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Gigi would like to say she has it all handled, but she won’t because this is absurd in ways she can’t help but laugh at. Here at the Justice Headquarters, here in a kitchen that’s cleaned out of necessity with more complaining being done than work- here, that’s where she finds out that she has a crush on Cecilia. 

Oh, it sounds dumb. It sounds too funny not to laugh at, like a punchline that’s brief. Hilarious! Unreal! 

Cecilia, her expression flat, her bangs smeared with spaghetti. The oven top is a sprinkled mess of sauce and noodles. Gigi herself feels painted in it, an explosion of warm smelling food that has her licking her fingers between giggles. Cecilia, who sighs, reaches up with a washcloth and instead of washing her hair first, reaches over and wipes Gigi’s cheek. 

“Well, that was dinner.” Cecilia says with the note of a woman who expanded every last care for the evening. “Eat up. It’s fresh.”

Gigi can’t stop laughing, “W-We gotta clean it up.”

“There is not we. There was never a ‘we’. I was never here.” Cecilia says. She’s wringing her bangs out with the washcloth, tsking when the orange won’t leave the snowy white of her hair. “You can tell Liz this happened.”

“No, no she won’t know if we clean it.” 

“Gigi, I’m not-”

“We gotta clean it!” Gigi yells, wheezing as she rifles through the drawers. She can’t find an extra washcloth. She settles with a wooden spoon, scraping spaghetti off the counter and nearly falling to the floor from the sheer absurdity of it. 

Cecilia says, “Gigi, that’s not working.”

“I got this.”

“Gigi.”

“I can do this.”

“Gigi, I’m leaving.”

“No!” She yells. “No, you have to help. Ceci, we’re gonna die!” 

“I’m a doll, I can’t die in a way that matters.” Cecilia says aloofly. Despite the complaining, she’s using the cloth to wipe down the oven. Gigi feels like a court jester beside her queen, scratching around with a spoon while Cecilia manages to look regal even while there’s food in her hair. 

“You’ll die and it’ll matter to me.” Gigi claims. 

Cecilia says, “Mm.”

“Is that not enough?”

“I’m gonna need a little more than that.”

“What am I to you?” Gigi laughs helplessly. She holds her messy spoon up. “Do you not see all the good work I’m doing here? How is that not enough?”

“Gigi, you’re making an even bigger mess.”

“No, I’m helping.”

They have to do the dishes too to finish off the catastrophe. Gigi washes while Cecilia dries them off, sighing heavily at their losses. Gigi finds it funny. Feels it in her chest like a bright light that’s too big to ignore. She hands off a washed plate to Cecilia and their fingers brush- hers, calloused and sweaty and Ceci’s, cold and soft. 

“At least it’ll look like we did something.” Cecilia grumbles. “Even if it was a massive waste of time.”

“It was the journey that mattered.”

“Gigi, if we ever have to do this again, I’m deactivating myself.” 

Gigi rants, “I will literally install a battery that never dies and you’ll be awake twenty-four-seven and have to endure it over and over again. It’s gonna be like a movie but it’s horrible.”

Cecilia is giggling, the little huffy kind that falls under her breath. Barely a laugh, but it’s there. Gigi preens at that. Cecilia wasn’t as mad as she says. 

“How will you install it?” Cecilia asks, “Better yet, where? Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“I’ll workshop it.” Gigi says. 

“It’s my body, I say no.”

Gigi is already laughing before she says, “It’s our body.”

Cecilia chops her in the shoulder. Gigi pretends it hurts her, fake crying as she wipes down the sink. Cecilia shakes her head. There’s a pleased curl to her lips, reserved happiness that Gigi enjoys. She doesn’t know if she’s the reason for it- she’d like to think she is. Being the cause of that smile makes her tail wag, makes her toes curl in her shoes, makes her feel like the fuse of a firework threatening to light off. 

It’s her warning flag. The absurdity of it hits her and she laughs. Cecilia thinks she’s laughing at all the ridiculousness they just went through. She’s laughing too. Gigi is losing it, wheezing, over her crush. Really? Oh god, that’s funny. It’s a nice sensation, to feel affection so warm and tightly compact in her chest that it feels like she has no more room to think. Ridiculous, in how she knows how brief this will be. 

She’s tempted to tell Cecilia. It would be even funnier, but she bottles that before it can tumble out of her mouth. She can already see Cecilia’s reaction. A raised eyebrow. The flattest okay Gigi she’ll ever give her. Nothing would change between them. Cecilia is like that- she’s an unchanging river, one flowing direction that doesn’t split from its path. She’s unaffected by change. No is her favorite word. Such a thing is funny, but it’s less funny when Gigi thinks about it more. 

“I need a nap.” Cecilia sighs, brushing past her. The click of her heel's echo loudly in Gigi’s head. “It’s too much work- just too much. Don’t bother me. Tell everyone I went on vacation.”

“Okay, I’ll let everyone know you want company.” Gigi says. 

Cecilia rounds on her and pinches her shoulder. She doesn’t grab skin, just the fold of Gigi’s jacket. It’s more of a harsh tug than an attempt to maim her with her fingers. 

“I mean it.” Cecilia says. “Why don’t you take a nap too for once?”

“Are you inviting me?” Gigi asks. 

Cecilia scoffs, but there’s a tilt to her lips that Gigi feels her whole brain zooming in on, capturing all of her attention until she’s forgotten what she was even asking for. 

“No.” Cecilia says lightly. “I don’t think you’re ready to play in a dollhouse.”

She turns, ballerina quick, and trots from the room. Gigi stares at her bow as she leaves, the ribbon trails the last of her to disappear. Dehydrated. I am dying. Gigi frantically stands on her toes and grabs a cup from the above pantry. She practically overfills the cup before downing it like a woman lost in the desert. 

It’s with this kind of timing that Elizabeth pokes her head into the kitchen. The redhead watches in bemusement as Gigi nearly coughs up a lung into the sink.

“Well, I’m happy to see everyone doing their chores for once.” Elizabeth notes. “Good job, Gigi. Don’t throw up.”

“You’re welcome.” Gigi gasps out. 

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What do normal people do when they have a crush? Gigi thinks of it like a celebrity crush- in a way, Cecilia feels too pretty, too good. Gigi’s hands feel cut up and bruised. When she thinks about holding Cecilia’s hand she shakes her head hard. It just doesn’t seem right, no, Cecilia has much gentler hands. Her taste is not Gigi either, right?

Actually, what is Cecilia’s taste? 

She tries to get an idea from the kind of anime Cecilia enjoys, but she has a fondness for story richness and beauty. There’s romance elements sprinkled into what she likes but nothing Gigi can look at and go, oh that’s easy. Nothing comparable to her. In fact, most of the ones that resemble Gigi fall into the anime that Cecilia actually dislikes. 

We had a good run. Gigi thinks to no one, amused over that.

Maybe, there’s better insight in the books Cecilia reads- but wait, now it’s getting weird. Is it? This crush is just a passing thing. She doesn’t need to poke her nose around for answers. She already knows her answers. It’s no. It’s one hundred percent going to be no. She tries to make her peace with that on her morning jog. She puts on her favorite playlist and tries to empty her head, except it doesn’t work as well as she’d hoped. Every lyric suddenly feels pointed and familiar. If only you’d take me by the hand, the singer in her ear has no idea what they’re doing to her, I’d follow you to any land. 

“I would not do that, by the way.” She says out loud. The sidewalk doesn’t answer her. She continues, “I like it here and I really doubt Ceci wants to move too so this whole song doesn’t fit at all.”

She ends up skipping a few songs, miffed they don’t fit her mood. There’s one that goes we’re living like we’re stuck in the earth, four feet near but miles apart and Gigi slows her run. Thinks, as the lyrics hit her, that it fits. The thought doesn’t linger long before she realizes she’s fallen into a trap of her own making. She was literally making a playlist about her and Cecilia. She huffs, taking out her headphones and finishing her run in silence. 

Cecilia is making tea when she returns. Gigi wouldn't find it odd, but Cecilia had purposefully installed a kitchenette into her room to remove the walking she had to do to get tea from the kitchen. Gigi, panting and feeling like a smelly gross rag, hovers in the doorway. Cecilia turns her head to look at her.

“Oh, welcome back.” Cecilia says. “Anything interesting happen?”

“Would you lead me to a different land if you took my hand?” Gigi asks. 

“Ocean man.” Cecilia blurts. She doesn’t look remotely surprised by the absurdity of their conversation. She turns back to the tea kettle. “Were you listening to that the whole run?”

“Oh god, was it Ocean Man?” Gigi laughs helplessly. She’d tunneled too hard on the lyrics that she completely forgot the song itself. 

“I can’t believe you can exercise to that.”

“It’s fun! What are you doing, anyway? Don’t you have tea in your room?”

“Mm, yes, but sometimes I like stepping outside.” Cecilia says. 

“You don’t have to lie to me. You can just say your kettle broke.”

The automaton turns to her flatly, “Nothing is broken but your brain. Go take a shower, you reek.” 

Gigi sticks her tongue out. She leaves to do just that, listening for anything to call her back for more conversation, but nothing reaches for her. She takes a shower quickly, enticed by the idea of making it back before Cecilia finishes her tea. She scrubs her tail down and sings loudly ocean man!

And distantly, less of a righteous yell and more of an answering call, “Take me by the hand!”

Gigi feels her chest light up. She’s laughing as she washes down her tail, “Lead me to the land that you understand!”

“Ocean man!” Cecilia calls, “I don’t know the rest.”

“I don’t either!” 

“Inside voice!” Elizabeth yells. 

“I’m a big cat!” Raora joins the yelling. It makes Gigi nearly fall over from laughing. 

She towels off her hair when she leaves the bathroom. It’s a brunette nightmare of cream and chocolate, hanging down just around her shoulders in wet strands. She muses her towel through it enough that it becomes a mess. It makes her laugh. She’s fully expecting the kitchen to be empty when she pokes her head into it. 

Cecilia sits at the dining table. There’s a novel open in front of her, her other hand nursing a teacup. She glances Gigi’s way when she enters. 

“Oh my god.” Cecilia’s lips lift up into a helpless grin, “Gigi, your hair is a nest.”

“It’s like that so I can catch baby birds from falling out of their nests.” Gigi proclaims. “That makes me so cool.”

“You look like you got stuck in the washing machine.”

“It could happen.” 

Cecilia beckons to her, “Come here.”

Gigi’s mirth dims, surprised, but locked into place for more then one reason. Cecilia curling her fingers, telling her come here. Her tail wags. She’s glad she’s flushed from the shower still. She feels warm as she approaches Cecilia’s side. The automaton is pulling out a chair for her. 

“Sit.” Cecilia sighs. “Oh, you didn’t even brush it.”

“It’s just going to go up into my pigtails anyway.”

“Gigi.” Cecilia scolds. She’s not pursuing that. When Gigi sits down, she’s twirling her finger at her, “Turn around.”

“Yes ma’am.” Gigi says jokingly, ignoring the way her whole chest swims at that. She knows what Cecilia’s about to do, yet she still feels it like an electric snap down her spine when fingers card into her hair. She sits up straight, her tail curling tight around the legs of her chair. 

Cecilia mutters, “Right, you part it like this, don’t you…”

“I just do whatever.” Gigi says. 

“Of course.”

Gentle hands carding through her hair. Cecilia is absurdly practiced at this, even with the notches of a doll in the joint of her fingers, she doesn’t get hair caught between her fingers. She hums as she works, distracted, focused. Gigi’s knees knock together, her heart a rapid drum against her ribs. 

“Do you have hairbands?” Cecilia asks. 

“Yeah.” Gigi says, voice dry. She’s fumbling them out of her pockets and offering them over her shoulder. She can’t see Cecilia. She feels her grab the hair ties. The hands work differently, instead of evening out strands, she’s parting Gigi’s hair. One side first, not the best without a brush, but it feels special. Something about it feels absurdly nice. It’s definitely not her style. Her pigtails are brushing against her neck with how loose they are. It tickles. She’ll fix it later. 

Right now, she musters out a, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Cecilia says primly. She’s scooting her chair back when she’s done. Gigi takes that opportunity to flee, nearly taking the chair with her with how coiled her tail is around it. She stumbles her way out, unsure if the goosebumps over her skin are from her pigtails or from Cecilia watching her as she leaves. 

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The Justice Headquarters is hidden. It’s connected between two dimensions, never in plain sight, yet right where it needs to be. Gigi knows the layout all the way up to the meeting room, the Lookout. From there, there’s a way to the Cell and also back to the mortal plane. This was all kind of useless information to her unless Elizabeth told her to pay attention to it. 

Recently, she’s found herself pacing. It’s not such a huge deal, she’s naturally full of restless energy. She wanders the halls at night while eating from a bag of cheese. It’s not that crazy. While pacing around, it gives her time to think. It also helps her if she just wants to watch videos on her phone but cannot be bothered to sit still for it. 

Or, in such cases as these, where she can’t stop thinking about Cecilia. 

Well, not that she was putting much effort anyway. If anyone would go through with her shenanigans, it’s usually Cecilia. Raora is a close second, but if Gigi could make a spectrum of gremlin to adult for Justice, Raora would be leaning further ahead on the adult spectrum. For a cat, it’s pretty funny. For Gigi, it leaves her thinking about game nights and what she can bring to the table to entertain Cecilia. Usually, it doesn’t matter much because putting Cecilia through the iron maiden of bad terrible games is hilarious. 

It feels like it kind of matters now. She’d done that before nearly all the time. Cecilia would roll her eyes but she'd go through with it. She’d even have a good time! Sometimes. Not all the time. Maybe rarely. She’d still do it. That’s something that mattered. It could be the most egregiously awful thing to exist and Cecilia would be there watching it with her. 

I could just ask. Simple. Effective. It leads her to Cecilia’s door, standing there indecisively. She knows Cecilia might say no. Actually, there’s a large chance she will. That’s usually not a problem. It’s fine. 

Why does it feel less fine? Gigi frowns over this. This whole crush thing was getting a little less funny as her head spun itself around in circles. Cecilia was a pretty girl, no doubt, it’s a no brainer Gigi ends up crushing on her, pah! It’s supposed to be funny! 

It’s just… not going away. 

It just needs time. Maybe some distance? It’s the reason she even hesitates to begin with. She’s here at Cecilia’s door acting like a brick wall. She wants to hang out, but at the same time, she’s thinking she shouldn’t. 

Man. Gigi frowns at the door. She puts in another round of pacing to try and feel better. Exercise to keep her mind fresh! She doesn’t feel refreshed. She ends up back in front of Cecilia’s door. Staring at it. 

When Cecilia opens it, the automaton pauses, blinking rapidly at her. 

“Gigi?” Cecilia asks. “What the heck are you-”

Oh, she couldn’t miss this kind of opportunity. Completely blank faced, Gigi says, “I threw up.”

Cecilia snorts, “Okay?”

She can’t keep the serious act for long. A smile splits across her face, “Whatchya doin’?”

“I should be asking you that.” Cecilia crosses her arms. “Were you just standing outside my door? Why?”

“I dunno.” Gigi says. “I think I wanted to tell you something but I forgot.”

“That’s a shame.” Cecilia steps out. Gigi moves to give her room. “I was actually thinking about going to the cafe down the street.”

“The Cell doesn’t have a cafe.”

“The other street.” 

Gigi laughs, “Wait, Ceci, were you inviting me?”

“Yes.” Cecilia says primly, offering her a withering look. “Is that bad? Do you not want to?”

“I need coffee.”

“Ack.” Cecilia shakes her head, moving away from her. Gigi trots beside her, upbeat and feeling four times happier then she was staring at a door. “Disgusting.”

“What would you do if I swapped out our drinks?”

“I would hang you by your tail from the roof.”

“Owie, not my tail.”

“Yes.” Cecilia smiles. “Very not good.”

“I can’t believe you hate my tail.”

“I do not hate it-” Cecilia cuts herself off to look at said appendage. The bulk of it likes to drag on the floor when its not curled like a monkey’s tail. “It can be cute.”

The tail perks up. Gigi says, “I think it liked that.”

Cecilia laughs at the ridiculousness of that. It makes Gigi preen, happy to joke and happy it makes her laugh like that. She continues, “If you like it, would you hold it?”

“Is it slimy?”

“Ew, no, who do you take me for?”

“It looks slimy.”

“ You look slimy.”

Cecilia shakes her head, “Well? Are you coming?”

“No.” Gigi blurts, surprising herself at that. Cecilia looks at her strangely. Gigi knows the purpose- she’s imagining it in her head. A walk down the street to the corner street cafe. Quiet, family owned with Cecilia’s favorite booth in the back corner. Not enough leg room for her to bob her knee and feel like she won’t bump Cecilia. Not enough space to pace, to think, to keep burning her energy because if she doesn’t she’s afraid of the tightly wound valve exploding out of her chest. 

Oh, god, what if it explodes? In Ceci’s favorite cafe? 

Gigi says, “I got some things to do.”

“Like stare at my door?”

“I was busy, I had a thing!” Gigi protests. She’s desperate for an excuse and settles with, “Touch my tail.”

Cecilia gives her a look, “No.”

“Touch it. Here.” Gigi grabs the inky mass of it and hoists it up. Cecilia’s laughing at her. She doesn’t accept the offered tail, but she does experiment with a few playful scratches around the eye. It shivers happily. Gigi is getting used to the fullness in her chest, a pillow overstuffed with cotton, warm and fresh out of the dryer. She feels like there’s bubbles in her head lifting her off her feet. 

“Alright, not slimy.” Cecilia says. “Still weird.” 

“Not weird! You’re just jealous you don’t have a third arm.”

Cecilia says dryly, “No. I’m good.”

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Distance should help. It should. It’s not total distance either- Cecilia lives with her, it’s pretty difficult to go out of her way to avoid her. She doesn’t want that either. Not only would it feel lame to avoid a friend within literal feet of her, but it’d feel twice as awkward on actual missions they’re assigned. After all, Gigi is most commonly paired with Cecilia. They’re partners! That matters a whole lot more than her heartthrob. 

The mission they’re on is a cold stakeout. It’s both the literal and figurative sense- it’s an alpine hunting ground and the inmate they’re waiting for signs of is a natural at camouflage. Doesn’t leave a trace behind. Here in the mountains, Cecilia is impervious to the cold. There’s frost over the ground. Snow drips from the pine around them. Gigi keeps her hands deep into her pockets, her breath misting and biting at her face. With her hood up and pulled down low, she’s able to ward off much of the mountain chill. She would have dressed warmer, if her outfit wasn’t specifically belt in mind for her running. Once Cecilia spotted their target she was going to go like a dog off its leash. She could go for hours, cold or not. 

It’s all a matter of waiting until that actually happens, of course, otherwise she’s just standing around with pent up energy and really cold hands. 

“Your circuits not lockin’ up in this weather?” Gigi asks rhetorically. 

“Hm?” Cecilia tilts her head distractedly. Her lance is buried in the snow beside her. She looks out of place in a snow backdrop. Legs exposed to the wind, skirt billowing but she's unflappable as she fixes the guard on the hilt of her lance. 

Gigi huffs, “Must be nice not to feel the cold.”

“Oh, that.” Cecilia snorts. “I’m good, that’s something I can live without.”

“Don’t you feel so envious of my numb, cold fingers?” Gigi wiggles one hand out to shake her hand at her. Cecilia watches her, completely neutral. Gigi doesn’t leave her hand out for long before cocooning back into her pockets. “Agh.”

“No.” Cecilia says. “I’m good. It’s not like I can’t feel the cold either, you know.”

“Oh, so you’ve just been lying?”

“I can tell it's cold.” Cecilia explains. “I don’t necessarily feel it. Does that make sense? Are you understanding?”

“Not really.”

“You’re grumpy.”

“I’m cold and I wanna go home.” Gigi whines. She kicks at the ground, the claws on her shoes digging groves in the dirt. “Can this guy show up already? How long do we gotta wait?”

“He’s expected to pass through within the hour.” Cecilia replies. She’s eyeing Gigi thoughtfully, inquisitive mint in her gaze. “You can just go on a run to warm up.”

“No, I need to conserve my energy.” Gigi mumbles. She won’t mention her other reason for staying. The snow around Cecilia makes her look charming. Winter mint, evergreen, the kind of snow kissed grass that looks like a faded photograph. Beautiful and out of reach. 

Yeah. Girls are nice. 

“Gigi.” Cecilia says, snapping her out of her thoughts. She’s approaching her, abandoning her lance to stoop closer. Gigi blinks as the automaton comes within arms reach. “Can you even see anything from under there?”

“I’m cold, give me a break.”

Playfully, Cecilia tugs it down. Gigi squawks as her vision colors with orange. She claws at it to get it free, but Cecilia’s is keeping it down forcefully. Gigi feels a touch to the top of her head, brief, before Cecilia withdraws. 

“If you’re cold, I can warm you up.” Cecilia says. 

Gigi fixes her hood, scoffing at that, “Okay, I can go cuddle with a rock.”

“Rude. I can generate body heat.”

“Oh wow, body heat.” Gigi drawls, wiggling her eyebrows but her hood is still askew. She thinks she’s making sly eyes at the back of a tree for all the work she’s doing. “Are we going to hug for warmth?”

“No.” Cecilia says flatly. “Give me your hands.” 

“I was joking, don’t hurt me.”

“Gigi, stop messing around.”

Gigi laughs, reluctantly squirming her arms out of her pockets. She presents them as if she’s about to be handcuffed. Sticking to the silly-man script helps her in these quiet moments, when Cecilia’s eyes train down to her hands, her gaze half lidded, her eyelashes falling over green in the prettiest way. The kind of way that Gigi would like to touch.

Her hands are being taken before she can do something stupid. Cecilia’s fingers are skin, an illusion over wooden notches and ball joints. It’s soft, but cold. She folds her palm against Gigi’s. Gigi focuses on her key instead, staring at the mechanism in hopes it’ll hold her attention from the way Cecilia is holding her. 

“Wow.” Cecilia remarks under her breath. “Didn’t think you’d shut up so quickly.”

“I’m waiting for the miracle of warmth.” Gigi blurts, annoyed and embarrassed all at once. “I took my hands out of the nicest, warmest-”

“Quiet down, you big baby.” 

It does get warmer. Cecilia probably wasn’t intending to get her warm through sheer embarrassment, but Gigi’s feeling it over her cheeks and down her neck. The longer Cecilia holds her hands, the worse she feels. I’m ill. She’s giving me every disease. She’s afraid she’s going to cough right in her face. 

Cecilia’s glances up. It’s lethal, through pretty snow bitten eyelashes. A quiet expression, neutral, but gentle.

Gigi blurts out, “Your germs are all over me now.”

“Okay.” Cecilia smiles in exasperation. “It’s an improvement.”

“I’d feel a whole lot more improvement back home. Warm. And home.”

Cecilia shakes her head. She’s smiling as she withdraws. She takes her nice hands with her and Gigi has to grit her teeth hard not to say something stupid. No, come back, I liked looking at your nails. It was warm for a little bit. I could hold it forever. 

“Let’s focus.” Cecilia says. 

“Right.” Gigi mutters, putting her hands back into her pockets. It feels lonelier than before, for some reason. 

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Some evenings, Cecilia plays her violin. 

It’s a melody that cascades through the walls. Gigi listens from her room, drowsy from work. A good chase leaves her muscles sore. She’s feeling it all over and then some as she lays slack across her bed. Like a distant hymn, there’s music. Cecilia doesn’t sing with her violin. 

Gigi does. She doesn’t sing it loud, not enough for Cecilia to hear. She’s too tired to go around yelling, not to mention, she doesn’t want Cecilia to stop just because she’s shrieking lyrics at her. Worse yet, she doesn’t want someone else (read: Liz) to do that. She has her tail turn the lights off, curling into bed, shower fresh hair sticking to her nose. Music, every string, every glide, every note- shaky confidence, gaining momentum in the motions she remembers, in the night time audience of one. 

The stage ends with cricket chirps. 

Unperturbed, Gigi shouts, “Goodnight Ceci!”

“Goodnight Gigi!” Cecilia calls back. If Gigi really dug, she’d find the amusement hidden under her words. 

The next morning, she can’t sit up. She tries to prop herself on her elbow, but her head feels like a bowling bowl. Her neck is uncomfortably sweaty. She kicks off her blankets in annoyance. Did she forget to turn on her fan? No, she can hear it going. She’s running warm.

“Oh god no.” Gigi groans. 

It takes a minute of groping around her blankets for her phone. She’d cuddled with it all night, leaving it at a healthy fourteen percent battery. She uses that valuable juice to text the rest of Justice. I’m sick don’t remember me I left nothing behind. There. Suitably dramatic. She lets her phone fall to the side and- wait. Wait, it's cold. She pulls up the covers. That turns out to be too hot. 

She likes chills less than she likes sweating out a fever. She curls miserably under her blankets. She wonders if this is what a light bulb feels like before it burns out. 

She hears a knock at her door and Cecilia’s voice, “Gigi? I’m just checking up on you.”

“Sick.” Gigi calls. Her morning voice is pinched by a dryness she can’t shake off. It crackles awfully. “Oh god.”

“You sound terrible.” Cecilia says flatly. “I’ve got tea. Are you decent?”

“I’m never decent.”

“Alright.”

She hears the door open behind her. She has less energy to be playful than she thought. All she’s able to do is complain over her shoulder, “Kyaaa, nooo, she’ll see me naked-”

“I can see your tank top.” Cecilia retorts. “Here.”

Gigi rolls over. Cecilia has more than just a cup of tea, she has a whole tray she’s placing on Gigi’s end table. Gigi squints at it. There’s tea, there’s medicine, there’s a wash rag, and a thermometer. It’s… a lot for her silly little text. She feels like commenting on it, but Cecilia moves with the smooth grace of a woman who doesn’t find this remotely odd. 

Instead, Gigi asks, “How do you know I’m not wearing pants?”

“That’s fine.” Cecilia says evenly, “You’re supposed to stay in bed anyway.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

Cecilia looks amused. She’s holding the thermometer up pointedly. Reluctantly, Gigi sits up, holding her hand out for it. When Cecilia gives it to her, their fingers brush.

“This is a lot.” Gigi finally says. 

“You’ll just get Raora and Liz sick.” Cecilia says. “I’m the best option, no?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Obligation. Gigi’s not disappointed, but she does feel a sense of loss. She pushes it aside, handing back her feverish temperature to Cecilia. Cecilia looks at it critically and with thin disgust. 

“You’ll live.” She says. “Drink this.”

“Yes, mom.” Gigi replies. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Wife.”

“No.”

Gigi laughs. She makes a whole case complaining about the tea, begging for coffee but denied at every turn. Cecilia isn’t too annoyed by the theatrics from the way her lips tilt up. The medicine doesn’t kick in right away. It leaves Gigi cradling her drink, yapping until her voice is sore. She feels unexplainably pleased. She doesn’t know the cause- she feels terrible, inside and out, yet her tail wags against the bed. Cecilia sits on the edge, chin in her palm. 

“Water chestnuts with stir fry vegetables and rice.” Cecilia lists off. “Did you read that off a box?”

“If it’s not food poisoning, it’s edible.”

“The nutrition facts won’t tell you it’s inedible.”

“Sure it does.” Gigi laughs. “Just look for sodium and if it’s under a thousand don’t eat it. Your heart will thank you for it.”

“Oh my god.” Cecilia shakes her head. Amusement. It looks good on her. Gigi wants to keep talking her ear off, but her voice is jumping in and out. She keeps clearing it and ends up in a coughing fit. It’s then that Cecilia rises, retrieving the tray. 

“You need to get some sleep or something.” Cecilia says. She’s reaching for Gigi’s cup, her fingers twining over Gigi’s. Gigi lets it go mournfully. Cecilia gives her a look for that, “Oh, suddenly, you like my tea?”

I like your hands more. “It was warm.”

“I can get an extra blanket.”

“Eugh.” Gigi thinks she’ll sweat a new lake at this rate. “No, I want ice instead.”

“I’ll get you some water.”

“Ice.”

Cecilia pokes her in the forehead. Gigi sighs, cutting off all her strength to fall backwards from that as dramatically as she can. She lands against her pillows with a thump. She isn’t expecting Cecilia to pull the blankets up. Tucking her in. Her tail is moving back and forth, the barely contained joy of a cat idle with its mischief. 

Cecilia glances at it. Gigi feels herself grow exponentially warmer. 

“If you’re getting water, go charge my phone.” Gigi says by way of distraction. “Please, pretty please.”

“Yes, yes.” Cecilia takes it from her wryly. She leaves just as smoothly as she entered. Gigi stares at her back as she goes. She didn’t have to. Her tail curls up to her chest like an improvised teddy bear. It’s perfect to hide how red her face is. 

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Chapter Text

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Unbidden, it comes to her at 2 AM in front of a circus tent. 

It is the realization that Cecilia genuinely has no clue how pretty she is. Gigi could drop a compliment and a flirt in good fun, but Cecilia brushes them off with a wave of her hand and a half smile. Gigi doesn’t think much of it- except now, when she has nothing to do but think as she’s left on guard duty for this mission. The rest of Justice is inside, pretending to be custodians while tracking down their latest hit. Raora, to her delight, got to dress everyone up to fit the subterfuge. Elizabeth was sporting a nice suit and Cecilia was waltzing around in a pastel red dress, the kind of soft warm colors that Gigi finds herself staring at simply because it’s the opposite of Cecilia’s natural green. Then the more details start to come in- Cecilia, her hair done up into a side bun, Cecilia wearing elbow length gloves to cover her joints, Cecilia in knee high boots. 

Wow. Gigi blinks her eyes hard, the image fluttering around in her head. She keeps wanting to look over her shoulder, to duck her head underneath the tent flap and try to spot her again. Just to see and reprint the image, to keep it fresh. She’d been sent out here because she couldn’t sit still. Fair, she thinks, but also incredibly unfair. Someone needed to tell Cecilia she was drop dead gorgeous. 

The only problem was realizing Cecilia just doesn’t like compliments like that. Her body was made by someone with a vision in mind, not a birth of creation. Knobs, plates, porcelain, leather, and glass. All of it mended and carefully wound by the spinning key on her head. 

Metal can be pretty. Gigi thinks, but does Cecilia know?

She doesn’t get an opportunity to say anything, not until Cecilia comes out of the tent an hour later. She’s back in her green dress, the cogwheels and brass decorations a familiar sight but something that makes Gigi pout. She didn’t get to see more of the red dress. 

Cecilia sighs when she leaves the tent, stepping back from it with a hand through her hair, “Alright, it’s all settled.”

“That’s it? It’s done?” Gigi asks, feeling put out. “You guys didn’t even let them escape. I wanted some action.”

“You could have had action if you sat still for two seconds.” Cecilia reminds. She crosses her arms, brow raised as she surveys over the tents around them. The night time darkness is pierced by torchlight. Soft yellow glows catch off the side of her face. “Are you cold?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Gigi says. “You guys sure got done quick.”

“And quiet too.” Cecilia looks satisfied with that. “Got him on his way out of the bathroom.”

Gigi can’t help but laugh at that, “Did you check if he washed his hands?”

“I’m sure the handcuffs can find out for me.”

“Is he gone already?”

“Liz and Raora took him back. I’m here to,” Cecilia clears her throat, “ relieve you of your post.”

Gigi waits a beat. She says, “Wow, Ceci, right after my bathroom joke?”

“Gigi.” Cecilia smiles. 

“You are totally doing it on purpose, don’t even try-” 

Cecilia laughs, twinkling soft but bright enough Gigi has to stop to laugh too. It makes her feel braver about silly thoughts like how pretty a dress was. Cecilia’s her friend. Little things like that are just expected out of friends. Crush or not, it’s 2 AM and she feels like butterflies.

“Your dress was amazing, by the way.” Gigi blurts. “Did you just, have that on hand or something?”

“Raora did.”

“Sick.” Gigi says, because she can’t think beyond this point suddenly. With midnight fire and cricket chirps, she’s aware she’s up to the soles of her shoes in circus mud and all she has to show for it is her awkward, fluttery hands. “Hey, you know what? I could have rocked it too.”

Cecilia tosses her a look, “You could have.”

“Did you send it off to the dry cleaners already?”

“It’s in the mission pack. You can wear it.”

“Well, wash it first.” Gigi says playfully. “Who the hell do we gotta find around here to teach us basic hygiene?”

“Are you calling me smelly?”

“It could be the circus fumes. They don’t look good on you.”

Cecilia scoffs, but there’s a tilt to her lips. This is their banter. It’s the recovery jokes that soften a sweet compliment like that, that have Cecilia acting less cagey around it. 

“I think you’d like it better.” Cecilia says. “I didn’t.”

“But you looked cute.”

“Nah.”

“Okay, well, you wear it again and then I’ll wear it.” Gigi says.

“Why would I wear it again?”

“For me?”

Cecilia shakes her head. She looks amused, softened up in a way that Gigi thinks makes the stars look less bright, less shiny and novel. Gigi isn’t even aware her tail had been tugging on Cecilia’s ribbon until the automaton snags it, arm collapsed underneath it like a misbehaving cat as she settles Gigi’s tail in her arms. Gigi feels warm. Cecilia looks somewhat of a villainess like that. 

"Mm, I dunno.” Cecilia hums. “What’s in this for me? If I didn’t enjoy it, why should I even bother?”

“I have money.” Gigi says blankly.

“Paying me to dress up?” Cecilia asks lightly. 

There was a doll joke Gigi skillfully dances around, instead aiming for the heart with, “Actually, I’m paying you to dress me up.”

It’s there, for one moment, a beat of surprise as Cecilia glances at her- that moment of astounded affronted-delight. Her expression settles back into helpless amusement. She tugs on Gigi’s tail. 

Gigi says, “Ow, I need that.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not a woman that can be bought.” Cecilia says, completely ignoring how she’s tugging Gigi along by a glorified leash. “You can have the dress. I don’t need it.”

“Ceci.” Gigi complains, but she knows it's a losing battle no matter how much she digs her heels into the dirt. She thinks she’s just happy that Cecilia doesn’t shut down her windows and lock the door for that kind of flirting, like a complimentary dish added to a meal. 

I’m happy with this anyway. Gigi thinks. Crush or not crush, I think we’re fine like this. 

“But if you do wear it, send me pictures.” Cecilia says.

Gigi nearly trips on a rock. 

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Chapter Text

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How does one ask a girl to dance?

Gigi types out the message in a text, stops, and skillfully deletes it by smashing her keys until it's incomprehensible work jargon. The message she actually sends to Elizabeth is how does onjugughg sdask g gbgn da g girrlm  to db an aece? 

Elizabeth replies readily with go to bed, Gigi.

“No one likes me.” Gigi announces. She lets her phone fall onto the coffee table. The living room lights are off. Only the glow of the TV lets her see the furniture around her. She’s watching a new fantasy show- the werewolf boy and vampire girl romance kind that’s got her up past midnight browsing the internet for fan theories. She’d been enjoying the drama. The season finale rocked. So much tension! It ended on a soft note, with the boy's head tucked into the girl's shoulder, holding her tightly in don’t go- I almost lost you- I love you. The girl sways them both on a dance floor for two, a party painted in dramatic blood of a war that broke out between clans of vampires. Them, at the end, with her cradling her arms around his head and dancing them to music that’s scratchy and broken. 

Oh, peak romance. The forum threads were going nuts over it. There’s a comment on a post that’s in her head. He looks so vulnerable it says. She looks so fierce, protective. It’s true love.

Of course, her brain is a zoo animal that wanders out of its exhibit and she can’t help but think, would I be the vampire or the werewolf? Who would Ceci be?

Gigi pauses at that thought. Why does it matter that the other person she’s dancing with would be Ceci? She tries to tilt her brain towards Raora or Elizabeth. It’s only fair. Raora would be cute, though, she’d gather her into a hug and swing them both around. She can’t imagine a tender hug like that. Elizabeth? Elizabeth likes to talk when hugging, or gets too skittish with too much affectionate skin touching. 

Would Cecilia hug her like that? 

She ends up dozing on the couch, tail draped over her head like a sleeping mask. Her phone must have fallen to the floor at some point. She’s not awake when Cecilia turns off the TV for her, nor is she awake when a blanket is gently pulled up to her shoulders. She does wake up when she feels her tail being lifted away from her face. She blinks, sleep clinging to her and making her vision blurry. Cecilia is a silhouette in the dark. Gigi doesn’t know if she’s dreaming or not, squinting past her own late night insomnia to find a mote of coherency.

Cecilia’s voice, gentle and quiet as she says, “Go back to sleep, Gigi.”

“Wazzat?” Gigi slurs. “What time-?”

“Late.” Cecilia says. “Very late. Were you up all night watching this show?”

“It was a good show. You should watch it with me.” 

“I’m good.”

Gigi thinks about arguing for it- it’s a good season, after all- but the blanket is warm and her eyes feel scratchy-raw. She says, “Okay.”

She isn’t expecting Cecilia to tug at her hair. She almost swats at her hands until she feels her hair ties being pulled. Cecilia frees her hair from them. She fixes Gigi’s hair, carding her fingers through them, the kind of practice and care that doesn’t get Gigi’s hair caught between the joints of her fingers. 

It feels nice. 

Gigi says, “You’d like it.”

“You think so? What was it even about?”

“There was…” Gigi tries to recount episode one, but her brain is wrapped up in that final dance. It’s a spoiler! She can’t lead with that. She says, “There’s murder.”

“Convincing.” Cecilia says. 

“And kissing.”

“Less convincing.”

“Kissing with blood. C’mon, that gotta score some points.”

“Mm.” A playful hum overhead. Without the light of the TV, the darkness pulls Gigi down. She thinks she dozes, only for a few moments, because she misses what Cecilia says next. Cecilia withdraws her hand and Gigi feels a great loss, a coldness that has her complaining in her throat. 

Cecilia huffs, “Don’t be a baby.”

“You don’t even have to sleep, c’mon.” Gigi whines. 

“Bad influence. Just because I can’t sleep doesn’t mean you shouldn’t sleep.”

“But what are you gonna do all night?”

“Why does it matter?” Cecilia taps her fingers against Gigi’s head. Gigi goes myeh. She’s drawing her arm up over her face for protection. Cecilia is moving that away just as skillfully as she did Gigi’s tail. “I can watch it on my own time.”

“No, we gotta watch it together.” Gigi mumbles. “And then we can dance.”

“Dancing?” Cecilia echoes, amused. “No, Gigi, I don’t think you could.”

“I could! I totally could! I’ll be the werewolf to your vampire.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

“Soon.” Gigi promises, too tired to sound confident and instead selling herself strongly as an old deranged hermit. It makes Cecilia chuckle. Gigi hears her move around the couch, over to the coffee table. She can imagine her putting the hair ties there. 

“Your phone is on the floor.” Cecilia mutters. “It’s-”

A pause. Gigi rubs her face to wake up, to see, but Cecilia is placing the phone on the coffee table before Gigi can figure out what that means. Cecilia looks thoughtful. 

“Is it a nice show?” Cecilia asks. 

“It’s got eight out of ten stars.”

“Maybe I’ll watch it.” Cecilia says. “I’ll let you know how I feel.”

“But we could watch it together.”

“No, you can go to sleep. I’ll be going back to my room.”

Gigi scoffs dramatically, but she doesn’t argue. She’s too tired to even watch one episode let alone the whole thing from start to finish. The idea is welcoming- her and Cecilia curled onto the couch. She gets to share her favorite theories. Her tail ends up thumping against the couch, wagging happily at the idea. Cecilia has a soft curl to her lips as she leaves the room. 

“Goodnight, Gigi.” Cecilia bids. 

“Goodnight.” 

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Chapter Text

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She thinks. She thinks it might… be getting worse. 

Gigi doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Getting worse meant, what? She liked Cecilia more? That’s not so bad. Liking her friends more feels like a good thing. Except she’s not so sure it’s liking anymore, not just liking. 

She’s afraid to think about it. Love. That’s way too much- she loves her friends, in the basic sense of the word, in the way that she loves Elizabeth’s impressions or Raora’s giggles or Cecilia’s lips-

There’s a problem. There’s a huge, massive problem. The way she loves Elizabeth and Raora is now separating from how she loves Cecilia. A divide is happening. She doesn’t know if that was happening because she didn’t fully handle her crush like she should, but it’s there now. The casual glances feel like full blown stares now. There’s longing in every step she makes. I hope Cecilia wants to hang out today. Hope she wants to do a mission together tomorrow. Hope she wants to watch a movie with me tonight. 

It feels like crushing on Cecilia was only occupying a corner of her mind. She’d let it spread and now it was all over, barely giving her room to think without her presence in her head. 

Ignore it, she thinks desperately, we can’t ruin this! We know Cecilia will say no, so don’t even entertain it! Get over it!

Cecilia doesn’t even act any different. She’s her same self and it’s driving Gigi nuts. She couldn’t pinpoint what she was doing that was making Gigi warm and flustered. It devolves to her flat out leaving the room at any opportunity, willing away warm cheeks and aggravated that her heart wasn’t agreeing with her brain. 

Cecilia, unfortunately, notices. 

The automaton corners her in the kitchen, eyebrows raised, and right to the point as she asks, “Gigi, are you sick?”

“What?” Gigi asks. She’d been making herself lunch, but with Cecilia’s appearance, she felt like she was making a complete slop. Her hands were fumbling with utensils. “Uh, yeah, I’m so sick.”

“I meant, like,” Cecilia pauses for a moment to frown, “you’ve been acting weird.”

Oh, god. Gigi focuses on the sandwich she’s making. She focuses on it so hard she imagines she’s turning the bread to toast with the intensity of her eyes. 

“Weird normal or weird new?” Gigi asks. 

“Weird new.” Cecilia says quietly. “Is something going on?”

“No, not that I know of.”

“You’ve been…” Cecilia trails off. There’s a stretch of silence that follows that Gigi waits on. She waits on it long enough she feels her shoulders go tense. She dares to glance over her shoulder, wary, and finds Cecilia still frowning at her. Her brow is furrowed as if she found something she didn’t like. 

Gigi asks, “What?”

“You’re doing it right now.” Cecilia says. “Did you do something? If you break something in the house you don’t have to act like we’re gonna bite your head off.”

Gigi blinks. She shakes her head, bewildered, “What? No. I’m fine?” As fine as she could be, anyway. With Cecilia in the room, her tail was clutching onto her ankle like a lifeline. She’s afraid if she moves she’ll trip herself and go head first into the sink. Actually, that might be funny enough to lighten the mood. 

What was even happening right now? 

Cecilia crosses her arms, “Are you lying?”

“If I was, I wouldn’t tell you.” Gigi says curtly. 

“Uh huh.” She’s terse now as she says, “So you’re not gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“Why would I tell you somethings wrong when nothings wrong?” Gigi asks lightly. Buy it, she begs. Just buy it, I’m just a silly little guy and you don’t care enough to go digging. 

Except Cecilia says, “Something is wrong.” 

“No it isn’t.”

“Mhm.” Gigi hears the click of her heels as she moves through the kitchen. As she comes closer, Gigi all but freezes, breath locked in her chest, the safety of distance completely expelled. Cecilia comes up beside her, her elbow brushing against Gigi’s. “Is this the meal you’re concocting? Is this supposed to be lunch?”

“What is this?” Gigi complains. “You come in here and call me a liar, a fraud! And then you shame my sandwich.”

“ That’s a sandwich? You cut it into minced meat.” 

“I eat my food like I’ve killed it.” Gigi says. It does the trick. The slight lifting of Cecilia’s lips. A victory that has her relaxing, just a little. She continues, “Besides, I’m not really hungry.”

“I can make you a side to go with that.” Cecilia says, distractedly reaching up into the cupboards. “Hold on…”

“You don’t have to.” 

“Mhm.” 

Gigi doesn’t know why the conversation tapers off there. Cecilia is content to focus on what she’s making while Gigi is very much done with creating her sandwich and is left to poke and fidget with it, waiting for something, nervous about waiting. Their elbows are still touching. This feels massively more important than it ever has before. 

It felt like a drawbridge. Gigi had pulled her side up, but Cecilia still had her side out. She can feel the question the automaton was sending her. What’s your deal?

I think I’m in love with you. 

Gigi’s throat feels dry. Cecilia reaches around her to help put the finishing touches on her plate. A bare arm, skin brushing along her shoulder. Gigi thinks her face is too red for this. 

Cecilia starts to say, “There, that should be-”

“Thanks, Ceci!” Gigi belts out, wincing at how horridly her voice cracks on her name. “Just what I needed. I’m gonna go eat this now!”

“Gigi- wait, Gigi-!”

She’d forgotten about her tail as she takes a step away, anything to create space between them, but she loses gravity and almost goes tanking face first into the floor. Instinct has her holding the plate above her head. The arm around her waist, the hand gripping her arm, everything keeping her upright from falling, it throws her mind to a complete halt. 

“Can you wait?” Cecilia asks, sounding harried as she pulls Gigi to her feet. “Seriously, you almost made a mess.”

“Sorry.” Gigi croaks. Her ears are smoking. The arm around her waist is gone, but Cecilia is still holding her shoulder. It’s going to kill her if she leaves it there any longer, “Sorry- I gotta go, I’m really hungry, I’ll talk to you later!”

“What?” Cecilia asks, bewildered. Gigi makes sure she’s free from her tail before taking herself away from Cecilia. The automaton doesn’t try to go after her, but Gigi can feel the frown directed at her as she scurries out into the hallway. 

 Close call, she wants to call it, but a close call would be the end of it. She has a foreboding feeling that it’s only just begun. 

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Chapter Text

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This is the kind of wild heart beat that would make a normal girl run off into the woods. Gigi faces it with a tilted chin, flushed cheeks, loud music overflowing her ears and entering her brain in liquid static. Her brain is mush. Everything is terrible. 

For starters: there’s a pitch fork in her gut. 

This will be funny later, she reasons, back at the headquarters when everyone is safe and they can all laugh about it. She hears Elizabeth’s sword, the whip-snarl of blue flames flying overhead. Raora was missing. There’s a hoard of mannequins, clockwork robots that charge at them with manufactured blades. Constructions of a scientist they were tracking, another escapee of the Cell. 

It was so funny. They’re on a farm in the middle of nowhere, a plethora of cornfields and not a sign of life. They’d split up to cover more ground. Gigi had found a girl in this shack, once a small barn fit for a few cows. She approached her from behind. Hey, do you know any good places to eat around here?

It turned around, a mechanical monster with a painted porcelain mask that wasted no time trying to skewer Gigi with a pitch fork of all things. To Gigi’s credit, she didn’t get her right away. She wasn’t that easy! Except the fighting drew the attention of more and they were faster than the rest of Justice. And they all, every single one of them, also had some kind of farm tool. Maybe it wasn’t even the first pitch fork, it was just a pitch fork. It was funny. 

Cecilia was holding her hand. She’s focusing on her, despite the overwhelming odds facing Elizabeth- it’d probably be best to help her, Gigi thinks, but Cecilia is on her, knees pressed against her hip and hand pressed down on her shoulder. There’s an expression on her face that Gigi’s never seen before. It’s like a candle in a dark room. Not fierce, but it’s still fire. Not mighty, because it’s not a raging inferno. 

“Impale her? I hardly know her.” Gigi tries to say but it comes out like a wet cough. Cecilia doesn’t hear a word. No words make it out. 

Cecilia whispers, “Gigi, you’re okay.”

“I feel great.” Gigi says. In truth, she doesn’t feel anything at all, not yet. She’s staring at the ceiling, at the top of Cecilia’s head, at her eyes. She can see the top of the pitch fork, a flagpole on top of Mount Gigi. She’s conscious. She’s alive. 

She won’t die here. She knows, just as well as she knows that Justice will do everything in their power to keep her alive, she knows she’ll push through. This isn’t how she goes. She breathes, tries to laugh because it is funny, but it ends up in a coughing fit. There she feels it. Three prongs deep in her abdomen, moving when she breathes, sharp lightning bolts of pain whiting out her vision. She gasps for air. It hurts. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Cecilia repeats. Her voice is measured, so purposefully neutral and quiet, a tiny candle. Gigi could cup it in her palms. She wants to, but she’s afraid of how her hands look from where she’s resting them on her tummy. “Gigi? Say something.”

“I got something going on.” Gigi says. She can’t say it. 

“You’ll be okay.” Cecilia says. Her hand is holding Gigi’s over her stomach, pressed down against where she’s impaled. “Gigi?”

“Gigi’s here.” She says. She can’t say it. 

Cecilia’s brow furrows, frustrated, afraid, “Give me something to work with, Gigi. Say my name.”

“Ceci.” She chokes out, sticky red between her teeth. It’s hard for her to take a full breath. Hard to think. She says it though. Cecilia’s expression flickers. She’s cupping Gigi’s face with her hand, tilting it in a way that’s easier for her to breathe, but she doesn’t take her hand away. She keeps it there. Focused. 

You make me wanna breathe for you. Gigi thinks. It hurts. It’s making her vision blur with tears. I don’t wanna die in your arms. 

“What?” Cecilia whispers. “What- I- you’re not dying here, Gigi.”

“Oh, I’m glad that cleared this up.” Gigi says. Her throat doesn’t agree with her. All she says is I’m glad and it does the worst thing. It sounds sad to say and Cecilia looks at her like her heart is breaking. An expression not unlike broken glass. 

“Liz!” Cecilia shouts over her shoulder, “She needs-”

“I know!” Elizabeth’s answering shout is angry, not at Cecilia, but followed by the swift shriek of her blade as it cuts through the air. “I’m cutting a path. Be ready to move.” 

“Like this?!”

“We don’t have the supplies she needs! We take her back like this.” Elizabeth calls. “Can you do that, Ceci?”

“Oh, so simple, can you do that?” Cecilia snarks under her breath before yelling out, “I will!” 

“When Raora appears, we move!” 

Hurts. Hurts, god, she hisses and Cecilia’s cupping her face now. She looks more stressed out than the time someone knocked over one of her bookshelves. She’s holding onto Gigi like- like- a baby turtle! A baby turtle. I’ll be a baby turtle for you girl. 

“I can’t tell if you're normal or rapidly deteriorating.” Cecilia says. An attempt at humor. She sounds wistful.

At least I get to see you before I-

“Shut up.” Cecilia says, sharp, angry, thumb pressed against the corner of her mouth. 

I thought you wanted me to talk.

“Say nice things.” Cecilia demands. 

I love your hair. It’s such a long list. Gigi skims them down, one by one, nails, pretty, nice voice, crazy ‘bout it, crazy ‘bout you, love-

Cecilia’s face looks scary, for one moment, it’s so eerily blank that Gigi forgets what she was trying to convey to her. She hears Raora’s voice rise up. 

Elizabeth shouts, “Ceci, come on!”

“Right.” Cecilia breathes, arms moving underneath Gigi-

She blacks out. The pain is a brand against her mind. She doesn’t remember where the farm even was - nor does she know how they got her out of there. She wakes up and there’s a pitch fork missing from her gut. She feels woozy, cotton headed and full of medical soup. 

Elizabeth’s voice, gentle in the quiet of her bedroom, “People say crazy things when they’re about to die.”

“She wasn’t dying.” Cecilia says, a tiny candle in a big room. “She was…”

“She’s okay now, yeah.” Elizabeth says. “Are you?”

Cecilia doesn’t answer. 

Gigi dreams about turtles. 

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Chapter Text

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Day one has Gigi waking up feeling like she should ask about her alcohol tolerance. Obviously, she got black out drunk and married and forgot she adopted a dog, or something. This confusion only lasts for a few seconds before she feels dull pain in her gut and she remembers, ah yes, the skewering. 

There’s a cat cuddling her. 

Raora is a cocoon of warmth, cuddly pink fur, and baggy clothes. Her chest is rumbling with a deep purr and it’s rattling Gigi’s brain. She understands why massage beds could put people into comas. This was amazing. 

Day two she feels better and a whole lot worse. She’s able to stay awake longer than a few minutes, rubbing the grime out of her eyes to make sense of her surroundings. There’s a plethora of get well gifts stacked at her bedside. There’s pink cat hair over her pillow that makes her amused more than anything else. Her stomach aches, something that makes her hiss between her teeth when she moves even just a little bit. 

In the dark, a quiet, “Hold on.”

“What?” Gigi belts out. 

Her room is cast in orange, faint light from her lamp barely giving her much to see. Cecilia scoots forward in a chair she’s pulled beside the bed. She’s dimming the lamp even further while simultaneously grabbing a bottle of water waiting beside it. 

“I have pain meds for you.” Cecilia says. “How do you feel?”

“Uhh.” Gigi warbles. “Owie.” 

Cecilia exhales. She doesn’t say anything, which Gigi finds odd- there should be some form of exasperation to that, but Cecilia gives her nothing. She’s handing over the water with a handful of pills. Gigi props herself up with a wince, enduring sharp uncomfortable pain before she can get herself properly situated.

“Is everyone else, like, okay?” Gigi asks as she takes the bottle. “Were there multiple kebab casualties?”

That gets a smile, a faint one, as Cecilia says, “No, just you. Massive skill issue.”

“I failed the quick time event.” Gigi laments. She throws back the pills and makes a dramatic gagging noise. She’s trying to poke holes in this weird air. It’s not tense or sad, but it feels heavy. She doesn’t like it. “Am I gonna get cool scars?”

“It looks ugly.” Cecilia says flatly. 

“No, my cool guy points.” Gigi bemoans. 

“I think-” Cecilia starts, then stops. It feels like something big from the furrow in her brow. Gigi blinks, waiting, but nothing comes. It leaves them both hanging off the same cliff, no one to help them up and stuck on their own making. 

“Well, I’m fine with this.” Gigi says loftily. “I’m done. I’m retired. I’m going to become a nun now.”

Cecilia’s lips twitch up at that, “A nun, yeah? You wouldn’t last a day.”

“All the hot robot girls want to impale me, Ceci.” Gigi is aiming for pathetic wet eyes, but for some reason Cecilia looks at her. In the dim golden glow of her lamp, in between the dark of her room and her knees touching Gigi’s mattress, Cecilia is looking at her. Looking, indescribably, and Gigi feels raptured. 

“100% success rate.” Gigi says weakly. 

Cecilia murmurs, “I can see that.” 

“Have I missed anything?”

“No. Everyone is resting.” 

“Sorry.” Gigi offers, because she does feel guilty for dropping unexpectedly. She can recognize worry when it’s laid at her feet. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but I’m glad you were there.”

Cecilia glances to the side, “Mhm. I think you owe me.”

“Owe you?” Gigi laughs. “For saving my life? What are we, friends?”

“Business acquaintances.” Cecilia corrects. She’s starting to smile, a real one, and it’s making Gigi relax. “I’ll get you some food to go with that. You’ll get sick otherwise.”

“I’m never sick.” Gigi says. 

Cecilia steps away briefly, something that she nearly isn’t awake for. The pain medication is kicking in and digging her a deep grave, comfortable and soft and- a hand, cupping her face, tilting it for a second, a strange mimicry of when Cecilia was helping her breath before. It’s as if the air is being tested, recreated, and figured out. Gigi blinks awake and the spell is broken. Cecilia has a cup of gelatin for her. 

“No solid foods.” Cecilia says. It sounds like she meant it to be teasing, but she’s not meeting Gigi’s eyes. She’s glancing at her stomach.

“Oh, fine.” Gigi sighs. “Thanks, Ceci.” 

“Mm.”

There’s silence between them. Gigi tries to make her little gelatin cup last, nibbling at it, but the silence just keeps going. She finishes off the cup and puts it beside her lamp. After that, she’s left to lay back and stare at Cecilia, who stares back at her. There’s so much being said yet nothing being said at all. 

“There’s cat hair everywhere.” Gigi says, apropos of nothing. 

“Mm.” Cecilia agrees. She closes her eyes, something changing over her, before she looks at Gigi again. It’s with a tiredness that wasn’t there before. “Get some rest, Gigi.”

“Wanna talk later?” Gigi asks. She’s hedging for something different, hopefully, let me know what’s wrong so I can fix it. 

“Maybe not.” Cecilia dismisses. She’s standing up, brushing down her skirt without the usual poise she grants herself. “Focus on yourself.” 

Gigi’s tail flops up and down once under the blankets. Cecilia glances at it. Gigi almost wants to out her feelings right there. I think things are complex right now, don’t we wanna sort this out? Could we, maybe, still be friends? Just tell me if I should forget what happened. I’ll zap my brain dumb for you. 

Cecilia’s gaze softens, “... Yeah, get some sleep, Gigi. You look like you need it.” 

“Okay.” Gigi reluctantly sinks into her covers, mumbling out, “Goodnight, Ceci.”

“It’s noon, actually.” Cecilia says with amusement. “But yes, goodnight Gigi.” 

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Chapter Text

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The one thing recovery makes asinine is getting back into the habit of her daily workouts while also aware of how tender the muscles in her stomach are. More than that, she feels like resting had atrophied her arms and legs. They’re going to have to put me down like a lame horse. She mourns this idea for about four minutes before throwing herself into stretches. She has to be careful- and she is! Gigi Murin is the master of being careful.

Her tail, not so much. 

It coils around her leg, nervous-like and prodding around her ankles. It’s as if it’s bothering her like a child that just woke up from a nightmare. Gigi ignores it as best as she can while going through her routine. She knows why it’s freaking out. She’s trying not to freak out. 

Cecilia hadn’t been ignoring her precisely. She’d just been acting weird. When Gigi went down for breakfast, fresh out of a shower and feeling like a person for the first time since The Skewering, Cecilia was there. She’d greeted her normally. Even though Gigi couldn’t find any visible tells, there was a muted air to her that felt different. Charged, almost. 

“Does Miss Cecilia Immergreen have plans today?” Gigi asks.

“Mm. Not particularly.” 

“Would Miss Cecilia Immergreen have time for a movie?” Gigi jests.

Cecilia tilts her head, expression neutral as she sips from her morning tea, “Not really in the mood for a movie, Gigi.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” Gigi says. “We can just sit around, go on a walk, do nothing-”

“I like that last bit.” Cecilia says, amusement bleeding into her smile. A score for Gigi. Gigi doesn’t really feel like doing nothing though and ends up dropping into a yoga pose beside the dining table. Cecilia watches her with thin bemusement. “Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

“It’s good to commit to light exercise, you know.” Gigi says sagely. “I’m not straining myself! Look. Look at my bellaaay.”

She pulls up her shirt and immediately regrets it. There’s a crosshatch of scars on her abdomen, flamed red and barely healed. She pauses. She’s not used to her stomach looking like that. She’s absurdly displeased that she can’t show off her abs so clearly anymore. She glances up. Cecilia isn’t looking at her. Her gaze is concentrated onto her lower half. 

Gigi says, “Don’t scratch it, it’s pretty scratched already.”

“Very funny.” Cecilia says. Gigi can’t tell what’s wrong with her voice when she says that. At least she doesn’t sound angry. “If you want to do something, let me finish my tea first.”

She changed her mind? Gigi perks up, forcing her shirt down to dispel the awkward air, “I haven’t been outside in so long that my skin is growing spores.”

“How?”

“Fermented grem.”

Cecilia snorts, “Alright. Did you want something to eat? You should eat.”

“Yes, mommy.” Gigi says. 

“Don’t call me that.”

Gigi meanders over to the fridge. There’s a water bottle she snags, placed enticingly right next to a box of cold pizza. The bible warned me about you, Gigi thinks. She peeks under the lid to spy the toppings. Behind her, she hears a chair at the table move. She assumes Cecilia is standing up. 

“Uh, Gigi?” Cecilia asks. 

“Yeah? Did you want a slice of this?”

“No. Gigi? Can you get this off?”

“What-?” Gigi turns around. She freezes. The fridge falls closed underneath her stilled hands. Back at the table, her tail had reached up to curl needily around Cecilia’s leg. Cecilia is glancing down at it with wobbly displeasure. 

“What?” Gigi repeats, voice feeling an octave higher then it should be. “You don’t like my tail?”

“It is grabbing me.” Cecilia says plainly. “Can you get it off?”

Gigi’s not embarrassed. The warmth creeping up her back is on behalf of her yoga, at least that’s what she blames it on. She crouches down to tug at her tail like a misbehaving cat clinging to a piece of furniture. She’s never had control of her tail and that wouldn’t start now. It stubbornly stays on Cecilia’s leg, comically pulling the chair with her. Gigi yanks again. 

This time, the chair gives, and Cecilia yelps, tea raised high to save her drink from a clumsy fall. Gigi catches the chair by the back. In this position, it almost feels like she’s dipping Cecilia down in the middle of a dance. She doesn’t feel nearly as cool as that image inspires when she kicks her tail away. Her cheeks feel red. 

“Woah, that’s crazy, do you have something on you?” Gigi asks airily. “Must be the wind.” 

“Right, the wind.” Cecilia huffs, brushing down her skirt before lifting her gaze up to Gigi. Through her eyelashes, her eyes look different. Maybe more than that. It feels she’s looking at Gigi differently. “You can put me down.”

“Down?” Gigi echoes.

“Right side up.”

Gigi laughs, helping the chair up properly. Cecilia sighs, straightening up and readjusting her dress like that whole ordeal was a tremendous hassle. The dramatics make Gigi grin. Her tail is creeping on the floor towards the chair again and she has to step on it to behave. It hurts, a little bit. 

“Ow.” She says. 

“Do you need a leash?” Cecilia asks dryly. 

“A leash? For me?” Gigi asks, pretending she’s touched by the thought, “You’re gonna make me bark for you girl.” 

Cecilia shakes her head, rising to stand. A smile is hidden by that movement that Gigi catches, only because she was looking for it. It felt like an allowance. She didn’t know how they stood after all that and feeling like their old selves almost felt like a relief. 

Almost, because Cecilia glances away from her when she stares too long. She deposits her cup into the sink before rejoining her. 

“The cafe is a short walk.” Cecilia offers. 

“I can manage that.” Gigi feels her tail wag traitorously. Of course Cecilia notices. She doesn’t comment on it, but her brow does lift up. Gigi can’t discern what that means. 

They walk side by side down the road to the cafe. It’s down this path, more than ever, Gigi is struck by the need to hold her hand. 

“Gigi?” Cecilia asks tiredly. 

“What?”

“Tail.”

Gigi glares down at the offending thing as it clings to Cecilia’s leg. It should have been me. In the end, the whole walk ends up being much more of a hassle than it's worth and twice as embarrassing. 

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