#like the whole first paragraph could be in my autobiography if i changed the counselor to a foreman

[pongpalace]

too complicated for simple labels (but they sure do help)

So @ericfuckingbittle​ made these incredible aro!March icons and @abominableobriens​ mentioned something about aro!March in a qpp with Ransom while he’s still dating Holster in their tags and so I projected all my own grey-aro feelings onto March because I’m really not sure there can ever be enough fic about romantic identities and non-romantic relationships.

March has never understood the big deal about crushes.

She’s never had one if she’s being completely honest with herself, always staying quiet when her friends started talking about whose hand they accidentally brushed and if maybe that meant they should ask them to the school dance. There was that one memorable time in the summer before Samwell when March worked at an outdoor summer camp and got tired of staying quiet while her best friend wouldn’t shut up about how much she liked her new boyfriend, how great he was, how Annie still got butterflies when he held her hand, so March said she had a crush on one of the older counsellors. He looked much better when he kept his avatars on and his mouth shut, but his tattoos were pretty cool and with the long days she worked with him, she really didn’t have the time or energy to crush on anyone else and she wanted to try having a crush anyways.

March scraped the crush after the third time she found herself talking about his calves and his ass in the ugly basketball shorts he always wore when Annie and Félix asked her about her crush during one of their biweekly “we’re-overworking-ourselves-now-to-have-money-in-the-school-year-so-treat-yoself” nights. Annie kept talking about the flowers Greg had sent to her desk job, and Félix was going on and on about the eye contact he’d make with a new barista at his favourite coffee shop and March realizes that she never actually wants to talk to her “crush” beyond planning and organizing the activities so the next time it comes up she tells them that she’s gotten over him and that’s the end of March's crush.

♠ ♠ ♠

March goes to a Samwell Pride Society meeting with April at the beginning of the second semester of their frog year. April’s been a part of the Pride Society on campus since they started; she came to Samwell knowing she liked girls way more than she liked guys (“Anything is more than zero,” she’d say with a laugh when the topic of her sexuality came up) and was somehow able to balance being an active member of the club with their volleyball schedule. If she wasn’t at the team house or with March, it was usually a safe bet that April was in the Pride office, tucked away the corner of the Student Union building with the best view of the parking lot. April made sure everyone on the volleyball team knew that they always had an open invitation to go with her to the meetings every week, but because March’s Intro to Geography course in first semester was at the same time, it takes a semester to accept April’s invitation.

The Pride office is exactly what March pictured when she thought of a place for Pride: bowl of condoms and dental dams on the desk; a shelf on the bookshelf stuffed full of pamphlets on how to have safe sex with all genders; boxes of sex toys piled up under a sign that says BINGO PRIZES DO NOT TOUCH (Liam) ; and a giant rainbow flag pinned up on the wall.

“Guys, March; March, guys,” April says, waving a hand at the two guys on the couch before jumping up onto the desk to commandeer the mouse from the gorgeous dark haired girl at the computer.

“Uh, hi guys,” March says to the room at large, moving her arm in a half aborted wave and wishing that April was better at introductions. One of the guys on the couch waves back, cheeks dimpling and nose scrunched like he’s trying not to laugh at her. The other guy pinches him in the thigh and readjusts so they sit closer together, and March takes the invitation to go sit on the couch with them.

“I’m Mason,” the pincher says. He points over his shoulder to the guy whose lap he’s practically sitting in now. “This is Eli. That’s Isabella.” Mason almost knocks Eli in the teeth when he jerks his head back at the girl behind the desk. She looks up from the computer and offers March a warm smile. March finds herself staring as Isabella is drawn back in whatever April is doing on the computer. She shakes herself out of it when more people come into the office and Mason introduces them to March in between bemoaning the updated reading list his advisor has given him for his thesis.

Isabella starts the meeting when most horizontal surfaces have someone sitting on them by acknowledging the land they’re meeting on belongs to the Wampanoag people and thanking them and the Ones who came before them. Beyond that, March loses track of the meeting as they hash out housekeeping details for the upcoming fundraiser. Her eye gets caught on a poster with the same rainbow flag as the one on the wall at the top and a colourful assortment of other pride flags and their meaning underneath.

There’s apparently nothing else on the agenda other than the fundraising problem because as it gets solved, people start leaving. March stands when Mason and Eli stand, leaving with a fist bump and a salute, but April is still at the computer talking with someone so March continues to stare at the poster. She’s stuck trying to work out what aromantic means, when someone clears their throat. She jumps to see Isabella beside her.

“Oh sorry,” Isabella says, tucking a strand of hair behind her left ear from where it’s escaped her braid. “I just wanted to ask if you enjoyed the meeting.” Her smile is even better up close.

“I did, yeah,” March replies. She didn’t hear a word past the greeting, but she thinks she’s learned most of the identities that make up the LGBTQA+ acronym and their accompanying flags, plus some extras that she didn’t even know existed.

“Kinda overwhelming, isn’t it?” Isabella asks. She jerks her chin towards the poster, having seemingly followed where March’s gaze found the green-white-grey-black flag of aromanticism again.

“There’s so many labels,” March says.

Isabella laughs softly. “They’re are good for people who want them. Especially when you’re usually marginalized by the mainstream, it’s nice to have something to claim as yours, y'know?”

March nods absently, not sure she can really relate. Her experience isn’t much to write home about, but she does know that she likes doing things with men and women. No one has ever made her feel bad about either so she never really thought to give herself a label. Bisexual probably fits if she needs one but doesn’t know enough to decisively choose.

“What’s 'aromantic' mean?” March asks suddenly, stuck on the different ending.

“Do you understand what asexuality is?” Isabella asks. March hesitates before she nods, Félix was pretty vague on the details when he told her about himself, so Isabella explains anyways.

“So simply put, asexuality is the absence of sexual attraction right? Aro is basically the same except it’s the absence of romantic attraction.”

“Romantic attraction?” March hasn’t ever heard the two words put together like that.

“Uh, the part of you that wants to like um, date someone. Crushes and stuff.” Isabella gives March a moment to consider that before speaking again. “So you gonna come back to another meeting?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Isabella’s responding smile is dazzling.

After her second Pride meeting, March goes back to the apartment Isabella shares with two other poli-sci majors. They’re almost caught bare-assed on the couch but Isabella was smart enough to lock the deadbolt when they came in so March is able to grab their clothes and run as directed to the Isabella’s room (down the hall, second door on the right) while Isabella wraps herself in a throw blanket to let in her disgruntled roommate. The next time March goes to Isabella’s apartment, the same roommate, March now knows her name is Zoey, pointedly turns up her music when she sees March at the door. Isabella says she likes the feel of March’s blush under her tongue when they’re behind closed doors which only causes the blush to go further; a win for both of them really.

♠ ♠ ♠

April catches March on her way over Isabella’s after practice three months after March’s first Pride meeting.

“Off to Isabella’s?” April asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. The effect is ruined by the bruise she’s got across her cheekbone from a spike from the game before last. They won the set off the block so she wears the bruise proudly.

“Don’t wait up,” March replies, wrapping her wet hair into a bun so it’ll stay out of her face.

“Oh damn, it’s getting serious then?” April says.

“No?” March pauses in shrugging on her track jacket.

“Have you DTR?”

“What?”

“Defined the relationship.”

“Why?” March wrinkles her nose. She isn’t sure what to the make of the look April sends her.

“Aren’t you guys like, together?”

“We’re just friends,” March replies slowly, stupidly feeling like it’s the wrong answer even though she knows it isn’t. Her and Isabella aren’t so cliche that they don’t talk when they have sex, or before or after, but the topic of relationships or romance hasn’t ever come up since Isabell’s explanation of aromanticism.

“Oh.” April’s silence feels loaded, but March waits her out with furrowed brows. “You might want to make sure you’re on the same page,” April finally says. March’s frown deepens but she nods and slips her feet into her shoes and leaves the changeroom. She frowns for the entire walk to Isabella’s.

Zoey opens the door when March knocks.

“She’s in her room,” she sighs, rolling her eyes but stepping back to let March in. She goes back to the kitchen table and makes eye contact with March while she puts her headphones back. March can just barely hear a heavy bass coming from them that gets louder as March crosses the kitchen to the hall. She knocks softly on the doorframe, letting herself in when Isabella calls, “come in!”

Isabella, sitting on her bed and dressed only in a sports bra and pajama shorts, smiles when she sees March. “Hey babe, whatsup?”

The epithet makes March’s stomach clench unpleasantly even though Isabella’s called her that before. April also called her babe, but she calls everyone babe and now that March thinks about it, she’s never heard Isabella call anyone else babe.

“Can we talk?” March says instead of hello. She winces at the rudeness and quickly backtracks. “I mean, hey, I’m good. Can we talk?”

Isabella’s smile dims slightly and she stretches to grab the hoodie hangie beside her bed. “Sure.” She pulls it on and doesn’t make room on the bed for March to sit but that’s okay; she wouldn’t sit anyways.

March takes a deep breath. “Are we dating?”

Isabella’s smile is completely gone. “I’m gonna say no now, but know my answer’s changed in the last 2 minutes,” she says carefully.

“I’m aromantic.” March hasn’t said the words out loud before, but the more she thought about it after learning the word, the more the label settled in her bones. Saying it out loud lifts something from her shoulders and she can breathe deeper. March understood now what Isabella had originally meant by the labels being good for people; she just forgot that other people might find knowing your labels is helpful.

Isabella’s expression softens. “Oh.”

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” March says. “I just uh, kinda thought it was the same for you?” Retrospectively she realizes how naive that is. She forces herself to look up from floor that she made the confession to and sees hurt flash across Isabella’s face. “It wasn’t just sex!” March blurts, stupidly realizing too late how that might’ve sounded. “I really do care about you. I just don’t have uh, feelings for you. And I don’t think I ever will.”

“I know what aromanticism is,” Isabella says softly. She’s looking down at the bed, idly picking at a loose thread.

“I’m sorry,” March says again.

“S’not your fault,” Isabella replies. “Not really.” She quiet for a beat. March watches her jaw work before she finds the words she needs. “I really care about you too. But... we can’t keep doing this.” She motions between them.

March nods. “I’m really sorry.” It comes out as a little more than a whisper. She meant what she said about really caring for Isabella and will really miss her as a friend.

She listened and laughed loudly at March’s jokes even when March laughed through the punchline. They had different enough movie tastes that netflixing and chilling sometimes turned out to just be netflixing and honestly, March will miss having someone to hang out with outside of her teammates.

Isabella must hear something in March’s voice because she gets up off the bed and pulls March down for a hug. “We’ll still be friends,” she says into March’s collarbone. “I just need some time to get over this.”

“‘Kay,” March says, mostly into Isabella’s bun. Isabella runs a hand up March’s spine once, twice, three times, before giving March a final squeeze and stepping back, well out of March’s space.

“I’ll see you around,” she says, smiling for the first time since it was wiped off.

“Not if I see you first.” It’s cheesy but it makes Isabella’s smile turn more sincere when March says it. She manages a real smile back too.

She leaves Isabella’s room, ignoring the questioning look from Zoey and letting herself out of the apartment. The walk back to her dorm is darker than normal, even though it’s not nearly as late it usually is when she makes the walk. She knows that she did the right thing but she’s still sad about having to do it.

If this what not getting crushes feels like, she can’t imagine actual romantic feelings being much fun.

♠ ♠ ♠

March meets Justin at a Student Athlete Leadership Seminar at the beginning of sophomore year. His name tag says Justin but he introduces himself as Ransom when they’re partnered together for the trust obstacle course. March eyes him skeptically at the discrepancy but he easily leads her around the course when it’s her turn to be blindfolded even after she accidentally makes him stub his toe. He’s really good at all of the other teamwork exercises disguised as games too. The woman running the morning session makes sure to compliment their teamwork, and March can admit the high five they exchange is pretty epic.

They sit together during lunch where March learns that “Ransom” is his hockey nickname because, “Bro, Ransom just rolls nicely off the tongue, y’know?” He spends the rest of the break trying to come up with a nickname for her and is weirdly frustrated when nothing sticks.

“What’s your last name?”

“Kobierzyńska.”

“Bless you.”

“That’s rude.”

“Right, sorry.” Justin sounds surprisingly sincere. “I can’t make a nickname outta something I can’t pronounce.” He taps at his bottom lip. “You’ll get one though, don’t worry,” he promises as they take their seats back in the auditorium for the lecture portion of the seminar.

“I’m really not that worried,” March tells him. The wounded noise he makes causes several people to whip around in their seats to shush him, causing March to stuff her fist in her mouth to stifle her laughter.

The lecture actually starts, and Justin is focused, though he mumbles to himself when the lecturer makes points he doesn’t agree with. March is inclined to second Justin's mumbles; the frat boy wannabe 40-year-old giving the lecture seems to have a lot of opinions about women’s sports in college for someone whose career never brought him close to actual women athletes.

“Well that was a waste of an afternoon,” Justin says when they’re allowed to leave.

“It was a full day thing,” March points out, squinting into the setting sun as they leave the building. They walk in the same direction without talking about it.

“Yeah, but the morning was okay. We kicked ass at the games!”

“They weren’t games. And it wasn’t a competition.”

Justin scoffs. “They were. Games rolled up as ‘trust exercises’-” he actually makes the quotation marks, two at the beginning with his left hand and two at the end with his right. “-are still games no matter how they’re packaged to make it seem like we were learning something.”

“Well I don’t know about you, but I learned a lot in the afternoon,” March sniffs, unable to keep a straight face for long.

“Fuck off.” Justin's grinning when he shoves March’s shoulder. She laughs brightly as she bounces off and then on the sidewalk.

They get dinner together at the dining hall, and Justin continues his pursuit of a nickname for March.

“Greater men than you have tried,” March tells him. “I’m unnicknameable.”

“Unnicknameable March?” Justin tries.

“‘S an oxymoron.”

“That’s what makes it funny.”

“No.”

When Justin has to run off to a late practice, he asks for her number just in case he thinks of anymore nicknames. March laughs at the excuse but happily gives him her number. Almost immediately Justin starts their message thread when he texts her about the unfairness of preseason practice with a captain who doesn’t believe in excuses. March has little sympathy for him, Becka has started the year with her sights set on a winning title and hasn't relented yet but comparing captain stories between sports is fun.

Volleyball season is in full swing so March doesn’t get to as many Pride meetings as she did last year. When she make it to events though, Isabella always has a smile for her, though it’s not quite the same smile as before. March will take it though; she missed her over the summer but understood there were boundaries she needed to respect.

April becomes the second person to know March that is aromantic during a tournament roadie and neither can sleep. March speaks into the darkness of their hotel room and April is quiet for so long that March starts to think their shared nervous silence hasn't actually been all that shared after all. April eventually replies and is exactly as supportive a best friend needs to be, though it takes a couple tries for her to completely understand the term.

“But you’ve had sex.”

“Yeah.”

“With Isabella.”

“Yeah. And other people.”

“And did you like her?”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same thing.”

“...start from the beginning again.”

“Okay, like, I liked--like Isabella. I like talking with her, and watching movies with her, and kissing and having sex but none of the feelings I have for her are romantic.”

“But that’s what Kara and I do and we’re very romantic.”

“Yeah but none of that is exclusively romantic.”

“Ohhhhhhhh."

The win the tournament that weekend.

♠ ♠ ♠

Through their excessive texting and snapping once they find each other on all social medias, March and Justin discover that they’re taking the same anatomy class, though in different sections. Weekly study dates become a thing that turn into twice weekly and then three times weekly right before midterms. Midterms finish and November hits and the hockey season is in full swing, completely overlapping the volleyball season and there’s a weird week or so where Snapchat is the only way they see each. After they have a weekend long sleepover to catch up, it’s volleyball finals and Justin brings half the hockey team to cheer when Samwell ends the season in first place. Then it’s Christmas and the new semester and Justin and March sit next to each other in the second half of their anatomy class. Their matching notebooks were gag Christmas gifts from Holster that they unironically use with the fancy pens they gifted each other.

Anatomy gets cancelled in the first week of February and because of their other class workloads, March doesn’t see Justin in person for a couple days. April tells March that she’ll never miss Justin because when he’s not there, March doesn’t shut up about him.

“Sounds like someone’s got a crush,” Nora says from across the cool down circle as March is telling April and Becka about the plans she had with Justin, froyo, and a movie that night.

March frowns at the word crush, her stomach swooping down.

“Not everything has to be about romance,” April tells Nora.

“Thanks A,” March mumbles, wondering if she’s been wrong in assuming a crush had nothing to do with her and Justin’s relationship.

Justin is hands down one of her best friends. They’re in contact constantly and he’s one of the first people March wants to talk to when she gets any sort of news. He knows her order at Annie’s and Denny’s--and she makes a lot of substitutions to the grand slam breakfast. He comes to her dorm if they both need a break from their respective teammates, to watch episodes of How It’s Made with her. They alternate who gets to be the little spoon depending on who has more deadlines that week.

March values her friendships with Félix and Annie and April and most of the volleyball team but she’s pretty sure none of them get her on a level like Justin is able to- he picks around the sun chips when they share a bag of Munchies just because he knows those are her favourite, while simultaneously handing her the orange skittles because he hates them and she doesn’t. And March has met the guys on the hockey team and no offence but they either have no emotions or too many emotions. She thinks Justin finds some relief from both extremes when they hang out together, but now she's wondering if maybe there's been another reason they spend as much time as they can together.

“I gotta go,” March says, getting up out of the butterfly stretch she’d been thinking in. April has wide eyes and kicks at Becka when she tries to stop March.

In the change room, March barely stops to pull sweats over her spandex. She doesn’t zip up her jacket over her crewneck sweater until she’s hit by a blast of February wind and even then she tries to do it up while she walks but just ends up fighting with the zipper for the entire walk to the Haus. She knocks on the door as she’s opening in, waving to Bitty and Jack in the kitchen, saluting Holster and Shitty on the green couch before taking the stairs to the attic two at a time, almost 90% sure that’s where Justin will be based on her familiarity of his schedule. He jumps at his desk when she practically kicks open the door.

“Jesus H. Christ you scared me,” he says, leaning the chair back on two legs like he does when he's ready to take a break from his books but hasn't let himself yet. “I thought I was supposed to come to yours?” His smile is confused but he doesn't look made about the interruption.

March crosses the room and knocks the chair back to four legs with a foot on the rung before she speaks. “Are we dating?” she asks. A wave of deja vu hits her, but Justin’s cheeks colour differently than Isabella’s did.

“Uh, no.” Justin draws the last syllable out while looking guiltily over at the bunk beds him and Holster share.

All the muddled up feelings that powered March’s walk in the cold over disappear and she can breath again knowing that she hasn’t accidentally hurt a friendship by not having romantic feelings again. She’s left with such a sense of relief that it drains her and it’s suddenly an effort to stay standing so she sinks onto the floor.

“Oh thank god.” She leans her head back against the desk, ignoring how uncomfortably her pony tail pushes into her head. The chair scrapes back as Justin joins her on the floor, but he sits, facing March. He grabs March’s ankle and rubs his thumb along the skin between her sock and sweat cuff.

“Um?”

“I’m aromantic,” March says and oh, it rolls off the tongue nicely the third time around too. “It’s like asexual except I can be sexually attracted to someone but I don’t understand or have romantic attraction.”

“Okay?” Justin’s thumb stills for a beat before continuing.

“I was talking about our froyo date night at practice-”

“Because it’s awesome.”

“-and Nora said I had a crush on you. And I don’t.” March makes a face, kicking half-heartedly when Justin clutches his chest like she actually offended him. “I mean I would if I could probably. I just... don’t. I love you but I don’t want to date you.”

Justin’s quiet as he processes. His thumb starts up again. “Same. I mean, I love you too but I don’t want to date you either,” he finally says. He inhales. “I’m dating Holster.” Justin blows the breath out of his nose.

March blinks, “Oh, wow. Uh, congrats.” The news manages to be surprising and unsurprising at the same time. Holster and Justin work just as well together as Justin and March.

“Thanks,” Justin blushes. He has a really dopey smile on his face. “It’s like really new- I was gonna tell you tonight actually, but…" He shrugs, trailing off. "I’m really happy.” The admission comes with a small smile that makes March's heart happy.

“I’m glad.” March surges forward and wraps her arms around Justin’s neck. His hugs are probably her favourite bar-none. “Does that mean froyo date nights have to stop?” She’s only half joking.

“Oh no,” Justin is quick to reassure. March can feel him playing with her pony tail. “Holzy knows you’re my other best friend. He’ll just probably want to come cuddle more.”

“Only if I’m the middle spoon.”

Her pony tail tickles her neck when Justin sighs into it it. “Only every second cuddle sesh.” He squeezes her once more before pulling back. March grabs his face when he makes to get up off the floor though, keeping him in place.

“Thank you,” she says seriously.

“Welcome,” he replies. He kisses her forehead before getting up and that’s not something he’s ever done before, but neither of them have ever said "I love you" to the other either.

“Froyo?” Justin holds out a hand. March lets him pull her up and she zips up her jacket properly while he struggles into his. They race down the stairs, almost taking out Jack in the process. Justin shouts a sorry, bro-ing up what little Canadian accent he has from Toronto, and fist bumps Holster on his way out. Holster offers his fist to March too. She bumps, and even does the explosion that the end just to make Justin laugh. Holster insists they try a three way first bump so it’s another 10 minutes before March and Justin are out in the cold, on their way for froyo.

Crushes to March are an abstract concept, kinda like the concept of doing her dishes right after she dirties them. She doesn’t understand crushes or romantic feelings and it’s sitting across from Justin, who’s got a red ring around his mouth from trying to lick the bottom of his container but gamely offered March a bite of his pineapple froyo when he thought she’d like it, that she really feels okay with that.

She doesn’t need a romantic partner when she’s got the friends she does.

#omgcp #omgcp fic #omgcprarepairs #Check Please #March omgcp #Romantic identities #Queer Platonic Partners #Ransom/Holster as a background pairing #in which i project very heavily onto March #like the whole first paragraph could be in my autobiography if i changed the counselor to a foreman #i hope it's clear that they're technically in a qpp at the end but neither have the vocabulary to call it what it is #this also turned more into march learning about herself and her identity because i think that's a really important part #there's hardly anything about romantic identity anywhere #and every time i remember that i have a word to explain why i didn't have crushes to compare with my friends as a kid makes me really happy #it should be noted that the bit about labels being helpful for people is only true for some people #and it's completely okay to not like or want or need labels #anyways i hope someone likes this and maybe it helps someone with their romantic identity and if you ever wanna talk about aromantiscm i got #everyone's back #i writ i write i wrote