too, Alaska.”

“I’m the squad?” Alaska grinned.

“Of course.” Aquaria smiled. “We’re squad goals.”

Sharon groaned. “Don’t say that, kiddo. Who taught you that?”

Katya looked guilty. “Squad goals!” She began doing jazz hands. “Come on. We’re squad goals.”

Aquaria climbed on top of the coffee table, almost falling as she slipped on one of her napkins. Katya reached out to steady her. “Squad goals.” Aquaria shouted.

“No.” Sharon said. She could feel her cheeks quivering as she tried not to smile, and felt Alaska come up behind her and wrap her arms around her middle, resting her head on her shoulder. “No.” She said again with less heart. “We’re not saying ‘squad goals’. We are not a squad.”

“We’re totally a squad.” Trixie said.

“One hundred per cent a squad.” Alaska agreed next to her ear.

Sharon sighed. She kissed Alaska’s cheek. Aquaria squealed as Katya lifted her from the table and spun her around. Trixie joined them, laughing.

“It’s a damn good job I love all of you so much.” Sharon said to herself.

Alaska kissed the corner of her mouth. “You love us?”

“I suppose, I do.” She said.

“Good.” Alaska said quietly. “Because we love you, too.”

“Yeah?”

Alaska kissed her. Aquaria ‘oo-ooh’ed.

“I love you, Shaz.”

“I love you, cunt.” She kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her. “I love that I can do that.”

Alaska smoothed a thumb over her cheek. “Straight up cunt.” She whispered.

Sharon smiled. “Squad goals.”

“Honey, come on! Jump through the hoop.”

“Pearl she’s not going to do it.”

“You can do it, puppy! Through the hoop. Come on!”

“Pearl, stop. She’s not going to jump through the damn hoop.”

“Be quiet, Violet. She’s almost there.”

“No, she’s not.”

“Through the hoop, Honey. Look, like this.”

“Don’t you dare jump through the hoop, Pearl.”

“She just needs to see how to do it.”

“Don’t, Pearl.”

“Like this, Honey.”

“Pearl, you’re going to fall- Oh my God.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m leaving you.”

“Vi, come back! I’m bleeding. Ouch…. you still won’t jump through the hoop?”

‘Woof.’

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