Chapter Text
Mal flopped backwards onto her bed and sighed with happiness. "Kate…I think I might be in love."
Yeah. I figured as much. She had been over the moon the whole way home, too. And the whole time getting ready for bed. Her first date with Grace ended in the best possible way: too soon, and on a high note. Both of them were left wanting more.
I hopped up next to her. "She sure is something, isn't she?" I remarked.
"She's so brave and smart and kind and beautiful," Mal gushed, clutching a Bulbasaur plushie to her breast. "And that kiss, I mean, wow!"
"Agreed. That was a kiss. Well done."
She bolted upright. "Oh, no! I didn't even think about…I'm sorry, Kate! I must have been sending you all kinds of emotions that you never asked for!"
"It's fine, it's fine," I reassured her. "I was the one who helped set the two of you up in the first place, remember? And if she's such a good kisser that even I feel it—which she is, by the way—I certainly wouldn't begrudge you that, no sirree."
"She is a damn good kisser," Mal agreed.
"And I bet being 15 feet off the ground really elevates the experience!" I added.
She laughed and threw a Sobble plushie at me. I dodged, of course.
"You sure you're okay, though?" she said.
I curled up next to her. "I've told you before that I'm asexual. I'm not really interested in sex or romance. But I'm not repulsed by them either. It's…" I paused, trying to find the right words. "It's…unusual, for me, experiencing secondhand attraction, because it's just…so foreign, you know? It's something I don't normally feel for myself, and on the rare occasions I do, it's never at that kind of strength. So it's strange, to me. But it's not a bad strange. It's somewhere on the scale of neutral to mildly pleasant. And it helps that my mind is able to sort out whose emotions are whose. So…no, it doesn't bother me to share your emotions, even in this."
I paused again. "Unless it bothers you to know that I'm sharing your emotions."
"No…thinking about it, I, uh…it just seems like what's supposed to happen?" She thought for a moment. "I mean, when you get down to it, it's…I mean, the two of us, we're not just linked, we're intertwined, aren't we? We're not like two objects tied together with a rope, we're…we're the rope. Multiple cords, woven so tightly together that they act as one gestalt entity. Like—well, like this Bulbasaur!" She held up her Bulbasaur plushie. "Plant and animal, sharing one soul. Wizard and familiar. That's who we are."
"Except not a plant."
"Right. In the words of Paul McCartney, I am you as you are me as I am we as we are all together. Or was that one John Lennon? Either way, uh…um. Uh. Sorry, I think this line of thought made more sense in my head."
"It's okay. I'm also in your head, so I think I get what you're trying to say."
"Oh. Well! There you have it." She paused. "What am I trying to say?"
"You're trying to say 'Lyra and Pantalaimon,' but you want to frame it in a way that doesn't place me in the more subordinate role." I had been the first one to bring up that comparison the other night, but I was sure she'd thought of it too, and that it was still coloring her thinking now. With our souls bound together, and me in the form of a cat, it wasn't a big leap to get to the bond between humans and daemons in Pullman's opus, which effectively paired them as one gestalt entity in two bodies.
In the books, a daemon is more like a physical incarnation of a human's soul in animal form, and the human is generally represented as the dominant one in the relationship. And that's a pretty typical example of how familiars are represented in fiction overall: helpers, sidekicks, assistants, plucky comic relief, etc. It was a natural place to go; I wasn't offended by it.
"Oh! Well, fuck." She considered it, and sighed. "Yeah, you're right, that is a good summary of where my mind was trying to go. But I really do want to move past that framing to something a little more balanced! I can't just think of you as an extension of myself. Like you said, it places you in a subordinate role, and that undermines your agency in our relationship, you know?"
"Oh, you're absolutely right about that, of course! I just wanted to make sure you knew that I understand and appreciate that internal struggle."
"Thanks."
Some time passed in quiet contemplation as we lay there, touching.
"Hang on a minute," she suddenly said. "You're doing it too, aren't you? You're starting to see yourself as an extension of me! I'm pretty sure that's what I'm sensing!"
Wait. Shit. Was that true?
I thought about it.
Yeah. No. Yeah. It felt like it was at least 70% true. Dammit.
"Shit. You might be right." My tail twitched, and I started pacing across the bed. "It's my naturally easygoing nature, isn't it? Always eager to please, that's me, going along with whatever makes other people happy. Ugh. Ugh!"
Mal crossed her arms. "Well, we better nip that in the bud, because if your sense of individuality ends up accidentally subsumed by mine, I'll be very cross with both of our future selves."
The dry bathos of that statement cut through my frustration with myself and made me chuckle. I sat back down. "But us being a Bulbasaur together is fine, huh?"
"That's different," she said matter-of-factly. "That's balanced. It's okay if it's balanced."
Okay. Problem-solving mode. "So how do we make sure we're balanced, then? Any ideas?"
"Uh…brainstorming…hmm."
She pushed herself up to a sitting position, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, and I scooched up onto her lap. It was practically an automatic reflex for me now. Naturally, she started stroking my fur—which was practically an automatic reflex for her.
"Well, in the worst case scenario, severing our bond would—"
"Nope," I said. "No thanks. Next idea?"
"We could ask Ms. Bellman if she knows any therapists who work with wizards? Maybe with a little bit of professional help…"
I sighed. "Okay, let's, uh…let's call that one a 'maybe.' What about magic? Is there a spell in any of your books that can help with dependency issues?"
"Not for wizards, I'm pretty sure, but there might be a bard spell?"
"So we could ask Marco if he has anything like that."
"Oh, I think I've got an easy fix!" she said excitedly.
"I do like easy fixes! Lay it on me!"
"Okay, so, the past few days there's been a lot of me dragging you around places, right? You've followed me to school, helped me copy new spells, hung out with my friends, you even rode shotgun on my date with Grace. But those are all very Mallory activities. What if we just…switched gears, and had you drag me around for a while? Spend time on something just for you, and let me follow your lead?"
I nodded slowly. That was a good idea. The logic behind it made sense. "That could work," I said. "Did you have any activities in mind?"
Mal rolled her eyes. "Well, this whole exercise depends on you deciding what to do, so…no. I think that would defeat the purpose."
"Ah. Right. Um." The gears turned in my head, and… "I'm drawing a blank. Sorry."
"No worries, I'm sure you'll think of something." Mal sighed. "And if you don't…well, tomorrow morning we should have a chance to chat with Ms. Bellman again. We'll get her advice."
"We have her email. We could contact her now," I pointed out.
Technically, all the faculty at the school had publicly available .edu emails in an online directory, but Sophia gave us her personal email for contacting her about "errantry business," which she preferred to keep separate from her day job where possible.
"Yes, ma'am! I'll do it immediately, ma'am!" Mal saluted.
I stared. "Um. What is that? What are you doing?"
"Putting you in charge, ma'am!" She saluted again.
"Okay, tone it down a little." I sighed. "At ease."
She relaxed, failing to suppress a giggle. "Sorry! But, uh, yeah, I'm making you unofficially the boss of me, as of now. That's carte blanche to order me around. Within reason."
"You don't think that might be overcorrecting at all?"
"Eh." Mal shrugged. "It's not a big deal. When do I ever say no to you, anyway? Just call it a temporary experiment, if you like."
I gave her a skeptical look, and then sighed again. I actually couldn't think of a time when she had ever denied one of my requests. She'd been deferring to me ever since that first morning.
"Okay. We'll split up to cover more ground," I said. "You go write that email. I'll go play with my scratching post. Aaand break!"